[Shatterworld] - Fearful symmetry

[Draxx]

Introduction
Sundered from the world of our own by gulfs of time and stranger dimensions are worlds not so different from our own, that we may only touch through the realms of imagination, where myths and legends still walked among us, where science and fancy are not so different, and where mankind is not alone. A world where the only limits are that there really are no limits to the possible.

Follow me here now, if you will. Find yourself in a world apart from our own, yet shockingly familiar, one that is as much a part of our own as our world is a part of it. But it is not our world, though it may superficially resemble it. Let us look into this far distant place now. And let us see what tales it has to tell…

For those who came late...

Mankind is a young creature. Even on earth, there are countless other creatures that predate him, hundreds of entire civilizations that have risen and fallen without his knowledge. However, even in a time of a hundred thousand years, a mere eye-blink by the standards of geological terms, let alone astronomical terms, the timeline of human progress is so unimaginably complex and tangled it is all but impossible to make sense of it for even the most dedicated and impartial of observers. However, an attempt shall be made here.

For I am Uatu, the watcher, and I perceive and remember all. I was born to observe, and shall continue to do so even unto the end of time.

In the beginning, the universe was created by some manner of supreme being, or perhaps a group of less then perfect beings working in concert. None know exactly, despite claims to the contrary, and so this is best left to philosophy, though many would like to take credit. Nonetheless, this being or beings put things in motion, much of which would remain beyond the comprehension of even beings such as I, an unreachable goal to humanity, or so I assume. For though I have witnessed every event, from their beginning to their end, I have and never shall know what it is to be human.

Four and a half billion years ago, out of the wreckage of stars was formed a world, a mere crust upon an inferno of molten rock. It formed a core and eventually an atmosphere, and began the complex process that would lead to ideal conditions for one day supporting life. Of course, many worlds have the potential, but never the opportunity. But Earth was chosen, perhaps by the same force that made the stars and set the limits of the possible, and life did begin there.

Shortly after this process began, a being took up residence on the planet. It was a being that defied existence as any can hope to understand, given it was not composed of matter, energy, or in point of fact, any material that existed whatsoever. But despite this impossibility, it nonetheless persisted in existing and chose Earth as a suitable place for it's needs. Shortly after arriving, it went to sleep. It still slumbers now, dreaming terrible dreams, awaiting the starts to be right.

But in regards to the process of development, and in the story I will now tell, this being is entirely irrelevant. Despite it's presence, the earth would slowly develop and support life, and many beings would come to call it home, beings of startling diversity and disposition. Periodically, they would be scythed from the surface by ice, gas, inundation or falling rocks impacting from space, shaking up the delicate systems that formed the environment to such an extent that by the time they recovered the world had moved on without them, onto new things, new designs, new lifeforms.

Nonetheless, this rock would go on to be the birthplace of mankind, of that rarest of miracles, intelligent life. Much of the actual process does not interest us, as a complete report on the slow and gradual process to come just this far detracts too much from the purpose of this, understanding mankind's past. The environmental qualities that led to their bodies tell us why humans are, but not what humans are, for example. Enough to know that they did develop, adapt, and in time, even thrive. Instead of adapting to their environment, mankind forced it's environment to adapt to it, and strived to greater and greater heights.

Since recorded history began, some fifty thousand years ago, there has always been more to the world then has been guessed by those trying to understand it. Much of this can be glimpsed in the stories they tell, the tales they make, and words that have been passed down in folk-lore and the collective unconscious to form a sort of racial memory. There is a secret history of the superhuman and fantastic, purposefully hidden from the eyes of those who live in the world of the mundane, by a vast and incomprehensible conspiracy that keeps the knowledge for itself, purposefully isolating humanity from the wonders and terrors that are actually present on Earth. Traces of these wonders can be found, but the reality is warped and somewhat sinister.

History when it comes to the truth is something with few facts but much conjecture, even for an impartial observer whom nothing is hidden from. Little empirical evidence is to be found, and less still can be made sense of. Even if one sees everything, how can they hope to unravel the complex and tangled series of events that lead to results? But there is enough to see one thing that few people can bring themselves to truly accept. Man are not alone in the universe, or even this planet. More to the point, they never have been, even from the start.

In the most distant mists of the past, some hundred thousand years ago, the Celestials arrived. I know them of old, just as they know of me. The Celestials are alive, but not in a way that makes much sense to us biological beings, they are an enormous and enigmatic race of unfathomable purpose and power, whose designs even I fear to guess. They visited Earth, at the time a sea of life, where they found a species called Homo erectus (so named because they walked upright, the distant ancestors of humanity). They made a few changes to the world, in order to better serve their mysterious purpose. First, they influenced the chosen species at a genetic level, furthering their evolution for reasons known only to them, as well as implanting several latent genes that would remain dormant for a long time. Once they had done with humans, they created two other races, the Eternals, who would be the immune system of the planet, and the Deviants, beings who each was a fresh roll of the genetic dice, creating limitless diversity. They then built the city of Olympia on the South Pole for their creations to dwell in, and departed. When the Deviants multiplied beyond what could be supported and began a conquest of the world, twenty thousand years after their genesis, they returned and culled them, leaving them almost totally extinct.

It is not known if this is unrelated or caused by the Celestials behavior, however it was after this second arrival that humanity began to develop a purpose, a historical inevitability that took physical form, in the 'spirits of the century'. Each one had a lifespan of a century, and would live out the events that humanity itself struggled with. While all had a tremendous effect on the times they live in, few made it into recorded history beyond off-hand mentions and the occasional observation in folk-law.

Humanity began to evolve and build society, cities, and the trappings of civilization, forcing the planet to their designs rather then make the most of its natural state. And so the city of Archon was built, secrets better left undiscovered were found, black magic and necromancy were first used, and the worst of humanities propensity towards hate and violence was uncovered. After the fall of Archon, Atlantis came to power, forming the first major Empire on which the sun never set as it stretched around the entire globe, before it sank beneath the waves and it's people were forced to adapt to life beneath the seas, it's satellite kingdoms finding themselves suddenly independent and free to pursue their own destinies, beginning the age of High Adventure, of Nemedia and Aquilona and the the other kingdoms, that at last gave way to the kingdoms of Mesopotamia and Babylon, both of which would fall to Egypt, the people of the Nile founded by two trapped aliens resolving to make the best of their situation. It was then that the wizard Shazam created Black Adam to be humanities protector (not trusting the often absent Gods or the mysterious Eternals), but he proved to be far too dangerous to be allowed to remain and so was banished (for a time) and forgotten.

However, despite their growing levels of understanding, at the time humanity were still primitive, and ignorant of the planet around them, of it's history, and of those who lived upon it. What they did understand was as much a product of superstition as fact, and they were ignorant of the wider universe. Unfortunately for them, other beings were not so ignorant of humanity. Perhaps humanity would have been wiped out completely by a more advanced race, never having come within inches of it's potential, but for chance, as the races that did look down upon them proved benevolent.

The Asgardians, one of four great powers among the Third World, along with the Olympians - another of the powers, both took an interest in Earth beginning four thousand years before Rome, in the city of Mesopotamia, and began to guide humanity when whim took them, teaching them aspects of their science and knowledge, only slivers, but enough to jump forward development at a rapid pace. Both would grow to care for humanity in their own way, and did their best to help and protect them, even from themselves. However, two thousand years ago, the Third World was destroyed, and the Fourth World rose in it's place, the old gods almost eradicated but for precious few survivors who managed to escape the fate of being dissolved into raw firmament to build the next generation of gods.

For a while the Eternals covered for the now absent heavens, however increasingly they were not needed as humanity took on a life of it's own. The Roman Empire, commanded by Julius Caesar proved unbeatable, and by 50 B.C stretched all the way from Britain to outer Mongolia (bar one defiant village in Amorica, Gaul), under the tactical brilliance of Julius Caesar, who married the last of the Ptolmic pharaohs and beget a dynasty that would last five hundred years. But for said tiny village, he could have been said to rule the majority of the world. But it was not to last forever, and Rome was split into the two empires, one to be wiped out by the germanic tribes and the Huns, the other to slowly change to the point it had become a middle eastern nation.

However, with Rome gone, there was a sudden power vacuum, and nations regained their independence all at once. Some of them did better then others. In Britain, the kingdom of Camelot was founded, with the help of Merlin Satanspawn, and the bastard son of Uther Pendragon acting as regent. Percy the Black Knight helped protect it, and for a time it flourished as the last bastion of civilization in a darkening world, fighting off hordes of saxons other invading armies while promoting a better way of life then rule of the strong. Indeed, Arthur more then anything wanted to destroy the idea that Might made Right. However it was not to last and Mordred betrayed his father and destroyed the kingdom, plunging britain into dark ages once more. Merlin would wander for a time, bitter and lost, before being the first being to be made The Doctor by the wizard Shazam, meddling again in human history.

It is now that the Kherubim and Daemonite war comes to earth. They crashed millennia ago after a skirmish between their exploratory vessel and a Daemonite warship near Earth's orbit, and have since been grounded there. Lord Majestros of Khera, their defacto leader decided that as long as they were here, they could make use of it, and so put their powers and knowledge to work. However, this did not see widespread use, as for the most part they would work with an individual rather then put it into mass production.

The Renaissance came and went, the Industrial revolution began, and humanity continued to exponentially develop in all the areas of science and culture. Wars were fought, men lived and loved and died, and the world moved on again. However, society didn't necessarily keep up with innovation, and that would go on to cause problems.

In the seventeenth century, mad scientists ran the world. Badly. The landscape was ravaged by superweapons, death-rays, armies of clockwork soldiers and genetic abominations, and that was just the start. Steam and clockwork engines served every purpose imaginable, maps changed overnight as they battled for supremacy, and monsters were created, all because it seemed a good idea at the time. However, their madness proved their own undoing, as one by one they were burned to death by angry mobs, turned on by their own creations, or caught in explosions as their devices malfunctioned. Eventually, towards the end of the century, all but the best died out, and the left a power vacuum in Europe. That, more then anything, led to a new age of empires.

Nations grew in size and power, settling in parts of the world previously undiscovered. Some, like America, went on to become independent, others were thoroughly conquered. It was a time of ideas, and the birth of globalization. Britain was the Empire on which the sun never sets, modeling itself on ancient Atlantis. The Ottoman Empire was on the decline, and the world was coming to focus on Europe. The frontiers were being pushed back, and new discoveries were constantly rolling in. Metahumans existed on the fringes, using their gifts as best they could to preserve themselves.

This was the age of the zeppelin, the ocean liner, the flying-boat airliner, and the skyscraper. Progress seemed unstoppable and the future was sure to be bright, though economic downturns and shortages conspired to keep the lower classes from appreciating them. As often the case with humanity, it was only the few who enjoyed the fruits of the collective labor.

The war of the worlds, shortly after the turn of the century when martians from Mars invaded Earth (driven of their home by the other species who live there), is largely what inspired the trend of individual enhancement, although contact with extra dimensional creatures stretches all the way back to the dawn of man. However, before the war against the martians, they were not something that concerned human beings. They were simply something that existed. The war changed that, but the effects were not felt for some time after, even considering the formation of the 'League of Extraordinary Gentlemen'.

Contact with other worlds had occurred in the past, but for the most part this was limited to extremely advanced species who used Earth for their own reasons, some idealistic, some brutaly pragmatic, a few even malevolent. Humanity had always simply weathered them, they did not seek them out or look for them, simply making the best of their situation. But as man would not be a slave to his environment, so he would not allow other beings to define his existence.

The first contact with an alternative reality intended by humanity was in 1920, where a stable portal was created through the Bleed, and contact was made with another reality altogether. In the meantime, humanity continued to develop at an outstanding rate, sending up the first satellites of what would soon be a global communications network, creating limitless free energy utilizing heretofore unavailable substances, and embarking on projects to change the landscape of the world.

It was also a time of cultural change. Cities were rebuilt, largely to facilitate humanities growing innovations and changing lifestyle, as well as rebuilding being a cheaper alternative to upgrading. For a long time in Europe, cities would be left abandoned as construction was begun elsewhere of a newer, more developed city. Skylines became filled with towering, dream-like structures, and other formerly impossible feats of engineering. London, for example, installed cavorite in Buckingham palace after some considerable reinforcing of the structure, allowing it to hover over New London. It also lead to many new cities in America, such as Star City, Gotham, Metropolis (that would go on to become the nations capital) and several others, as the older cities were abandoned.

But humans remained humans. The drive to become more really began with World War 2, when Germany was taken over by Grand Arcmage of the Thule Society Adolf Hitler. The war was not truly a new war so much as a carry on of the first, under new management. The society in the background was much the same. Germany, with their growing obsession with ethnic purity and superman complex, desired to reach the 'sum of human potential', that set off a genetics race. Furthermore, Hitler acquired the spear Longinus, allowing him to use it as a focus to write the destiny of his people.

Huge breakthroughs were made in building 'better soldiers', through therapy, experimentation, regimes and breeding, even cloning, the Nazi's slightly ahead at first, but the gap rapidly closing as the other nations saw the writing on the wall and threw their might behind it, and the nazi's getting side tracked by dead ends (billions were wasted on the search for the 'homosexual gene'). Captain America was the first great success, and was seen as the poster-boy of the projects. Rogers proved to be more then capable, and his officers came to rely on him as much as a battalion of their best men.

Shortly after, the wizard Shazam awoke from his meditations in the Himalayas, and walked into parliament in full regalia, proclaiming that Winston Churchill is the promised savior 'returned in the hour of greatest need', and then stays on as a war advisor, even participating during the Blitz, with Captain Britain arriving shortly after as well. The Howling Commandos, the Blackhawks, and several other special soldiers were inspired by this new way to fight a war, and soon began appearing on every front. More then that, Majestic decides to interfere in human affairs when the Nazi’s ally with another of his people’s ancient enemies (the Chitauri), and, the dawn of the 'Superhero' begins. The phrase was first coined shortly after.

It was this time, that Order 666 was given to several inner ranking Nazi higher echelons. They were to win the war by any means possible, no matter the cost. They focused on the occult while the allies focussed on science, leading to armies of robots fighting armies of superhuman zombies, supermen fighting mad archangels bound with infernal runes, and other, less easy to describe things. Major Montana Max, Grigori Rasputin, the host of the first of the Ogdru Jahad and all the creations of Wolfenstein were geared towards building an army that could defeat the Allies. They ripped a hole in reality, stepping through to the ruins of an advanced and dead civilization, and used what they found on the other side to great effect, as well as making contact with said alien race (the Chitauri). They are also aided by several less the scrupulous beings with agendas of their own, including Vandal Savage and Ra's Ah Ghul, however The League of Shadows betrayed Nazi command in the early stages, killing many of the high command and leading them to be replaced with the Nazi's supersoldiers.

The Japanese don't have a program as such, leaving that to their allies (much to the disgust of Tiger Yamamoto). Just the same, they did have several figures who filled that role helping out, and the Emperor was secretly removed. Furthermore, they managed to make an alliance with a race of extraterrestrials formed of living, sentient metal, known as the Decepticons. Using what they could glean from the study of their allies, they reverse engineered their technology to build weapons and robots far ahead of the rest of the world, giving them (at the time) seemingly unbeatable tanks and warmachines, complete with minds of their own, in the form of AI's. Equally usefully, their long distance communications and transportation took off, even discovering micro-chips and crude shielding technology. They break alliance with the rest of the Axis before long, and attempt to carve out an empire in Asia, ignoring Europe completely. However, they lose heart, particularly after Hiroshima, and the assassination of the Emperor, and have no choice but to surrender.

In 1943, after the invasion of Russia, Red Skull tired of Hitlers mistakes (as well as the man being essentially a laughing stock, having being badly beaten up by several Heroes who came just shy of killing him by luck more then anything else, and several time-travelers launching assassination attempts), executes him on National Television, and takes command himself, using the military to seize all means of production and supplies, and turning Germany into a dystopian state practically over night, rigidly controlling every aspect in the process, and turning all the industrial power to war. The Nazis were no longer making administrative mistakes, and the war stretched on for four and a half more years, devastating much of Europe, and ending in 1948. The German people were largely doing their very best to aid the allies in every way they could or were totally crushed by fear by this point, but Red Skull pointedly said he did not need, nor care about, their approval.

Finally, the end of the war came, as Germany could no longer support it’s efforts, and Nazi high command begin making their escapes. They will go on to be a threat for a long, long time. Berlin was occupied, and Red Skull vanished, along with Captain America. An official statement claimed he was killed during the fighting, but even in those days that was recognized as unlikely, and conspiracy theories abounded. The truth is, he took a job with Stalin, and started making the system more efficient (both the nazi and the communist felt that loss of life was largely incidental). He’d still be there for decades to come.

We then hit a stop. With no longer any such motivation pushing people forward, the development of super-humans lost priority, and the industrial capacity instead geared towards repairing the damage. The Superheroes in this are the early heroes, groups like the Minutemen, ordinary people dressing up and fighting crime. Usually, not even organized crime, just pickpockets and other petty criminals, gangs and delinquents. They generally didn’t last long, and are seen as essentially stunts, not worth taking seriously. Just the same, they did manage to inspire plenty of detractors. The powerful individuals who had emerged go back into seclusion, no longer needed. Majestic returns to his people and the civilization they are trying to build, while others integrate back into the world. Miracleman, for example, launches a successful corporation.

