Marvel, Rebirth:

[Eevee]

IC

 

Lynae sighed as she changed into a sleek red dress and fixed her hair. She pouted as she looked at herself in the mirror. I used to be something... Now I don't even get to know what's happening around here.

 

But, once she had her Hellions things were going to be different. Oh yes, things would be different around here, that's for sure.

 

One more quick hair and make up check and Lynae headed toward Ric's floor, her red lips in a sly grin.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

OOC: Aha. No. You asked for some dignity in John's death when you popped John's bone claws, Flex, and against the advice of a good many people [actually, just about everyone] I thought it only fair to let you say farewell to the character in the manner you wanted. I gave you an inch - no, I gave you a foot, actually, and you took it for a mile. You might have taken it for a mile more, and more, until you actually ended up weaseling your way out of this...but no. I step in here.

 

First, the healing factor. I don't know how many people have been saying this for two years, and I know I've said it many a time myself, but I'm gonna give it one final refrain: John is not Wolverine. Daken himself, in the comics, had his wrist claws cut out by Wolverine to remove any threat he posed to his dad; they grew back after weeks and weeks (not until the Siege of Asgard, actually) and when they came back they'd taken a substantial power nerf. And Daken's recovery was expedited wonderfully by Norman Osborn, who made sure that Daken ate all his proteins and vegetables like a good little maniac. By the very rules of a healing factor and human recovery, you need to eat to keep your strength up. I just went through all of John's meals since he was taken from Westchester. All of them. Combed through his entire arc. Would you all like to see John Howlett's FDA approved diet plan?

 

- He gorged on some snacks in the limo on the way from the Hand's warehouse to New York City.

- After beating the ###### out of him and gouging his eyes, Daken gave him anywhere from one to three pieces of pizza and a beer. 

- He smoked a cigarette at the Red Cross.

- He drank another beer or two in a bar on the way to Oscorp.

 

Pause while the Avengers are in Kansas. This accounts for about two or three days. All of his freedom calories are gone by now. Maybe he shouldn't have smoked that cigarette.

 

Daken's back. Resume.

 

- One beer. 

- One sandwich from Chick Fil A. No sides. No drink. 

- One-to-two Subway sandwiches, a few chips, 60% of a cookie, one soda. 

 

I'd ask if you smelled what the Rock is cooking, but from the sounds of things John hasn't been near anyone who's actually cooking in a month and a half. Moreover, it's not conducive at all to any sort of heavy bodily repair - there's a reason I had to keep highlighting all the injuries John's walking around with, and it's because it has been forty five days, that is all John's eaten in those days, I have stated specifically during the initial stage of his captivity that it's only what's left of his healing factor keeping him alive, and what calories he has, he's dumped into push-ups and sit-ups. That's why I've continually pointed out how rough John looks - because I can't trust you to be realistic with how a power like this actually works, just like you proved you couldn't be trusted with it in XMDD.

 

But fine. I could let you have John's claws, because you showed John putting himself through immense physical strain in order to grow them again and I still held out the hope you could run with this realistically. But running on all fours again? Darting about, weaving through every attack? Repairing kicks to knees and burn wounds from close-range fire? You need a functioning body to have that sort of juice, and even at John or Daken's peak it would take a lot to recuperate enough to use those arms again to keep swatting through fire - which, by the way, would only be fanned by John swinging his arms around like that. It's not a liquid. Don't believe me? The next time you're at a bonfire with friends, stick a skewer with a marshmallow in with your left hand, stick your right hand in with it, and then try to splash the marshmallow with your hand. It won't work out.

 

So you weaved through Leah's attack ridiculously and then you pretty much recovered from it in the span of two paragraphs. And don't give me that you said they were "slowly fading" because that's ###### too. If they were only 'slowly' fading, you wouldn't be able to climb with them. The very usage of John's arms and the movement of all those charred nerve endings would have been too excruciating to concentrate - even with the arrow lodged in his side that's barbed, and expertly aimed, that you somehow managed to move and get skimmed by. Do you know how archers work? Or how Nate, a mutant who has an entire X-Gene devoted to his eye knowing where it needs to go and firing trick shots? If you did move like you say John did, then the arrow's in John's lung by now. Good luck. He's on the ground.

 

And not just any ground - you're on the city street, with cars and taxis parking over your bloody, burnt flapjack of a body, since skyscraper walls are largely comprised of glass, which will easily shatter if you put your claws through it. The Dark Avengers are explicitly stated to be high up enough to warrant a long trip even with the elevator, so let's say John fell about ten stories and was close enough to put his claws through the building. Congratulations. The sudden momentum snap broke his claws, or his arms, or both, and now he's falling. Luckily, glass will give much quicker, so in this situation, as in real life, John is falling. He is falling, and he cannot get up. 

