Marvel, Rebirth:

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Unlike most mornings, with their single apple and a hunk of half-baked grains, this morning's meal was special. They'd given him a cup of milk, sugared strawberries, and - the coup de grace; his heart fluttered at the very sight of it - two slices of fresh bread, with some tender meat he couldn't place for filling; he seized upon the meager ration like a wolf, and his stomach clenched so painfully when he took his first bite he feared he would retch it up. When he'd made it through four bites, and taken a sip of the milk, he did wretch all over his pants, but he was so taken with his treat that he wanted more. He lapped it up with eagerness, stomach grumbling its approval and soft squeaks echoing in the back of his throat. The more he ate and retched and ate, the more the fog that had swallowed his mind over [x] weeks/months/years began to drift out of his vision. The more he could remember. He knew who he was. He knew who had taken him - he who had taken him, left him sucked away all of Ares' power, had locked him in this cell, he who could still draw his eye and make his heart flutter with just a step or two into the cell...

 

He took a step or two into the cell. Ares knew he had, because his heart started to flutter.

 

He wore the Iron Man suit, just like the first time Ares had seen him since his capture. At the time, he had betrayed no concern with the suit - he had laughed off Ares' fearful questions (this was when Ares still could come up with questions to ask), struck poses, leaned back and asked Ares if the Avenger had learned all his best angles yet. He wanted to know if I could make him a calendar, he thought with stinging eyes, and the sorcerer started to shiver. It came and went like a passing cloud. The very air seemed to knead the tension out of his shoulders, and the tears dried in his eyes. Everything smelled like...sweat. Sweat and machinery and the inky smell of the pages in his father's grimoires. There was nothing more intoxicating in the world. Before he knew it he was gulping down breathfuls of the scent, as quickly as he had put down his milk and berries. His visitor looked pleased, overjoyed to see him so enthusiastic about something. He muttered something, and his suit folded in on itself like origami from the waist up. He wore nothing underneath.

 

Handsome. So handsome. Ares caught himself before he could stare, but it was too late to erase the image, or the torrent of flashbacks that the face and tattoo summoned. Noel. It was Noel he'd loved, Noel who he'd wanted since the day he met her (his captors had known that, and a few of the more diabolical ones had taken advantage of that affection in ways that made him shudder to think back on) but only a fool would deny that his captor looked powerful. Like a prince might look, he stretched out his legs and put a hand behind his head; the action made it look like his dragon tattoo was roaring, and gave Ares an excuse to look over the man's chest. He grinned, an edged smirk that made him ache. His gaze like a river - a clear light blue one second, with a murky, unforgiving grey color that skipped across his eyes unforgivingly. It reminded Ares of a stone, skipping along the water's edge. Could something so beautiful be so terrifying? Ares thought, unbidden, and immediately he drew a list up in his head. 

 

Death.

Amnesia.

Noel.

 

Daken.

 

The prince looked Ares, bile stained and on edge, up and down stoically: "We'll need to get those pants off you."

 

Ares chuckled weakly.

 

Daken's attention had already fallen away from the quip, back towards the top half of the suit. "It doesn't work, you know." Ares looked a little dumbstruck at that, so Akihiro gestured impatiently to the two halves. "The suit. Worked fine when I stole it - or so I thought, until I tried to activate the thrusters and found out they wouldn't give. Nearly jumped off a skyscraper to my death -" and here he chuckled darkly, for a reason that Ares couldn't have discerned for the life of him "- before I caught myself. Do you have any idea what it's like to walk down the stairs as Iron Man? It's humiliating."

 

Ares felt like he was supposed to respond here. "So...what's wrong with it?"

 

"Very astute question, Ares," Daken said with a smile and a pointed index finger. The prisoner welled with pride. "You're thinking critically. Let's try another step. What does Stark have that other people don't?"

 

Ares thought for a second, but the only thing coming up was Noel. Noel. Noel. He had finally coaxed that out of Akihiro after weeks of figuring out how to broach the subject - how Noel had died because Howard Stark was off, mugging for the reporters in his Iron Man suit while Captain America's daughter fought for her life against Hydra agents - and immediately wished he hadn't. He didn't want to talk about the Stark family in the slightest...but that wasn't something you said to Daken if he asked you a question about them.

 

"The...repulsor."

 

"No. I'm locked out of the repulsor, too. Think. What could lock you out of the basic functions of an entire Iron Man suit? Who could do that?"

 

"...Err...Stark?" Ares felt ashamed, ashamed twofold - once because he had phrased his answer as another question, and once because Akihiro's striking face told him that he was clearly wrong. He remembered his father, trying to teach him magic and never succeeding until long after he'd died. Ares had cried like a baby after Daken had eked that story out of him, and Daken's fingers had traced patterns through his hair and promised him that Ares was still destined to do great things, to draw his father's attention from beyond. Ares hoped he was right.

 

"JARVIS, Ares, JARVIS." Instantly, Strange felt like a moron for not getting there sooner, but as soon as Daken had said it the idea clicked in his head. If JARVIS had realized Noel Rogers' suit had potentially been confiscated, and used against the Avengers, he would want someone close to her - someone he knew Liberty had trusted - to verify otherwise before the suit could be used. Akihiro's employers must have found a way to deactivate the self-destruct on the suit in time, but otherwise... "If we can convince JARVIS that we're all on the same side here, the suit will open up. That's something we want. All of us."

 

"But...but what do you want from me?" Ares asked weakly. He remembered, too late, that Daken didn't always like questions, but for once it looked like the prince was in an answering mood. 

 

"Noel cared about you very deeply, you know, you know. In a different way than I do, but she cared. You can help me avenge her, Ares. I know she'd want that. But we need the suit to do it, and we need it working. I just want you to say, 'JARVIS, deactivate protocols,' give JARVIS what he needs to know we're telling the truth, and this is all over." It was like Daken wasn't even in the room anymore - just Ares and a voice, a wonderful voice, rich and powerful as whiskey that was pumping him full of purpose he hadn't had in years. The voice's edge was concerned, but something about it seemed at ease. His smile was calming, full lips drawn back over white teeth; lightning chased along the edges of his grin, its current freezing Ares in place and leaving him shellshocked in its wake. This man could have owned the world if he'd wanted - stolen it right from the grabby hands of those who owned it now. Nick Fury left me to die, and that ###### Stark too, Ares realized. He let Noel die, too! That mother######er! I bet he'd never expect his own suit to be used against him! Noel's suit! He would have blown up - gotten truly angry, for the first time in however many months - but Daken lowered his hands placatingly and he felt his anger ebb.

