The Ultimate Marvel RPG Vol. 2: New World IC Thread

[UltimateRPGs]

The "Ultimate Marvel" RPG

Game Founder: Spider-Man9X17
GameMaster: Venom160
Deputy Mod: Peter Parker
Deputy Mod: Noon

This game is similar to the Marvel RPG, only based off of Ultimate continuity.

RULES:

• Players can choose any hero in the Ultimate Marvel Universe. Players who have proved themselves as good RPer's will also have the option to Ultimize a character, and/or take up a second character. No God-Like characters.
• Everyone exists in the Ultimate Marvel Timeline. No 616 or other alternate items may be used.
• No Killing. Unnamed faceless NPC's may be killed, but not comic characters. Someone else may want to take up the character, or they may be important to another story.
• You can go anywhere on Earth, or travel off planet, but do so within your characters means.
• You are your character, so act like it. Talk like them, use there dialouge. Do not exaggerate your powers, or pop-up here and there without explanation.
• Several stories can be going at once, and you have the freedom to interact with other characters.
• No Time Travel.
• You must post at least once every two weeks, though it is preferred that you post more. If you go two weeks without a post, you will be notified by a GM through a Private Message and an OOC post. If, within 48 hours, you do not reply to the PM with an explanation or post in the IC thread, your character will be up for grabs. You may reapply for your character, though others may want to play also.
• You must have at least 50 posts on the Hype boards to be eligible to play
• And, of course, all regular rules of the Hype apply.
• Have fun.

ULTIMATE MARVEL RPG VOL.2 SIGN-UP FORM

Screen Name:

Character you would like to play:

Powers and a brief description of the character in proper English:

Three reasons why you have chosen that character:
1.
2.
3.

What can you bring to this game?

How many times do you intend on posting a DAY IN the RPG:

Do you know how to post pictures on the hype boards:

Provide a small sample post for your character, about 4 paragraphs with at least one line of dialouge:


Roster:

Check OOC thread.

 

[Shemtov]

Magneto stood on the balcony, Overlooking a crowd in the Savage Land.
""Today is The Day that I will Extermanate the Sapiens! After My time Incarcerated in Fury's prison i releize my mistake! I must never again trust agents other then you. Also, I should not have attacked there president! I will Attack The Ultimates instead!"
He streched out his hands over The crowd and then Flew up and glided out towards the Ocean............

 

[Venom160]

It is a beautiful day in New York City as average people go about their mundane and boring lives. It is with one of these seemingly normal people that our attention focuses on. The young man wraps the trench coat tighter around himself as he shoot glances at the other commuters waiting for the subway. Sadness seems to exude from this poor soul as the roar of the subway train grows louder. With a deep breath the man steps out in front of the train. Horrified screams mingle with the screech of the train's brakes as blood and feathers sprinkle the subway staition.

My name is Warren Worthington and I'm about to die.....

 

[Eddie Brock]

IRON FIST

"Rand. There's someone here to see you."

I look up from the metallic floor to the bars of my holding cell. The overweight guard is standing there, accompanied by a familiar figure. A moment of silence passes, and the guard becomes self-conscious.

"I'll leave you two," he announces. Neither of us acknowledge him. He hesitates before backing away sheepishly. As he leaves, I hear him muttering something under his breath. He shakes his head and keeps on walking.

Colleen crosses her arms and gives me that pissed-off look that she's mastered so well. "Goddamnit, Danny," she whispers in a furious tone. This is not the first time we've had this conversation. I hang my head low as she continues angrily, "When the Hell are you going to cut this s*** out?"

I sigh. "It wasn't my fault this time," I explain half-heartedly.

***

I take another sip of my lukewarm beer as I place it back down the chipped wooden surface of the table. I lean back in my chair and stare at the bottle intently. My concentration is interrupted by a voice.

"Hey, Iron Fist," the voice calls out mockingly. I don't look up. Next thing I know, an unfamiliar hand is waving in front of my face. I look up to see an Asian man with a scar running from the edge of his eye down his cheek. His face is wrinkled in annoyed disgust. "It is you, isn't it?"

I don't answer. Instead, I look back down at my beer.

"You're the sonuvab**** who put my cousin away," the scarred man explains furiously. I can already tell where this is going. Without reacting visibly, I prepare myself mentally.

Sighing, I reply, "Look, I just came here for a drink. I don't want any trouble. Now, please, we can be reasonable about this."

***

"It's always the same s*** with you, Danny!" Colleen complains frustratedly. "For some reason, I always tell myself that you're going to learn your lesson, but you never do!" She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, looking away from me.

"Colleen, I've told you before. I just can't stop doing this! I have an obligation!" I respond defensively. She laughs bitterly. "Would you ask Spider-Man to stop doing his thing?"

"Spider-Man is out there, doing real good!" she fires back immediately. "You, you're picking bar fights with ex-cons! There's a big difference. And, furthermore, at least Spider-Man has the goddamned sense to wear a mask!"

I decide not to answer. We've been down this road. I know how pointless it is for me to argue my side in this. Colleen never seems to understand why I do what I do. I don't suppose anyone could.

***

"I don't think so," the scarred thug responds spitefully. He grabs a hold of my shoulder.

Through clenched teeth, I warn, "Take your hand off me." Underneath the table, I form a fist and begin channeling my chi.

The scarred man laughs. He throws me from my chair onto the hard floor of the bar. Several of the other patrons begin to snicker. The men playing pool stop and watch, leaning against the table with cues in hand. Even the bartender monitors the activity cautiously.

I grimace while lying on the barroom floor. If it's a show they want... Leaping up, I unload a charged right hook to the cheekbone of the scarred man. My hardened knuckles run along his scar, making a resounding thud - as if the scarred thug were struck by a crowbar. He falls with just one punch.

Standing over his unconscious body, I eye the other patrons carefully. Many of them are now on their feet, malicious intent in their eyes. Wiping my lip, I prepare for the next wave.

***

Colleen and I are leaving the police station. She hasn't said a word since she posted bail for me. I can already tell that I'm in for a long night. As we wait for a cab, she mutters over her shoulder, "I don't know how we're going to get back the money for your bail this time."

"I'll handle it," I promise exhaustedly. The last thing I want to be thinking about now is financial issues.

A cab pulls up to the curve, and Colleen walks past me towards it. "That's quite alright, Danny," she replies sardonically. "You done enough for one night, I think."

Hanging my head, I follow her shamefully into the back of the cab. Neither of us say a word the entire ride home.
​

 

[Venom160]

The screams are quickly drowned out by the sounds of my bones breaking and my organs liquefying. The pain should've been unbearable but I honestly didn't feel it. My body is drug beneath the train yet all I can hear is Ali's voice in my head. Her beautiful voice so strong, so vivid, that I could swear that she was here.

Warren I....I don't love you. I don't think I ever did.

Despite my pleading my mind takes me back to that moment acouple weeks ago.