 

I tried, very hard and for very long, Flex, to get you involved in this plot, convince the others that everyone was ready and mature enough to let bygones be bygones, and that we could make John's involvement something to remember. Well, it is. Your character is now getting the most cathartic death since Novocain's - oh, and make no mistake, this is cathartic. I am more mature than you, Flex, because I could have let this get ugly much sooner and I could have responded with vitriol akin to the last time you drove an RPG into the ground. I did not. I wanted to see, to believe, that you had matured yourself. People were bugging me to respond when you put out the accusation that I had betrayed you, or lied to you, or abused your character without merit, when you can ask anyone [your friends or mine, I don't care which] and they will tell you that I did indeed have plans to make John an integral part of the Dark Avengers. You threw those away; that's not on me. You made things personal; that's not on me. John Howlett is going to die in the next twenty four hours, whether by my hand or by one of the team member's; that is as much by your hand as it is mine. Everything that has been done, and everything I am about to do, is a direct consequence of John's IC actions and attitude, and your subsequent actions and attitude. He is a dead man falling. This is unavoidable.

 

Now.

 

With that bit of unpleasantry out of the way.

 

Here it is, the official, canon version of John Howlett's swan dive from the Dark Avengers penthouse.

 

You are apple. I am Newton.

 

IC:

 

John Howlett was screaming.

 

Blood bubbled up, percolating in his throat the same way his shriek percolated; when he'd dodged out of the way of Leah's flames, swinging his left forearm wildly as it burned like an Olympic torch, Nate Hawkins' arrow had snikt its barbed head into John's lung, a calculated miss but no less likely to inflict life-altering damage. Blood and fire, fire and blood; they consumed John Howlett's senses and reached a primal fit to the point where he could not breathe, could not feel, could hardly see. His eyes were burning the red of bloodlust, and the black of--

 

Blindness. Daken. His eyes were gone, and he was dying. He realized it now. His final stand...his determination...his claws were back...but they meant nothing. He could smell Leah in front of him, could hear Leah laughing as the blood pumped in his ears and out his trachea...

 

He charged her, blind and angry as an animal, and felt the glass splinter before him. The shards got in his face, fell down his shirt and poked through his hoodie, made him rattle like a wallet full of change, and he was falling. His hearing was still intact, even as the wind whipped at the flames on his arm and the blood gargled in his throat, and he could hear the whistling stop near the walls. If I can reach the wall... he thought desperately, reaching out his arms through the black canvas the world had become, if I could just...

 

SNIKT!

 

They had caught.

 

Crack...crack...

 

######.

 

CRACK!

 

The organic metal broke the glass beneath him, sucking him back out from the building's edge in a flurry of loose paperwork and office supplies. A stapler flew at him wildly, smacked him in the side of the head with a sharp twang. He would have reached up to pull the staple from his ear if he were alive enough, or sane enough, to do so.

 

John Howlett started to scream.

 

*****

 

He had to get the wagya under control, or the burgers would never cook.

 

With a sigh and a grumble, Daken pushed away the remote to John's eyes and looked away from the CCTV monitor above his kitchen. He'd been watching the duel half-heartedly while he tried to get the rare, prime Japanese beef to cook all the way through to satisfactory levels, and he had turned his attention away for a few seconds to prepare the tray of toppings and little stainless steel cups of condiments - ketchup, mayo, barbeque sauce, mustard for his archer. The pretzel buns were cleanly sliced and prepared, with a hint of salt for taste in the dough. The meat of it, the very essence of the meal itself, was all that awaited. Time to make an end.

 

Akihiro wiped his hands off with a towel and carried the plate with the eloquence and grace of a server into the rec room. He heard the distant whistling of a high breeze through the rec room; it tousled his mohawk like the fingertips of his lover(s) and he looked at the panoramic window with impatience before he set the toppings down on the pool table. Khalid had followed him, watching the elevator; it was to him that the field captain of the Dark Avengers turned to wearily.

 

"Up or down?"

 

Khalid jerked a thumb up. 

 

"Down it is," Daken agreed. Khalid nodded, having replaced his shotgun with a weapon that made Daken smirk, and pressed the lift's up button with his thumb. It dinged, and he stepped into the crimson expanse of the elevator, looking like the little nugget at the center of a blood cell, hurtling through a synapse. Then the elevator was gone.

 

Khalid, weapon in hand, went up. Daken, weapons in wrist and knuckle, went down.

 

John flailed.

 

...

 

-Tyler

[Simulacrum]

-IC:-

 

Khalid was already moving as the precognitive warning was finished, holstering the shotgun over his shoulder and simultaneously opening the steel entrance to Daken's private quarters. A wider variety of weapons would be required if opponent movement was to be so open.