 

Ares couldn't deny Daken much of anything.

 

"I can't give you back what you had, my man, but I can give you something," Akihiro said. The people here can do God's work. We can get you on your feet again, make you forget everything you went through here...all the pain...even me, if that's what you really want. But I'd be a bit hurt if you wanted to forget me." There was a blush that lived and died at the ends of his cheeks, all in two seconds.

 

Was there a mocking edge to his voice, or was he slightly lovelorn? Once, he would have been keen enough to hear it, to see it, to see the trap here...but now...human contact was far removed in this cell, and he would take what he could get. At least, when Daken showed up, there was the promise of food. Humans. A bed - not a metal slab with a few paper towels for covers, but a real bed. The little things that the people he'd once protected took for granted...the little things he could have again if...

 

"JARVIS..." he choked out, before he stopped. His voice didn't sound like his own anymore, but he had stopped talking months ago, after he'd run out of things to say to himself, but that wasn't what ailed him. This felt...wrong. A betrayal. He had been starved and stitched up, used and abused, left to be forgotten by the world...but even after he gave up his sense of self, even after he became a husk, he'd never once betrayed what was. 

 

The voice sounded almost sweet, for something so low and husky. He'd forgotten what Daken's smile looked like - strong and bold, the smile of a leader. 

 

"It's not that hard. I can do it with you, if you'd like." He remembered the words from before - they were the words he'd used that first night, before the cell. The offer had come laced with that same sweetness - alluring and faithless as flowers on a grave. "JARVIS, deactivate protocols. We'll have your memory wiped, nice and peaceful-like, and then we'll dump you somewhere far away from SHIELD. Singapore, maybe. Or the Himalayas."

 

Flowers on a grave have no one to plant them - they die, as surely as the bodies die, but they die without purpose. So can people, if they aren't careful. Maybe...this...was why he was alive?

 

Could people be reborn? Just like that?

 

He would never know otherwise.

 

"JARVIS," he croaked, "deactivate protocols. Strange, Ares. SHIELD Clearance Level 7. Stark Tower Clearance Level 9. It's me. We're...we're a team."

 

The realization hit him all at once, in the middle of the last word, too late to take back what he'd said - who he was, where he'd been, and what he had just done. Even though JARVIS was an AI, and there were no external signs that what he'd done worked, he knew that Daken was still wearing half an Iron Man suit and that whatever he'd made Ares say had just worked like a charm.  The thrusters fired up on Daken's heels, letting him hover in the air by inches. Akihiro spread his arms out and stretched, reveling in the feeling of triumph over another human being. Triumph. That was when he truly knew. He'd been played, thoroughly and totally, seduced and manipulated and driven half-mad until he was ready to comply. Well, he could still stop him. He was Ares Strange again, Sorcerer Supreme of the planet Earth, and not the lapdog to Logan's ######. Praying (to his father; to his father's gods; to Noel, with the angels), feeling like an Avenger again at last, Ares found resolve somewhere deep inside himself, rose...

 

PFFT.

 

...and fell, gasping for air. The bullet had caught him three-quarters of an inch below the heart, a fatal wound; blood bubbled in his chest while Daken took measured steps towards him. The suit melted off him like snakeskin while he paced, showing that he had, true to villainous form, worn designer jeans and a pair of boots to Ares' murder. Another lie. A lie by omission - omission of context, omission of a shirt, omission of any humanity. Ares looked up at Akihiro's face, saw the grey color in the eyes, and wondered how he ever thought them blue. They were cold and foggy, without any emotion. 

 

"You Avengers. Practically have to beat it into your head to be careful who you wish for." Daken wiped Ares' blood off the sole of his shoe, leaving drag marks on the floor. The sorcerer - bereft of anything else to wish on the vile assassin - prayed that he had scuffed his shoe. "At least the girl managed to run."

 

The Sorcerer Supreme managed to find it in him to cry out, weak and in anguish. Ares' heart gave out, then, but to be safe Daken raised the gun to his forehead and fired twice more.

 

The once-Avenger's eyes were grey, too - grey and lifeless. Akihiro looked to the suit, pieced together in the corner like a knight's armor, and then to the guards.

 

"A promise is a promise," Daken echoed. "Johnson, Craig, Santigold. Gas the bird, leave in ten. Dump him in Singapore."

 

-Tyler

[HeavyMetalSunshineSister]

OOC: As I type this, I realise that the opener for this IC may well have been better served as a closer for my last one. Well, we all make mistakes.

 

IC (Cynegild Picker - Flashback):

 

After concluding negotiations with the mercenaries, it was not a night of well-earned rest, but rather a plane that was in store for Mr. Picker - to Brussels, now, to bring in another critical element of the Congo plan.

 

---

 

Unlike in Zurich, Mr. Picker had the advantage of having worked with this particular contact previously - and of having access to the mobile phone she used while in Europe on business. Therefore, almost as soon as he came within sight of a small airport cafe, he was waved down by a dark, slender woman with tightly braided hair, half-moon spectacles, and a rather bored expression. Striding purposefully to her table, he took care to greet her formally - as she had told him (though he needed no cautioning), if observers were given the mistaken impression that the two were friends, it could hardly do wonders for her career.

 

Arafa Chausiku had built herself a reputation as an aggressive, ruthlessly honest journalist - fair, unlike some of her Western colleagues, but uncompromising. This reputation was, mostly, the truth - she was unwaveringly critical of almost any politician she came across, but harsh criticism and uncomfortable truths were not the most marketable form of journalism, and everyone, even crusaders for truth and justice, has to eat; so she did some work on the side, under various pseudonyms, writing brainless little fluff pieces - an advertisement for a zoo here, padding for an executive's ego there. It was through this line of work that she had met C.C.A. Picker, who had contracted her to write a few carefully boring pieces on him - and who had, on occasion, provided her leads on much more interesting stories.