After the horrific actions inflicted on her by Nathanial Winters Ali fell into a coma that lasted a month. During that time Professor Xavier recruited the help of Moira Mctaggert to help reverse the physical damage inflicted. When Ali finally came to we discovered that she has suffered severe amnesia. Overtime I had tried to jog Ali's memory all the while keeping cause of her memory loss from her. Finally giving in to her requests I had revealed everything to her from the rape and torture to the forced abortion of our son. She locked herself in her room for three days after that not talking to anyone. After finally coming out she had asked that we separate for a while. I reluctantly accepted even though it tore me apart.

I'm jugged from my memories as the train finally clears my twisted and mutilated body. The panicked screams return but they sound distant. I sink back into my thoughts without much hesitation.

The time that followed was torture. Ali spent more time with Kurt while I tried the best I could to be there for her. Over time I found myself growing distant from my adopted family, shunning their attempts to comfort me. The change also afflicted my behavior on missions. I grew angry and violent. I was finally taken off the active duty when I beat Toad into unconsciousness during a bout with the Brotherhood. The tension finally exploded when I found Kurt and Ali in a passionate embrace, a lover's embrace, without thinking I attacked Kurt not bothering to listen to his hurried explanation. The other X-men tried to intervene but it was Ali that finished it.

Warren stop it!

I drop a barely conscious Kurt to the floor and turn to her.

Why Ali?

Because I love him. He's been there for me, I trust him.

Ali you can trust me. I love you.

But I don't....

My mind froze in it's tracks as I stare at the only woman I ever loved.

What?

Warren I....I don't love you. I don't think I ever did.

Ali please....

Just leave me alone.

I packed my bags and left that night despite the Professor and Scott's request to stay. There was just no reason for me to stay, nothing to fight for anymore. The following weeks is surrounded in an alcohol fueled haze. I tried to lose myself in booze, woman, drugs, nothing helped. Nothing dulled the pain of having my heart ripped from my chest. Defeated I found myself here today. With my healing factor it made slitting my wrists or blowing my brains out impossible. I needed something bigger.....

"Oh my god I think this guy is still alive! Someone call 911!"

My eyes snap open focusing on the terrified man standing over me. People are standing on the station staring down at me in shock. I look to my sides and see that the trench coat concealing my wings was shredded. What was left of my wings lay spread across the tracks.

"No....."

I look down at my body and see my wounds already repairing itself.

"NOOOOOO!"

 

[SenseiofCheese]

Captain America; The First Ultimate​

"W..Wha-"

It still happens. Not every night, but most. Steve Rogers, the great Captain America, still wakes up in a pool of sweat. Nightmares of men younger than him being blown to pieces; boys that would never get to grow up. Smiles on their faces as he told them they'd be fine. As he lied to them, he'd put his hands on their catastrophic wounds, as if calling on some almighty force to heal them.

The earth rocks and clouds of fire consume everything they touch. Metal. Cloth. Flesh. Bone. And everything they can't touch. Hopes. Dreams. Aspirations.

And then, he wakes up. He wakes up and he doesn't know where he is. Walls as white as snow. A room completely devoid of anything he recognizes. Machines he doesn't know what are for.

And then he remembers.

 

[Catman_prb]

The Wakandan Civil War, 199-

The jungle was alive with the sound of gun-fire, thick smoke blinding the sight of the American troops. There were seven of them left standing, firing their machine guns into the smoke, the toughest, the luckiest, the survivors. There is the crack of a flashbang and screaming as another wounded trooper is finished off by the Wakandan dissidents.

"Lieutenant Barton!" the youngest of them shouts, blood and smoke streaking his cheeks, crawling through the undergrowth with shattered legs.

"I'm here," the young officer assured, his back against a thick tree, firing into the dark.

"What are we gonna do? These aren't the normal bastards," the boy spluttered, blood coming from his lips.

"They're the White Apes, M'Baku's personal elite," Barton shouted through gritted teeth. The boy gaped.

"We're gonna get massacared," he screamed. Barton nodded, then grabbed him by the scruff of his tattered uniform and started to drag him through the undergrowth, firing his carbine with his one free hand.

"Fall back!" he shouted to his remaining men "Fall back to the hill! We hold them at the hill!"

Gaining plenty of cuts and splinters from wood exploding of trees, and the great undergrowth behind him, Lieutenant Barton managed to pull the young soldier into a small, raised clearing, that was apparantly the hill that the local guides had marked out on the maps at Division. Barton and his seven soldiers formed a circle around the wounded private, a few of them laying behind their light machine guns on the ground. There was silence for a minute as the trees settled.

"We hold them here," he panted "We wait for relief. I've radioed in for reinforcements. We hold them here. T'Challa will come,"

The sound of guns started again, and M'Baku's elite started making their terrifying, howling war cry as they closed in around the American soldiers.

Clint Barton's Apartment, 2009

"Clint? What is it?"Natasha asked, roused from her sleep. Clint was sitting bolt upright, and looked at her sleepy form.

"Nothing," he smiled "Go back to sleep,"

Natasha Romanova smiled, and turned over, quickly falling into sleep's embrace. Clint Barton stayed awake in the dark of the room. The screams, the blood, the muck, it seems like he was just there. Like he can reach out and touch it. He remembers.

 

[Matt Murdock]

Ultimate Iron Man

Den *****s start to hate
they rearrange their face
Little do they know
I keep 'em things by waist side
I reply nobody gotta die
Similar to Lil Wizzy
'cause I got that fire

Bass throbbing, sweat pouring, booze flowing. Just the way Antonio Edward "Tony" Stark liked it. "I am Iron Man" was a hell of a pick up line, and he was using it as much as he could at Club 27 just off of Second Avenue in the heart of the city, his city. The martinis continued to mee his hand as his shoulders swayed from side to side amidst a flock of young twenty-somethings, each of whom were groping for things that lacked keypads and screens by way of his pockets. It was the life, as far as he was concerned. Then again, he wasn't in much of a condition to ponder otherwise. There was enough alcohol coursing through his system to make Lindsay Lohan look attractive. Not vintage Lohan. The new one, the coked up, sexually ambiguous, alien-looking version or, as certain celebrity publications had called her, "Lohan Beta."

Stark swayed from side to side, until, eventually, the club patrons seemed to empty out one by one. Their heels clicked along the wooden dance floor until Stark was left, half-unaware of his surrounding, thrusting his hips to and fro. Then, even the music itself seemed to leave the club, leaving Stark alone with two buxom blonds draped over his arms. They patted the arms of his tan suit as they gazed up at him.

"Th...the... the thing about the suit, l-laa-laaadi... girls, is that it's so cumb...cumbe...cumber...hard to move. It's like... like... like."

Both of the girls stared up at him as they waited for him to finish his sentence. In response, he stared at their cleavage, shamelessly losing himself admidst the four breasts in front of him.

One of the girl's phones rang, and she glared at her purse. In a single movement, she glared at the bag, and, somehow, glanced back up at Stark with a smile.

"Just... one second." She said through gritted teeth, holding up her index finger.

She tromped away, hissing at whomever was on the phone with her.

"Ringy, ding-y, ding-y. HIC!" Stark said, hiccuping gleefully.