 

His pupils calculatedly contracted to the light admitted by the broken window, inflicting his impassivity with a intimation of further inhumanity. Striding with impressive speed, the contract killer reached his quarters in mere moments, listening to the actions of his companions in silence. The door opened smoothly, rotating on the hinges with elegant efficiency. A M27 Infantry Automatic Rifle was first selected, which replaced the shotgun's place in his shoulder holster (naturally already loaded), followed by the impressive Zastava M93 Black Arrow anti-materiel rifle, equipped with HEIAP ammunition. It was heavy and cumbersome to most; in his hands, it felt quite comfortable.

 

Captive bolt pistol equipped to his belt, Khalid left his utilitarian room, gazing blankly at his environment as he strode back to Daken.

 

* * *

 

The elevator dinged pitifully as it reached the final floor, opening with almost hesitant leisureliness. Steps mechanical, he crossed the short hallway, and began the ascension of the metallic stairs.

 

The sky had darkened; the sun had retreated behind a billowing cloud. The wind was quick and harsh, a decisive force that would have discomforted normal humans. Khalid blinked, slow and deliberate, and selected the ideal position.

 

He was prepared. 

Edited July 31, 2014 by Kilgore Trout

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Why Genosha, though?" Alaric asked to himself, the serious tone and his soft voice at odds with the adolescent way he was staring at the bobblehead with equal parts curiosity and diluted amusement. "MACE leveled everything on the island during their Brotherhood campaign. If you can find two stones and rub them together, they'll both turn to dust in your hands. Even as a storage site, there's nowhere you could really do a good job of hiding that much of the substance." 

 

He thought of what Romulus had said about his sister and her prospective kingdom in Africa. While it was true that raiding Wakanda for its resources was something Anberlyn would pull, and you couldn't spell Africa without Ric, Carlisle knew full well that wasn't what she wanted - her goals had been brutal and largely unnecessary, yeah, but she had made no actual designs on even so much as a basic foothold. If she had, Romulus would have noticed it and come to him. Wouldn't he? He began to question the stock he was putting in the Imperator's word, dangerously close to trust. Jace Pulliam had trusted Ric to his intentions; Alaric looked at the man behind the desk, young and vigorous and handsome, himself a twin brother, and wondered if he could afford to do the same lest someone else come face-to-stamp with Thistledown. 

 

No, he decided, Romulus and I are friends? partners?  mutually understanding of each other's aims, and Annie thought her stake in Africa was humanity's stake. 

 

"This Brotherhood. Any science divisions? HYDRA-like affiliates? Would they be able to utilize the mists? Or any other, more local insurgents they could barter it to?"

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Ashley

 

Deciding the flashing lights coming from the window were unimportant, Ashley moved to a different topic. 

 

"Dallasss...can you thinks of any scenarios where jumping off something reallllyyyyy hiiiiigh is a good idea?" 

[Eyru]

IC

 

Angela closed her eyes and breathed in as the elevator carried her down, filling her lungs with air and her mind's eye with the future. Pushing, pushing, as far as she could go, to the boundary where her senses failed and the mystery of the future lay beyond, unfathomable and dark.

 

John was going to die, but she didn't need to be a precog in order to know that.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Skydiving always sounded cool." Dallas reached out, eyes forced closed to attempt quicker onset of sleep, and cupped Ashley's cheek. "Get some sleep."

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Ashley

 

Ashley latched onto Dallas' arm, hugging it.

 

"Okay, but only if I can have this arm." 

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"You can't remove it from my body or dislocate it or anything like that, if that's what you mean."

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Ashley

 

"Noooo silly what the fluffens would I do with just an arm? High five people taller than me?" 

Edited July 31, 2014 by Princess Anna of Arendelle

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Dallas smiled and wrapped his other arm around Ashley's thin shoulders. "Alright. Fine. Deal. Sleep. Mrphf."

 

-Tyler

Edited July 31, 2014 by Brooklyn Pace-Carlisle

[Flex Lord Splash]

OOC:

 

No one writes my characters canon death post but me also Tyler go to ****

 

I'm going to take this to the discussion because I'm not done here

Edited July 31, 2014 by Flex Till Death

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

John hit the street.

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Ashley

 

"Bloop." Ashley responded, before closing her eyes, she passed out moments later. 

[Flex Lord Splash]

OOC:

 

Alright, first off I know John isn't Wolverine. But Daken has re-grown an entire cheek seemingly in seconds recently if I recall.

 

I never read anything about having to eat in the comics for the healing factor to work, that sir is something you made up entirely on your own. As for the eating this its completely stupid this is a GAME how many characters actually eat, use the bathroom etc on a regular basis? Not a lot.

 

 

I wasn't trying to make him dodge everything, he was actually getting hurt, Leah on the other hand was dodging everything. As for the healing, I said slowly fading, not that it was going anywhere any time soon but over time the burns would be gone. I still don't agree with you're eating thing but whatever.