 

Considering the nature of their prior arrangements, the background Picker began to lay out on the situation deep in the Congo came as more than a slight surprise. The request he made as he slid a briefcase containing, among other things, more than one hundred thousand pounds, was even stranger - Picker had a plan to disrupt the activities of the Brothers of the Yellow Sign, to halt their ritual and steal important texts and artefacts from them, but any strike would need to be precise to the point of perfection. He needed someone on the inside - someone who could give him and his team the exact location of one of their ritual sites. He needed Chausiku to go into the Congo, allow herself to be captured, and use the GPS tracking device within the briefcase to transmit the location of the ritual site. If the plan failed, and Picker's team was too late, half a kilogram of C4 - lovingly concealed with the very best a man of wealth and taste could afford - would provide some chance that the primary objective of stopping the cultists would still be achieved. It was a small comfort, to be sure, but given the nature of the enemy, it would have to be enough.

[Flex Lord Splash]

OOC: Well I’m glad Ares’ is dead. Also glad his loose end was tied up, never was a fan of those.

 

IC:

 

Alex had kindly declined Jonathan’s invitation, which he hadn’t paid much mind. He’d slipped out of the room he’d been sharing with the technopath, only to turn and see Alex leaving himself before heading down the hall.

 

Jonathan headed for the doors to the Danger Room, his footfalls in the all but empty hallway the only thing audible until he suddenly stopped in his tracks. A strange feeling overcame him. Jonathan pressed his metal hand against the wall beside him to steady himself.

 

Somehow he just knew. John… the one from this universe… he’s gone. It was as if he’d felt the alternate version of himself die somehow. He didn’t understand why, but they were connected somehow, they were the same being but from slightly different worlds.

 

He wouldn’t morn the other John. From the things he’d heard… what he’d done to Kristen’s arm, maybe he deserved his fate. It was strange to think that the John from this universe could have been more unhinged then Jonathan, who’d come from a grittier more violent reality. It was ironic really, especially since Jonathan had spent a small amount of time as a lycan and a bit insane himself.

 

But in actuality now after being changed back by that witch, he felt more human (well mutant) than ever. He was better than this John, he wasn’t violent and he didn’t have a need to hurt or kill people. No, Jonathan preferred killing machines. Since the Phalanx he always had.

With a new spark within the pools of his dark blue eyes John approached the Danger Room. He touched his hand to the scanner and the doors parted for him. He stepped within the circular metal room. It was dark inside since a simulation wasn’t currently running.

 

“Start simulation… Ultimate universe, Phalanx attack… simulation level medium.” John said to the room. He hadn’t used this world’s Danger Room but he was pretty sure it functioned much the same as his own. The room lit up instantly as a thousand pixels began to create the simulation around him.

 

He was now standing on a battle-scarred street, somewhere within New York. Cars were overturned and small fired burned vibrantly around him. In the distance he could see the metal hides of Phalanx moving slowly this way. Seeing this sent a wave of memories and nostalgia Johnathan’s way. He quickly ducked behind a car and waited.

 

IC:

 

Jennifer moved through the Hellicarrier now, phone in hand. She needed to find Harken and find out how the girl was doing, and if there was anything she could to to help.

Edited August 18, 2014 by Flex Till Death

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Shiloh had dozed off from Delaware all the way into New York City - Dominik had seen LeBeau was clearly wiped out from the late night, the taxing experience at the White House, and the sugar she'd consumed to keep her going all compounding in on each other. Her head rolled around on his shoulder, bumping now and again when the bus driver couldn't find it in him to swerve away from a pothole or sudden traffic jam, but the only time he thought she might wake up is when her brother stepped foot on the bus. Dom had greeted him as warmly as he would any other Brotherhood member, and Rene had looked up at him from his phone and given a cursory nod and flick of his hand. His attention had been mostly trained on the sleeping Shiloh.

 

She looked like she could have slept another hour, so Dominik was sorry to rouse her when they finally reached a block that was within walking distance of the Brotherhood camp at Central Park. Dominik would have preferred somewhere closer, but the driver refused to pull up directly into a Brotherhood safe haven no matter how much money he got offered, so it was left to Lord to reluctantly lift Shiloh's head off his shoulder and rouse her awake. When her eyes opened and she muttered groggily, Dom looked down and saw that she'd drooled a little on his jacket. He grinned and helped her stand up under her own power, with Rene walking in front of them, Dominik supporting a woozy Shiloh in the middle, and Remus taking up the rear, ancient eyes roving over everyone on the bus. The driver did a double take when the LeBeau twins walked past him, and followed Dominik with a cool stare, but made no movements that were overly friendly or hostile.

 

The walk to the camp itself was as unremarkable as any walk. Shiloh slowly started to regain her footing and fine motor function, and Dominik finally eased away from her to help her walk by herself. By then, they were already in the camp again.

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Shiloh

 

Shiloh raised her arms up in the air and got a good stretch in, yawning simultaneously. "Well..." She fought back another yawn. "...we made it back without anyone being arrested, tortured, shot, and/or executed. We're doing pretty good."  

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"You might want to give us a ten minute grace period or so. Could be a sniper or two in one of the high rises. I don't want to get jinxed so close to the command tent." Dominik smiled dryly and looked over his shoulder, using his hand to shield his hazel eyes from the mid-morning sun.

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Shiloh

 

"My cameras would alert us if they spotted anything like that, what are you worried about? You think Vince Jackson is gonna show up wielding a machete and a microphone?"

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"If only. The man has the skin tone of a Thanksgiving turkey and the angry demeanor of the mother-in-law who cooked it."

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Shiloh

 

"He even sounds like a turkey." 

Edited August 19, 2014 by Princess Anna of Arendelle

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"If a dub of Vince Jackson making turkey noises isn't on YouTube by tonight, Shi, you know what you have to do."