Progress in terms of Superheroes stops... until the sixties when it takes off again. The Vietnam war was underway, and the militaries are not proving up to the task of pacifying the region. Then, in less then a few months apart, Dr Manhattan and Superman Red Son arrive on opposite sides, and suddenly the Cold War took on a whole new dimension. Red Son proved to be easily the most powerful known being, far beyond any pre-existing class (Including Majestic, or even the deities that had visited earth long ago), while Manhattan was essentially the same, near omniscient and capable of producing energy to change molecular structures, making him, from an outsiders perspective, able to warp reality on a whim. However, while Manhattan's powers made him detached and uncaring, considering himself above normal people and unable to relate, Red Son's had the opposite effect, making him an altruist who did all he could to support his fellow man, and changing the Soviet Union to become what it had always presented itself as. With Stalin's death (Red Skull had vanished shortly before, untraceably) Red Son took over as General Secretary, and began fixing the problems that plagued the Soviet Union.

Now in the world at large, there is a drive to expand, and so they do, building several teams, and revitalizing old programs. More to the point, several heroes appear on their own, and it was that, more then anything, that prompted the worlds governments first began to become aware of the tremendous threat that they represented, a threat perhaps more real then conventional weapons, as individuals possessing destructive capabilities beyond anything humanity had access to existed, and were answerable to nobody.

The first initiative was to create superheroes of their own. At first, these results were less then spectacular. The Comedian, for example, was heralded as the new Captain America in media explosions, but he was largely a propaganda front, and aside from being tough and well built he had little real weight in the circles he moved in. They received a lot of media attention, but in the scheme of things were not particularly significant.

It was also the first incarnation of Stormwatch. America created SHIELD, England created STRIKE (At first directly under and answerable to Parliament, but later given independence and with Jenny Sparks (Spirit of the 20th century) put in charge and given autonomy), and several other agencies came into existence, all at the same time, for the same purpose: Controlling, monitoring, and dealing with threats that the rest of the nations reserves were not equipped to handle.

STRIKE soon collapsed, and instead a new group was formed, the MIB under Cecil Stedman. They would work to keep the realities of the world from leaking onto the news too much, as if there is one thing humanity craves, it’s stability. Their job was making the world appear to be safe and secure, and many of the things blamed on the conspiracy are in fact directly the fault of this organization.

Meanwhile SHIELD, headed by war-hero and hardcase Nick Fury and General 'Thunderbolt' Ross saw things differently. If that's the way it was going to be, then they would have better superhumans then anyone else, and over the next decades the two of them were largely responsible for all America's varying superhuman programs. But it all began with Weapon X, essentially (at the time) colonel Stryker, colonel Wraith, and a drinks tab trying to overthrow the Soviet Union. However, SHIELD grew in power over time, and they eventually formed their own unit of specialist military personnel, G.I Joe, as well as a division to reverse engineer the weapons and technologies utilized by the regular threats to Earth.

The Doctor, at this time a man named Dr Steven Strange, decided to take a more overt hand on the world stage. Cutting all links with his previous groups and affiliations, which he had only maintained out of tradition, he takes a hand in improving the state of life the world over, first with medicine and spiritual healing, then more overtly.

Chinese national Shang-Tsung launched the 'Strongest Under the Heavens' tournament, where it is won by an old man, Jackie Chun. He appeared from nowhere and was a total unknown, and vanished again soon after, however he did star in a few B-grade movies in the one year he was known, most of which went on to become cult classics and began an industry of poorly envisioned martial arts movies, where metahumans utilized their powers for entertainment.

Finally, the Space Race was won by a third party candidate. Professor Cuthbert Calculus, alongside a few scientists and old friends of the professor succeed in building a functional rocket ship in Syldavia (backed by the governments generous contribution) and getting it not only to the moon, but to the dark side, take pictures and return, months before either the Americans or Russians had anything quite workable. Tintin, a Belgium reporter, had the honor of being the first human to meet me, and I retain fond memories of the young man.

The seventies came next. And they begin on an exciting note, as Elijah Snow, the ghost of the 21st century, actually tracked down Red Skull and confronted him. If their was any justice in the world, the nazi would have at last answered for his crimes, but it didn't go well for the archeologist, and the nazi vanishes again, leaving Elijah stranded in The North Sea. He would go on to help found several organizations and cause chaos and destruction in South America, although, upon determining that the goals of said groups were all doomed to failure, cut all ties to them and, upon consideration, give up nazism as well, trading it for a new concept of his own creation. In much the same time, Elijah rethinks his purpose, and decides it is not merely to uncover the lost and forgotten secrets, but also to bring them to light, and improve the world with his discoveries rather then hoarding them.

Of course, the great equalizer was about to come, and put a new perspective on the superhero arms race. A special comet passed the Earth during the 70s. The comet gave off special radiation that would turn many humans on Earth into Seedlings, people with (latent) superhuman powers find them coming to the fore. They were Mutants, and it was as the celestials had intended.

They were not the first. Some were manifested far earlier, although their powers were increased by the comet, and among them were two intellectuals, Charles Xavier, and Eric Lesherr. The two of them had been in contact for a long time previously, and had become close friends and confidants, and so with the coming of the comet that they concluded that humans were out-evolved. They could not compete with the new, emerging race, that shared their DNA but was not truly among the rest of the world. The two went on to form a group of such people, build their own island, civilization, and everything else, and waited for the world to follow them. The two friends slowly began to come at head, their radically different ways of acting at odds with each other.

Meanwhile, SHIELD finally began to have success. Their creation of the 'ultimate assassin' had less in the way of concrete results then their soviet counterparts. The best result they could get was Slade Wilson, who escaped with his brother in tow and went into business for themselves, and James Logan, a mutant of unclear origins. The few that they did keep were more or less useless. But Fury managed to poach Bendix, who proved far more capable by not worrying about things like morals or ethics, and having access to all sorts of DNA taken from various members of the superhuman community, makes some truly spectacular breakthroughs.

The eighties were a period defined entirely by relentless growth. Nixon, during his second term, had Dr Manhattan intervene in the Vietnam war, finally winning the war for the Americans. It was the first actual use of superheroes in war since the second world war, and the world was shocked. Russia retaliated with an EMP nuclear missile, cutting all power in America and blotting out the sun for three days, as well as destroying Washington DC. It was largely this that led to test ban treaties, mostly regarding posthuman limitation and nuclear proliferation. However, the balance of power was shifting, America in something of a decline, while The Soviet Union was on the rise.

Increasingly, America was finding itself in debt and unable to produce enough, necessitating it sinking further in debt. Worse, the Soviet Union was going the other way with Red Son in charge, and it's borders were spreading, peacefully, mind, but surely and steadily.

The greatest under the Heaven's tournament is opened again, and this time won by Son Goku, after a tremendous fight with a being who claimed to be a reincarnated Demon King Piccolo, first vanquished in the Han dynasty. The being was vanquished, and Son Goku vanished with him, never to e heard from again.

Two groups, under the auspices of the Directory of Mainland Technology Development, attempted the same mission, faster then light travel. Both consisted of four people, a pilot, a scientist, and two assistants, and would be using the same type of ship, departing with in seconds of each other, to attempt the same result, the first foray into what was called 'the N-Zone', later renamed the Bleed. The results were nothing more then a quirk of fate, but while the group led by Reed Richards came to New Genesis and were bombarded by one wave of cosmic rays, the group headed Randall Dowling were bombarded by the same radiation, but ended up in a very different place.

It was what first drew the lord of Apokolips, God of Tyranny and king of the fourth world, Darkseids', gaze to earth, and when they returned, both found themselves with very different missions. It was also the moment of the first successful defection from The Soviet Union, in the form of Latveria, headed by Victor Von Doom. It was followed by Vorozheika, headed by the Eternal Druig, lord of nightmares.

Charles Xavier and Eric, now calling himself Magnetto (and abandoning human culture completely) finally part ways. Their split was far from pleasant, and Magnetto becomes something of a dark messiah, as well as engaging in acts of terrorism against the western world for mutant rights. The two would go on to find themselves at odds constantly.

Superheroes were appearing everywhere by this point. The Hulk's first rampage is stopped by a man who calls himself Superman, and soon becomes America's favorite son, given that he embodies the values and qualities that people had began to think were gone from the world. Decency, justice, truth, and doing the right thing. And in all the world's history, there was perhaps never another man his equal. He would go on to become one of the worlds most identifiable constants, and become an international figure of incredible acclaim.

Around the same time, Bendix went rogue. To match all the 'superheroes' he sets himself up as the opposite. Approaching Red Skull and Destro, a prominent arms dealer, funded by Lex Luthor, he began an army of his own, and Stormwatch found themselves in a fight beyond their capabilities. However, he is eventually stopped, though it's a near thing.

More Superheroes were appearing, and less want to have anything to do with any government at all. Themyscira appears in the greek archipelago, a remnant left by the Olympians when they favored the world with their residence, the entire island snapping into existence seemingly out of nowhere, and many of the previously neutral super-beings find themselves having been surpassed without their notice and no longer relevent. Princess Diana, or 'Wonder Woman' as she calls herself, is sent as an emissary, and is given a seat on the United Nations. At the same time, King Namor of Atlantis is officially recognized.

The global blocs are becoming increasingly tense, and Mutually Assured Destruction came into play, with the doomsday clock ticking closer and closer due to tensions rising. Red Son has annexed more of Europe, absorbing it into his growing state that stretches from china all the way to Germany. Meanwhile, America’s economy is struggling, with no real production and most of the manufacturing done in India, the national debt out of control, and quality of life is spiraling down, leading to a crime wave. Nixon, deciding that there is no other option, resolves to attempt to wipe out the Union before they can do the same to him, and prepares to press the red button.

Fortunately, he never does. A former hero, once part of the second Minutemen, Ozymandius now going by Adrian Veidt, foresaw this, and puts a plan he prepared for this eventuality into motion. Realizing that humanity had begun fixated on perceived differences, he realized he had to engineer an event that would make them look elsewhere. He had a complex plan that would cause a ceasefire, by engineering a cosmic threat and forcing mankind to band together. Initially, he planned to fake one, but then had a better idea, and using a complex signal actually brought one.

That night, within minutes of Nixon having come to his decision, a silver streak could be seen in the sky as the herald of Galactus came. An hour before the order to fire the nukes was given, Galactus came to Earth with the intention to devour it, sparing nobody. The embodiment of entropy had intended to devour the planet, but was stopped (by Reed Richards, Eljah Snow, and Superman), and, graciously admitting defeat, left after the promise to never devour the Earth. Dr Manhattan, suddenly forcibly shown that for all his power, he is still a long way from being as enlightened or powerful as he had always assumed he was, left Earth to explore the rest of the universe and learn more. Humanity, realizing how close destruction had come, agreed to a ceasefire, and for a while things looked good.

It was an illusion. It had turned everyones gaze outward, to look for an enemy amongst the stars instead, and so the Earth begins to become involved in galactic events, despite it’s desire to remain alone. S.W.O.R.D is formed, replacing the now long defunct MIB.

The first Kree-Skrull war flares up, with the alien officer Captain Pluskommander Geheneris Halason Mahr Vehl arriving and mankind finding themselves involved almost by default. However, the earth mannages to pass through the battles mostly unscathed. Due to the circumstances of their victory, however, the Skrulls come to see Earth as a holy site, and begin infiltration. Both superheroes, politicians, and people of a less tangible evidence are abducted and replaced with Skrulls assuming their identities (Elvis Presley among them). This would not come to head for some time.

Worse, the Kerubians, long allies of Earth (if for no other reason then convenience in their ongoing interstellar war) were wiped out almost completely by the Vitrulmites, along with several other worlds on friendly terms (Almerac, Tamaraan, Thanagaar) when they resist the warlike races expansion efforts, leaving the ones on Earth as the sole remaining survivors of the species. Majestic leaves earth with all the companions he could convince to join him and attempts to get revenge, returning a few months later, alone and badly beaten, his companions all killed. Fortunately, internal problems and administrating concerns slow the Empires expansion. Majestic, not appeased, makes a deal with several specialists on Earth, and creates the Legacy virus, that wipes out almost the entire population of his new enemies, and spreads too fast to be combated. In no time, the Vitrulmites are all but extinct as well.

Nick Fury in response to all this, formed his own team, 'The Avengers' as the American equivalent of 'The Winter Guard'. As it is formed, to the surprise and delight of everyone, Steve Rogers, 'Captain America' is pulled from the ocean, frozen solid, and successfully revived. He is placed in charge of the team. The team soon cuts ties with the government, and the independently wealthy members begin funding it.

China at last completes it’s own project, and announces ‘the great ten’. Led by a clone of Guan Yu, a man famed in his life for his fidelity, honor, nobility, and ability to rout an entire army by himself. As the nation was, at this point, a subsidiary of the Soviet Union, the team for the most part is of little importance, until the second revolution swept through China, and the nation declared it's independence.

Charles Xavier, Informal Leader of the World's mutant affairs, was assassinated. The killer was never found by the worlds authorities, however I can tell of an unrecognizable corpse is found, torn apart from inside, not long after. With his death, organized mutant rights plummet, and the brotherhood takes over as the primary agency working to further mutants. Mostly through terrorist actions. Many of the X-men default to The Brotherhood. But once more Earth's problems were miniscule besides the universe's own issues.

Thanos created the infinity gauntlet, and so achieved omnipotence. Fortunately, he did not destroy the universe in the end, as much due to his own flaws as due to the abilities of those in the universe to stop him, and was stopped, but not permenently. He returned shortly later, and began once more working towards his goals.

It was at this point that Japan completed the Knightmare and other 'mecha' giant robots with human pilots based on the principle of Decepticon technology mixed with several other concepts. Tony Stark worked as a correspondant, and at the time made several improvements to his own armor.

Black Adam’s first and greatest rampage began when his lover is killed. Having been ruling Kahndaq with an iron fist, he abandoned all he had achieved to find those responsible. He began at Latveria, smashes into Russia to battle the Winter Soldiers then Red Son himself, and after being halted then driven back deflected and veered into China, where he was forced out again, and left to devastate much of Europe, proving almost impossible to stop. Eventually he was brought down, at considerable cost, and the process of rebuilding began.

Barely a week later, The Authority was reformed by Jenny Sparks, and the world begins to take a darker tone. Gone are the old days, now the world seems perpetually at war with itself. The Authority, however, proved to be very much a decisive force in the world; while their success at protecting the Earth from various extranormal threats and international terrorists was unparalleled, their simultaneous use of lethal force and willingness to topple dictatorial regimes favored by one power bloc or another kept tension high. However, for the first time in forty years, the US is matching The Soviet Union. By the turn of the millennium, America is more unstable then ever before, going through no less then four presidents in a year (the first was impeached, the next two were assassinated, the first by the renegade superhero group the seven guns, the second by the Authority themselves).

A coup takes place, The Authority seizing control of all

An international coalition of operatives led by Nick Fury and Ivan Simanov manage to move quickly and efficiently, deploying Navy Seals, the SAS and a Spetznaz team against the Authority within an hour, the soldiers headed by agents from the various monitoring groups. And to the surprise of even the most optimistic of projections manage to not merely stall them but actually subdue them all. However, Maxwell Lord worked behind the scenes to stabilize the new regime, so they have no choice but to defer to the Authority, and let them do their new job.

The Skrull Secret Invasion came to head shortly after, over the course of which many Skrull infiltrators are identified and dealt with. The Skrulls had been undertaking a long-term, well-planned subversive infiltration since the war, and they are finally ready to move. They are eventually dealt with, by Norman Osborne of all people, although it was a near thing.

Humanity was invited to join the coalition of planets by Thaedus, the founder and ruler of the group, and after a summit meeting humanity agrees. It's a period of development, and once more we make great leaps and bounds in terms of progress.

Unfortunately, this was also a time of galactic unrest, as the Sinestro corps war began, as the mad lantern rallied himself an army of the most fearsome beings in the galaxy and declared war on the peace-keepers in the name of law and order. The war ended with the matter undecided, and thousands dead on both sides. All was going according to his plan.

Hawksmoor and Magnetto cut a deal, and mutants are finally given the recognition and status that satisfies him. In exchange, he goes legitimate. Eric Lensherr actually goes on to become a senator despite not being an American resident, proving that there is no such thing as bad publicity.

And then, all of a sudden, The Authority are taken out of operation one by one by a shadowy self-proclaimed terrorist who goes by the name 'V', who is never identified, found, or even satisfactorily established as dead or alive. Never giving them a chance to strike back he immobilizes them through a series of perfectly taken care of incidents, taking out most of the administration who supported them in the process with assassinations and blackmail. Eventually, Hawksmoor is forced into a corner, with the only way out being to stand down, and restore democracy to America, with free elections.

Lex Luthor is elected president by a landslide. He dismisses Fury from Office, and makes Norman Osborne secretary for defense and head of SHIELD. Not because he trusts him, simply because it provides him with the perfect fall guy for the more morally questionable policies his administration undertakes. Leaning hard on congress and the senate he continues the economic reforms the Authority had begun, revolutionizing several industries and rebooting the economy. However, his primary motivation was simply forcing Superman into a situation he couldn't effectively fight back. Secretly, he begins the Mankind Liberation Front, an alliance with several other powerful figures, with the intention of removing the Mutant gene, 'foreign articles' from the genepool, and otherwise eliminate all metahumans and aliens. He was, however, perfectly willing to use metahumans as pawns in order to do this.

I am the Watcher, and I have seen more then any other being can claim. All that has happened, every molecular event, happened with an observer. And now, you know enough to make sense of the dark days to come...