 

No I think you pointed out how rough he looked because you're sick and hated my character for whatever reason and took pleasure in how deformed you made him. I went along with everything you did to my character because I believed there would be a major and awesome plot down the road, but yes you did throw it away. You literally take this game too far into realism where it takes away any fun, and you do it only when you want to kill off another person's character when you yourself abuse things all the time.

 

You say I ran XMDD into the ground? I don't think I did. Yes I was too nice and bad about letting OP characters in but at least XMDD had a plot. This RP so far? Not really at all. To me its more a soap opera run by you Tyler, all the interesting things you're characters are going to do next, but plot wise? Nothing.

 

You did lie to me and abuse my character without merit. You sir are a coward. As soon as you decided that John should die for what ever ill conceived reason you logged off of Skype right away because you KNEW it was wrong.

 

Whatever John did to make you think he wasn't mature enough was due to OOC issues with the character Liliana that we all know about. I also wasn't in the right mindset when I wrote that part and the worst thing is it was during a JAM on skype and you still decided to kill off my character for no reason.

 

You know what I'm sorry I'm so attached to my character, I put my heart and soul into him (maybe a bit too much) he was my muse, and for you to decide to kill him because he had a bad attitude for five minutes?? He disagreed with Daken literally for five minutes and you had him killed. You don't know how family works man, arguments happen, and John has come a long way since the last RP, Liliana was just an exception.

 

The fact that my character must die because all high and mighty Tyler wants him too is **** when he could of validly escaped, being trapped into situations like that is not fair at all. I don't want to ever talk to you again Tyler so please don't try. You say you're more mature then me but you take this game way to seriously, writing entire paragraphs about what I did wrong etc is just sad. Yes I did it in response but only because I wanted to tell you how I feel about all of this and that I still think you pulled a **** move and threw away what could of been an awesome plot about two brothers. I'm not sure if I'm sticking around after this, no one is to touch my characters or NPC them at all. If I see that happening I will come back and re-take control. They are frozen and have faded away unless I decide to come back.

 

IC:

 

John couldn't see. Daken had turned out the lights for him. He felt the air rushing as he hurtled towards the ground, felt the agonizing pain from Leah's flames and Nate's arrow. All John had ever felt was pain. Now it comforted him as he prepared to die. He felt something as he was about to pass, he knew his life had been real. It had been about something.

 

Yes, John had had his failures. He'd sliced off Kristen's arm and broken Liliana's heart but he'd saved people's lives as an X-Man. He didn't want to die but he knew it was coming. That final fall seemed to last forever. His claws had broken, but they'd still come back. Daken had promised he'd get them back and in a way he had. John felt sorry for Daken. He was so deranged and sad, he'd sentenced his own brother to death for no reason. I'll see you in the afterlife someday brother and I'll be waiting to cut you to pieces.

 

As John fell he began to see a light. It wasn't a physical light since his mechanical eyes no longer saw, but one inside his mind. As the light grew stronger John saw faces swirling through the darkness towards him. First he saw Ashlynn. She looked as beautiful as ever, her long crimson hair blowing around her and her emerald eyes filled with sadness. Matt Summers was next to her, his brown eyes wide and his blonde hair messy, his lips drawn in a small grin. Next John saw Beast. Hank beamed at him through his spectacles, looking as blue and inviting as ever.

 

Then he saw him. John saw his father. The others parted to let Wolverine approach John. John saw himself now. He looked the way he had before Daken had distorted him. His hair, his eyes, everything was back.

 

"Its time for you to come with us my son." Logan said as he placed his hand on John's shoulder.

 

"I wasn't ready father, I had more to do, I could of done more with my life."

 

"I'm sorry it turned out this way, sometimes you get the short end of the stick kid. But now at least you can join your family."

 

"I hate him for what he did to me father." John said slowly. He'd wanted to see Logan for so long after his father died, he wasn't sure if this was real or something he was hallucinating on the edge of death.

 

"He was my greatest failure, I failed to be a father to him and he was lost. He still is John. It's not your fault what happened." Logan said as he turned away.

 

"Now come."

 

John felt himself hit the street. The impact was quick and swift and he died instantly. 

Edited August 1, 2014 by Flex Till Death

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Dallas yawned.

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Ashley

 

Ashley snored. 

 

Staff IC: 

 

Team Sneaky Monkey rushed into the room with due haste, they're weapons were armed and ready to take on anything...except for what was ahead. 

 

A man stood before them, surrounded by lab equipment and other tech, he was dressed in a lab coat and by the look of him wouldn't put up much of a fight. He appeared to be unarmed, save for a small device in his hand with his thumb was pressing down on firmly. On the ground before him the Aella lookalike was writhing on the floor, in a state of shock. 