He was left with the other blond for a moment, as they stared at each other awkwardly.

"Hic!" He said, opening his eye happily.

"We have to go." The first blond said, appearing virtually out of nowhere. "A friend of ours got alcohol posioning and is, ugh, in the 'hospital' or somthing."

She rolled her eyes and looked both apologetic and annoyed. "Sorry. Thanks for the drinks."

The blond stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, snatching her friend away from him. He stared at their backsides as they made their way down the alleyway leading away from the club door.

Stark wanted to call out, to ask their names, to say they looked ravishing in their dresses. He wanted to tell them how beautiful they were, to wish their friends well, to ask them where his car keys were.

"Hic!" Was all that came out.

Stark spun on his heel, teetering down the alleyway.

"This -hic- why, this -hic- why, this -hic- why I'm hot."

A white van pulled up to the end of the alleyway, tires squeeling in that all-too-stereotypical way. Stark hiccupped a few more times, before shaking his head vigorously.

​

"This doesn't seem good at all." He said aloud, slurring far more than he had been before.

Several characters, all outfitted in black uniforms and masks, poured out of the vehicle as the van door slid open.

"Yep. Not good." Stark confirmed.

Behind him, Tony heard the thudding of combat boots and turned to see a group of three soldiers, each armed with machine guns, making their way towards him. He blinked, not thinking clearly, unsure of what to do.

The three soldiers took aim at him. It was then that the man known as Iron Man came to the realization that the men surrounding him had almost every intention of ending his life.

So, he drew a weapon of his own.

He snapped his hand around behind his back and seized a handgun that was resting in the back of his belt. Stark took aim, having a clear line of fire for the head of the man taking point. Even on a bad day, Stark's aim was better than most.

BLAM!

He took a single shot and the man's body slumped to the ground, dead.

"Он вооружен?" One said, glancing at the other.

"Это выглядит тот путь." The other said.

"Hey!" Stark cried, still brandishing the smoking gun, "I'm not sure if you crazies *hic!* understnad me, but *hic* I've undergone ma...maaa...manda... needed weapons training for shh...shhheee...shee... ESS HAYCH EYE EEE ELL DEE."

He pulled his badge off of his belt and flashed it in their faces.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.!"

"Выньте его." A voice on their shoulder-mounted radios said.

"See, that just doesn't sound good. *hic!*" Stark said, as the two soldiers took aim once again.

He dove behind a dumpster as the machine guns fired, blasts tearing through the air.

"H...haw...Bullseye?" Stark wondered aloud, fumbling with his cell phone. "Clint! *hic*"

He dialed the number and prayed for an answer.
​

 

[Saved]

[BLACKOUT]Ultimate Deadpool[/BLACKOUT]​

Kirby, Idaho

The small town of Kirby moves daily, its days nearly similar from day to day. The residents move about their lives in a routine that's always followed to the precise detail. Everyone knows everyone, a real rural place. But everyone doesn't know everything about everyone.

Down Lee street, a car pulls up and parks outside a gunshop. The car is rusted and old. Its missing a bumper and the hood's paint has worn away years ago. A man in a dark trenchcoat steps out of the driver's side. He looks around anxiously, paranoid and cautious. He slams the car door shut and walks onto the sidewalk. He looks at the sign outside one of the stores, "The Arcade", it reads. "Come on in!" The slogan beneath begins. "Indoor pistol range open Wednesday to Friday." The man smiles and pushes open the door.

He walks through the room to the counter at the far end of the store. He sees the man behind the cash register lean up against the wall behind him, holding his arms crossed over his chest. "Hey, Weasel." The man speaks. "Guess who."

"Wadey!" The man behind the register says with a grin. "I heard you were back in town."
"More like back in the country." Wade says with a grin. "Had some...out of town mishaps."
"Buisness or something personal?" Wade grins slyly, rubbing his forearm gently.
"Little of both." He says discretely. "So, you still selling my babies?" Weasel laughs.
"Yeah, you bet." Weasel says with a wide smile. "Guns or knives, Wadey?"
"I'm thinkin' a little of both, Weas." Wade says, leaning against the counter relaxed. "I'm gonna need to restock everything. Kinda lost it all...little accident."
"Haha," Weasel laughs. "You and your mishaps."
"Yeah...I'm crazy."
"Here, lemme go in the back and get your stuff. Be right out." Weasel nods to Wade and walks behind the counter into a back room. As his figure fades into the darkness, Wade continues to lean casually on the counter top. "I'll be here."

A few minutes pass and Wade's smile has turned to a frown. He taps his fingers impatiently, hoping to distract himself. "Hey, Weas!" He shouts, calling to the man. "You pass out or something?" Suddenly, a man in a sharp black suit steps out from the shadows. His head is bald, shaved closely. He chews a cigar in his mouth, the mustache above moving with his jaw. Wilson stares at the man closely, a sneer coming across his face as he puts two and two together.

"Hello, Wilson." The man says with a grin.
"Can I help you?" Wilson says in a displeased tone.
"Actually, I think you can." The man raises his hand and flicks his fingers together in a loud snap. In seconds, scores of SHIELD operatives flood the room, coming in from every door and opening in the room. They all where heavy metal suits, armored for any occasion. They point their bulky weapons toward him, aiming their sights right for his torso. Wade instantly reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a pistol with surprising speed. He aims it carefully toward the man in the suit, pointing the sights for his head. "Now, now, Wilson." He says fearlessly. "We both know you'd be ripped to pieces before you'd be able to shoot me."

"Oh, I know that." Wade smiles, his fingers moving discretely across the gun. "I'm not stupid." Wade moves the gun and pulls the trigger, sending three bullets through the wall behind the SHIELD agent. With no time wasted, the SHIELD soldiers swarm Wade, ripping the gun from his hand and throwing him to the floor. As he hits the wooden planks below, his face shutters and soon fades. The hologram shatters and his true face is revealed. His eye balls seem to buldge and his teeth shine behind the thick glass encasement, his appearance now gruesome and frightening.

"Aw, come on, Wade." The operative says smoothly, disreguarding his morbid appearance. "You could've made that count."
"I wasn't aiming for you, Dum Dum." Wade says, the muscles in his face seeming to show a smile. The agent gives him a strange look as the sound of a 'thump' echos in the room. "Might want to go check on the sell out in the back." Wade says proudly. "Something tells me he only has minutes left."

The SHIELD soldiers lift Wade to his feet and hold him tightly, restraining him with force. "Shut it, scum." One of the soldiers says angrily. "What do you want to do with him, Dougan?" The agent frowns, staring at Wade with dissapointment.

"Not bad, Wilson." He says with a sneer. "Take him to the transport. Tell Agent Danvers to get his cell ready." The men nod and drag Wilson out of the room, hitting him and they abrasively remove him from the store. As they walk through the door, Agent Dougan turns and steps into the back room. As he walks through the door frame, he sees a body lying limp on the ground. He sees the face, recognizing it as Weasel. He walks up beside and gets to a knee. Reaching out, he puts his fingers to the man's throat and feels for a pulse.