 

-Tyler

Edited August 19, 2014 by Brooklyn Pace-Carlisle

[Snelly]

IC: Shiloh

 

"Yes sir." Shiloh saluted him. "It will be done my Lord." 

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"You don't actually have to call me that."

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Shiloh

 

"Okay Domy."

[Havelock Vetinari]

IC (Remus)

 

Remus trailed behind the pair, hiding any emotion behind a stony facade that put the presidents of Mt. Rushmore to shame. "Be wary. If any one of the.." The ancient wolf-woman hesitated for a moment."Interested parties are remotely competent, there will be at least one double agent within the camp, four plainclothes officers and...." Remus scanned the buildings around the area and snorted lightly. "I'll say....two clandestine observers on the rooftops. I'd expected six. Standards are slipping."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"The best I ever had." Warren grinned and put his head back, dumping the fries down his throat. He took another bite or two of his burger and then ran his teeth along his bottom lip. "So good, in fact, that I might even forgive you for scuffing my boot, ya vandal."

 

"Your boots don't seem to be annoyed about it, Warren."

 

"My wallet's annoyed. These are eight hundred dollar boots, girl. All the fries in the world aren't gonna cough up eight hundred dollars." 

 

"You'd be surprised."

 

"Do I want to be?"

 

"Well... Fries plus psionic compulsion."

 

"I'm torn between a sick curiosity and hoping you never pull something like that on me."

 

-Tyler

Edited August 19, 2014 by Brooklyn Pace-Carlisle

[Razgriz]

IC: A Meaty, wet thud accompanied by a few cracks somewhere close by.

Al's hands further retreated into the pockets of his hoodie.

"in' Irish thugs. Conor can Ship up to Boston all he wants." he grumbled under his breath. "He don't know better."

He had to admit it was a good choice for a walkout though.

If overdone.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Dallas held off on eating the next morning until closer to eleven, when (bereft of a car) he hailed down a taxi in the hotel parking lot and directed him to...somewhere with a burger. The where of it wasn't important; Dal had the money for the cab to meander aimlessly until he'd locked down a destination in his head. The mutant ran a hand through his hair and sighed disapprovingly - it felt like he'd washed it in the sink, but he hadn't been comfortable showering in the hotel room. Easy come, easy go. Little high, little low. Dal pulled out his phone and hit his third emergency contact, right under Mom + Dad.

 

I'm cruising around Westchester, looking for somewhere with meat. You game?

 

Please never text me something like that after you've been drinking again. We've talked about this.

 

Sorry. Want some Five Guys?

 

Already on my way there. For once, my car was actually in the garage.

 

​"Five Guys it is," he told the beleaguered cabbie, texting a quick Seeya in a few and dropping his phone in his lap. He wanted to put his head against the window, but knew doing so was only a recipe for the throbbing in his head to start troubling him again. Or...well, more than it was already troubling him. He'd had too much to drink last night and he knew it, and taking Nicole out for a quick Dairy Queen run had only been asking for another dose of trouble. Too trusting. I know I'm too trusting. But she was his friend, wasn't she? He'd set boundaries last night...or, at least, tried to...he'd said straight up he didn't want things to get out of control, or too close between them. He was sure of it. Now that he thought about it, he could hear himself saying it in his head. 

 

Dallas could hear a lot of things in his head. Most of them sounded like throbbing.

 

The cabbie started to say that he had a daughter Dallas' age, and that for some reason he looked mighty familiar, and that hey, wait, was he one of the kids on the TV a couple years back? The ones that saved DC from the Sentinels? And that man, kid, his daughter loved him and all his friends for what they did, and that the things they'd gotten done out there had changed the way his family thought about mutants forever, and whatever happened to the rest of those kids anyway?

 

Ah, you know. We're alright. We're all in touch.

 

That's good, he said, and how about you? Heard there was some, ah, trouble at the Institute and all, with the teachers and Las Vegas, and was everyone over there still fighting the good fight?

 

The only way we know how.

 

That's good, that's good. The world needed more people like them in it.

 

Kids with headaches?

 

I'm telling ya, he said, the ones who were willing to step up to the plate and do some good in the world, even when it wasn't easy...that's something special. You kids were something special.

 

We sure as were, buddy. Dallas put his head on the window, not wanting to talk anymore, but the cool glass only made his face feel inflamed after all. The cab driver was talking about his daughter again. Kamala something. She had a big crush on all of them, watched videos of D.C. and Las Vegas nonstop when they were airing, frantically Googled all the X-Men to see if they were okay. When they stopped at Five Guys, Dal paid for the ride and then tipped another fifteen bucks for the guy's daughter - to buy herself some lunch, on her crushes. That led to another couple minutes of gushing, and how man, Kamala is never gonna believe who I had in my cab this morning. When it peeled off, Dallas wanted to fall to his knees and sob like a baby, right there in the parking lot. For the rest of his life, he'd never really know what stopped him.

 

Instead, he walked into Five Guys and sat down in one of the faux-wooden chairs, waiting for the couple in front of him to order.

 

-Tyler

[Hanako Herupa]

IC: (Asa Thurman)

 

Sometime after dinner Asa came back to Daken's room, their room, she liked to believe. Daken had hung around for a few minutes before mentioning he had something else to resolve, but it wouldn't take him long. Asa gave him a peck on the cheek before he left. While Daken was busy she flipped through TV channels on the bedroom television, bored for a while. She sat up, pulling the blanket up over her, as she set about making some notes. She flipped through the inventory of gear Daken had allowed on the iPad Daken had given her. A variety of weapons was the biggest part of the list, actual equipment like grappling hooks, breaking and entering tools were sizable but not huge. Heck there were sometimes they didn't necessarily have on hand, but could "acquire" put a smile on Asa's face. Oscorp was like Amazon for mercenaries, except the best part was, it was all basically "free". Free based upon continuing cooperation, and Asa had no thoughts of betrayal or finding work elsewhere. She knew exactly where she belonged, as she mused over her options she heard the door handle turn and that familiar, smooth and yet attention-demanding voice speak.