 

"If you want me to stop...I suggest you drop your weapons..." He looked down at the girl. "Or she will die..." 

[Relapse]

IC: (Leah)

 

"Poor guy," Leah said of the mess of bones and flesh splattered against the pavement below, "all he wanted was Dakey's love..."

Edited August 1, 2014 by Al the Chicken Man

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Quick and swift and instant it may have been, but John Howlett was not pretty.

 

Jaw tightened in irritation, Akihiro crouched down next to the upper half of John's body - the bottom half had been totally disconnected by the fall, snapping spine and skin off in a ragged tear. The one-time X-Man had been torn like the seam of a wineskin. He could see where, out of impulse, his hands had been put out to break his fall. John's bone claws on one hand had snapped off from his knuckles and been buried in his palm, in the skin of his wrist, while the other set was still largely intact. His eyes were wide and staring blankly. John hadn't seen the need to close them. Maybe he hadn't even thought about it. Daken had. The eyes were worth quite a bit of money, and had some groundbreaking tech in them. 

 

The legs were a simple enough matter - from the groin down he cut John's bottom half in twain like a wishbone and hid the quarters in a different dumpster. What he was going to do with the rest of John Howlett, all broken neck and shapeless, bloodied face, all cut up hands and snapped ribs, was something he had to think about for a second.

 

You're the animal, not me, Daken. John had been wrong all his life, but that was where, Akihiro thought, he had erred the most.

 

I'm in total control, John. Look. Two claws withdrew from his right knuckle and pushed into John's left hand, prying out the claw on the right.

 

SNIKT.

 

I'm no animal.

 

SNIKT.

 

I'm calm.

 

SNIKT.

 

He moved to the other hand passionlessly.

 

You were the animal, not me, John.

 

SNIKT.

 

You were spineless.

 

SNIKT.

 

You thought with your heart. With your father's heart.

 

SNIKT.

 

After he'd collected all six of John Howlett's claws, he looked at the rest of the kid and wondered again what he was going to do about his eyes. John Howlett's last pair of eyes had been expensive, coming at too high a cost all their own, but R&D wouldn't have had his next year's checks over John's old eyes. He wasn't sure he had the precision necessary to take John's eyes again. Destruction was one thing, simple and beautiful; preservation, cold pragmatism, another. It separated animals from a higher, purer form of monster.

 

I should have pulled that heart out of you sooner.

 

In the end, he took the whole head back to the elevator.

 

-Tyler

[Light]

IC: Nate glanced down from the smashed window, his powers allowing his eyes to zoom in on John's corpse.

 

He turned away, moving back to and sitting on the couch, turning his collar up and nestling into it.

 

He'd done what needed to be done. No glory in it, no satisfaction- for heaven's sake, he'd just killed a man who had been begging for his life, no matter how pitiful it might be.

 

He'd killed him, the same way he'd killed Pietro. Because it needed to be done.

[Silvan Haven]

John Harken- Team Sneaky Monkey

 

IC: Harken took it all in as they entered the room. His eyes darting around, registering the entire scene and then expanding outwards to the rest of the room in order to make sure there were no other other threats.

 

All in all it took under a second before he refocused on the Hydra scientist. His gun remained aimed despite the warning.

 

"A threat such as that is normally followed by us dying the second we comply. From my point of view it seems like it would make more sense just to shoot you. Make no mistake, I can hit you before that finger of yours twitches."

[Relapse]

IC: (Leah)

 

Leah was already distracted again, mind moving from one piece of charred meat to the next. Muttering something about Daken's burgers, she disappeared into the kitchen.

[AuRon the champion]

Ic:

 

"However, your life isn't at risk," Sam whispered to John, "regardless, unarmed we are far from defenseless..."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

He had been tempted to just open the doors on one of the Research and Development floors and roll John's head across the lab floor like a barbarian, but he'd decided to take the extra (bloody) minute or two and hand the head off to a scientist with instructions on the safe removal of the eyes. He also left instructions that he wanted no one to know John had ever fallen - one of the scientists must have noticed Akihiro's dark mood (for it was rare he made such a miscalculation about a potential asset) and excused himself. When he came back, phone in hand, he promised the Dark Avenger that a certain college friend, specializing in dietetics at the Central Park Zoo, was already on his way to Howlett's body. His next call, made outside the elevator, was for security to have a pressure window in the Dark Avengers rec room installed before the sun went down. 

 

Then it was the lift again, up to the room where the team waited.