"Son of a *****." He says with a grimace. Dougan brings his hand to his face and speaks into the communicator on his wrist. "This is Dum Dum," he begins, his mustache crawling across his upper lip. "Get the med crew in here stat. Our informant's down." Dougan rises to his feet, keeping his eyes on Weasel's unconscious body.

"You'll pay for that, Wilson." He growls. "Mark my words."

 

[Catman_prb]

"H...haw...Bullseye?" Stark wondered aloud, fumbling with his cell phone. "Clint! *hic*"​

He dialed the number and prayed for an answer.​

Clint Barton's cell phone started vibrating and flashing on the bedside table next to where he lay, covered in sweaty sheets. He swore, and picked it up without bothering to look at the name, hoping that it didn't needlessly wake Natasha up.

"Whoever this is, they better hope that they have a damn good reason for calling at two in the morning," Clint muttered sleepily.

 

[Matt Murdock]

Clint Barton's cell phone started vibrating and flashing on the bedside table next to where he lay, covered in sweaty sheets. He swore, and picked it up without bothering to look at the name, hoping that it didn't needlessly wake Natasha up.

"Whoever this is, they better hope that they have a damn good reason for calling at two in the morning," Clint muttered sleepily.

Ultimate Iron Man

Stark's eyes rolled about in his head.

"Matt, Katie, Al, Anne, Steve, Natasha, Nick, Thor, Clint..." Stark muttered into his phone. "Clint! Clint, I need you!"

He fired a few more shots.

​

"Men with *hic* guns outside club! Help!"

 

[Catman_prb]

Stark's eyes rolled about in his head.​

"Matt, Katie, Al, Anne, Steve, Natasha, Nick, Thor, Clint..." Stark muttered into his phone. "Clint! Clint, I need you!"

He fired a few more shots.​

"Men with *hic* guns outside club! Help!"

"Crap," Clint muttered, standing up and starting to get dressed.

"Where are you, and who did you sleep with this time?" Clint asked, making sure to hide a couple of guns in various items of clothing.

 

[Matt Murdock]

"Crap," Clint muttered, standing up and starting to get dressed.

"Where are you, and who did you sleep with this time?" Clint asked, making sure to hide a couple of guns in various items of clothing.

Ultimate Iron Man

"You know! The club!"

BLAMBLAMBLAM!
​

 

[Matt Murdock]

KRA-KOOM!

​

"...Well ain't this just perfect?"

Swinging my way home from the Bugle is one thing. Swinging my way home from the Bugle during a horrendous lightning storm is totally another. When the rain is coming down so hard, you can barely see out of your mask, you know it's time to change into your civvies and hail a cab. When it's pouring with rain, rain that stings as it slams into your skin and lashes around you as you go, and lightning is slamming through the skies of New York like it's tissue paper, you so totally know it's time to call for a cab.

It's tough, though, balancing the benefits of webswinging with the downsides of hurling myself about in the rain. On the plus side, I can go much faster from "point a" to "point b". On the down side, I catch pneumonia as I go. Plus, swinging is a way easier way to go about my --

"HACHOO!" I sneeze hard as I drape a webline along the side of a construction site. Fantastic! A cold. Just what I need in the middle of the spring. Now I can count on Aunt May giving me an earful about "wearing a coat" and "being more careful." Awesome. Awesome blossom.

Where was I? Swinging, right.

It's easier to go about my patrol here in the skies than in a cab. That's definetly a plus. On the down side, though, there's the possibility that I could fall, or miss a webline, or hit my head, or one of any number of things that could result in my imminent demise. On the other hand, Flash Thompson could hit me in the face really hard and put me in a coma, so I guess nobody really knows what "safe" is anymore, huh?

People point at me and snap pictures as I swing by their office windows. They grab and tug at the sleeves of their coworker's pressed linen shirts and say things like "whoa! I didn't know he was real!" I'm used to it by now, even though I haven't been at this "hero" game very long. You'd be surprised, though, even though I save old ladies from runaway buses, stop bank robbers, and put down the craziest-of-the-crazy villains like Doctor Octopus, people still hurl cans, bricks, and whatever other garbage they can get their hands on in my direction. A few of them could play for the Yanks, with their aim. My back and the top of my head have gotten nailed with garbage more times that I'd care to count. And I owe it all to my loving, benevolent, warm-hearted boss, J. Jonah Jameson. The operator of the finest bird-cage-liner in town, the Daily Bugle, Jolly Jameson has made it his sole burden to rid the city of me. Sure, he boasts about exclusive interviews with Iron Man and Captain America, but me? I get headlines that read "SPIDER-MAN IN KAHOOTS WITH MAFIA!" or, my personal favorite: "SPIDER-MAN: HERO OR MENACE?!" That one runs every couple of weeks... if I'm lucky. Every few days if I'm not. Whatever doubt the people of this fine, horn-honking city have in me... I fully blame on Jameson. Sure, Daredevil, a guy who breaks bones and leaves people inches from death (I've only ever left the real bad guys a foot away, at most), gets great press. Meanwhile, I'm left high and dry.

"Hachoo!"

Well... in this case... high and sopping.

THWIP!

A webline goes taught in my hand, the adhesive material in the chemical compound tugging on the fabric of my glove. I pull up on the thread and swing in a low arc, flying just above the roofs of cars. Drivers swerve as they see a guy in his pajamas soaring over them. As I swing I see a woman topple into the street.

"Watch out!" I shout, as I slam onto the roof of a car beneath me. I crouch down on the roof of the car and explode forward, snatching the lady just before a cab hits her. Hell, it nearly hits me as I'm saving her.

"Yeesh!" I say, placing her down on the sidewalk and glancing down the street. "Crazy New York cabbies."

Damsel in distress, right in front of you, here, Parker. Get with the program.

My head snaps back to her as she dusts herself off.

"You alright, ma'am?" I ask sincerely.

Her eyes slowly move up to meet the lenses of my red and black mask, as if she's only now realizing that Spider-Man, yes, the Spider-Man, just saved her keister.

The rain slams into us as we stand on the sidewalk. My costume is soaked through and through, skintight as it sticks to my frame. It'd be quite a show for the ladies if I wasn't wearing my athletic support.

...We'll mark that as a plus for webswinging?

"I... Are yo..."

"Yes, I am. The one, the only, the big-time-super-hero known as Spider-Man."

Her eyes close and open again, as if in slow motion as she processes the information.

"T...there was a man." Stammering. How sweet. It's not everyday you get to meet Spidey. "He had a purse, he slammed into me. I think he stole it."

It's as if she's still processing her near-death experience, her run in with a superhero, and the fact that she saw a guy running away from the scene of a crime all at once. And it's taking forever. Four-eh-ver.

"Can I get a direction? A finger-point?" I say, gesturing around and about, "A 'he-went-thata-way!'?"

She holds a finger up and points down a nearby alley. Just when you thought the day couldn't be more of a clich--

"Hachoo!"

I run my forearm along my upper lip. Yum...