[Draxx]

James Bond
M's office was stark, and spartan, though not uncomfortable. The furniture consisted of well maintained antiques, the stationary top of the line. He didn't have a computer in his room, he'd never really got the hang of them. A triumphant picture of Admiral Washington at the battle of Trafalgar was on one wall, his only decoration, that he'd inherited from one of his predecessors, Admiral John Godfrey and taken a liking to. It had been in storage for decades, but he'd brushed it off and hung it in his office for reason unknown.

Mallory possessed a razor sharp minded with a fierce ruthlessness to match. He was the Chairman of the Intelligence and Security Committee prior to heading up MI6, and is a former lieutenant colonel in the British Army, serving in Falklands war and in Ireland with the Special Air Service during the Troubles, where he had been held hostage by the IRA for three months. They'd tortured him enough that he still had scars.

Personal reservations aside, Bond truly respected this new M. In fact, he had fought by his side twice, and he was an individual that trusted his instincts, even in the face of contrary evidence. And that was important in this buisness.

"Sit down 007." M said curtly, gesturing to the 18th century carved mahogany chair on the other side of his desk. "A situation has presented itself that gives us cause for concern."

"Over the past 6 months, a series of high-tech thefts have occurred at various communication installations around central Europe, targeting allied installations. Numerous lives have been lost, including several key Intelligence operatives of ours. More to the point, these aren't acts of random terrorism. It's clear that there is a motive behind this, though what it is we hesitate to speculate. We do, however, have a probable suspect."

Michael Westen
You're in your loft, with the three people who form such an intricate part in your life as a burned spy, Jesse, Sam Axe, and Fiona. Sam in particular looks concerned. He's dressed as usual in a loud Hawaiian shirt and plenty of flashy jewelry that looks tacky and fake despite being top of the line. "So look. I got this buddy named Frank Moses. Former Black Ops, record longer then you want to know about, retired and living a quiet life in a Cleveland suburb. Anyway, yesterday he calls me, and says he got in touch with a few of his old buddy's, and made a bit of headway on your case, Mike. So I tell him alright, give me details, and he says it's not safe to talk now, and he'll call me back in an hour. I haven't heard from him yet, so I did some digging this morning, to find he's vanished off the map. His house has blown up, and there is no record of him anywhere. He hasn't just been burned, he's been unpersoned."

"So this is a good lead. All we gotta do is find Frank, then we find who made him disappear. And then we finally have a face to work from."

The Shadow
It's a dark night in New York. Dark as it gets.

Wilson Fisk, Kingpin of crime is the closest thing you've had to a worthy opponent since your enemy Si-Fan relocated back to the Orient. The law cannot hope to touch him, he is too organized and careful, too good at laundering and maintaining the illusions that protect him. Indeed, they wouldn't dare, his legitimate holdings alone are so vast that the entire nation's economy depends upon them to an extent. The other criminals don't dare face him, they just hand over tribute. And your fellow crusaders have come close, but are always thwarted before reaching him. But then, you haven't had a fellow spirit among them since The Spider, who Si-Fan killed sixty years ago.

It has been a long game. You chipping away at his power-base and interfering with the flow of his wealth, him working to force you out of hiding, out of the shadows that protect you. But tonight, he will be vulnerable, almost unprotected, so your informants have informed you. Tonight you can strike.

The Fisk Industries tower is a front for the Kingpin's public ventures as well as a base of operations for his criminal activities. It is located at 439 West 38th Street (on the corner of West 38th Street and 5th Avenue), just north of the Empire State Building and a few blocks south east of the Bank of America tower, one of the tallest buildings on the skyline. And at the top, is his penthouse.

The taxi-driver, who owes you a life debt and has no issue with acting as your wheelman as repayment lets you out, and asks if he should wait to pick you up.

Tommy Oliver
There are eight heavenly cities within the bounds of the orient, atop the Himalayas and similar mountains caring nothing for the borders or the events below, where the inhabitants isolate themselves and live lives of spiritual consideration and harmony. But once a generation, the Seven Capital Cities of Heaven align on a plane far beyond the ken of mortal men that has rules and laws only unto itself. It is here that these cities send their Immortal Warriors to compete against one another in a combat tournament to end all tournaments, for the right to determine the fate of the Earthly realm.

You know this because a message was delivered by a short brown man, written on a scroll in perfect English, congratulating you for the honor of being selected as one of six possible candidates by Master Crane to take place in the tournament, and to be in Tibet this time tomorrow.

[industrious]

Dermott Arkane

Progress.

People have fought for the idea, died for it. They have lived for it, acting unselfishly, hoping that their consciences would inspire others to act and join with them. Hoping to make a difference in a chaotic world.

They were fools.

Because progress doesn't come from individuals. There will always be a backlash, a tug of war between society and individual, or society and society until the ideas of progress come crashing to a halt.

To change humanity, you don't change the circumstances, the world around them. You don't change government or technology. To change humanity one must change...humanity.

The Statosphere. Where statistics have personalities; where the Archtypes dwell in the human unconscious, shaping us, molding our beliefs. Replace those, or add to them, and humanity changes, the statistics change, and we become different.

Take the Ascension of The Merchant, for example, back in the 7th century. Trade had always existed...but suddenly it blossomed. Mercantilism had become, for better or worse, embedded in human affairs. And whenever the concept evolved, permanently, it was because someone else had replaced whatever man had Ascended as The Merchant.

And now, Dermott Arkane was in Metropolis, covering the story of a rally for...whatever. The subject didn't matter. What mattered was the message.

And what really mattered was which way he spun it.

The Shadow

"That will not be necessary, Sebastian Lawrence."

The Shadow always called his associates by name. If only so that they knew that he knew who they were.

"I will be seeking...other routes for my departure."

The cab door opens, and nothing exits as it drops off. nothing puts on a pair of suction cups, affixing them to forearms and knees. And nobody begins to climb the tower, avoiding the front entrance.

[darkblade]

Michael Westen

When something feels like a trap it probably is.

"I don't like this Sam. Seems too obvious, an old friend suddenly gets a lead on me before disapearing." Michael said as he dug his spoon deeper into the container of yougurt. "Besides, the people who burned me. They aren't that blunt or I'd be a stain on the carpet by now."

Before she could even speak up he cast Fi a look. A house in suburbia exploding with no trace, she'd trade her favourite p-90 for a chance to look into that. "Alright but we are covering our bases before we take a road trip. Frank was cold war, means he probably had a dead drop here during the Missile Crisis."

Of course if you know it's a trap sometimes it pays to poke the bait a little bit so see if the trap setters show up.

***

Tommy Oliver

Zordon used to tell Tommy, "Once a ranger, always a ranger." Turns out it's not quite true. How many rangers remain active in the States (Japan's rangers seem to still be going strong after thirty-seven years)? Those new Megaforce kids, maybe a handful of others. Even his own pupils the Dino Thunder Rangers left the fight. Going on to play soccer, draw comics and become pop song one hit wonders. No one stayed when their battle was done anymore.

He looked upon the hidden city off in the distance and sighed. He didn't care much for tournaments, particularly not ones like this, fighting other heroes to find who is best suited to defend the Earth. An ancient tradition that seems almost quaint in the face of the hundreds of super teams across the world. Still he couldn't refuse, even as he is a man of science and a Power Ranger every martial artist dreams of seeing the Heavenly city and becoming an immortal weapon. He approaches the gate and shows the guards his scroll.

[Draxx]

Rex Salazar
Technically you, or at least your body, is the property of Stark Enterprises, the original manufacturers of the EVO nanites that caused the mess you are in now. There is a federal inquiry as to the dereliction of duty that led to this, but a definite source has yet to be determined, indeed it's felt that it was likely sabotage. Nonetheless, the nanites still belong to Stark, and were he a different sort of man you could likely look forward to a future as a (very humanely taken care of) lab-rat constantly analyzed for raw data so that you could be effectively replicated. Fortunately, for a heartless (literally) capitalist, Tony can be astoundingly liberal.

So the terms of your contract are simple. Once a month, you come into he corp for a routine check-up, and while they check everything they see what they can do about restoring your identity as well. Tony even offered you a job the second time you met him, which you thought was pretty cool.

The scientist taking care of you (if you qualify zapping you with various particle identification rays while you are strapped to a table under examination 'taking care') is John Henry Irons, an enormous black man with an impressively developed musculature. His head is shaved, his features are regular and hard, and his eyes are shrewd and intelligent, his voice deep and pleasant to listen to. He handles everything with deceptive care.

"Good news." He says at last, after a full spec analysis comes up negative. There was cause for concern about the strain on your body and the possible imperfect tissue repair. "You've finally stabilized. It's not going to get any better on it's own, but you're not likely to see any further degeneration either. No cancer in your future after all." He unstraps you, then hefts you gently to your feet.

"Well that's it on this end. How goes your attempts to trace the rest of the EVO's?"

Michael Westen
Sam concedes the unlikeliness of the situation, but can't quite bring himself to believe his old friend is involved in any sort of set-up. "Well, if you did want to get rid of Frank that's about the only thing you could do that has a chance of working. He's a black ops wet-works specialist from way back, and was the best in the game for a long time." He replies, spreading his arms expansively.

Jesse shrugs and leans forward. "Could just be a coincidence boss. It's not all about us. I mean, he's got enemies, same as everyone, and maybe he hasn't outlived them all. He asks a few questions, they get a bead on him, and do what they do."

Fi shakes her head. "The explosion says amateur. Either it really was an accident, or they didn't get him and are trying to cover their tracks."

"I'll check it out. See if I can find anything that tells us more in a hurry." Sam says, clapping his hands and getting to his feet. "Only lets get there before enforcement does and we have a cold trail."

Jesse shrugs. "I'll procure a vehicle and arrange to move anonymously. Any ideas?"

Tommy Oliver
The mountain air is clean and crisp, stinging cold. The horizon is an indistinct distant blur, and there feels no limit to how far you can see. Even your pack feels less heavy then it was when you left the airport. You're on the boundary, at the point of crossing over into the intersecting world where the heavenly cities belong, an older, purer world of tradition and individual excellence above all things. And yet somehow you can even get wifi here. Such are the wonders of progress.

Even now, you can't help but feel a little excited. This is a big step up from facing Jason Le Scott in a school martial arts tournament. Indeed, you had no idea you were this highly regarded, even at your hey-day you were usually just a headline on the local news. It's almost enough to give you cause for concern.

The city you are heading for is above you even having scaled two thirds of the mountain already, and no matter how far you walk you never seem to get closer. The note you received says that reaching the city is a state of mind, and so as your readiness progresses you come closer. Whether that's literal truth or hyperbole is probably missing the point.

As you stop to admire the view again, you catch a glimpse of a light blue color out of the corner of your eye, gone a second later before your brain can make any headway in identifying it. Turning, you catch it again along with a faint rustling sound, and realize something, or several somethings, are all around you, watching. And from their silence and sneakiness, you'd guess their intentions aren't strictly friendly.

Dermott Arkane
Lex Luthor is not a popular man, even if his authority came from what is essentially a popularity contest. He's not even respected really, no matter what he does, which huge gesture he makes to demonstrate his magnanimity or generosity or kindness, nobody is really won over. No matter what he does for them, how much he serves their self-interests, everyone knows, deep down, that he's a bad man that they have every reason not to trust. And he doesn't make it easier by more or less explicitly holding them all in contempt.

It's almost absurd, the people in this rally (the cause is one thing or another, occupying troops out of India, perhaps, or in reaction to the governments increasing secrecy, or perhaps just an insistence he looses the stranglehold that he applied to the nation, and allows some semblance of Free Market to return) is strange, given the ease he got elected one would assume that people were willing to forgive his past. Apparently that's not the case at all.

They are picketing outside his corporate headquarters, though they are also being surprisingly well behaved about it and the disruption they are causing is strictly minimal. This is Metropolis, after all. Luthor is in Washington, and not particularly interested in their opinions, however, the acting CEO in his absence Talia Head is less disposed to bored dismissal.

The Shadow
You pause as you come to the top floor. It is Wilson Fisk's habit to work late, sometimes through the night. Even when he does decide to sleep, he often simply does so in his office, and had a room specially built for that purpose. Yet something is wrong.

The lights are dimmed, and while the guards having been sent home is far from unusual, his executive assistant and other minor functionaries have gone too. It's not a trap. He's still unaware of you. Nobody knows of you as more then rumor until you will it, no matter how firmly his finger may be on the pulse of the city he is no exception.

Which leaves only one logical possibility. Wilson Fisk has chosen this night, of all nights, to entertain company. Company he feels so secretive about, he's taking pains to hide it from his own, less then savory or scrupulous people.

[darkblade]

Michael

Sometimes as a spy you have to let bad things happen to good people as part of the job.

"Alright we'll go." Michael sighed as he placed the dirty yogourt container in the sink.

But when you're burned, it often pays to play it the other way around. You need all the friends you can get, even if it means an illegal cross-country drive to investigate a potentially dead man.

"But plan for everything, regardless of if they are tied to me or not people who blow up houses are heavily armed and very desperate. Not people you want to meet unprepared."

***

Tommy

Why would the journey to the Heavenly City be peaceful? What kind of enemies could lie in wait this close to the heart of pure martial arts? Rita once contracted the Yokai when her magical clay reserves got low but they're Japanese, Chinese. Taking a deep breathe Tommy pulls back his sleeve to reveal the Dino Morpher.

"I don't know who you are but I don't want to fight." Tommy calls out, hoping this is just a misunderstanding.

[AnimeKid]

Rex

Rex rubs a few of the spots where he was zapped before answering. The tests didn't really hurt but they were a little uncomfortable to him. Or maybe that was the fact that it was someone else operating on him and not Doc. Holiday. "Eh could be better, could be worse. I'll give him this VAn Kleiss is crafty and slick. Guy practically turned into a ghost. Still he won't be able to resist taking a swing at me for long. Just need to figure out how to put him down for good."

KOS-MOS


KOS-MOS

Her memory banks seem to have images of floating after a Gnosis ,which doubled as a ship, that she and her companions were escaping from imploded with the Zarathustra and the Original Zohar inside it. She remembered using her force field generators to shield the Elsa from the blast as she was engulfed in it.

A device that was able to reset the universe by transcending imaginary time. It was no wonder that it's explosion could cause such an effect. To the people would be out and about they would see a bright light in the sky. It would get closer and closer, most probably thinking it a shooting star. However a close pass over the city would reveal that it was not shooting star at all. In fact it looked like a woman!

KOS-MOS shoots through the sky with her pod that acts as her recharging station. She eventually lands in an open field, digging a trench behind her as her body scrapes the ground. After creating a 400 yard long trench in the outskirts of a city in a heavily forested area she gets up unharmed and scans the area for hundreds of miles. "All scans indicate technology levels reminisent of 20th century earth. Wait...anamoly there is technology present that suggest a more advanced time period. However scans of calanders reveal that the time period is correct. No known planets with this level of technology. Most logical conclusion, a space-time jump was caused when the implosion the giant Gnosis known as Abel's Ark was coupled with the power of the Zarathustra. Most sensible action is to gather information." she says to herself as she heads of in the direction of civilization.

[Draxx]

Snowflame
Since your apparent demise at the hands of the New Guardians in Columbia, you have been lying low and biding your time in Basin City handling synthetics for the mob. Basin City is, in the truest sense of the word, a wretched hive of scum and villainy held together by fear and corruption, and kept from spreading to the rest of the world by the crumbling shell of a city!

The Kraut recently made enemies badder then he was, and his stranglehold on organized crime has gone through some radical changes of regime, eventually stabilizing under Jackie Estacado and Red Hood (or Parker Robins to his associates). While they are still fiercely in competition, neither of them have disrupted you or the church of your god. Men like you are useful, and so you were not overly inconvenienced. To do so would disrupt business, which neither will allow.

The economy is in terrible shape, since the factory work dried up. Public facilities are falling apart, the roads are cracked and broken, many buildings have been abandoned, to be occupied by vermin, hobos, or criminals. Decent jobs are few and far between. If you owned the city and the first circle of Hell, you'd rent the city and live in Hell. However, it's also the nations hub for the drug trade, brought in the the docks. And the Cocaine must flow.

Which is why you are standing there close to midnight, watching a ship slowly arrive. It's the Karaboudjan, a merchant vessel owned by the Franchetti family, and hidden on board is half a tonne of china white. The police have been bribed to look the other way, and there are no vigilantes to disrupt you, not in Basin City. Yet something, some instinct, makes you fear for your god, makes you suspect that something is going to try and interfere.

Perhaps the shadow man, who has been hemorrhaging from all the rest of the organized crime in the city. Perhaps something new.

Rex
John Henry Irons stares at you a moment. "Would you prefer a less passive solution? I have an idea or two that might help you out." He says, his deep and thoughtful voice lined with an emotion your not sure you recognize.

Michael
Vi nods, and goes to her car to ensure you have plenty of firepower. Jesse goes with her to make sure the firepower you do wind up with it easy to conceal and unlikely to give the game away. Sam goes onto the phone, to try to find out who Frank was talking to. And, like a well-oiled machine, in under half an hour you've got tickets and are ready to head for the remote and mysterious lands of Cleveland.

Tommy
As if addressing them called them into being from realms of raw potential, three ninjas seem to appear from nowhere in particular. One moment there was nothing but the mountainside, the next you begin to notice how what you took to be faint textures or smudge of shadow are actually parts of three highly visible ninjas.