 

"Enjoying jihadist Skymall?" Daken set a suitcase on the dresser and ran a hand through his mohawk casually. "I'm seeing a lot of little red circles on that screen."

"Yeah, seems Osborn was acquired quite a lot of toys over the years, it's nice to be able to widen my collection." Asa chuckled, before asking him a question. "Did it go well?"

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Well, in theory. In practice...we'll see. Fortune is a fickle ." Daken ran a finger across the suitcase and then walked over to the bed, plopping down on the end of the bed and examining the TV screen with no more than the most cursory of disinterested once-overs. His eyes flicked over to Asa with markedly less listlessness. "You look lobotomized."

 

"Daken, TV is so bad I'm flipping through Guns R' Us to kill my boredom, but now that you're back I don't think I will be for a while." She smirked, and Daken rolled his eyes.

 

"You're running dangerously low on hobbies, you know," Akihiro chided, but all the same he put two fingers on her forehead and pushed her back down onto the bed.

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Ashley

 

Ashley lay in the green grass, clutching a cup of coffee in one hand, her forehead in the other. "What kind of cool dude invented hangovers?" She groaned. 

 

"What does cool dude mean?" 

 

"I think it means idiot..."

 

"Oh....who came up with that...."

 

"Some cool dude..."

 

"I see..." 

 

"...." 

 

Ashley sighed, "Well talking to myself is getting boring... But I thought you loved me! Shush!" Just then a shadow blocked out the sun, Ashley blinked, above her was an elderly man, wearing an interesting pair of shades, and wielding what appeared to be a golf club. 

 

"Do you mind missy? You're sitting on the hole." 

 

"Oh...I was wondering why I wasn't comfy..." Ashley groggily stood up, looking at the old guy. "Sorry about that Stan Lee, I didn't realise I was in the golf course...well bye!" She began to skip away, wondering to herself how she ended up in the middle of a golf course. Maybe you shouldn't of asked directions from a squirrel owned by a hobo!

 

 

[Razgriz]

IC: Something vibrated in the front pocket of his hoodie.

*Straight outta Compton, crazy mothaf--*

"Hey." he said, bringing the phone to his ear as he stopped at an intersection.

"Kid, you alright?" asked the voice of Chris Parks, mildly worried but mostly cool. "Where are you?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Just outsidea Central Park, haven't wandered off too far. Don't worry, I know my way around, remember?"

"Yeah. Alright, just checkin' in. Rine wants to leave in about an hour, so you better start making your way back."

"Will do."

"Alright. Later Al. Stay outta trouble."

Oh, come on. I can change, can't I?

He glanced behind him, noticing a particularly shady group of five or so trailing him.

Was he about to get King Hit? Was it because he looked like a lost kid? Did they, by some crazy chance, recognize him?

Whatever the case, he definitely didn't like this situation.

So he sent Chris a text.

Headin ur way

mite b followed

get ready

Ducking around the corner, he slid his phone into his pocket and took off at a dead sprint.

[Flex Lord Splash]

IC:

 

As Al broke into a sprint, a figure broke off froma  dark alleyway wall and began to run beside him. Terrance had been following Al a ways, after dealing with the small bank robbery, Al hadn't been far away.

 

"I saw what you did to thise guys, nice work. You in trouble?" he asked. He'd changed back into his civilian clothes and ditched his mask, now dressed in a dark brown trench-coat, his long black dreads trailing behind his head as he kept up with the boxer.

 

OOC: This post is for you Razz

[Razgriz]

IC: "Gah! What the ######!" Al yelled in surprise, recoiling and turning away from the sudden appearance of the man right on his tail.

 

He'd have half a mind to swing, if it weren't for--

"AY YO KID WHERE YOU RUNNIN'?"

Them.

Need to keep moving. No time to try and make sense of whatever that guy's talkin' about. 2-on-5's still suicide.

Staying on course, Al weaved through the crowd and ducked behind an innocuous back alley. If he was right, he should be able to pop out on the other side of the block...

One step closer to safety. Hopefully that Find Friends app Joel made him install'd be working.

If they could meet him halfway in the van or something, that'd be grand.
 

Edited August 22, 2014 by Snoop Razz

[Wyrd Bid Ful Araed]

IC: After ferrying Marauder back onto the SHIELD jet that had borne them to the HYDRA base in the first place, Persephone shed her heavy armour and let her primary shell fold back into place under her pseudodermis. She grabbed a jumpsuit to replace it since, while she technically had no need of clothing, having nothing to cover up and no need to worry about being chilly, it generally made people feel more comfortable if she was wearing something.

Back in a more civilian costume she could inspect the damage done to her battle-suit. There was nothing she couldn't fix, even the massive hole blown in its side when one of the tanks had scored a direct hit could be patched and rewired. She'd also need to fix the staining and scoring done to its gauntlets by the heat of her plasma outbursts. Grapple wire could do with a check as well, make sure it hadn't been frayed or stressed anywhere. Oh and its payload of micromissiles, they'd need to be restocked. 

So as the jet rocketed its way back to the helicarrier she rolled up her sleeves, snapped on a pair of safety goggles, and got to work. Micromissiles first. They were the simplest to finish and she'd restocked the jet with a box of them while the rest of the team was raiding the armoury. Individually they were small, the length of a human finger if even that, but a few dozen of them gathered together in the one sealed box made a fair weight in metal, wires and explosives. She took her time loading each on individually into the batteries concealed within the shoulders of her armour. Not because they were at risk of detonating early, they wouldn't go off until armed just before firing, but because she felt that was right. With her array of powerful weaponry it was all too easy to look at enemies as just dots on a tactical map, as bags of waterlogged meat with targets on the front, as blades of grass to be mown. Poof, that one was gone in a puff of smoke. Kapow, another vanished with a dazzle of searing light. All too easy. So very, very easy. But you couldn't think like that. You just...couldn't. If you wanted to be human you couldn't see other humans as just a series of numbers  stacked up against each other. You had to remember they were more than just humans, they were people. With their own lives, their own dreams, their own flaws and foibles that made a personality, that made a man more than a machine of meat and bone. That was why Persephone was going to repair her armour herself, unaided, with her own two hands. To remember that the weight of every missile was the weight of a life. That the burn marks on her gauntlets had happened tenfold over to someone with the bad luck to have chosen a different uniform than her. That the energy drained from her maser had been poured into someone who didn't have the batteries to store it. 