"Thanks for the help."

THWIP!

I pull myself into the alleyway, staring quietly down the half-dark corridor of bricks and glass. It's scary. Even with spider-sense, I still get that feeling in the pit of my stomach. The same one you get in the pit of your gut when you're in a haunted house. Your heart becomes a lump in your throat and --

KRA-KOOM!

I twitch.

...and evening thunder makes you squirm. Of course, the dang thunder only happens when you're in the alleyway to begin with.

A light is mounted just above a doorway to a restaurant or club... the bulb isn't working. How typical.

And then I see him. He's not scary or intimidating. He's a guy. With a baseball cap over his face, searching through the purse... his loot. And he, apparently, hasn't noticed the lanky superhero clinging to the wall six feet away from him.

"They say you can learn a lot about a lady by going through her purse." His head snaps up at my pubescent voice.

"I don't think that's what you're doing this for, though."

THWIP!

I lean back and let go of the wall, swinging on a webline and connecting with his jaw with a hard kick. He lifts into the air and slams into a wall, shattering some of the bricks.

"Wow." I say aloud, watching as he slumps to the ground on one knee, his hat beside him. He's bald. Probably from a biker gang. I can't lie; I'm pretty impressed that he was able to break the brick. Usually these petty guys go down in a punch, maybe two. "Gotta say, I mighta underestimated you. Usually, the guys I slam into brick walls while quoting The Incredibles don't have the stamina to get up."

I watch as he pulls himself to his feet, and, somehow, the rain pours harder. As the man gets to his feet, my lenses meet his eyes. My skin begins to tingle, and the air seems to crack as a grin slowly starts to spread across his face. See... it's times like this that I'm glad I have a spider-sense. If I were in any real danger, it'd be going haywire...

Tingling. Back of my neck. Spider-sense.

Looks like I spoke too soon.

His eyes glow as mine grow behind my mask.

"Something tells me that this idea might... have... been... very..."

​

"...Bad."

Him? Electro. Loser extraordinaire. Former member of the Kingpin's hitsquad, the Enforcers. Knocked his tookus out with a big funnel of water. Basically got him to short-circuit. Looks like he's managed to fix that issue and can fully control electricity.

Me? Spider-Man. Hero extraordinaire. Former member of the chess team. Currently covered in water and about to face off against a guy who can manipulate electricity... I guess we'll call that a downside of webswinging.

"Ya think, insect?" Electro snarls.

Spider-Sense. Lightning bolt coming. I leap into the air as Electro fires his hand in front of him, firing a bolt of pure electricity into the spot on the brick, leaving a smoking fragment of stone in it's place. I don't even have the nerve to comment on the error Electro made regarding spiders being insects. Honestly, it's growing to be quite a problem in the supervillain community and I just don't feel like my constant corrections are making a difference.

I spring forward, dodging a blast in mid-air as I head right for Electro.

"Stand still." He confidently hisses, "This'll be over soon."

"Stand still?" My retort comes swiftly as I bounce about the alleyway, "Why? So you can fry me like an egg? Smoke me like a salmon? As far as I can remember, you had a real food theme going last time we fought. Remember? When I beat the snot outta you?"

Chuckling to myself, I roll along the wet pavement.

"Ah, good times."

I find a louisville slugger in a heap of garbage and heave it out. Electro's body is fully electrified. I need to make sure I don't touch him... unless, of course, I want to end up as a spider-on-a-stick.

Like a javelin, I hurl the bat at Electro's face, hitting him square in the jaw.

"Gah! Dammit." He roars. Snatching everything I can find that might hurt him, I start pelting him with garbage.

In a lull in the fight, he sticks his neck out excitedly, sending water running off of his chin.

"You wanna get crazy?" The electricity coursing through his flesh and clothes begins to turn blue, along with the rest of his skin. And, then, I realize... I might've just bitten way more than I can chew.

"Let's get crazy!"

Electro burts into a flash of bright blue light, as electricity courses through each droplet of water falling around and onto me. I scream in agony as the blue electricity singes my skin.

I slump onto the ground, in a smoking heap.

"You've been a pest for me for too long!" He announces victoriously.

"Gulp..." I say aloud.

Time to be the hero.

"You know, Electra," I quip happily, pulling myself up off of the steaming pavement. "you'd be far more intimidating if you glowed a darker color. Sky blue just doesn't really work for you."

"Kill you!"

THWIP!

I heave myself up off of the ground by a webline, with Electro in-toe.

"Yeah. Yeah, you said that already."

Electricity surges through the air as I dodge blast after devastating blast. I bounce from brick wall, to sign, to billboard. In fact, on a sign for cola, I happen to land on the model's upper lip. Electro fires a blast at me, which I dodge. I didn't even notice the Hitler-stache we left that poor gal with.

I spin around in mid-air and unload two full cartridges of webbing around Electro, forming a cocoon.

I watch as the ball of webbing slams to the ground, but slowly begins to glow.

"Oh that won't hold him for long." I groan.
​

 

[Saved]

Ultimate Prodigy​

Ezekiel Stane's Penthouse, Manhattan

It's dark. The lights flash in colors around me on the dance floor. I feel the music vibrate through me, crawl under my skin and pound with my heart in the rhythm of the beat. I grind with countless girls as I dance, some I know, some I don't. Each one is like a new venture, just another woman who finds me like a god.

I clasp the drink in my hand tightly, holding the flimpsy red plastic above my head as if to raise a toast. "Ritchie, you're so ****in hot!" The girl in front of me screams as we dance. I simply smile at her and grin. This is the life.

As the song comes to an end, the dancing pauses briefly, and the crowd rests. People cheer and shout, jumping up and down as the ground begins to rumble and the next song plays. I put my hand on the girl in front of me and get close to her. "Hey," I shout over the noise. "I'm runnin' low, babe. Gonna go get a refill."
"I'll be here, Ritchie." She shouts enthusiastically. "You gonna come back?"
"Heh," I laugh slyly. "You bet."

I move through the crowd, pushing through the endless bodies a head of me. People shout my name and I nod, simply acknowledging them as I move forward. I soon reach the end of the crowd and step up the short grouping of stairs to the open bar. As I walk up closer I see some of my friends gathered around the counter, drinking their drinks proudly.

"Hey, Rich!" Flash says, raising his glass to me. "You're an animal out there." I grin as I take a place next to him and put my cup on the counter.
"Would you expect any less from me?"
"See, that is why I love you, man." He slaps me on the back hard and shouts a loud. "What a frickin' party."
"Yeah, Zeek throws a mad smash." A guy behind the counter refills my cup and I thank him with a wave. "His dad's out on buisness, right?"
"Yeah, some new buisness deal. He wasn't specific, he could care less."
"Ha. If he was your dad, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah, you're right." We both take a long drink from out cups, just catching our breath and sucking it all in. I slam my cup down on the table, it's empty again. I let out a loud sigh of relief and a wide smile comes across my face.