Dressed in kabuki-theater stagehand costumes (actually the long distant inspiration for them) colored bright blue and aqua. They backflip to their feet, yell "Kai!" as loudly as possible, and perform gymnastics and twirl their weapons like they're warming up before a demonstration, drawing a range of diverse martial arts weapons.

The Lin Kuei, it would seem, have designs on disrupting the tournament. Or perhaps they are some sort of trial to make sure you are serious about entering the holy city of Gongmen.

[darkblade]

Michael

While the rest of his team goes about their prep work Michael pulls out a cell phone. An older model, from before the smartphone boom made the term synonymous with hand held computers. Great for the general population and law enforcement but very bad for spies. The mark up on higher end electronics is too pricey to justify using a smart phone as a burner and the microchips make rewiring it for other purposes not worth it in the end. He'll stick to pay as you go nokias for as long as possible.

He dials a number. "Mom, I'm leaving town for a while. Looking into something a friend of Sam's found."

***

Tommy

Lin Kuei, mercenary ninjas. Tommy smirks, he was expecting some kind of ancient Chinese demon or mutant Monolophosaurus. Maybe they were right? Maybe he had been a Ranger too long and it was starting to get to him.

He looks the ninja in mask, he can't see their eyes but he's used to stare downs without direct eye contact. Calmly setting his pack down he flexes his shoulders and lowers his frame into a karate stance, non-verbally challenging the Lin Kuei to make the first move.

[industrious]

Dermott Arkane

His notepad is at the ready; likewise his press badge from Now!News.com (a very small website owned by Dermott, but well-known among certain circles). Striding forward, he approaches one of the protesters with a sign.

"Excuse me! Dean Matterkros, Now!News.com. Are you aware that under the Luthor administration, unemployment is at a record low of 3%?"

He'd have to agree with him; the facts don't lie. They might not be true, for some given definition, but they don't lie. He'd have to acknowledge the message.

The Shadow

Too quiet. There might be a trap.

The Shadow cloaks himself, bends the minds of mortal men so that he goes unseen, unnoticed. And while it might be possible to kill Fisk unaware...his crimes demand greater punishment.

It begins slowly, low and deep, and expands quickly, echoing off the walls and into the penthouse. The windows hum in resonance, and it is everywhere and nowhere both.

The Joker had the most iconic laugh of all, but the Shadow was the first to weaponize it. The Shadow was the one who made the sound a thing for men to fear in the night.

[Draxx]

Michael Weston
Your mother and your relationship is the best it's ever been, however she is still, fundamentally, your mother. After she's reminded you to be careful, to bring a toothbrush and all sorts of other bits of advise you didn't really need, you've got that part of the proceedings over and done with.

The hard part is an identity, technically speaking you're not allowed out of Miami under any circumstances. Ever. So your first step is setting up an ID airtight enough to get you onto a domestic flight.

Tommy
The assassin loses the battle of wills first, charging towards you then leaping up in the air, swinging his weapon for maximum effect as he descends upon you. His fellow assassins circle around a bit further, trying to blind-side you while their leader takes the offensive. The crudeness of the trap is very nearly insulting.

Wilson Fisk
The Chrysler building echoes with the deep, mocking laughter of the Shadow, and Fisk pauses in his addressing the inner-circle of his investors. They'd begun as wealthy men. He'd made them obscenely rich, and all it had taken was their willingness to turn a blind eye to some of his actions, and to accept his total control over them. Not that it bothered all of them. In fact, many of them had taken to it as a duck to water. Most of them are just thugs in expensive suits, but a few…

Well, those would be the ones whose anonymity he is protecting. With some careful work, you could make organized crime a whole lot less organized.

Fisk gets to his feet, moving with deceptive grace for such a large man. "It would appear we are compromised." He says, sounding relatively calm, despite the effect the unearthly, hideous laughter is having on the majority of his associates. "There is a panic room at the end of the hallway. Go in there, and do not leave no matter what you might hear until dawn. I cannot stress this enough." With that he reaches down, picks up his cane as the rest of his associates file out of the room, and with one hand the size of a shovel unknots his tie and removes his dinner jacket. Then he steps into the center of the room.

A different sort of man would call for help, or attempt some brand of negotiation. But for all his pretenses, this is a man who only truly understands an appeal to the stick.

Dermott Arkane
The man is young, still in college doing a bachelor of Arts, bearing a sign imaginatively consisting of Luthor's head super-imposed over a criminal's mug-shot. He blinks when you address him, then blinks again as your undeniable words wash over him. For a moment he splutters, shakes his head, then manages to get his replies into some semblance of order.

"Livestock are well fed as well. What's your point?" He asks, a little discourteously. "He runs the nation like a company, and uses it's people as a disposable resource." It's clear he's not as well informed as you, though he's certainly right in spirit.

[industrious]

Wilson Fisk

"The weed of crime bears bitter fruit."

There is the sound of gunfire from down the corridor. Single shots, deliberately spaced. Screams - not of terror but of pain. Nobody has been killed - yet.

"Bears pus and poison. Taints the world and makes God a lie. You chose to serve a master who would let that weed choke out sun and soil; you swore an oath to do his bidding. You are his agents and his spies, and yet your hands are stained with very little blood..."

There is a sardonic chuckle.

"Well. Not anymore."

The cries become whimpers, and then fall silent.

"Wilson Fisk."

Now enter the Shadow, dressed in sable black, cloak billowing in an unseen wind, and the only color upon his outfit the long blood red scarf wrapped around neck and lower face. Blue eyes stare upon the Kingpin in cold fury between a great beak of a nose.

"I want you, you piece of decrepit vermin! Prepare yourself for death!"

Dermott Arkane

He taps his press badge meaningfully.

"I'm writing a story for Now!News about the protest. Trying to find the truth."

A Messenger cannot deny the truth, and cannot lie. But he knew that the act of telling the message changed its form.

"Now, what do you believe is the makeup of this group? The young? The old? Do you believe that your view of Superman has anything to do with your views on Luthor?"

He smiles, and clicks his pen.

"This is for the world to hear."

[Draxx]

The Shadow
An enormous wall of bulky overwhelming physical power towered above the dark man, yet there was something repellent in his paunchy thickness and his heavy and thick features, something that aped the savage existence of humanities forebears, ugly, harsh, brutal and short. The most prominent figure of organized crime in the whole US east coast, perhaps the most successful to date. He is not merely a mobster, but the king of mobsters, and his soul is as bleak and harsh and pitiless as hell itself.

"What a remarkable grasp of theatrics." He replies, in guttural tones akin to how a bear might speak, lips twisting with a certain savage pleasure. He makes no move to fight. Not yet. Though his hands do tighten on the stick. "Seems almost a shame to waste them, with nobody but me to witness. Very well, as I am at your mercy, and it is clear that no help is coming, give me a moment to compose my thoughts and compose a brief question to put to you."

He reaches down to one enormous hand, and fiddles with a ring on a pinky finger, projecting an air of dignity as he does. "Kill me. Well, you certainly got this far. Perhaps you might. But killing me like this won't do you any good. A death like this won't dissolve my empire, but it won't put it under you either. No, they'll be a war in the streets, as different factions try to fill my position, and you'll never be able to prove you killed me."

He pauses, for effect. "Of course, it's possible you are on the side of the angels. But then you'll only doom yourself. I'll never go to court, never stand trial for whatever it is you object to, and die, as far as the world is concerned, and innocent man. What's more, justice will fail, be shown up for the sham that is, and everyone will know. Everyone will know that it's not the law that protects them, it's men with killers eyes who don't show their faces."

"Why are you doing this. Are you trying to prove something, or is it simply a matter of mathematics?"

Dermott Arkane
"Mostly concerned citizens wanting to give Luthor the trial he's never had." The young man says, a little more at ease now that he's not being confronted with pure and undeniable objective fact, and falling into the role of the interviewer a little more easily. "Who want to show him that he's still answerable to us. And I don't think Superman has anything to do with it."

The man has never met Luthor. If he had, he'd never talk about the man like this. "Luthor thinks everything is for sale., and that he can name the price, Thinks that he's entitled to whatever he wants, and that we owe him… allegiance I guess. And right now, he thinks that bread and circuses are going to get him the nations soul. If you want, you can quote me." He finishes. "But you really should talk to Olson. He's somewhere over there."

[Fan]

Snowflame grins as he watches the boat appear, internal worries aside he knew that there would be no force in Basin that would stop his God from entering this city that writhed in horrific agony that only COCAINE could provide a reprieve from.

Yes, while China White was hardly the most pure form of his God, he knew that it would suffice for his needs and it would be Snowflame's pious duty to bring it to the streets of New Basin and ensure that the Pious-To-Be would be able to serve their waiting god!

Snowflame then walked forward on to the dock, spreading his arms wide and reveling in some of his god that he had brought with him, allowing it's white hot ecstasy to suffuse his being and consume his perceptions in it's own grossly incandescent light. Yes, he realized now that his fear was misplaced for his god was with him in all it's glory!

It was about now that the ship docked, and Snowflame smiled, for he would soon bring his God to the streets of this city, and ease it's pain.

[Cracklord]

James Bond
As always, James Bond is a handsome white male, quite tall but not unusually so and with a fit and lean build. He is dressed in a tailored suit, and his hands are folded on his lap.Though the face he wears might change, the institution goes on.
Bond does not take the chair. He stands, not quite at attention, both his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his face carefully blank. He stares at his superior in the eye for a moment, seemingly weighing something, then inclines his head. "Well that's better then nothing, I suppose. And who is disrupting international peace this week?" He's being flip. He's actually extremely grateful. He's spent the last three years working on EXCALIBUR, kicked upstairs and working as a glorified correspondent, and the only combat situations he's been part of were all borrowed off other agencies. This is like a gift.

[darkblade]

Michael

"Anyways I was wondering if you have any of Dad and Nate's old ID. Passports, drivers licenses."

Sometimes the best way to make fake ID is with someone else's real ID. Even airport security rarely checks the database as long as what you give them look real enough.

Given his deceased family member's ID Michael goes about splicing it with some pass port photos he got taken at a local drug store.

It may look like arts and crafts but it is good enough to fool four our of five security checkpoints.

***

Tommy

Tommy steps into the forward attacker, grabbing him by the wrist and redirecting his energy to toss him into the path of his sneakier counterpart. "I thought you guys were deadly assassins. Is this the best you got?"

[Draxx]

Michael
Your brothers passport and drivers license are produced without question, and the deceptively easy process of elaborate forgery using official government documents begins. The trick is to keep all inspections cursory and avoid notice. Of course you still have to satisfy them that nothing is wrong. The trick is knowing what you need, and what you don't, as well as some strictly aesthetic minor damage to surreptitiously hide details. In an hour, you have a fairly good cover as your brother.

By then, everything else is in place, Fi utilizing FedEx to get the equipment you couldn't take on the plane into place as quickly as possible, Sam having utilized his limitless stream of contacts to arrange a look at the crime-scene before any of the official investigation takes place, and Jesse likewise preparing an ID. You're ready to head out.

Slade Wilson
Bayville, New York. The location of Professor Xavier's School for the Gifted, a place where mutants receive rigorous and specialized training in the use of their individual genetic gifts. There Professor Charles Xavier has created an environment where all mutants can live in peace, learn and develop their abilities to the fullest. Charles seeks to educate those who fear mutants. He seeks to show that mutants and humans can live and work together in harmony and create a better world. He has always been waiting for the day, fearing it. A day when one powerful mutant would threaten humanity and the balance of power between the two species would shift forever.
A mansion of orphans of the mind, of the heart, of the soul, a cold, opulent building that soon became a home, a utopia in a sea of prejudice, of fear, of intolerance.

Half a mile away is a small coffee shop, remarkable only for the clientele. Yourself, and Colonel William Stryker, former project special correspondent for Weapon X. Army scientist, unconvicted war criminal, religious zealot, and radical mutant suppressionist. He's not a physically intimidating man. Short and heavyset, with a tired, lined face, a receding hairline, and a scraggly beard, wearing a buttoned greatcoat despite the unseasonal heat, and plastic rimmed glasses. "Been a long time, subject 6. Still using the code-name I picked out for you I see." He says, with a slightly flowery southern accent coloring his language. "Almost flattering, really."

Snowflame
The Stevedores unload it, stacking the plastic wrapped bricks into their respective vans, to ensure correct distribution. The underworld is about the only thing that does work efficiently in this city, a third goes to the quarters directly to the prearranged dealers, a third goes to Top-Dollar, and the remainder is left in your hands, to serve any purpose you desire.

It's then that the dark figure drops down, the masked assassin known only as Grendel. A virtual ghost, his movements, intentions and goals are all unpredictable, indeed he has rarely been seen, and almost never by the living. But the consequences of his actions are felt, in the trail of corpses he leaves behind.

Swinging his double pronged weapon, he slices three of the unloading stevedores apart, then stabs another in the throat before he can reach for his weapon. Darting through them, he carves a bloody trail, as though a storm were tearing through the tightly packed men unloading the ship. pieces of men were tossed through the air in every direction, severed limbs, heads still contorted in expressions of surprise and terror, all trailing streamers of blood. In less then thirty second, nineteen people are dead, and he's facing you, the weapon resting casually on his shoulder.

His voice is smooth and refined, cultured even. It seems at odds with his savage brutality and aggression. "I'll take it all." He says, gesturing to the drugs. "If you have any problem with that, you won't fare any better then your men."

Tommy
The ninja's are putting on an altogether poor showing. The two go down, tangled together and struggling to extradite themselves, while the third takes one look at you, drops his wave sword and runs away screaming.

He gets maybe ten feet before running face first into the palm of a hand that, without discernible effort, closes around and lifts the poor ninja a foot off the ground, then begins to exert pressure. Not enough to crack mans skull like eggshell, but more then enough to make him feel it, and to express without need for words that this was a distinct possibility being held in reserve. "Running away and leaving your comrades in peril to save your own skin." Rumbles the voice of Zangrief, The Red Cyclone, world famous wrestler and Russian celebrity. "Is not impressing Zangrief very much."

You're not a particularly big man, and Zangrief makes you feel very small indeed. He's a living testament to muscular over-development and sheer testosterone, stripped almost naked to showcase the great slabs of muscle rippling with power that made him look as strong as a bull. His hair was cut in a distinctive style that has become synonymous with him, as was his groomed chest hair and beard. He was dressed in only his speedo and cape despite the cold. Though given that he wears it in Siberia he's probably used to it. His entire body is covered in scars that haven't knitted all that well, and his chest is carpeted with hair.

[Fan]

"Ahahahahaha! Do you really think SNOWFLAME would allow you to walk away with so much as a gram of the glorious Incandescent glory that is Cocaine? Every cell, every atom, every iota of my being is suffused with the glory of Cocaine's majesty! Now allow me to show you the power of Cocaine's will!

Snowflame says as he retrieves handfuls of it from his belt pouch, snorting all of it in seconds, growing brilliantly incandescent, bright enough that even people in the surrounding area would probably notice SOMETHING, but in Snowflame's euphoria he didn't care about petty things like "Being noticed", or "Attracting Police Attention."

Speaking of petty things though, it seemed he was MUCH faster now, lashing out at Grendel as he attempted to run circles around Grell, striking and attempting to push him AWAY from the cocaine, knowing that Grell was most undoubtably still as quick as he, but he had the strength of Cocaine in his veins and would not lose as long as his God was with him!

((As a note, Snowflame can detect the echoes of past highs / drugs used when touching someone, including strikes, it'd be interesting to know if Grell is a badass normal / super serum type, if not, welp, I tried.))

[Draxx]

Snowflame
He stinks faintly of the demon named heroin, not enough to suggest a habit or dependence, but certainly indicating a prior usage that had sparked dark hallucinations in him. He certainly has no intention of stealing your god from you. He simply wants the wealth and power it will provide.

You swing you fist at his head, and he ducks out of the way, bending back so far that it whistles over him. He's not as fast as you, though he's as fast as an ordinary man can be, but he's agile and immaculately balanced, enough to evade your attacks, bopping and weaving and occasionally lashing out with his two pronged blades, cutting into your arms and legs.

[Fan]

Snowflame is the emissary and beloved of Cocaine, he is not one to feel such paltry injuries, let alone even life threatening ones that would probably be better handled if they were felt, but it doesn't matter because Cocaine! Luckily however, his own wounds are cauterized by the flames of his God, so there wont be any worries about bleeding out.

"A touch a heroin, various amphetamines, some surgeries perhaps? Maybe it's time that The Chosen of Cocaine tries a more tactical approach."

He says as he lashes out for a single tactical strike, right at the temple, for as the emissary of Cocaine an amphetamine that coursed through his veins reminded him that even to heretics such as him he was not here to cause undue agony.

[AnimeKid]

Rex

Looking at John Rex nods eagerly as he says, ""Are you kidding me?! Of course. It's better than just sitting around and mildewing until I'm called upon. Besides I could use a little exercise!"

[darkblade]

Tommy

Tommy steps back a little from the large Russian. On reflex he pulls out his Dino key, preparing to morph. Someone that huge can't be human. Then he sees him take out the last ninja. "So who's side are you on? I'm guessing it's not theirs."

***

Michael

Getting on the place Michael is careful to keep anyone looking at his passport distracted enough to not pay too close attention to it's flaws but not annoyed enough to keep him behind.

[industrious]

[QUOTE=Draxx;14737035]The Shadow

He has been where Fisk was now; long ago, he, too, was a kingpin of crime. But that was then, and now, he had a mission. He had studied at the feet of ancient masters, served a higher cause. There was good, and there was evil, and the Shadow served good by doing evil.