 

Things were quiet when Daken Akihiro stepped off the elevator, holding his cell phone like the handle of a knife. He heard Leah call out a "Hey, Daken!" and Nate echoed it, half-asleep, from the couch. Asa smiled at him sadly and said a quiet "Hi, Daken." There was blood streaked along her tank top. Not hers, Daken knew at a quick whiff. Brow furrowed in confusion at the sudden greetings, Akihiro decided to do a roll call, since he only saw Asa and Nate when he stepped off the elevator. Leah was in the kitchen, plating the burgers. Angela was watching all of them from her perch on the pinball machine; he hadn't missed her quick outburst. Another ding signified that Khalid had come back from the roof. He'd had the best seat in the house for John's death. Six of us. It wasn't an awful number.

 

Leah called out that the food was ready.

 

"Alright, before we dig in, everyone go to their bathrooms and clean up. If you haven't washed John's blood off your hands with soap and water for twenty seconds, I'm not letting you put your fingers near the condiments."

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

Staff IC:

 

The scientist started to chuckle, nonchalantly dropping the device on the floor, Krystal moved to pick it up.

 

"Alright agents of SHIELD, you have me. HYDRA was convenient, they had the resources and lack of ethics that I needed for my research, but they aren't worth dying for. I'll give you information if that's what you want, for my protection..." He looked down at the girl, she was coughing horribly, blood coming out of her mouth.

 

"Such a waste...I had such hopes for this one, looks like she'll die like the others..."

[Silvan Haven]

John Harken- Team Sneaky Monkey

 

IC: #### you to #### you sick ########

 

In a flash Harken was across the room his P90 pointed at the scientist's knee and a look that promised pain and suffering on his face. The sight of someone who looked just like Aella dying on the floor like that was causing him more pain than he would have guessed.

 

"Tell me how to save her or I am going to start shooting. If she dies you are losing at least one joint."

 

And you life if not for Director Fury's orders.

[Snelly]

IC Staff:

 

The scientist looked shocked for a moment, but quickly collected himself.

 

"I'm afraid I may be losing a joint then, the best I can do is delay the inevitable, she's been dying since she awoke prematurely from her status pod, cloning can be a fickle thing..." The agent appeared to flinch at that, or maybe it was the tension.

 

"I take it you've met Aella then? How is she?"

[Havelock Vetinari]

IC (Romulus)

 

"I would not put such a thing past the Brothers of the Yellow Sign. The fact your men were not harmed however, is quite unusual. The Brothers have never made it a policy to spare the lives of others." The Imperator's expression grew thoughtful for a moment, before sobering into the serious expression his face had bore previously. "Their roots go deep and their resources....are rather potent. I believe we defeated the bulk of the cult within the Congo, but a splinter faction or some other remnant is not impossible or, indeed, even improbable." For another brief moment, the Emperor's mind was back in the Congo, back at the moment when the potent powers of the Brothers had been laid bare before him. That moment would stay with him, he suspected, until the day he died. 

 

The odious, reeking stench of rot and decay only grew stronger and stronger as those alien, hideous, chattering cries filled the air like a macabre symphony gone awry. Then another sound drifted through the air and added itself to the eldritch choir. It was a rhythmic, dull sort of chanting in a tongue that Romulus, for all his years upon the planet, had not heard spoken before. The very world seemed to shake and distort with each word.

 

These polluted words tainted the very air itself, tinging it with some unspeakable hue of yellow. That diseased stain upon the very breath of the earth seemed to spread like some sort of seething infection, spreading in every direction his eyes could see. Suddenly, legionnaires began to drop to the ground around him, hitting the ground with a series of thuds. Then his senses seemed to open up, so focused had they been on this unnatural color that he not noticed the screaming tearing through the air. Legionnaires fell shrieking and gibbering of a crumbling city over a dead lake and other, less understandable things.

 

Some seemed to resist, bracing themselves behind rock faces or trees, to await whatever new horror waited them. 

 

"Remember who you are! The heirs of Rome! Shall we let this base treachery defeat us?!"

 

The words tore from the Emperor's lips almost of their own accord, the legionnaires that remained standing let out ragged cheer in response, calling out to encourage one another, speaking of their past victories and the victories that surely lay ahead. Then another one of those of cursed calls tore through the air, cutting through the air as scalpel would through fetid, rotten flesh. Then he saw them, flying through the sky, creatures that did not belong within the kind embrace of Earth's atmosphere. He could not put a name to them. These terrible, twisted creatures bore the features of crows, ants, buzzards, moles and had about them the emaciated, congealed features of a rotten human body. The Emperor, for the first time in centuries, felt the dagger of fear twist itself into his innards. 

 

"Fire!" 

 

Bullets flew through the air, but the creatures maneuvered through the legionnaires fire with contemptuous calm. Then, in the blink of an eye, the twisted corpse-things were among them. Tearing into soft human flesh with their defiled, filthy claws. Here a man's head flew from his shoulders, freed from it's bodily bonds by a swipe of the creatures hand. Another legionnaire was pinned against the rock by one of the beasts, it's beak-like maw clamped down upon his chest, gorging itself on the beleaguered legionnaires very life's blood. There seemed to be dozens of the filthy things, tearing through the column, through his followers as though they were nothing more then mere game.