"You remember Osborn's parties?" Flash asks me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Haha, yep." I say with a laugh of nostaglia. "He had celebrities come to those."
"Yeah, man, those were the days. Whatever happened to Harry?"
"I forget, really." I say with an apathetic tone. "His dad got arrested or something for a scandal. Harry wound up just moving away."
"Wasn't there a rumor his dad was a mutant?" I smirk, amused by his question.

"Flash, there was a rumor Parker was a mutant."
"HAHA!" Flash roars. "Wow, who started that ****?"
"Probably his girlfriend. Try to get him some kind of credit."
"Well, hey, he was dating a mutant."
"Huh...yeah." I say, thinking for a moment. I remember now, the X-Men girl. Something Pryde. "Oh yeah..." I say, taking a sip from my refilled cup. "She was about a six."

"Eh, I don't know." Flash says shaking his head. "She was a freak."
"Liz tell you that?" I ask. "She pass her mutantphobia over to you?"
"Heh...yeah, I guess."
"Come on, Flash, really? You don't have to share every opinion with Liz. Be your own man."
"Well, that's not what she says."
"Whatever, Flash." I say, taking another drink. "Alright, I'm going back out there." I push off the counter and begin walking forward toward the sea of faces in front of me.
"You gonna find that chick you were dancing with?" He calls out as the next song begins to play.
"Nah," I say with a grin. "I think I'll see what else I can find."
"Go get em, Rich!" Flash shouts out in a drunken slur. I wave back to him as I enter the crowd, getting absorbed by the mass. As I move about amongst the crowd I hear the familiar screams, laughs, and cheers. I feel the bodies bumping me as the others dance, the party continuing as the music plays.

As I continue walking forward I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see a friendly face, a beautiful face, a face I don't recognize. Her blonde hair glimmers in the flashing lights, reflecting the blue then red then white. "Hey, there." She says in an enthralling voice, her smile captivating. "Wanna dance?" She asks me with a smirk.

"You bet." I tell her smoothly, moving my arms around her as we begin to move with the beat. "By the way, my name's Ritchie." I tell her, whispering in her ear intimately.
"I'm Tandy." She says, reaching over her shoulder, putting her hand over my arm. I hold her at the waist and smile.
"Nice to meet you." I say with pride. "Very nice."

 

[Saved]

Moon Knight
​

Five Minutes to Midnight Part I​

Cafe El tigre, Downtown Manhattan

I awake suddenly, my eyes fluttering as I come to. I hear the sound of cups clanking together, people laughing and talking. As I look around the area I realize where I am. I'm in a cafe, sitting in a lone booth by the corner of the restaurant. I hold a cup of coffee in my hands, it's cold. I've been here for a while, apparently.

"Excuse me, sir." A voice says in a plesant tone. "Sir?" It calls again. I turn to my left and see a waitress staring at me with a strange expression on her face. I smile awkwardly to her, giving her the impression I recognize her.


"Oh, yes." I say, acknowledging her. I look quickly to her chest and see the nametag over the left pocket on her shirt. "Yes, Janice." I say smoothly.
"Yes, sir, you asked me for the bill." She places a black sleeve holding a reciept and a credit card and places it on the table in front of me. She gives me a forced smile, "Have a nice day," she tells me, walking away briskly. Great, that wasn't awkard.

I take the black sleeve and pull out the credit card. Examining it closely, I notice it's familiar. It's mine. I take the reciept and look at the bottom. It's signed. "Steven Grant." So...he picked up the bill.


I reach into the pants pocket of the expensive suit I wear and pull out my wallet. I take the credit card and the reciept and slip it inside, putting them in their designated pockets. I pull out a few dollars and place them on the table, making sure to leave a decent tip. "Alright," I say, slipping my wallet back into my pants. "That should do it." I rise from my seat and stare out the window at the skyline in the distance. I see the sun fade behind the skyscrapers and suddenly my stomach sinks.
"Not much time now." I say to myself with worry. "I've got minutes." As I move to walk toward the door, I stick my hands in my jacket pockets. Just a habit, really. Something I always do. As I reach around inside, I feel a piece of folded paper. I grip it tightly and pull it out. What's this, I wonder, opening the paper carefully. As I read the paper, I see it is a note, written in my hand writing. Well...not exactly mine.

"-Marc,
Pick up flowers for Marlene. Tomorrow is her birthday."

Marlene. Our girlfriend. Funny, I'm awake so little nowadays I nearly forget I'm dating. I look to the watch on my wrist and check the time. Seven thirty. I have an hour or so left. I'll swing by the flower shop on the way home while I still have time.

I push open the door and I hear the bell ring as I walk out onto the sidewalk. As I walk down the street to my car, I feel the headache in the back of my head brewing. He's waking up. "Stay in there." I growl, pulling the keys from my pocket. "I need an hour, dammit. Just gimme that much." I put the key into my car door and open it, carefully slipping inside my corvette and closing the door behind me. As I put the key into the ignition of the car, I feel tired. Very tired. "No..." I whisper as my eyes roll back into my head. "No..."

****​

Awake. I feel the cool keys between my fingers. Instantly, I remember where I am. I've been watching. I turn the keys and start the car, listening closely to the familiar hum of the engine. "Sorry, Marc." I say with a grin, putting the car into drive. "There's work to be done."

 

[Shemtov]

The plan was simple.
Magneto would go to New York city and atack the Triskelon.
He flew over the Americas at his top speeds, Stopping only for the ocasional massacre of a village, after which he would raid there food stores and rest for a while.
He was flying over Texas When He Felt his power being drained from him He fell to the ground, hard.
In front of Him was Nick Fury.
"Magneto, we have a mutant-power-draining gun (Invented by Tony Stark) trained on you .We sensed your magnetic feild. You are Powerless. If you do not give up, we WILL be forced to use force upon you"
"Whether or not I have my Powers I'm still a mutant, Fury. And True mutants never surrender"
" If you want to play it the hard way we'll play it the hard way."
Fury Took a stick out of his pocket and aimed it at Magneto.
"A Stick is your weapon? You Humans are even more stupid then I Thou- Arggggh"
From the stick burst 200 volts of electricity. Magneto was down.
TBC........

 

[Catman_prb]

"You know! The club!"​

BLAMBLAMBLAM!​

"Oh, that club," Clint said, rolling his eyes as he stepped into his black Mercedes, strapping himself in. He was in his usual going-out wear. Mainly black with some additional touches of leather.

"Look, I'll be there in five. Try not to get yourself killed by then. Oh, and call Cap," Clint said, before hanging up the phone and putting it inside his jacket.

 

[Catman_prb]

Wakandan Royal Palace, 1997

T'Challa and his family walked up the white steps to the palace, he was greeted by his elderly father with outstretched arms.

"Here she is!" he called happily "My favourite grand-daughter,"

He lifted said grand-daughter up in his arms, whilst T'Challa and his wife Nyra watched on with amused grins. It always surprised him that his father could be so gentle with children, and yet be such a firm ruler. There were different sides to every person, he decided.

"Your only grand-daughter father," T'Challa said, smiling.