What he did was not personal, though he did enjoy doing it far more than was healthy. But he used his talents to punish the guilty

"I know why I am doing this, Wilson Fisk."

The Shadow stares across the room at the Kingpin, face unreadable beneath his scarf.

"There is the law, and there is justice. One you may have escaped with money, and bribes, and power, but the other cannot be eluded. Those who commit evil should not profit in any way, and you have spread nothing but discord, pain, and death in your miserable existence. Your time has run out."

Out come his two weapons, then, and the Shadow opens fire.

Dermott Arkane

"Of course."

Olsen it was, then. Already, an idea on how to present the mob begins to take form in his mind.

[Cracklord]

Slade Wilson
Slade was well-groomed and immaculate, dressed in a white suit that showed off the hard lean lines of his build, and a white eye-patch to go with it. "I should kill you." He said, his tone light and almost mild, but a terrible light burning in his eye. His right hand clenches into a fist underneath the table, and his teeth are a little clenched, as though just being so close to the man set him off. He's not a big enough man to forgive Stryker. Or to forget what the man had done for him and his own.

[Draxx]

Michael Weston
To attack an individual in a highly controlled environment, rather then try and work something in through the system, the best strategy is to introduce something foreign to the proceedings that the system is unprepared for and incapable of dealing with until too late. An excellent example of this was the infamous 'Snakes on a Plane' event, that still gets referenced infrequently by everything from lateral thinkers to comedians as possibly the most ridiculous assassination attempt since the CIA put a committee on the matter of Fidel Castro.

Something similar occurs on your flight, though by the time it is apparent, it's too late for you to do anything to stop it, and is considerably better planned. It begins with a controlled virus scavenged from a dead world that contact was made with half a decade ago, that is introduced through the air conditioning units in the hostess' quarters. Within minutes, the infection has killed them, and they have revived as zombies, a hunger within driving them to spread it to everyone on board the plane. Within ten, the pilot and co-pilot have the virus, and the plane is spinning out of control, as they turn to the passengers in their hunger to consume life.

Slade Wilson
Colonel William Stryker shook his head and chuckled, his watery blue eyes meeting yours without fear or anger, just a indefatigable sense of superiority. "But you won't, subject six." He tells you, spreading his arms as if to say 'I dare you'. You're not the first ex-subject he's had to tangle with, and he's become not easy to intimidate besides.

Rex
The doctor nods, giving you half a smile. "I understand and respect that." He says, leading you to his personal lab. Stark Enterprises is a fairly free sort of place in regards to it's chief scientists, letting them work on whatever projects interest them, which is one of the reasons it has remained on the cutting edge so long.

John Henry Irons hands you about a dozen schematics. "Look through these. A few of us had ideas to improve the technology you use. Could make your life far easier." Flicking through them, you see he's quite right. Stark Enterprises make the best in weaponry and quick resolution. He then takes you to a computer. "Also, there was recently an event in Utah. Some sort of dimensional displacement, possibly Time-Travel. Don't suppose you're up for some free-lance work?"

Kos-Mos
The time machine has left you in a deserted volcanic island in the Lesser Sunda Islands, atop an ancient deserted ziggurat, where half a century ago a tribe of amazons still lived. They're long gone now, and there isn't any human habitation on the island at all, nothing but the ruins of the past, and the hope for the future.

You have been sent back in time to make right what once went wrong, and prevent what almost destroyed the entire world. You have been sent back to prevent the fall of the age of the superhero.

Snowflame
He leaps back, trying to disengage, but for all his hard won skill he isn't quite fast enough, and the blow clips him. Such it the force, even a knocks him off his feet and sends him flying across the docks to impact painfully against the wall of a warehouse. He relaxes, goes limp and doesn't suffer much more then serious bruising, but still takes a moment to draw himself to his feet again.

His voice is soft and refined, seeming at odds with the clear aggression of his behavior and body-language, with a sort of quality one might expect of someone telling a joke. "Not bad. Excellent right-hook you have there. To-Dollar has an eye for talent, it would seem." Grendel says, resting his curious weapon on his shoulder.

"Why don't you come and work for me?"

James Bond
"In a way." M said enigmatically, folding his arms. "The attackers left this insignia behind during two of their raids. We believe it to be a vital clue to their identity and base of operations." M pressed a button, flashing an image onto the screen behind him. "This is the insignia was used before the second World War, in China and in India and in the Arab Emirates. The cartel of the Blue Lotus, dealing in opium and slavery, run by a Belgium film producer named Rastapopoulos." M explained.

The cartel vanished for the most part, with the eventual imprisonment of it's overseer, but nobody was ever entirely satisfied that it had been dealt with entirely, or even that the tangled web of connection was all traced."

Tommy
"HA! Zangrief has been called to take place in tournament!" Zangrief booms, tossing the unfortunate ninja aside as though he was made of feathers, and looming over to you, looking for all the world like an enormous physical wall of muscle and body-hair. You don't get the opinion he's hostile. But just the same, it's hard to be entirely at ease with him there.

The Shadow
Wilson Fisk had been trying to buy time, keep you listening and distracted while he played for it. But that wasn't desperation, simply the best strategy he had for formulating a better one. He didn't buy enough time. So he reacts the only way left, with savagery. His massive appearance bellies his speed and skill. In a single, smooth moment he lifts the massive, stainless steel table twenty men had sat in conference around in an almost mythic feat of strength, then, sinews straining on his neck, swings his shoulders and tosses the whole thing at you, both imposing it between him and your bullets, and giving you a pressing matter to deal with. Then he strides over to the wall, drives a hand in and rips out all the wires, cutting the power and the light. He stole this move off one of his more frequent adversaries.

You can cloud his mind to hide yourself. But in the darkness, it's no advantage at all. "There are no men like me. There is just me." He says in his deep voice, taking off his shoes to make his footfalls harder to detect. He knows this office well, every inch of it. And, right now, he is trying to determine your most likely position.

[darkblade]

Michael

Michael has had the fortunate luck in his long career as a spy to mostly avoid the freaks. Sure some Russian agents he took out may have been selling soviet secrets to winter Faeries for hexes and passage through the Nevernever, Sam had a run in with some vampires in Columbia and one of Fi's other ex-boyfriends was an immortal mercenary named Kincaid but Michael had for the most part avoided the time machines and jet pack apes that fill the land.

Zeds though are part of basic training as a spy. He knows to avoid getting pit and shot for their heads. All he needs now is a gun.

9/11 was the best and worst thing to ever happen to spies. On one hand the increased security gave them a lot more power to do what they had to do to carry out their operations. On the other it also meant it was next to impossible to carry any weapons onto an airplane.

Michael scans the masses of panicked civilians and ravenous dead looking for the air marshal and the only gun on board.

***

Tommy

"Me too. Name's Tommy Oliver." Tommy says holding out his hand to the large Russian, against his better judgment.

[Draxx]

Tommy Oliver
Zangrief looms up to you, the seizes your hand enthusiastically, swallowing it up in his own. You've braced yourself already for the inevitable crushing grip, but still have to grit your teeth as his hand closes around yours like a vise. He pumps it a few times enthusiastically, then lets you go, and points up at the mountain. "Come then, comrade! Shangri-La awaits!" He booms, the sound echoing up the cliffs, and heads up the path you were following a moment ago.

Michael
The Marshal numbers one of the dead, one of the first to be infected, but fortunately hadn't arisen. This suggests something chemical rather then the supernatural explanation, which is something of a relief.

Dermott Arkane
James 'Jimmy' Olsen, photographer, amateur detective, cosmic plaything and master of disguise (at least he looks surprisingly convincing dressed in drag) might have got this together, but he doesn't seem a part of the proceedings, so much as an invested observer, a little a part from it all.

[darkblade]

Tommy

"About that, my directions seem to be wrong. The city should have been at this peak but..." Tommy says gesturing around.

***

Michael

Michael makes his way towards the dead Marhsall and goes to remove the gun before he wakes up and starts looking for flesh.

[Draxx]

Tommy
Zangrief follows your gaze, and nods, admitting that, rather than seeing a mystical city where the secrets of time and space are unraveled and Martial Arts are perfected into prized secret techniques that more closely resemble divine interventions then approaches to techniques, he sees a great deal more mountain, much like the part he's already climbed, but with a better view. "Zangrief does find that puzzling." He rumbled, scratching his head in a somewhat thoughtful manner. "Perhaps he has the wrong address?"

Each of the Heavenly cities holds a different criteria for selecting their prospective champions. In K'un L'un, it is deceptively simple, at least to say. Kill a dragon, any dragon, with your bare hands, then bring it's heart back to the city. Nanda Parbat's approach was your parents had to be dead, and you had to slay the last Dog Brother, the champion chosen to represent the city, then take up his identity at the cost of your own.

To gain the consideration of Yu-Shan, you must subdue an entire army by yourself, by any means at your disposal. Shamballa did not reveal the reasons behind it's choices, so nobody could say for sure what they looked for, and Xanadu took those who set out to do something impossible and made it happen through sheer persistence and will. And Shangri-La, which you were called to come to, only offers the role to someone who has saved the world. The circumstances or motivations didn't matter, at least to them.

You stare around, looking for anything, then note a small, rude dwelling, closer to a tent then a hut. You only spot it because of the pillar of smoke rising above it. It hardly looks like a monastery, let alone a city, but it's the only sign that the mountain has any inhabitants besides crazed Russian Wrestlers and disappointing ninjas.

Michael
All the weird, incomprehensible stuff that the world grinds it's way through on a daily basis doesn't really effect people in the espionage game too much. The reason is simple, there's deceptively little overlap or conflict of interest. Most of the crazy stuff happens too quickly and gets resolved too soon to have much effect on international foreign policy. It's certainly not the department of anyone you know.

However, sometimes things inevitably do get tangled. When it does, you don't panic. You simply remember your objectives, and try not to get distracted. In this case, it's getting to Cleveland intact, without letting the Authorities know who you are. Unfortunately, this plane isn't a good bet anymore.

You get the gun, and the zombies, as expected, don't react. They don't have any filter but blind, uncompromising hunger and the need to infect others. Certainly no intelligence to speak of. Or ability to recognize immediate danger.

[darkblade]

Tommy

"No. If we both got the same bad directions it's probably some kind of test." Tommy says shaking his head. "Some kind of test of mind and soul..."

He looks at the small tent in the distance. "There..."

***

Michael

It is always essential to know exactly what it is you are up against before you go in guns a blazing.

Now armed Michael surveys the passengers, trying to gauge how many have been infected, turned or have pushed their way to safety. Also making sure his team is not among the the casualties.

[Cracklord]

Deathstroke
"…No." He says, muscles bunching a little underneath his jaw, his one eye staring daggers at his former superior officer. It took all his self conrol to restrain himself. But the dry, pragmatic part of him that he always, ultimately, listened to, reminded him that if he did, there would be consequences he couldn't hope to deal with. So he restrained his violent urges, then placed his hands on the table. "I need a hundred of your men. Experienced, well-trained wet-works specialists who can keep quiet about a job."

James Bond
"A rather old trail." Bond dryly noted, looking at the insignia then at the map. It wasn't impossible that they survived in one form or another, but he doubted it would be so easy. "Fortunately I have a few contacts outside the agencies who have a specialty in that sort of thing. It should be no work at all to hunt these people down, whoever they should happen to be. I assume you have no interest in interrogation or due process?" Now he was really being flip. They didn't call in him unless they wanted their enemies dead.

[AnimeKid]

Rex

Rex grins as he pulls at his gloves. "Oh yeah, better than just sitting around. Utah huh? And dimensional displacement? Well this day just keeps getting better and better. I'll get right on it doc." Provided there was nothing else Rex would eagerly head outside the building. After doing so he would activate one of his favorite modes of transport. The Boogie Pack!
http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WcCu6zvGT1A/TDN8ic-I1xI/AAAAAAAAABE/Frev634SUBE/s400/GENERATOR+REX+BOOGIE+PACK.jpg

Taking off into the skies Rex heads towards the anomaly that Doctor Henry Irons told him about.

KOS-MOS

Seeing that the place that she landed was abandoned. KOS-MOS ran through a list of viable options. She could not stay here for that would result in nothing ever getting done or changing. She needed to get to civilization and fast. As such she scanned for the nearest landmass with signs of humanoid life. Once she found it she would walk over to the pod that acted as her recharging station for it had another function. Pressing a few buttons on the surface of the device it let out a noise of confirmation before it shifted.
http://cosplayers.acparadise.com/40102/40102-18863-1.jpg

This was her hover bike. Using it she could head to wherever that was humanoid life immediately.

[Draxx]

Deathstroke
The Colonel lets out a little wheezing chuckle. "My men are patriots in the services of the United States Military. They got more important things to do then babysit a failed experiment." Stryker replies casually, meeting his eyes. He'll give you what you want, because it suits him to do so, suits his interests and his view on safeguarding homeland security, but first he wants you to beg for his help. To tell him how important it is, and how much you still depend on him. It's twisted and disturbingly paternalistic, but it's the sort of man he is, and you expected something to this effect.

James Bond
"Not everything gets resolved quickly, Miser Bond." Mallory replies, resting his fingers on the tables. "If it did, perhaps Europe wouldn't be such a mess. Deal with this efficiently, and permanently. I don't want it coming back to bite us at a later point." He gives a small smile. "And when you do, don't bother to write a report."

Michael Weston
Sam is doing fine, acting as both a calming presence and a source of order in the confusion and terror that the situation has inevitably degenerated into. Fi and Jesse aren't quite as You'd say about a dozen have been infected, and it's a scientific infection rather then a mystical one, so then it's reasonably within means to dispatch them all.

The big concern is that there is nobody flying the plane.

Tommy
It is said that the mountain you have scaled has neither base nor summit. That there is no mathematical measure for movement across it's face, that the mountain is defined not by space and distance, but by discovery and understanding. It is said that a barefoot monk can easily outpace the swiftest flying engine, if he is wise. It is said that this mountain has folded itself —or been folded by the presence of the Heavenly City—into some other space, beyond the world where the sky is as blank and white as an unwritten page.

It took you six hours, and you used professional mountain climbing gear, which to your mind tells you that what is said is just so much bullcrap. But the hut does seem to posses something, because as you approach you note it is slowly changing, too slowly to be observed, but nonetheless taking on dimensions and details so that, when you get there, it has somehow become an entire temple, a gateway to the city.

[darkblade]

Tommy

With a sigh of relief Tommy enters the city. As soon as he spots someone who looks like he should check in with them he introduces himself. "Uh Hi. I am Tommy Oliver, I'm here for the tournament."

***

Michael

Normally there is no substitute for a commercial pilot's license but when you are on a plane that is about to go hurdling to the ground without someone at the helm a few hours on a flight sim and an understanding Tower can make all the difference.

"Sam find anyone who has even a vague idea on how to fly one of these and get them to the cockpit!" Michael calls out as he pushes his way into the cockpit himself, prepared to put the pilot and co-pilot out of their misery if need be.

[Draxx]

Kos-Mos
The thick, dense jungle opens into a small glade, rather pleasantly shaded from the unforgiving and unremitting blazing of the sun. A serene, clear river washes past. Otherwise, he island is heavily overgrown with vines and brush that make it difficult to view the interior of the island, save for the pyramidal ruins that can be seen over the treetops, but it's clearly long uninhabited, and therefore of no interest. The air is disturbed by a static discharge as your bike is pulled into existence beside you.

Your gleaming, futuristic bike appears out of place even in this period of the earth, where mankind seemed at the cusp of fulfilling it's promise, achieving it's destiny and reaching the stars. But it was not to be. As people strained further they didn't realize that the world was too thin to hold them any higher, and from that, devastation came. Even in your time, nobody can say who started the war. Not why it was fought, or even who won. But the world has since been built upon the ruins of Paradise, the sun is dying, hollowing out from the middle, and the sees rising to drown the land. Only a few of the great ships that ring the dead planets built in the age you stand in now do people remain, but one by one they are falling silent. It was only at greatest desperation that you were sent back to take this risk.

The world is different from the one you know. Earth is inhabited, but Mars and Venus are barren, their indigenous people dead, and humans yet to cross the great gulf to reach and settle them. Even the stars are brighter. Man is yet to understand it's past, let alone it's future. But that they will have to learn on their own. Your job is only to clear the way for them to have a chance. Any more would shatter causality irrevocably. For a moment, you stare up at the steep-sided, multi-tiered pyramid, wondering at the significance of why they portal would open here, of all places, and whether there was any significance to it. But ultimately, you decide that as cool as investigating an ancient anachronistic temple and discovering awesome things might be, you have a job to do, and you can't do it on this island. This is a savage land of mystery and enigma, and the world is full of more pressing concerns.

Your jetbike activates with a soft hum and whir, hovering in the air as you mount up on it, then zooms over the ocean at three times the speed of sound, kicking up walls of water on either side as you head towards your destination.

In this period, the administrative positions of the US are increasingly full of Lex Luthor''s cronies and minions, yes-men who let him do whatever he wants with impunity, as long as he gives them a little room to pursue their own agendas. Norman Osborne - formerly the Green Goblin and now the Secretary of Defense and head of the committee of monitoring and inspecting post-humans, is the most famous and frequently referenced, and the popular subject for blaming when things go wrong (war hero reputation or not, he's a mass murderer who depends on medication to be anything close to sane), but not the only one. However, according to the records you analyzed in the future before undertaking this task warn you to steer clear of them. You have another concern.