You couldn't take that sort of thing lightly. If you did it was an all too slippery slope right to complete sociopath. And that was when she'd start deciding it was in humanity's best interest if they were all kept in cages, or just plain wiped out. And that was not a road she wanted to walk down. So she was going to stay right here and patch up her armour, and she was going to try and remember who and caused each and every ding and scrape and then she was going to hope her latest request for parts had been accepted so she could finally build herself some more non-lethal ordinance. It would be a weight off her mind if she had some firepower that didn't turn everyone in her way into a cannibal's favourite pasta sauce...

 

 

OOC: Not sure if Team Striking Dragon need to be back at the helicarrier for the next thing to happen or not so consider this a thumb-twiddling travel post that suggests enough passing of time for that to happen

[Snelly]

Staff IC:

 

Red Skull's fingers stroked the arm of his chair, a permanent frown on his face. The attack on his lab had become more of a disaster than he'd anticipated. The SHIELD agents had managed to escape the collapse of the base, barely, but they had managed it all the same. With the information SHIELD had managed to acquire Red Skull knew it was only a matter of time before SHIELD came knocking on his door in full force. Abandoning his fortress was unthinkable, nay impossible. Far too much effort and resources had gone into the creation of this base...no it was more of a city than a base, built in the one of the coldest, most desolate places on the planet, HYDRA had managed to thrive where no one else could, where no one had even thought to look. 

 

There was only one solution, SHIELD had to be crippled before they could plan an attack against him. He still had many cards up his sleeve, it was time to play one. He pushed several buttons on his panel as he began to speak. 

 

"We're sending in the drones, you know what to do...Mr. Stark." 

 

"Affirmative." Came a voice, as monotone and emotionless as a machine. A suit of gold, white, and red began to walk towards the light, the design was unmistakably familiar, but something had been done to it, as if it was tainted. 

 

Red Skull smiled most sinisterly. "Destroy the SHIELD Helicarrier." The suit stood there like a statue for a moment or two, as if processing the information. 

 

"As you wish." It raised his hands up as the lights on the armor began to flicker erratically. In another chamber, more suits of armor began to flicker to life. They were different however in design, in colors of green and yellow, they all bore the HYDRA symbol on their chests. The ceiling opened up, revealing the harsh cold that was outside, a blizzard raged on above. One by one the drones began to fly into the white, as they headed toward their destination. 

 

---------

 

The Helicarrier went to red alert. Unidentified bogeys were approaching from every possible direction, and there were a lot of them, their signature had uncanny similarity to the Iron Man suit.  

Edited August 24, 2014 by Princess Anna of Arendelle

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

True to form, Lacey Marko knew enough to drop all the necessary forms onto Thistledown's desk before barging through the door.

 

Thistledown stopped to inspect them for a couple seconds, but by then the door had already been halfway-pushed open and Lacey clung to the frame like a woman on a raft. Romulus was sitting and sharing a meaningful glance with Alaric while a third man with a mustache just begging to be given a good villainous twirl waxed about a Brotherhood of some kind in the Congo. Ric turned to look at her, eyebrow raised as he took in her appearance; she realized she'd been running. Thistledown found the Post-it note that she'd left on the top of the forms and sat back down at her desk, watching Marko intently. Romulus and the third man didn't speak, but Ric sat up a little straighter in his chair and tilted his head.

 

"Lacey, what is it? Are you alright?" her boss asked. Wordlessly, catching her breath, she motioned at the television.

 

"News...news...gotta see this." 

 

"We're in a meeting," Ric protested, after exchanging a glance with Romulus.

 

"I know, I know, but...sir...Ric... you gotta see this." Lacey gestured again at the TV, and Romulus relented, reaching for a button on his desk. The BBC flared to life - in the bottom right corner, eating up a quarter of the screen, was a home video of a series of brightly colored Iron Man suits lighting up the night as they buzzed around the SHIELD Helicarrier. The remaining third of the screen was dedicated to a man with a head as hideous and unforgettable as his raspy speech. Crimson and bald, with features so gaunt there was something uncanny about them, only his teeth and eyes radiated light - the wrong kind of light, bright and predatory. They glinted triumphantly in the camera.

 

"As you can see, citizens of the world, SHIELD is once again unprepared for the might that is HYDRA!"

 

"Oh, Jesus Christ," she heard Ric curse in irritation. "Secretary of Defense is gonna up my like a case of prostate cancer. Lacey, put down a call to the Secretary of Defense on the agenda."

 

"Wait. Wait. You haven't seen the worst of it yet."

 

"There's worse?" her boss grumbled petulantly.

 

-Tyler

[JiMing]

IC: TLAW-001 Vivus

 

Shedding the jetpack once back on the jet, Vivus removed the helmet that encapsulated his mechanical face most of the time, revealing a full head of messy dark brown hair. Unlike Persephone's unnaturally straight and orderly strands, Vivus' hair was a disheveled mess, with errant spikes and curls all over. Scratching said wild hair, Vivus reflected the mission he had just partaken in. By ordinary standards, it was likely one of the simpler missions that SHIELD has assigned, yet for the android, it was the most important mission he participated in. Vivus shrugged, remembering that technically he had only been active and running for about a year. He was by all means still a rookie to the whole, missions thing. Nothing like Persephone, who had been active for 8 years longer and was far more experienced and skilled in the field.

Turning around, Vivus saw Persephone repairing her equipment and armor. Staring blankly, what she was doing was still a mystery to the supposedly advanced android, and began to approach her. "Hi, Persephone." he greeted with a small wave and smile. "That was some mission..... Well, for me, probably not so much for you.... I mean, you've probably got to go on more important missions with higher stakes than that before... I'm just a newbie." the android said, rubbing the back of his mechanical head. "But wow.... You did awesome back there." Vivus complimented with complete honesty. The android was very impressed to have seen the Titanium Blonde perform right in front of his eyes, and his wildest expectations were exceeded by several orders of magnitude. Vivus had a standard on how to be a great agent, and it was set by Persephone.