 

A battle cry screamed out of the emperor's mouth, sword in hand, he advanced upon one of the creatures....

 

Romulus let out a breath. "I urge you take treat this as a matter of the upmost importance. If the Brothers have taken an interest in this device...I fear the consequences." 

Edited August 1, 2014 by Basilisk

[HeavyMetalSunshineSister]

IC (Cynegild Picker):

 

At the mention of the chance that some fraction of the Yellow Sign had survived, Mr. Picker's discomfort grew, his posture and expression showing uncharacteristic signs of worry.

 

"I cannot but urge you to take any threat posed by, or any extant remnant of, the Brothers of the Yellow Sign, quite as seriously as the Imperator suggests. I could have saved myself quite the sum of money had I recruited any lesser unit than the Drache und Dolch to assist the Legion. Had I done so, it is my belief that I would have no intelligence to share with you today - no unit less than they could have survived the task I hired them for."

 

---

 

"Guten Morgen, Frau..." Cynegild trailed off hesitantly, hoping to prompt the intimidating figure in black fatigues seated across the polished mahogany table from him to make a better introduction than previous communications had.

 

"Please, Mister Picker. My English is much better than your German. Do not make this inconvenient."

 

Cynegild coughed nervously, caught wrong-footed by the switch - and, perhaps, by the twelve others seated around the woman, all dressed like consummate professionals - in their field, at least, all armed, and all regarding him with, at best, mild interest.

 

"Ah, my apologies, madam. I must admit some confusion, as I had been under the impression that I would be meeting with a representative of a firm that comes highly recommended by associates of mine."

 

"The confusion is yours. No one in our business who values their life would send a representative, a lawyer, to conduct such a meeting. Lawyers do not ask the right questions, not for business such as ours. Lawyers would ask whether the prospective OpFor possesses anti-aircraft capabilities, and then neglect to ask what kind. This is unacceptable, and so we meet in person. I am Wilhelmina Drachentocht, my associates will introduce themselves if and when they have questions, and you are Cynegild Cornelius Williamson Picker, parkour enthusiast and collector of rare books. Now, what is our business?"

 

Cynegild stared at the woman for a moment, eyebrows raised high, expression and body language making it clear that he was impressed.

 

A moment later, he burst into raucous laughter. Twelve mercenaries stared in confusion before glancing to each other for help, caught off-guard just as much as their commander had intended Cynegild to be. Drachentocht was less impressed, though, perhaps, somewhat annoyed.

 

"Is something the matter, Williamson?"

 

After several more seconds, Mr. Picker calmed down, and withdrew a small tablet from an inside pocket. Smiling blandly, he pushed it across the table to his newest hireling.

 

"You missed Albert, Frau Drachentocht. The information you need - as much as I have - is there. I have plans to acquire more mission-critical data prior to your insertion."

 

OOC: If it's really necessary, "Guten Morgen" means good morning, "Frau" is equivalent to Ms. or Mrs. and is used when addressing a woman you are on formal speaking terms with - not friends or family, in other words - and, alright, Drachentocht is a made-up surname that mean's "Dragon's Daughter." Unless the Swiss Snarker has the power of the Thu'um, it's safe to assume it's an alias.

Edited August 1, 2014 by Ymper Trymon

[Eevee]

IC

 

Candles... Check. Steak grilled to perfection... Check. Romantic music Ric likes.... Check.

 

Lynae smiled as she observed her work done in Ric's dining room. I've outdone myself. She thought as she rested in on of the dining chairs, a satisfied expression on her face. She even had Ric's favorite dessert waiting for later as an extra surprise. But now she just had to wait for Alaric himself.

[Flex Lord Splash]

IC:

 

Kane slid to a stop in front of Sierra with the healer-mutant in tow. 

 

"This kid is supposed to be able to help you Sierra," Kane said as he looked at the sick girl. "But I won't lie this is dangerous, his power goes both ways. He can heal, or he can take life away. This is your gamble, but I believe that this kid can do it if he does. You're puking up blood, that's not healthy you're insides are probably pretty screwed up and if you don't do something you might die from internal bleeding, this is all I got in a short notice."

[Eyru]

IC 

 

Having known in advance that Daken would demand clean hands, Angela had already finished washing. It wasn't necessarily because he'd asked, though: she preferred to enjoy her food without worrying about whether or not she was ingesting some weird bacteria. 

 

"So, boss," she chirped as she grabbed a plate. "What's up next. Got another sibling you need put down, or are we moving on to cousins?"

[Flex Lord Splash]

IC:

 

Jennifer was standing behind John, her desert eagle also pointed towards the doctor.