In the distant future, the computer Skynet that was ultimately responsible for the 'twenty-minute war' that decimated so much of the world and left it uninhabitable, sent an operative back to this period to paradoxically guarantee it's own existence, as well as sending back robotic assassins disguised as humans to remove any possible opposition. He'll be the easiest to find. He's in California. The Governator, he's called.

And if you don't stop him, in a month an army of machines shall arise, and the first stages of the hostilities that begin the Civil War shall occur. Only you can save Mankind.

Michael Weston
A plane, or any cramped, confined space, is a bad place for this sort of work. No room to maneuver, cover but not enough, and lots of civilians squashed in with you. But just like any circumstance, it can be made to work for you, if you're inteligent. Those cramped spaces can be used to make sure your enemies get in each others way. It makes improvising barricades and controlling points of advance equally simple. And it makes it easy to dig in, sit tight and wait to be saved. It's only when you have enemies with no fear of death, and no chance of relief, backup or support, that it becomes a real curse.

You make it to the cockpit, and barricade the door closed. The captain and copilot haven't woken up yet, (assuming they are going to), meaning that aside from two corpses you're alone. Better still, Jesse knows how to fly a plane. The bad news is, apparently the zombies aren't the only act of sabotage. The radio isn't working, and you don't have enough fuel to make it to Cleavland.

Tommy
You step into a great room, carved white marble, pillars lining the sides as if you stood in the center of a temple. Perhaps you are, it's difficult to be sure. At the end is an enormous window of stained glass, leaded in gold, depicting (somewhat incongruously) a great white tiger with golden stripes surrounded by deeper golden flames. It was the work of a master artisan, beautifully crafted, the glass itself shaped and textured to represent the way the fur lay upon the animal's back.

A man enters the room, crossing its vast length of the room with short, confident steps, to stop a few feet before you. He fits the depiction of a venerable master of Martial arts almost to the point of cliche, short and bald as an egg, his wrinkled skin pale and latticed with fine veins, his build lean and tough despite his clearly advance age, with a white fu manchu mustache and long wispy beard. He leans on a wooden walking stick that doubles as an impromptu weapon. That much, at least, is right.

However, his attire is less typical. He's wearing very cheap dark sunglasses and a loud, obnoxious Hawaiian shirt, along with slacks and thongs, giving him an appearance more appropriate to a tourist that's here for the beaches.

"Welcome, champions of the Earth, to Shangri-La." He says, his voice slightly high and scratchy, then inclines his head. "Good work getting here, though I was starting to wonder if you were both lost. Wouldn't be the first time." He peers over his sunglasses, his eyes dark and twinkling with clever wisdom. "Still, perhaps you'll come through. You can call me Muten Rōshi." There's a name every martial artist recognizes. The legendary Turtle Master.

Rex
"Put it on my tab." He calls out to you, as you run out to the top floor and launch yourself into the sky. And then, you are flying. And it is glorious.

But this is New York. Here, if you are part of the superhuman community, you can't throw a brick without running into something you'd have rather avoided. Before you've even completely cleared Stark Tower, something big and weighing three tonnes hits you in the back and sends you plummeting towards the earth, before you have a chance to so much as look at it.

[Cracklord]

Slade Wilson
He left his brother in the car out front, because getting him and Stryker in the same room is a bad idea, perhaps the worst. The two of them had a history, even worse then Stryker and Slade did. And Wade had a tendency to act impulsively at times like this. However, the meeting has gone on longer then he intended, and Wade would have gotten bored very quickly. It would be terrible, yet typical, if in looking for amusement Deadpool did something that tipped their hand, and warned the X-men that they were near.
"No." He growled, placing both hands palm down on the table so as to ensure he wouldn't do something he'd soon regret. He prided himself on his self-control, but he wasn't holding together all that well. That was unacceptable. He'd have to spend a few hours before the night came working the rest of it out of his system, he couldn't affort to slip up when the day came. "No, I won't."
Slowly, the tension drained away, and at last he faced Stryker calmly, all emotion put on ice. "But you will help me. We have a common enemy, colonel. Xavier and his collection of mutants are a threat to the nations hegemony and stability, and lately he's turned them into an army. So you, as an officer of the American Military dedicated to safeguarding peace and ensuring the nations prosperity should consider lending any assistance you can to make sure that this surgical strike is effective. You won't find me ungrateful."

James Bond
Within an hour of his meeting with M he's on a plane to Brussels (Etihad, first class), drinking champagne and flirting with the flight attendant's, glancing only occasionally at his mission specs. Disembarking, he meets a man from the agency who hands him the keys to a very, very sexy Rolls Royce.
It's good to be king.
Turning on the radio, he puts on some smooth jazz, then smoothly enters the traffic, heading for his hotel. It'll then be a simple enough matter of getting in touch with his contacts, and seeing what he can find out. The best place to start would be the notes of the famous amateur sleuth and detective, who first took the Blue Lotus out of commission. Hence, Belgium.

[Draxx]

James Bond
The Explorers Club is, on its surface, a social club with an international membership for the affluent, whose charter is one of philanthropy and the promotion of arts and sciences, as well as adventure and pursuit of the unknown. Its members are a cross section of humanity's most talented and influential people. Lord Greystoke rubbed shoulders with Alan Quatermain and Nemo Dakkar here a century past, Doc Savage and Sir James Braddock were both chairmen for many years, Richard Seaton met Howard Stark Sr and helped forward his work here, and it's a good place to relax and let appearances slip for a while.

James Bond was no stranger to this place. It was a good place to meet up with old friends, if you were wealthy, respectable, adventurous, and agreed with the intentions of the place. And James Bond certainly qualified for an 'all of the above'. Since it opened in the ninties-- the 1890's-- it had been a second home to some of the most important people of the century. Just about everyone who can claim membership is incredibly important, in their way.

Of course, witnesses are bad at actually describing how people look. Aside from broad generalities, they tend to be easily distracted by certain prominent features. Or lack of the same. Without certain distinctive traits that have become associated with a certain face, it's entirely possible for even a very famous one to be completely overlooked. Which is why James Bond could walk in, dressed impeccably as always, without comment, and why many of the other people here weren't being hounded by the paparazzi.

The Club had had the decor redone in the 80's changing from the lighter, elegant blonde woods to mahogany, gold trim and red leather. It was opulent, decadent and fairly screamed money and importance, but nonetheless it was comfortable. Travis Morgan, warlord of Pellucidar waves you over to his table, and indicates a glass. It's a bit early in the day for you, but to refuse wouldn't be social. "Good to see you James." He says, stroking his goatee and offering a rakish smile. He's closer to fifty the fourty, but still hale and hearty as a lion. "Have a drink. We have a lot to discuss."

Slade Wilson
"Well why didn't you say so. I'll have them outside the place tonight. Of course, I'll be in no way responsible. No, they'll all be having leave tonight, and just happen to borrow a few apace helicopters to make it happen. No accountability, you see." He doesn't even ask you for proof, he hates mutants so much. If you'd known it would be this easy, you'd have pressured him for a little more.

Deadpool
You've been waiting in the car for ten minutes, without anything to do, while Slade tries to arrange for some troops. Ten minutes. That's far too long. Something must be wrong! He must need your help! At least, there's no evidence that's not the case. And surely you can't be expected to quietly and unobtrusively wait out of the way, shunted to one side in a patronizing manner. Such a thing does not stand!

Nocturne
Since leaving the Exiles, you've been feeling a little adrift and purposeless, unsure what you should be doing with your life. You had wanted to stay, but Timebroker was quite empathetic, claiming that if anyone else was involved, it would tip the balance irrevocably, and end up leading to dire consequences. He also alluded to some task you had to do back here, but if there is one, you haven't heard it yet.

It's in the third week when Betsy Braddock approaches you, and asks if you'd like to join EXCALIBUR.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

The whole ten minutes wasn't too bad. A Led Zepplin song came on the radio. That killed half of it. I mean, who can resist air guitaring along with the great Jimmy Page? Dead people. That's who.

But yes, it was taking a while, and Deadpool was not the sort to be patient to any extent. In fact, right after the song ended, he opened the door to get out and barge in. Maybe get a few scones.

Shouldn't you wait just a little longer? You wouldn't want Slade to stab you again.

Deadpool paused a moment. Voice number one? Is that really you? Can it be true? Where's number two?

Huh? Oh, sorry, I was staring at this hot chick across the street.

Deadpool starts bouncing in his seat with excitement. Yay! The voices are back! Hey, where'd you guys go?

Honestly, I have no idea. I think the writer just kinda forgot about us or something.

Yes, well, as time passes, so do the writers. Remember, there was a time you went without the yellow speech bubbles.

True. And that sucked. I mean, that helped make me stand out! Why would they take that away? He starts shaking his fists at the roof of the car. Curse you writers and your habit of changing things!

Hey, you know what would be great right now? A panini.

That does sound good. I wonder if this coffee shop has any?

Only one way to find out, gentlemen. And with that, Deadpool resumes exiting the car and heading inside the shop.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Three weeks she'd been here. Three weeks since Nocturne had left the Exiles. Three weeks she had been in this reality, one that was new to her. One with people she didn't even recognize. And others she did.

And in all honesty, she'd been bored out of her mind the whole time.

Sure, the Timebroker had hinted towards her having to be here for some reason. But, usually, that reason was clear with a few days at most. Here it was, weeks later, and she still had no clue about her "purpose" here.

So, when Betsy approached her with an offer to join a new team, Talia all but jumped at the offer.

[Draxx]

Bomb Queen
New Port City had more in common with Alcatraz then anything else. It was to Basin City what Bludhaven was to Gotham, against all probability, even worse. A wretched hive of scum and villainy where the people lived like cockroaches and the cockroaches lived like kings, where all their sins are given free roam to be expressed, and collect it into a system that can just barely sustain itself by latching itself onto every crime it can like a parasite in the desperate need to perpetuate itself. It choked a small island a little off the coast of America, one enormous city full of brutalism, functionalism and urban decay, that survived pickled in cheep wine and desperation.

The economy was entirely dependent on a shipping business that barely even attempted to hide the fact that it imported drugs and arms, the life expectancy was worse then anywhere else in the world, and the smog meant that a good day was one where the sun could be seen at all. To make matters worse, the municipal park was located atop the landfill, and was the only clear land on the island.

The closest thing it had to a hero was Martial Law, and even the Authority, even Youngblood at it's most decadent, had refused to associate with him on reasons of principle. And so Bomb Queen was nominally in charge, in an Argumentum Ad Barculum kind of way. And if she was exactly as bad as people would assume, well she was no worse then could be expected, and kept the worst out of the way. The sad truth was, America was happier just acting like they could ignore the place and focus on their own quality of life, and as long as it didn't draw attention to itself that was fine by them. Fixing it wasn't really in the cards, as there was nothing, no infrastructure, nothing to turn into structure beyond the mindless desire to exist.

So a presidential visit was not something she had seen coming. Not by a long shot. And yet, not two hours ago, Lex Luthor, President of the USA and third richest man in the world had called ahead to tell you that he would be visiting to discuss the future of the city.

Deadpool
You're still in costume, naturally enough, which is uncommon in this part of North Salem, Westchester County. And you're still bristling with weapons, because you never know when they might come in handy. Like now, the nice lady behind the counter gives you exactly what you ask for, and doesn't ask you to pay for it.

Stryker glances over at you, his features twisting into an expression of dislike, as though you were a cockroach in need of a good heel. He never did warm up to you. "Pulled those stitches out of your mouth, did you? Liked you better that way." He snarls getting to his feet, and pulling his coat on, as well as a pair of gloves. This entire time, he's been careful to leave no fingerprints or so much as a hair, anything at all to indicate he was here. "You'll get the men. Just make sure you get all of them. Every last damn one of them. I won't be able to sleep another night until every last one of them is dealt with." He growls, then strides out of the shop.

Nocturne
New London is an old city masquerading as a new one. London was all but destroyed on the millennium, by supernatural nazi remnants with the intention of committing an intricate and despicable form of suicide. It had been rebuilt, and now but for the occasional restored building it was entirely a city of the future. Art Deco, Streamline Moderne, and/or Populuxe can be seen in every direction, there is a monorail system for transport, giant and architecturally impressive glass towers sweep the skies, and Buckingham Palace, thanks to some Cavorite installed in appropriate places, actually floats well above the ground. You've been to the future, and this feels more futuristic.

You step into UNIT Headquaters, Betsy (Psyloche when you're on duty) swipes a card, and you're heading down to Torchwood section, where a tall, good looking man meets you with a slightly lavicious smile. "Captain Jack Harkness, ma'am." he says, by way of introduction. "You're not from anywhere near Betelgeuse Five, are you?"

[KerfuffleMach2]

Bomb Queen

That call was certainly unexpected. The president, actually coming to her city? I mean, sure, he seemed to be way more full of himself then the usual tool in that office, but to actually come to New Port City to talk with Bomb Queen? That would spell out disaster.

At least, the average person would assume so. But, Queen was smarter than that. She knew he wouldn't be coming completely alone. That'd just be stupid. And he must also be confident that he wouldn't give her any reason to just kill him on the spot.

But what was he coming for? He has to want something from her.

Bomb Queen prepped her mansion for the visit. She even put on a slightly fancier suit than she usually wears, just to show off.

Her black cat, Ashe, sat on the back of the couch, idly waving his tail. Going through a lot of trouble for this visit, aren't you?

Bomb Queen shrugged. President of the United States actually wants to visit me in my city. That is not a normal thing. Besides, if half the things I've heard about him are true, I think he could be very useful to me.

And if he wants to shut you down?

Bomb Queen smirks. Then I kill him. Simple enough. He ain't no Superman.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deadpool

Ah, the benefits of carrying around weapons in public. Course, if the cops show up, that'll get annoying real fast. What, with their bullhorns and flashing lights and stuff. Always so annoying.

With his mask pulled up enough to eat, and half the sandwich already shoved in his mouth, Deadpool turns to see Stryker addressing him.

Hey, waitaminute...what's he doing here? Did Slade mention that he was meeting this ass?

I don't think he did. We weren't here for that anyways, remember?

Oh yeah...

Deadpool jabs his half a sandwich in the colonel's direction. Aw, you're so funny, Billy. Always with the jokes. Can't wait to see what jokes you make about a sword through your duodenum.

Soon as Stryker walks out, Deadpool plops down across from his brother. So, catching up with old Billy, huh? He live out here now or something? Watching the scary mutants from his bedroom window? Who does he think he is, Jimmy Stewart?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia takes in the sights of the city with an amount of awe. She's been to so many places, but she still gets surprised from time to time.

Talia raises an eyebrow at Jack's question. Uh, no. Can't say that I am. She'll hold out a three fingered hand to shake. Talia Wagner.

[Draxx]

Nocturne
"Oh. You look a little like the people who live over there." In some period, anyway. Having once traveled the world with a person to whom time and space were more or less optional, he's a little unsure about causality some of the time. "Just far more attractive, of course." He adds with a rakish grin. Customary flirting out of the way, he gestures to a seat.

"I'm told you already know Brian and Betsy. Given they more or less are EXCALIBUR, that counts for a lot, however I'm supposed to give you an evaluation before we make it official. Just a few questions, a quick demonstration, then we inform the officials and investors, and that's that. You get all the privileges, and a few obligations as well. Like being an Avenger, only a bit more British. Now, for starters, would you be willing to follow orders from a due representative of the British Government?"

Bomb Queen
Five minutes late, Lex Luthor steps out of a limousine, dressed in a tailored white suit that probably costs more then the limousine, and possibly Air Force One as well, and runs a hand over his scalp, his patricians features stretched in a slightly distasteful expression. Your mansion is opulent enough to shame any drug kingpin with gaudy distaste, but it's all a little provincial to him. His chauffeur, a big, statuesque and stunning woman gets out and waits by the door, dressed in a suit with hemlines a little too high to be professional, and he walks in, as completely at ease as is possible. He is wearing a leather glove on his right hand, and has a briefcase as well.

"I must say, this is a highly liberating city. My apologies for the delay, a few individuals attempted what I believe is called a carjack upon me." He says, by way of informal introduction. "As there didn't seem to be any proper authorities within the vicinity, I gave vigilante justice a turn. It has it's virtues, I suppose, but I think I'll leave it to those who take it as a vocation." You'd expect more small-talk, maybe a transfer of compliments or something like it. But no. He gets straight down to brass tacks. Doesn't even sit down to discuss business.

"You've been running it for half a decade now, I believe since the unfortunate occurrence with your partners. Tell me, how would you like to make this state of affairs a matter of policy?"

[KerfuffleMach2]

Nocturne

A planet of people that looked similar to her? That's unusual. Though not unbelievable.

No, I'm definitely from Earth. Not this one, though.

She grins at the compliment, then takes the seat that's offered.

She nods. Yes, I have no problem with that.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen takes a quick moment to visually analyze both people present, taking in every detail she can. Her visor sends info to her computer to analyze for later.

Well, Lex, if it was in one of the Crime Zones, then they're free to do that. Just as you're free to stab them in the face for trying. And please, tell me you stabbed them in the face.

He may not sit, but Bomb Queen does. In a visually enticing position, no less. Ashe watches the president carefully from his perch on the sofa, staying quiet.

A matter of policy? What could you mean by that, Lex? Going national? International? New Ports in every state? Every country?

[Draxx]

Bomb Queen
"Not the face. Then he wouldn't have learned anything." Lex replied, something vaguely sinister in his eyes. He doesn't elaborate further, which seems a shame. Something about the way he said it makes it sound like an interesting story.