[AuRon the champion]

Ic:

 

A barely-recovered Sam raised her head, her exhaustion the same as it was not long earlier. She realized that right about now, she wasn't in a good place. Nor did she have an easy way off. Greaaaaat.

[Silvan Haven]

John Harken- SHIELD Helicarrier

 

IC: Looks like that call is going to have to wait. Thought the agent as he ran through the metal hallways of the helicarrier. He was still in his combat equipment from the mission to the Hydra base, a bloodstain from what the clone coughed up darkening part of the harness.

 

Situations like this called for all combat agents not going to help combat aircraft to get ready to repel boarders. Sure they were in the air but stranger things had happened. The P90 was not the best of weapons for close quarters combat like this, so Harken was heading for a nearby armory to switch it out for something that better fit the situation.

[Flex Lord Splash]

IC:

 

Terrance sighed in defeat as Al ran off, clearly alarmed at his presence. He didn’t know who these thugs were but decided he’d had about enough action for one day, turning he leapt onto a large dumpster before jumping again and pulling himself onto a rooftop and to safety. He looked down to see the thugs chasing the man he’d tried to help continue to pursue their target.

 

IC:

 

Jennifer looked up as alarms began to sound within the Hellicarrier. This didn’t look good at all.

 

“What’s going on? And what can we do to stop it?” she shouted as she caught up with Harken.

 

"Do you have a plan?"

 

IC:

 

Aleks had been too preoccupied to answer Christine. She’d slipped away with hardly a sound, pushing through the door and heading down the hallway of the school. She needed to get some fresh air and clear her head. She started down the steps to the institute before walking through the grounds towards one of her favorite spots.

 

A large oak tree stood rigidly in the earth and as she approached she could see the punching bag she’d suspended from a sturdy branch. She then let out a low shout as she slammed her fist into the bag, then followed up by slamming the next fist. She repeated the process as she began to batter the bag with her fists.

 

IC:

 

Nicole had awoken on the couch to find that Dallas and Ashley were gone from the room. She shrugged before getting up and slipping into one of the massive bathrooms. She felt a little sickly after drinking so much the night before and felt a little bad about what she’d tried to do. She stared in the mirror not really liking what she saw. She’d tried to seduce Dallas again even though he was with Ashley.

She hadn’t been sure if he’d liked her like that before, but now she knew. It was time to let her overdone obsession of him go to the wayside and focus on herself. Dallas was a good boy; she was proud of him for staying loyal to Ashley and hated herself for even trying. It wouldn’t happen again.

 

She padded out of the bathroom several minutes later after a shower and some freshening up, now dressed in a white bikini. She walked over to the hot-tub which was lowered into the floor within the room before lowering herself into the warm bubbly water. She sighed with pleasure and let her eyes roll back into her head.

 

IC:

 

A battered black pickup pulled up not too far away from the Brotherhood camp within Central Park. Kane climbed out of the cab and then made his way towards the camp. He was carrying a six-pack of beer he’d ‘borrowed’ from the institute. He cracked one of them open before taking a swig. He walked up to Dom’s tent and then peaked inside.

 

“Hey fearless leader, you in or still gone on your mission?”

 

IC:

 

Jonathan heard the sound of metal on asphalt; he knew the Phalanx were approaching. He let his metal claws slide out of the knuckles on his Phalanx infected arm. One of them walked past the car he was taking cover behind. Jonathan snapped into action, he was upon the Phalanx quickly, his arm flying upwards as his claws cut through its chest. The machine-alien made a sputtering sound and crackled with energy as it fell to pieces at his feet.

 

Something then caught Jonathan’s eye. A body lying in the street not too far away, he noticed camo fatigues, it was a fallen soldier. Johnathan moved forward now, ducking low as he picked up the dead soldier’s weapon with his flesh hand, a small 9mm Uzi. This would work perfect for distance, Johnathan didn’t want to be up close against all of these things, even with his healing factor he preferred not to get hit.

 

He ducked now as another Phalanx sprayed metal projectiles in his direction. He returned fire with the Uzi as he backed away before taking cover behind a different vehicle.

[Krayzikk]

OOC: There'll be a Fury, and by extension the rest of SHIELD, post coming up very shortly. Getting the PC things I needed to get done out of the way, so after a few posts I know are coming get done, I can focus my attention.

 

IC:

 

"You look like helI." The comment came from just to Dallas' left, but by the time he turned to look, the speaker had already taken a seat next to him. Not that Alexander Smith had very much room to talk; he'd switched back to his old t-shirts, but it wasn't quite the same. There wasn't any hiding the age just a year had added to the technopath, though the slight grin did wonders to take some of the age away.

 

"And speaking as someone who's seen it, believe me, I know what I'm talking about."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Ohh, I bet you say that to all the boys." Dallas pushed the hair away from his face and grumbled something incoherent, but try as he might to hide it, he was smiling too; it made the swelling by his temple a little less apparent. "Nicole thinks I'm a heartthrob. Why don't you think I'm a heartthrob?"

 

"Because I'm not Nicole, thank God."

 

"Oh, do I have a night's worth of misadventures to tell you. I drove drunk again, you know." The couple at the cash register moved out of the way at last with receipt and drink cups in tow, letting the couple in the chairs sidle up to the counter. Dallas took a second to scan the menu with eyes that were still a bit fuzzy at the edges from the night before; he became conscious again of how his hair must look. "I'll have two bacon cheeseburgers all the way, no mustard, no onions, a large drink and a large order of fries." Dallas took a wayward glance at Alex beside him. "Save some of the fry oil. Tiger here likes to be greased up. Gets him going." 

 

He knowingly lapped at the cup full of ice in his hand and winked.