 

"So you're the one who created these clones?" she said as she pushed up her glasses, her skin still bright blue. 

 

"What information do you still have on these computers? Or has it all been purged?" she turned towards Harken. "He may be a good source of information but these computers could hold even more. Do you think we should try to make him access the data for us?" 

 

IC:

 

Nicole was laying on the couch now. She'd silently moved herself away from the couple once Ashley had arrived. Still laying on the couch she opened her cellphone, the homescreen. She sighed before dialing a number she hadn't tried in a long time. 

 

She clicked onto the contact for Robin and hit call. 

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"I'm ready to put down these Kobe burgers, and I sincerely hope we don't have a common ancestor."

 

-Tyler

[Relapse]

IC: (Leah)

 

"You all can thank me later for not letting the food burn," she murmured as she presented the tray of oriental burgers to her newfound teammates.

Edited August 1, 2014 by Al the Chicken Man

[Constructelf]

IC Tokiomi

"We should not waste time conversing with this individual." With an action that was becoming routine to him, Tokiomi launched his mental probes at the scientist. "I will extract relevant data; it should conserve us precious time."

 

NPC HYDRA guards

Six guards were headed to the lab doors, responding to the silent alarm. As the first two arrived, they took position outside the doors, out of sight, waiting in ambush.

[Silvan Haven]

John Harken- Team Sneaky Monkey

 

IC: Ignoring the scientist's question Harken's face went from one of murder to simply cold rage. Turning to Jennifer he replied.

 

"I don't trust him to not trip an alarm or start and data purge. Try and get what you can from the computers."

 

Turning Tokiomi he continued. "Focus your search on whatever you can find that might help the clone. I want her to stay alive as long as possible. Anyone not busy with an info grab should help me with guard duty. I don't want any uninvited guests rushing in here and messing everything up."

[Simulacrum]

-IC:-

 

Khalid, having already placed his unused rifle back into its position in his private quarters, sat in silence, absorbing the conversation of his teammates with his stolid, impartial stare. His eyes seemed tranquil pools of viridian; alien and unusual in their beauty, unblinking as he eat with a mechanical efficiency. Torpid seemed, to his companions, a good description of his manner; abeyant would have been more appropriate.

Edited August 1, 2014 by Kilgore Trout

[Hanako Herupa]

IC: (Asa Thurman)

 

Asa went back to her room, to clean up and grab a fresh pair of clothes. After washing up she pulled out some shorts and a pink t-shirt. Walking back she grabbed a seat besides Daken. She wasn't sure how Daken felt, did she feel guilty, responsible for John's death? Guilty? No, something must have caused Daken to decide his time was up. Responsible though, yeah she knew it was her that gathered the team. John must have been nothing but a nuisance, but it was pitiful watching him begging for his brother's forgiveness. Didn't die like a warrior either, his jump had ended with him splattered against the city street like a bug against a windshield. Earlier she had bought some dessert, three freshly baked cherry pies, and several cartons of french vanilla ice cream now sitting in the freezer. Oh the burger looked so good to her, juicy with tomato and lettuce, with ketchup and Dijon mustard, on the pretzel buns. She forgot her drink, getting up she walked over to the refrigerator. "Hey you guys, while I'm over here, anything you want?"

[Relapse]

IC: (The Black Knight)

 

Against the wall, a vastly detailed and authentic, though seemingly ornamental suit of black armor stood atop a pedastal, on which the words "Knight" had been engraved. This suit, an imtimidating mass of metal formed into humanoid form, was lifeless as far as the occupants of room could tell- though Romulus knew better. Inside the suit was hidden a soldier, peerless in his trade. For seven years he had trained as a swordsman, and for years since he'd trained yet more.

 

He, too, remembered the Congo, and the men lost there...

 

Legionnaires fell at all sides, the sound of death drowning out even the sound of gunfire, but the Black Knight did not fall. He stood, downing beast after beast as best he could, but slowly...surely, the number of demons grew larger than the number of bullets left, and he realized a very simple fact: survival never came without blood.

 

First, his gun clashed to the ground, then his helmet. It was time.

 

The Knight roared. This transformation, this mutation, was never pleasant, even in optimal conditions. Once again, he roared, even as abominations closed in on him. Inside his body, one thousand implosions occured, the final cultivation being a superhuman, sword of black steel in hand, staring down the Brothers' hellions with malice. With one last roar, he hacked the head of a man-sized cockroach clean off of its ugly form. He hacked again.

 

And slashed.

 

And jabbed.

 

He did not relent until his ebony armor was stained in the blood of his enemies, their entrails littering his chainmail.

 

This was the last time the Black Knight of Hellfire had taken it upon himself to use his ability- a hidden weapon that likely only Romulus knew of.

Edited August 1, 2014 by Al the Chicken Man