As the computer analyzes his facial movements and body language, his voice and eyes in order to calculate his reactions, Lex places the briefcase on a table, and turns back to you. Not, apparently, the least bit interested. You'd have better luck seducing his car. "As for my intentions, well it regards America's sovereign soil. This island was settled in 1824, and despite a noninterference policy put in place by my predecessors, in all that time it has remained American."

He smiles like a shark that scents blood in the water. "Well, I've looked over the numbers, and see no reason why I should let this continue. We have other projects more requiring of the resources, and this city is a regrettable drain with no end in sight, It was a long decision, but at last I've decided to let you go. In effect, as soon as I leave, this island will be subject to Terra Nihlus, and all American pressure and support will disappear. We can negotiate for things like Military presence and reparations if you like, I have scheduled an hour to put aside for such matters. But essentially, I am making it official. This is your island, your city, you are answerable to nobody and part of no nation. All I ask is some generous extradition treaties."

"How about it then?"

Nocturne
"Strange origins is part of this game. Brian protects the multiverse with his alternate selves, and god knows what the Valeyard is." Harkness replied. You find you like him. Indeed, you suspect that's why he was picked for the job.

"Well that's good enough for me. You have to have a psyche evaluation, but that can wait, then you're tested for combat capability, which we'll come to right now, then you meet the rest of the team." He pauses a moment. "Well then. Combat. Hit me with your best shot."

[Cracklord]

Slade Wilson
"Like I care." He replies shortly, a little irritated that his brother couldn't wait ten minutes. "We're about to deal with a lot of very dangerous people. And we need soldiers to make things even. And Stryker, along with being a paranoid ****, happens to have lots of them." He tells his brother, trying to justify it to himself as much as to Deadpool. Then again, Deadpool wasn't the judgmental sort, anymore then he was. It's more that he feels… unfulfilled. He dealt with Wolverine, something he'd been looking forward to for so long, that the future seemed dull. Maybe that's why he was acting so self-destructive, almost like he wanted to fail. Maybe not.
Admitting to himself that psychoanalyzing himself was a waste of time, he cracks his knuckles loudly, then, figuring that the damage has been done as far as staying unnoticed was concerned, looks up at his brother, and figures he might as well take advantage of it. "Get me a coffee too, long as you're up. Dark as night, sweet as sin." He says decisively, in the sure tones of one who is back to being decisive, and getting things done. "Then lets go scope out this place and put together a plan of attack."

James Bond
"Quite an amount, yes." He replies, taking the seat, and sending back the drink. The waiter returns momentarily with a vodka martini, shaken not stirred. James takes a small swallow, rolls it around in his mouth thoughtfully, then puts it aside.
Travis Morgan was not the sort of person you'd associate as having anything at all to do with Bond. But that was the point. That was entirely the point. The man kept an ear to the ground, and had a whole cross-section of friends, making him one of the most well-connected men on the planet. It was one of the advantages of building a civilization in the center of the earth. "Tell me, where you able to find him?" There was no need to specify who 'he' was.

[darkblade]

Tommy

"You don't exactly mark the city on the map." Tommy jokes before turning serious.

"I don't know if you are aware or not but their is a unit of low ranking Lin-Kuei outside the city trying to ambush competitors. They won't be much of a threat to anyone with the capacity to compete but it could be a sign of a larger plot."

***

Michael

"Find the first clearing you can large enough to land. Then do it." Michael instructs Jesse. He then punches the former pilot in nose to see if he bleeds. If he bleeds, he is still alive and uninfected, if he doesn't...

[KerfuffleMach2]

Bomb Queen

Queen raises an eyebrow at the president. It's apparent that he wants control of this city, but he's doing it by forcing Queen into a corner. A lot more sneaky then the previous attempts made by others.

She liked that. Course, the fact that he was trying to take control of her city and, essentially, her, didn't sit well.

So, let me get this straight, you're willing to simply cut the city off? Declare it to be no longer part of your country? Hm...don't ya think we're a little close to you guys for that? What if we decide to side with one of your enemies, huh? Another Cuban missile crisis scenario.

She's trying to see how far she can push him on this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia raises an eyebrow. Really? Right now? She shrugs, then stands and stretches her arms out. Okay then. Fair warning though, I've had my share of combat training.

Without warning, she moves, darting forward and aiming a fist at Jack's face.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deadpool

Deadpool stands up, his sandwich finished. Ah, so he's Jimmy Stewart, and now I'm Michael Caine. I can't be Michael Caine. I'm not British enough.

Oo, good movie references, there.

Thank you, I'm glad somebody got them! He doesn't seem to care that his response was out loud.

He'll approach the counter to ask the nice, scared lady for Slade's coffee order.

[Draxx]

X-23
New York. Center of the universe. Or at least, easy to believe when you on 110th street as the traffic goes by so fast if you blink you'd miss it, the air is full of so many scents even your nose can't distinguish them all, and a thousand different sounds compete for your attention.

Cassie Hack
In the town of Derry, Maine, the thunder rumbles like an over-enthusiastic drummer, the lightning flashes like slashes in the veil of night, and the pillars of heaven shake as the rain comes tumbling down. Any sensible person would be indoors, but if you did spend the night in the hotel and another kid died, well you'd have yet another notch in your conscience. So you roam the streets, looking for your target. It fits the usual MO for a slasher, and in two weeks has killed sixteen children already, in increasingly creative ways.

Deathstroke and Deadpool
By the time you get to the counter, she's already finished a shortblack, thick enough to float a horse-shoe, three sugars. This whole terror thing seems a great way to get people motivated to work quickly. And best still, nobody has called the cops or tried to otherwise get into contact with the Authorities yet. Nobody seems sure what exactly to do about the two of you. Though apparently, you're not being nearly quiet enough, as they can all hear your conversation, which involves your plan.

Though you're only a little way from the institute, it has been masterfully cloaked, for reasons of privacy, and the fact that if they hadn't they'd be consistently surrounded by an angry mob attempting a boycott. So none of these people realize the famous identities not a mile out of the town.

Bomb Queen
Despite Luthors classically well formed features, there was something remotely repellent about him, some way he held himself, perhaps, maybe the casual arrogance in every line of him, that makes him seem almost like a corpse. "I like this city. A literal red-light city popped up on mankind's willingness to pay out the nose to indulge its baser instincts." He replies. "It's honest about what it is, the law of the jungle, might making right. Nobody is answerable to anything, except their own limitations. Here, nothing is a crime but over-reaching yourself, attempting more then you are capable of. Here, an idiot who tries to rob the most powerful man in the world with a box-cutter is only at fault for having confidence in ability he does not possess. The rest of America is not so… pure."

"And so, why remain part of it? We don't want you all that much. And while I could force the issue, how would it profit me to do so? It would be a long, difficult, and costly campaign, forcing education and correctional facilities, probably martial law, diverted health and public facilities, and that's only the beginning. What a waste of time. Who has the patience to rebuild the infrastructure from the ground up, all for the sake of some ingrates with nothing to contribute?" He shook his head.

"So yes. I am cutting you loose. And I don't care what you do, as long as it doesn't involve me. To be honest, I'm only doing this to set a precedent. You see the American people as a collective aren't a problem as long as you keep them fat and happy, and give them someone else to blame when things go wrong, mutants, separatists, whatever. You happen to be a drain on resources, and without you, the statistics go up everywhere it counts. I'd lose a few voters, but plenty more where that came from, and in exchange you get complete autonomy. Is that not a mutually beneficial relationship?"

He shrugged again. "Of course, perhaps you decide you want to become a radical mutant supremacist or communist or whatever. If you decide to, well fair enough, in that case I'll just have you violently taken out, commit a few war crimes and make you an example. That works as well." He folds his arms. "Or, alternatively, I'll simply offer some rich people some lucrative deals, the business would all move elsewhere, the money will dry up and you can all starve and eat each other, becoming a nice cautionary tale. That would be the more economical solution, I suppose. Despite my circumstances, I am a businessman, and believe in the most beneficial solution for the least effort."

"But sometimes direct intervention is the only way to do business, and sometimes you have to find someone else to make the offer to."

Nocturne
Jack is a big guy, twice your weight at least, and his chiseled jaw is a lot like hitting an anvil. So it's gratifying that he staggers quite a bit to regain his balance, and rubs it tenderly as he rightens himself. "Quite a right hook you have there." He says, a little admiringly and with a rueful grin. "But not quite what I had in mind. Though it's nice to see that you don't use your powers as a first resort."

"You're supposed to hit me with your best shot. Put me down right away. Don't hold back, I'll be alright." His grin widens a trifle more. "Trust me, I'm tougher then I look."

Tommy
Roshi rolls his eyes and lets out a sound that's somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "You'd think they'd have something better to do, wouldn't you? But no. No, all they can think is sit outside the temple, and cause trouble. Some people have no lives." He grumbles cantankerously, sucking his teeth and looking increasingly annoyed at what he sees as a tragic waste of potential. "At least when they still had a grandmaster they'd apply themselves on occasion."

Then he sighs, and stares at both of you, regaining some of his former jolly attitude. "Anyway, welcome to the city. The winner of the tournament here gets the opportunity to become an immortal weapon, and to represent us in the next tournament. I suppose I had better take you to meet your opposition."

Michael
Jesse gets into the seat, and does his best. It's not as easy as it looks. Sam gets back to barricading the door, and Fi checks the co-pilot and the navigator. They come up as dead-dead. Unfortunately, the pilot…

Lets out a groan, and waves a hand vaguely at you, then slowly and unsteadily starts to rise, driven back into the realm of the living by his hunger for brains. You can risk the gun. But in the highly pressure sensitive cabin…

James Bond
"A few hints. I got a friend of mine in the States to follow the money. Mann corp." He replies, handing a small piece of paper over the table, leaving it face down. "Which is odd, because they don't stand to gain any benefit. Not even invested. So either someone else is using them to take the fall, or they're some sort of front…" He lets his voice trail off, and takes another drink.

"So, going to give me anything else to work with?"

[darkblade]

Tommy

"Don't they have contract killings and stuff to do?" Tommy asks while mentally making a note to visit the Wind and Thunder Academies next time he's in Reefside. See if they can take in those idle ninja and put them to good use.

"Who else is here?"

***

Michael

Even knowing it is coming there is nothing that can prepare you for first seeing the dead rise. The best you can hope for is that the terror doesn't make you do something stupid.

Michael is caught off guard and dives away from the zombie he aims the gun but stops himself from pulling the trigger. They were in enough trouble as it is without a depressurized cabin.

Fortunately Sam is ready nearby with a handy two-by four which he brings down on the zombie's skull.

[Draxx]

Tommy
He leads you into the training room, where people limber up and get prepared. You're beginning to feel somewhat over-dressed. A veritable wall of physical power that bears more then a passing resemblance to former body-builder Charles Atlas is lifting weights in nothing but a woefully inadequate speedo (You don't recognize him as Flex Mentallo), and with Zangrief dressed likewise you begin to feel like you've joined the caste of 300.

Fortunately, Johnny Cage, best thing in B-Grade movies since Satan Hercule retired, is dressed properly, if not looking his best, given that he agreed to a friendly spar with Kenshiro, the legendary Fist of the North Star. He'll probably be alright in time for the actual formal preliminaries, but right now, his universe is made of pain.

Jackie Chan, noted Archaeologist and reluctant government agent of Section 13 is standing in a corner, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, and what the hell he is doing here, and there two others who aren't so easily recognizable.

Quite a broad selection, in short. The competition is certainly going to be interesting. Master Roshi has taken the opportunity to go leer at the current Immortal Weapon, Tiger's Beautiful Daughter, who seems to be doing her best to ignore him, much as you ignore a respected but senile relative.

Michael
The blow breaks it's neck. It takes three to completely sever it and put the thing down. It's not clean, and it's not pretty, but it's all you can do. It's then that the plane begins vibrating.

Jesse's coming in too quick, and a crash seems inevitable, but he manages to keep it steady. None the less, it's far from a pretty landing. You've landed in a field. A few cows are looking at you vaguely, chewing on cud. Now you can get off this nightmarish plane, and resume your hunt for the truth.

[KerfuffleMach2]

X-23
This wasn't her first visit to this city. She had been here many times, for many reasons. Both good and bad.

But now, her reasons were not as clear. She did not have a mission. Nothing to direct her actions. She was free to choose what she wanted to do.

And she had no idea what she wanted to do.

Cassie Hack
The young, dark haired woman with the attitude prowled the street, ready to bash some skulls in. Vlad was having another one of his breathing attacks, so she was on her own for the night. Which was fine. She'd done it before.

Doing some research in the area, she came across an investigation of a local teacher that had been accused of some stuff, and wound up dead shortly after. Logic would suggest that this was her slasher. And where would this slasher likely reside?

His old school.

Deadpool
Wow! Natural twenty on my intimidation check! Awesome! Deadpool happily takes the drinks and strolls back to his brother, clearly pleased at this store's service.

We should totally tweet about this place. Make it all popular and stuff.

Deadpool resumes his previous seat. So, what now, oh great thinker of plans?

Bomb Queen
Queen sits there silently for a few moments, watching the president carefully, thoughtfully. A million things go through her mind, but she doesn't let them show. Ashe's tail flicks a little in annoyance.

Finally, she tilts her head back and lets out a loud, drawn out laugh.

Wow! I gotta say, Lex, I never expected this turn of events. Everybody else has tried to get some hired gun to kill me, or some other villain to boot me out and take over. But you? You just waltz right in and declare my city to be not fit for your vision of the country. Just outright say that you're cutting us out. That takes stones, Lex. Big ones. She smirks. I like guys with those kinds of stones.

She stands and starts to saunter over to him. So, we're on our own, then, huh? I could live with that. For a while, at least. However... She'll stop close enough that he could feel her breath on his neck. I think you have something else planned out. Something that hinges on me being freed of your country. Of the rules that were put in place. And I gotta say...I'm intrigued...

So what is it, Lexy? What's your big plan?

Nocturne

Nocturne's face shows an amount of disbelief. He really wanted her to give it everything she had? Did he even know what she was capable of?

After a moment, she gives a small shrug. Okay then. Just remember, you asked for it.

She draws both hands to one side, and a sphere of glowing energy appears. She holds it for a moment, letting it grow in size, then she throws it right at Jack with trained precision.

That'll probably leave a mark.

[Draxx]

Lex Luthor
He chuckles a little at that, and placed his right hand on her cheek. His leather feels cool on her skin, and vaguely organic. "You know who I am. You know my work. And I imagine that like most people in our walk of life, past the greed and jealousy that plagues our profession, that you have respect for many of your contemporaries. Well I suggest you consider the obvious, civilization is built on co-operation as much as vision, it's the thing that makes any society work. And society is wonderful when it works for you, because money, fame and women are beer, and power is champagne."

"I am sick of living in the age of the Superhero, and I envision my own plans for the world, involving a wide, sweeping organized business foundation from which the world can follow. I'm well on my way to becoming this institution, by the time anyone is in a position to understand what I'm doing I'll be too big to fail, too big for them to do anything about. And you can be a vital part of that." He takes his hand away, and spreads his arms.

"What I want, from you, is a nice little corner like this tucked away but near at hand. A panic room, I suppose you could call it, a nice neutral place where there's a third party government sympathetic to a certain sort of person. A good place to relocate, if America is no longer viable to… certain individuals." He replies. "And if a few friends of mine found themselves on the lam, wouldn't it be so convenient if a neutral third party who was no trouble at all to reach offered them asylum, perhaps even temporary citizenship."

He lowers his arms. "Do you have any idea how much power I had to give up to be president? But such are the sacrifices we make. I respect you too much to offer you a job, so instead I'm giving you the opportunity to be anyone you want, and then offering you a partnership."

Nocturne
The blow knocks him over with a sharp, sudden crack, leaving him bleeding from the temple, neck twisted at a ghastly angle. He's dead. Unmistakably so. Living people's chests rise and fall with their breath, they don't lie there like slabs, unresponsive and completely still. For a moment, you're terrified. Then his neck is abruptly back in position, his eyes fly open, and he stands up. "That's more like it." He says approvingly, smiling again, then catches your expression.

"Oh, right. Didn't warn you. Sorry about the scare. I'm a fixed point in time, self actualizing. I can't die. So my job is to be your test dummy as well as your correspondent to the powers that be." He rubs his neck sheepishly.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Bomb Queen

Lex's words take a moment to sink in. And when they do, Bomb Queen gives one of her widest grins to date.

You evil, manipulative, wonderful bastard. She gives another loud laugh and steps away, clearly pleased. You really do think of everything, huh? Backdoors for your backdoors.

Alright then. I'll join your scheme. Better let me know which of your lackeys you want to stay living though. I'm not the only one here with powers.

Nocturne

Yes, surprise was definitely on her face. She wasn't expecting that at all. Though, it wouldn't be the first time she's seen somebody get up from clearly fatal wounds.

Fixed point in time? Wouldn't happen to know somebody that calls himself the Timebroker, would you?

She lowers her arms a little, thinking of something else. I do have another main power I could show, but that one could leave you in a coma for a day or two. Maybe. Not sure how you'd react to it.