"Very true, but it is not every day that my grand-daughter turns five!" the old man grinned. T'Challa and Nyra laughed, and the family moved inside. He frowned at the increased number of guards at the doors to the palace.

"Getting more safety conscious," he asked, his smile fading.

"No such luck. There are rumours that M'Baku is back in the country," a deep voice boomed from behind him. T'Challa turned and grinned.

"Zuri! My father still has not managed to be rid of you then," he said warmly "What is this about M'Baku?"

The old warrior frowned at him.

"They say that he has brought American mercenaries with him, and that he rouses the bandits that hide in the jungle," Zuri said, as he walked with the family group.

Wakanda was almost divided into two by the large area of jungle to the south, which contrasted with the dry and arid north. Wakanda City was located in the north, as was the palace, and South Wakanda had become
synonymous with rebels and disidents.

"Do we know for sure?" T'Challa asked.

The warrior shook his head.

"Not yet," he said. T'Challa shrugged, although his face contained lines of deep worry, and the pair of them caught up with the rest of the group in the dining hall.

The dinner was a merry affair, all of them eating far too much and drinking too much of T'Chana's best wine. After dinner, they were all lazing back in their chairs and telling jokes when they heard a loud crack from the main gate. Immediately, the men were stood up, alert as they could ever be. Gunfire started sounding from around the palace grounds. T'Challa turned to his wife.

"Take N'Kal and head towards the airstrip. We shall be right behind you," he whispered, then kissed her head gently.

He hurried over to where his father and Zuri were talking animatedly.

"We should leave. Now. These guard are no match for the veterans that M'Baku will have," he advised. T'Chana shook his head.

"We can fight them here and quash this rebellion before it can even start," the old king stated solemnly.

There was the sound of a motor revving through the gardens. T'Challa grabbed his father's arm.

"We need to go," he whispered urgently. The revving got louder, and there was a deafening crash as a military jeep crunched through the plate glass window of the dining hall. T'Challa flung his father out of harm's reach, and looked for a weapon. His eyes fell on the carving knife that they had used during the dinner. The men in the jeep were laughing and firing their rifles in the air with a sick glee. Without pausing to aim, he threw the carving knife, and hit one of them in the throat. He fell out of the jeep and T'Challa rolled towards him, grabbing the AK-47 from his writhing grip.

"Well done brother," a mocking voice called. There was a slow clap that went with it. T'Challa growled and turned around to face his tormentor. M'Baku was wearing, as ever, his combat fatigues, complete with sunglasses to shield his eyes from the sun's glare. In his hand was a pistol that was not aimed on him. T'Challa followed where the gun was pointing, and saw his father, sprawled out on the floor a few metres away, panting heavily.

"M'Baku, not even you-"

-BANG-

T'Challa was cut off by the single fire of the gun, which sounded louder than the fighting that was occuring all around him. He stared with an open mouth at the body of his father, a bloody red hole visible over his chest.

"Do not tell me what I can't do, brother," M'Baku said, grinning.

T'Challa stood up and began backing away as the mad-man began to laugh. His men were starting to pour in the hole where the window used to be, advancing towards him. He fired the AK-47 in a wide arc, then turned and sprinted towards the airstrip. He did not find any soldiers in his way, and none were following him, so he assumed that M'Baku must have been happy with the destruction he had caused already. As he reached the airstrip, he saw that almost all of the vechiles had left. There was only one helicopter remaining, the rotors already moving. Zuri was in the pilots seat, and quickly opened the door.

"Quick boy!" he shouted. T'Challa leapt into the helicopter, shutting the door behind him. Zuri wordlessly began the ascent into the air, while the Prince of Wakanda looked down at the Royal Palace, which was ablaze in parts, and rubble in others. Silently a single tear found it's way down his face.

 

[Matt Murdock]

"Oh, that club," Clint said, rolling his eyes as he stepped into his black Mercedes, strapping himself in. He was in his usual going-out wear. Mainly black with some additional touches of leather.

"Look, I'll be there in five. Try not to get yourself killed by then. Oh, and call Cap," Clint said, before hanging up the phone and putting it inside his jacket.

Ultimate Iron Man

"Cap. Cap. *hic!* Cap..."​

Stark's eyes shot open as he came to a profound realization: Captain America wasn't in his cell phone.

"Steve! That's his *hic* name!" Stark said, jamming the cell phone buttons as quickly as he could. It rang, and rang, and rang.

He felt the buzz wearing off quickly now, as the regenerative neural tissue that laced his body slowly began recovering from the copious amounts of liquor in his system. As the buzz went, the pain returned, all the while with Stark taking fire.

 

[SenseiofCheese]

Ultimate Iron Man

"Steve! That's his *hic* name!" Stark said, jamming the cell phone buttons as quickly as he could. It rang, and rang, and rang.

He felt the buzz wearing off quickly now, as the regenerative neural tissue that laced his body slowly began recovering from the copious amounts of liquor in his system. As the buzz went, the pain returned, all the while with Stark taking fire.​

Ultimate Captain America​

It was one of those nights. Steve had woken up in a pool of sweat, nightmares plaguing him. And for that split second before realization hit him, he had no idea where he was.

He had been awake for an hour now. Mostly looking out his window, at the otherwordly splendor that was the Triskelion. Every day he was amazed at what he saw. The cars, the weapons, the buildings, the..

BEEP BEEP

BEEP BEEP

...cellphones.

Steve turned and walked over to the table by his bed. The phone was making an obnoxious noise, and Steve wondered how something so small could be so truly annoying. But Tony Stark, a man truly the personification of the time he lived in, had convinced him to carry on of these.

Steve chuckled when he saw Tony's name displayed on the screen, before he flicked open the phone and answered.

"Hello, Tony."
-----

It took less than a minute from when Steve answered the phone and heard the gunshots, for him to be on the move. Another minute and he had his uniform on. Another one, and a SHIELD operative had pinpointed Tony Stark.

Five minutes more, and Captain America was there.

"You seem to like getting yourself in trouble, Tony."​

 

[Catman_prb]

There was a screeching sound as Clint slammed on his brakes and his car skidded to a halt. He raised an eyebrow as he heard gunfire, and pulled his two customised uzis out of his leather trenchcoat as he started to walk towards the sound. He saw Tony crouching behind some car or another, firing over the top. He fired his uzis towards whoever was shooting at Stark.

"Hey Tony, you having fun?" he shouts over the sound of gunfire.

 

[SenseiofCheese]

Parker Robbins.​

It had been a long day. Most of it had been spent getting yelled at by his bosses' bosses, for not doing work his co-workers were supposed to do but pawned off on him. This resulted in him not having enough time to actually work, which would inevitably get him yelled at tomorrow.

He wasn't meant for this. Parker Robbins had always known he was meant for something big. Something good.

He had his hands buried in his coat pockets and had his eyes on the concrete laid out before him as he made his way home from work. His mind was set ablaze. Images of himself finally mustering up the courage to yell back, to do something with his life. He was so preoccupied he had almost forgotten that Maggie had asked him to bring home some milk. Stopping in his tracks, he looked across the street and saw a small shop nestled in between two larger buildings.