 

-Tyler

Edited August 24, 2014 by Brooklyn Pace-Carlisle

[HeavyMetalSunshineSister]

OOC: The meeting has, obviously, moved on in topic - flashbacks will continue, because I've got a story to tell there, and I'm going to tell it if it kills me. Well, maybe not me. Some squirrels, maybe.

 

IC (Cynegild Picker):

 

With the Congo debriefing concluded, those present were free to devote their full attention to the fresh serving of disaster Mr. Carlisle's assistant had unveiled before them.

 

"Oh, the miracle it would be if any of that man's numerous illicit encounters with livestock had ended with a hoof to and through the cranium. If it gets worse, I may be interested in the stock of nuclear weapons that you do not, of course, technically have."

 

--- (Flashback)

 

Three days had passed since his secret weapon had been set on a collision course with a demonstrably insane cult fond of human sacrifice and torture, and Mr. Picker was working his way through most of a liter of ginseng tea in an effort to remain awake as he waited for a small dot on a map of the Congo river basin to either change position, or pass the requisite five hour period without doing so.

 

One and a half hours remaining. More tea would have to be made.

 

Forty-five minutes and a scalded tongue. Still, sleep was kept at bay.

 

Fifteen minutes. He had dozed off for a few minutes, despite the scalded tongue. Wagner was added at full volume. Perhaps bombastic noise would be more effective than physical pain.

 

Five minutes. Next time, the little green numerals in the corner of the screen would be red, and they would beep at varying frequencies every five seconds.

 

One.

 

Zero. Either the plan had gone well, or an uncharacteristic bout of incompetence had led Chausiku to oversleep. The two outcomes could not be distinguished at the present time - he would have to inform the mercenaries that it was time to act, and let the consequences be if the journalist had not done her job correctly.

[Silvan Haven]

John Harken- SHIELD Helicarrier

 

IC: "Those alarms mean that the helicarrier is under attack. Standard procedure is for anybody not flying around, shooting at aircraft, or making sure that other people can shoot at aircraft to arm up and get ready to repel boarders."

 

As he was speaking the pair came up on the nearest armory and Harken went through the needed procedures to open it. With a beep and a hiss the light turned green and the doors open, allowing them entry.

 

"Pick a CQC loadout. I will be waiting outside when you are done." He said as he unbuckled his P90 and started grabbing shotgun shells off of a nearby rack.

 

Automatic shotgun sounds like it would do the trick.

[otter]

IC:

After a few moments, the water began to heat up far more than would be normal for a hot tub. Nicole would look around, trying to figure out what the source of the problem was...and it would be visible to her as a fox floated up in the water, wet, bedraggled, wearing a snorkle and not at all inconvenienced by the heat around him. Soon afterwards that fox transformed into a human, though the damage had already been done. The water was far too hot for humans to stay in without scalding; hopefully Nicole would have had the sense to step out of the hot tub before that point.

Actual humans, that is.

"You know, Nicole," Morrison began, smiling viciously, "My protecting Dallas used to be a job. Nothing more, nothing less. I wasn't just protecting him from you. It was everybody. I devoted the same attention to everybody. It was work, plain and simple." His eyes flashed dangerously, and anger coloured his voice.

"Then you tried to crash me into a tree. I'm sorry, Nicole, but you made it personal."

Wise people are nice
To the animals near them
For they know one truth.

Animals will bite
And the wise don't want bitten
So they don't mistreat.

 

"I've been quite nice to you. You've done quite a bit that has angered me, things that shouldn't have been done by any civilized creature on this earth. Even a dolphin would have had more sense than you showed. However, there's more important things than taking care of you that I need to do in this world, and I'm going to go do them. Enjoy your life, Nicole Binder, because I've chosen to let you live it out without any punishment I might inflict upon you in retaliation for what you've done to Dallas in the past...though if you try to do anything to him again, that'll have to change." Morrison stepped out of the hot tub, and the water returned to its rather normal level of heating. The currently human kitsune flashed one last smile at Nicole, before transforming back into a fox and leaving the general area.

 

He had an old acquaintance to meet with soon.

[Eyru]

IC

 

Angela Dean was bored. 

 

IC 

 

Rene absently tapped out an imaginary text on his phone, pretending not to pay attention to Dominik and Shiloh.

 

IC

 

Dr Rachel Thomas sat in her office, like she did most days.

[Flex Lord Splash]

IC:

 

Nicole blinked several times. When the water had begun to heat to an unberable level she'd quickly switched to her diamond form. She watched as the fox with the snorkle transformed and listened to his words.

 

"Don't worry foxy I won't do anything to him again, I promise." she said as she watched him go. "And I really am sorry about the tree thing that whole thing was an accident, I never meant to try to hurt you I always thought you were adoreable."

 

She watched as he changed back into a fox before fleeing. "Wait... you don't have to go..." she said. Once again she was alone.

 

IC:

 

"But we don't know exactly what we're up against, if we go out there it could be a slaughter." Jen said as she grabbed a large automatic-rilfe with laser sights and began collecting some explosive rounds.

 

"But I guess that comes with the job, risking our life to guarentee the saftey of this vessle and its occupants, I'll trust your judgement."

Edited August 24, 2014 by Flex Till Death

[Silvan Haven]

John Harken- SHIELD Helicarrier

 

IC: "Its not like we are going to be running out on to the deck. Just running out there would only serve to get in the way and possibly shot. Unless called for we stay in here and respond to any intrusion alarms."

 

Grabbing one last grenade he placed it in his vest alongside the variety of shotgun shells, clips and other grenades. Satisfied that he had everything he might need for the moment Harken made his way outside the armory and stood watch as he waited for the other agent to get ready.

[Constructelf]

IC Tokiomi

As soon as the alarms went off, Tokiomi went to restock his equipment. When he got to the armory, he immediately switched out his carbine for an M27 with an ACOG and all of his grenades for flashbangs. Swapping his pistol for a clean one and restocking on ammo and grenades, he set out; he figured he would be most useful on the ship unless Command wanted him flying out there, which he doubted.

Edited August 25, 2014 by Last Son Amakusa

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

How are things on the Island of Misfit Terrorists, my sweet, nubile Blonde Monster?

 

-Tyler