"No, wait! STOP!" he called out when he saw a small man, portly and bald, flip a sign on the door. As 'OPEN' turned to 'CLOSED', Parker sprinted across the street, waving his hands. The owner was visibly startled when Parker feverishly knocked on the glass door.

"Sir, please, I just need to by a bottle of milk!"

The owner shook his head and reached into his pocket for a large key.

"Oh man, come on! My wife's gonna kill me! Just one bottle of milk!" he pleaded. The owner looked up and hesitated.

"Just the one bottle?" he asked, to which Parker nodded.

Resigning, the owner grabbed hold of the handle and opened the door. "Thanks, man, you're a lifesaver."

"I got a wife too. Married 25 years an' she'd divorce me on da spot if I forgot to bring home milk. Just make it quick."

Parker thanked the man before hurriedly making his way to the back of the store. Making sure he had enough money for the milk, Parker opened the freezer and grabbed an ice cold bottle of milk.

"Hey, we're closed." the owner's voice followed the sound of the door opening and closing.

"Listen, I said we're CLO-"

"SHUT THE **** UP AND GIVE ME THE MONEY!"

Parker froze on the spot. It was all he could do to keep from dropping the bottle. He slowly turned around and peered over the shelves. At the register, a man was aiming a pistol at the shop owner's face, waving it around threateningly.

"I don't want no trouble"

"Then gimme the damn MONEY, man!"

If the armed man hadn't had his back turned, he would have seen a man with a bottle of milk sneak up behind him. Parker was sweating profusely, his arms shaking and his legs disobeying every order to hide his brain sent down his spine. Slowly he made his way up to the register as the shop owner opened the register and began picking out wads of cash.

"Come on, COME ON!"

This was it. He could feel it. This was the moment Parker had been waiting for. To show that he wasn't just some loser. That he was meant to do good. That he was meant for something amazing.
Grabbing the bottle by it's neck and squeezing it tight, he was mere inches from the criminal, ready to bring the bottle down into his head.

DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT JUST DO IT!!!!

He screamed inside his own mind. All he needed to do was take action. Do it. Show the people he was a hero. That Parker Robbins was a brave man.

But he didn't.

"WHAT THE ****?!"

With a shopping bag full of money, the criminal turned to see a man staring off into the distance. Shaking with fear, sweating, Parker Robbins stood frozen. He could hardly feel the bottle slip out of his hand and shatter on the floor. He could hardly feel the butt of the pistol slam into his temple, nor could he feel his face hit the glass covered floor as the robber fled.

I was supposed to be the hero.

 

[Venom160]

The screams are quickly drowned out by the sounds of my bones breaking and my organs liquefying. The pain should've been unbearable but I honestly didn't feel it. My body is drug beneath the train yet all I can hear is Ali's voice in my head. Her beautiful voice so strong, so vivid, that I could swear that she was here.

Warren I....I don't love you. I don't think I ever did.

Despite my pleading my mind takes me back to that moment acouple weeks ago.

After the horrific actions inflicted on her by Nathanial Winters Ali fell into a coma that lasted a month. During that time Professor Xavier recruited the help of Moira Mctaggert to help reverse the physical damage inflicted. When Ali finally came to we discovered that she has suffered severe amnesia. Overtime I had tried to jog Ali's memory all the while keeping cause of her memory loss from her. Finally giving in to her requests I had revealed everything to her from the rape and torture to the forced abortion of our son. She locked herself in her room for three days after that not talking to anyone. After finally coming out she had asked that we separate for a while. I reluctantly accepted even though it tore me apart.

I'm jugged from my memories as the train finally clears my twisted and mutilated body. The panicked screams return but they sound distant. I sink back into my thoughts without much hesitation.

The time that followed was torture. Ali spent more time with Kurt while I tried the best I could to be there for her. Over time I found myself growing distant from my adopted family, shunning their attempts to comfort me. The change also afflicted my behavior on missions. I grew angry and violent. I was finally taken off the active duty when I beat Toad into unconsciousness during a bout with the Brotherhood. The tension finally exploded when I found Kurt and Ali in a passionate embrace, a lover's embrace, without thinking I attacked Kurt not bothering to listen to his hurried explanation. The other X-men tried to intervene but it was Ali that finished it.

Warren stop it!

I drop a barely conscious Kurt to the floor and turn to her.

Why Ali?

Because I love him. He's been there for me, I trust him.

Ali you can trust me. I love you.

But I don't....

My mind froze in it's tracks as I stare at the only woman I ever loved.

What?

Warren I....I don't love you. I don't think I ever did.

Ali please....

Just leave me alone.

I packed my bags and left that night despite the Professor and Scott's request to stay. There was just no reason for me to stay, nothing to fight for anymore. The following weeks is surrounded in an alcohol fueled haze. I tried to lose myself in booze, woman, drugs, nothing helped. Nothing dulled the pain of having my heart ripped from my chest. Defeated I found myself here today. With my healing factor it made slitting my wrists or blowing my brains out impossible. I needed something bigger.....

"Oh my god I think this guy is still alive! Someone call 911!"

My eyes snap open focusing on the terrified man standing over me. People are standing on the station staring down at me in shock. I look to my sides and see that the trench coat concealing my wings was shredded. What was left of my wings lay spread across the tracks.

"No....."

I look down at my body and see my wounds already repairing itself.

"NOOOOOO!"

I'm gone before the ambulance or cops arrive leaving nothing but some bloody feathers and a ****ed up story. I take to the air cursing what my life has become. Minutes pass and I land gently on the balcony leading into my overpriced high rise penthouse.

"Where've you been lover?"

I barely acknowledge the naked woman draped across the couch as I calmly head into the bedroom. She follows me as I peel off the shredded and bloody close.

"What happened? Is that blood?"

Finally losing what little patience I turn on her glaring.

"What are you still doing here?"

Her super model features twist into shock at my attitude.

"I..I wanted..."

"I got what I wanted from you. Get out...."

Shock melts into anger as she starts throwing out insults of varying subjects. It was when she got to the mutant subject that I grabbed her arm and forcefully lead her to the door.

"Wait I haven't gotten dressed!"

"Hope your not shy."

I push her out into the hallway and slam the door.

 

[Matt Murdock]

Ultimate Captain America​

Five minutes more, and Captain America was there.

"You seem to like getting yourself in trouble, Tony."

There was a screeching sound as Clint slammed on his brakes and his car skidded to a halt. He raised an eyebrow as he heard gunfire, and pulled his two customised uzis out of his leather trenchcoat as he started to walk towards the sound. He saw Tony crouching behind some car or another, firing over the top. He fired his uzis towards whoever was shooting at Stark.

"Hey Tony, you having fun?" he shouts over the sound of gunfire.

Ultimate Iron Man

"You know what they say, boys:" Stark said, now only slightly tipsy as he reloaded his gun.
​

"Shawty got low, low, low, low, low, low."

He fired a few rounds at the men by the white van.

"You probably don't know that, actually." He said, clicking his lips at Captain America.