[Cracklord]

Slade Wilson
Slade takes a long gulp of the coffee, shivering at pleasure as the boiling hot liquid slides down his throat, warming him. He takes another gulp, puts it aside, and folds his arms. "The plan is you and I go and check out the mansion, find every entrance and exit, and trap them with a few bouncing betty landmines. Then in the dead of night we disable the security, cut the power and sneak in, then take out as many as we can while they're sleeping. No fatalities yet, hostages are better. So alive, but not well. If we're lucky, that should account for about two thirds. We then use the soldiers to keep the others isolated and take them out one at a time, then contact the others out of town. We use the hostages to force the rest of them into a confrontation, and threaten to kill a few of the younger ones if they try to go to anyone else, like the Avengers or whatever."
He strokes his goatee, then shrugs. Possible to over-plan things, better to stay fluid and adaptive when so much was unforeseeable. "Then I suppose we auction them off, and gives the ones that aren't special to Luthor for ten thousand a head. Anything you'd like to add?" He asks, finishing his coffee with every sign of enjoyment.

James Bond
"No, you're the first man I've talked to. But what you've told me is very interesting. Very interesting indeed." Bond replied, taking another mouthful of his martini. He'd had his suspicions, but now he found himself thinking in a whole new direction. Mann Corp. Not who he'd expected at all. Opium smuggling, slavery, all things considered rather bad business. Then resurfacing after more then fifty years, for strategic and considered terrorist attacks upon communications networks. It didn't add up.
If the organization did still exist, why this sudden shift in focus, after such a long silence? And if the reference was misdirection, then why make any effort to take credit at all? The whole point of Terrorism was to force attention. As for this new, tenuous link, well he liked it even less. Mann Corp was a technology conglomerate, yes, but one that produced weapons, munitions, cosmetics and engineering products. How did they benefit from sabotaging communications, when they had nothing invested?
It bore investigation. "Well then, I suppose I'm going to Shanghai." He says, raising an eyebrow. Hasn't been in Belgium an hour, and he's already moving on.

[Draxx]

Lex Luthor
"I'll keep you well informed." He replies. He pauses momentarily, considering something, then allows himself another smile. "It is nice to be understood. And I understand it's an imposition. Think of the benefits, and remember that we're partners. And mutual co-operation is the foundation of any successful partnership. You help me, and I'll help you."

He leaves the briefcase on the table, and steps out, heading back to the limousine. Inside is the documentation, as well as roughly a billion dollars in bonds, which is apparently his way of sweetening the deal. A partnership with Luthor could be extremely profitable. Of course, it's also said the reason he pays so much more than his opposition is to make up for the high turn-over rate.

X-23
Your not hugely comfortable in the city. About all you can think to do is visit some old friends before you head back to the mansion. So, with that in mind, you head towards Time Square.

A few streets down, your nose perks up as you recognize a scent. It's been a year, but you'd know it anywhere. Following it, you find yourself at a townhouse, next to a woman with white hair leaning against the door. Unless your very mistaken, that's your fathers girlfriend. For one thing, you can still smell him on her.

Nocturne
"Maybe." Jack replies noncommittally, rubbing his chin. "Hard to be sure. I've had an interesting life, and met a lot of people with strange names and jobs." You notice a curious device on his arm as he does, like a strange space age digital time-piece combined with a computer.

"That's a pretty bold claim. I've had to go through some pretty serious punishment as the de facto punching bag of the group." He shakes his head good-naturedly. "It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. If you can do that, then you're scarier than anyone else here."

Cassie Hack
It's the weekend, so the school is deserted and empty. Making now the best time to search for it's lair. Unfortunately, despite a long and intrusive search (you find some underage pornography in the school principle's desk, and some gin in a few others), there is no evidence of exactly what started this, or who it was before. The murders just started seven years ago, then stopped, then started again, seemingly with no catalyst.

James Bond
"Mann Corp is based in Australia." Morgan says, raising an eyebrow, and taking another drink. "You do realize that, right?"

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool listens to Slade's description of the plan with some signs of interest. Those signs being the fact that he stays quiet long enough for Slade to finish. And a few moments after.

Wait...were taking everybody there? Not just the main group?

Seems that way. Should be interesting.

You know that somebody's gonna get dragged in to go against us, right? That's like, an unwritten rule in confrontations like this.

Head voice is right. Even if we threaten to kill, somebody's gonna show up to try to stop us. I mean...that's like, some universal law for things like this. It just always happens. Even if you can't figure out why.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen pops open the briefcase and starts looking through all the papers. Ashe stands up and stretches his back out.

So now you work for Luthor. You must be proud of yourself.

Can it, furball. This is a great opportunity to set other things in motion.

Ah, so you're gonna kill him eventually?

Bomb Queen shrugs. Maybe, maybe not. He seems like he'll be a fun ride, at the very least. My kind of man. She tosses the papers back down. She didn't care too much about the money, but she recognized the gesture. Now, if you don't mind, I need to start making some preparations of my own. Things are going to get interesting very soon.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia waves her hand a little in the air. Eh, not so much. It's not like I purposely put them in a coma. It's a side effect. The power itself allows me to possess somebody for up to twelve hours. Once I leave, though, they could go into a coma for a day or two. It doesn't happen as much as it use to, but it still can happen.

Her eyes catch the watch like object. If you don't mind me asking, what's that thing for? She nods towards it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Felicia. The Black Cat. A mutant with luck altering powers. She had gone into hiding with Wolverine, but now she was back. Her body seems to be tense. Her scent, too.

Laura approaches her slowly, so as not to startle her. Felicia. What are you doing here?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie Hack

Cursing under her breath, Cassie leaves the school. Clearly, the slasher wasn't here. Of course, she wasn't certain that the dead teacher was her slasher.

However, she could think of one way to check.

Leaning her bat against her shoulder, Cassie makes her way to the local graveyard, where the teacher was buried. Time to check on a grave.

[darkblade]

Tommy

Tommy steps onto an empty sparring mat and waits to see if anyone accepts his unspoken challenge. He is really hoping it's not Zangief though, while formidable the Russian is probably not superhuman enough for him to be in the right using his Ranger powers on.

***

Michael

The life of a spy, just as a soldier, cop or even a Superhero is ninety percent tedious tasks with ten percent intense fear. Once that fear is lessened the tedium sets back in, even if the tedious task is cleaning a plane full of zombies

Now that they cannot possibly crash any further Michael begins to work on clearing out the undead by handgun and small wooden boards. If he ever wants to get his old job back the last thing he needs is his name tied to a zombie outbreak.

[Cracklord]

Slade Wilson
"Alright, I have to ask, which of your head voices am I talking to?" He says, standing up and heading out of the shop to his unmarked hummer. Occasionally, he gets pulled over due to his lack of license plates. Nobody has successfully impounded him yet. "Because I'm only getting half this conversation, I'm not even sure which half, and I can't tell exactly what it is you want me to consider. But I know for a fact I don't need a hundred men backing me up to deal with the front team, whoever that is at the moment, and somehow I doubt you do either." He turns the key, sparking the ignition, and heads for the road, glancing down at the GPS to make sure he's going the right way. "Besides, they know people who can help them out? Well it just so happens, I know people as well."
The Mansion has extensive grounds, it's not really possible for two people to cover all of it, or even most of it. However, it also means it's possible to sit unobtrusively on the road, watching without being noticed, and thereby get a good idea of what you're going up against.
Slade abandoned the car about a kilometer away, gathered all the weapons and equipment that were essential, and walked down the road, stopping at a hill where he had some decent vantage, then began surveillance, carefully taking note of all details he could spot, and cutting out all distractions. Unfortunately, his main source of distraction tended to take that as a challenge.

James Bond
"Follow the money is all very well, however despite their apparent involvement I haven't a clue where to start. The Blue Lotus was in China, as is the majority of Mann Co's production facilities. Therefore, that is where I will look." James replied simply, finishing the last of his drink. "It's not a lot to go on, but it is a start. Now I simply have to find someone who knows a little more…" He struck a match, then lit a cigarette. "And get him to tell me what he knows."
He took a drag on the cigarette, then let out a cloud of smoke. "So, Shanghai."

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool gives Slade a look of slight surprise, which his mask does a wonderful job of hiding.

Slade...you do know they're called head voices for a reason, right? They're in my head. So, you're not talking to either of them. You're talking to me. And anything important they bring up, I repeat. He idly waves a hand in the air. Besides, they're more for the readers than anything else.

Wait...did he...did he just say we weren't important?

Yes, I believe he just pushed us into the peanut gallery.

Deadpool stays relatively quiet on the ride there. Mostly just hums the theme to Hawaii Five-O. Then the challenge presents itself. And Deadpool is not a man to back down from some challenges.

No sir, I am not! So, how long we gonna be here? Survivor's on tonight, and I don't have TiVo.

[Cracklord]

Slade Wilson
"Pressure plates, motion detectors, an electric fence, cameras and regular sweeps…" Slade muttered, as he ran his eye over the mansion, taking note of both the obvious and tiny irregularities almost impossible to spot, going over his weaponry as he did. He paused between selecting guns, looking up at his brother, and tilting his head questioningly. "You have any particular preferences in this job? Specific targets in mind?"

[Draxx]

Deathstroke, Deadpool
The mansions extensive grounds are mostly visible from your position, although there are a few blind-spots. What's more, you can be fairly confident they haven't noticed you. Some highly invasive neural surgery on your synapses meddled with the frequency enough that telepaths can't sense either of you, and the dampeners mean you don't show up on video camera as anything more then a non-distinct blur.

The mutants on the property are mostly indoors, a few sitting underneath trees, or using their powers in a highly unconventional game of basketball. All in all, it's clear they have no idea what's coming.

James Bond
"Well, your instincts are usually right, I suppose." Morgan allows, clearly not completely convinced by your reasoning, but willing to waive objection. "However, I can't help but think you're depending a little much on what could be politely called dumb luck. You're going to look around the sort of properties that can tenuously be connected to what is hardly compelling evidence, and hoping you run into someone you can intimidate into divulging more."

"A cynic might say you don't have a hope. Fortunately for all involved, I have no truck with such people."

Tommy
Kenshiro looks your way and cracks his knuckles, but he doesn't get his chance to accept. Seemingly out of nowhere, the resident Immortal Weapon steps onto the practice mat, and you find yourself looking into her tawny gold eyes. They are the eyes of a tiger, oddly flat and predatory, yet oddly compelling.

"You know the honor you have been offered, or else you wouldn't be here. But do you know the essence of this school?" She asks, tossing back her braided hair, and removing her mask as well. In a strange but very definite way, it only makes her more intimidating.

"You have not yet witnessed the secrets of Shangri-La. Let me show you." She indicates a rack of practice weapons (well, blunt steel weapons) on the wall. "Do you have a preference?"

Michael
Rounding up the zombies and disposing them, as well as sorting through the infected, the victims, the survivors and the just plain dead. By the time you're done, it's getting late, and occurring to you that you have no idea where you are. Your phone has no coverage, and your GPS function seems to be malfunctioning. The owner of these fields, against all probability, seems to have failed to notice your rather obvious arrival, or at least, hasn't done anything about it.

This makes you a little suspicious. Call it professional instinct.

Bomb Queen
The computer analyzed him, taking careful note of every detail, no matter how minute, and then filing it in its extensive database for examination and cross-reference, which picked up a few interesting tidbits.

There is no evidence of deception. There is plenty of evidence of omission, given how he watched his words and carefully steered the conversation, but that's to be expected. In your line of work, people who tell you more then they have to are usually planning on bumping you off. And after analyzing the contract, it fails to note any addendum or carefully crafted legalese (not that you'd respect either) that suggests he's making any sort of power-play. Every indication suggests that his offer is genuine.

Nocturne
"It doesn't work." Jack said, tapping the vortex manipulator with his other hand to demonstrate the lack of response. "Hasn't for a long time. It's just something that I needed for my old job. A long time ago. Maybe I'll tell you a few war stories some time. If the coat didn't tip you off, trust me, I've got a couple." He says, then changes the subject before you can pursue that line of inquiry.

"Anyway, you'd better not use that on me. We might both wink out of existence or something. But we will be discussing that more in a bit, I'm intrigued." He pauses a moment, then tilts his head. "As far as I'm concerned, you're in. There's a probationary period, where you're under observance, but otherwise you're part of the group."

He stands up, and flashes you the boyish smile again. "Want to meet the rest of the crew?"

X-23
The townhouse wasn't very different from the ones surrounding it, but it looked well kept from what you can tell. You've only met Felicia Hardy a few times, and never out of costume. Nonetheless, you recognize her. Scent does not lie. She turns, tossing her mane of white hair aside with a flick of her head, and you see something in her eyes, something desperate and cornered, as well as something else, something closer to sympathy.

"You'd better come in." She says, stepping inside. It was much wider than it had appeared to be outside. The place held a modern grandeur, but at the same time, a very classic appeal to it. The kitchen was mostly silver plated while the front room held a fireplace, apparently an entertainment room or something – it was built for leisure. There were about a hundred cats (that might be a slight exaggeration), draped on every surface, purring contentedly, everything from elegant, long haired Persians to half-feral street cats covered in scars.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could tell you some better news, but your father has been kidnapped. and probably killed."

[darkblade]

???

From the shadows of the otherwise empty halls of the High School a sinister figure lurks. The clunking of hooves rings out as Cassie leaves the school. "She is not your usual sacrifice, master but she is getting too close. We don't have a Satanist sheriff here to protect us here like we did in Crowley Heights. They will kill me and send you to some Vatican vault before you can give me my rightful power. So the Pure Evil One, which is what I am, will have to kill her."

The creature stalks Cassie down the street, trying hard to stay out of sight despite being a six foot tall man-goat in a cape with bright red trim.

***

Tommy

Tommy reaches over to the rack and pulls down a pair of jian (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jian). He holds one out for her to take. "Generally I try to avoid weapons against humans but since they are dulled..."

***

Michael

"Jesse, take the survivors South. Get them to civilization. We will meet up at whatever the nearest town is." Michael says before taking Fi and Sam North.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool thought about that question for a moment. Specific targets?

Well...it'd probably be a good idea to let Slade handle Cable.

And don't forget Dom. I don't think you could really go against her.

Slade... His tone is a little different. Like he was actually going to ask a serious question.

What are we doing? Why are we doing this?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

The queen leaves her townhouse, traveling via explosions from her boots. As she goes, she reads through all the info on her visor and starts thinking of all the angles here. Obviously she didn't know everything going on here. Duh. From what she did know, this plan seemed to not have much in the way of negative effects to her. At least, not at the moment. Guess it depends on what Lex's goons do when they get here.

First things first, though. She needed to know more. Time to go hunting for info.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Nocturne nods a little at the explanation of the watch-like item. Something of sentimental value. She didn't feel the need to press any further about it.

She did raise an eyebrow at the comment about winking out of existence, though. Her curiosity about Jack was growing.

She grins and nods a little at the last question. Yes, I'd like that.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

The creature may have been trying to stay quiet, bit Cassie's been at this a while. Also, hooves on pavement are never a good stealth combo.

After a short distance, Cassie suddenly stops and turns to face her follower, bat ready to strike. Alright, who the hell are you?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Laura takes in all of the details of the house as she follows Felicia in. She doesn't even really think about doing it anymore.

At that last statement, Laura snaps her gaze back to Felicia. Everything from her expression to her scent said she was telling the truth. And wasn't exactly sure how to react to that.

You were there when it happened. You saw it. Tell me who is responsible. There's a subtle edge to her voice now.

[darkblade]

???

"Oh, I was hoping to ambush you. I always find pre-battle banter rather awkward and forced." The goat man admits awkwardly as he adjusts a satchel around his shoulder.

"So can we skip the mad libs insults and get onto killing each other?"

[KerfuffleMach2]

Cassie

Well, that response was rather unexpected. Usually, slashers loved to brag about themselves. Some got really annoying, too.

Again, who are you, and why do you wanna attack me? She figured she could at least try to get some info outta him.

[darkblade]

???

"I am the Pure Evil One!" The creature proclaims dramatically as it's goat-like lower half decides to relieve itself.

He brushes the excrement off the street with his hooves while looking embarrassed. "Or rather I will be once I sacrificed enough teenagers, plus one snoopy goth girl."

At that point the 'Pure Evil One' charges towards Cassie his horns aiming to gore her.

[Cracklord]

Slade Wilson
He lowered the telescope and looked at his brother. He opened his mouth, then closed it, stopped and thought another moment. He seems almost completely stumped, as though the answer was, to him, so self-explanatory that he didn't even know how to articulate it. At last he shrugged. "You know something? There's a price for being the best. And that is, you have to be the best. Luthor couldn't go to anyone else for a job like this. Nobody else would even try it. One or two at a time, sure, once a week, but all at once?"

Something bright and dangerous sparks in his eye. "You'd have to be crazy. Yet here I am. You see, I take a certain pride in what I do. I like it. It's the sweetest thing there is, better than sex, better than love or being a father, better than money, all that crap. But to be the best, you have to go further than anyone else. You have to be willing to do whatever it takes. To be honest, I don't care about Luthor's brave new word, or any sort of politics. Hell, he'll probably try to kill us after this job is done, let him. We'll survive, we always do. And I don't care whether humans are extinct in a couple of generations due to being out-evolved, or whether Mutants are a anathema or whatever. That's all somebody elses problem. But set me a challenge, a chance to do something nobody else could do, and I just can't resist."

Then he shrugged again. "Besides, I can't help think that having Lex Luthor owe us a few favors might eventually come in handy, no?"

James Bond
"And that's where a certain reputation and contempt for secrecy pay dividends." He replied, raising an eyebrow. "When people hear I'm in the neighborhood, they tend to make the worst assumption and over-react. The trick is, always act like you know more than you do, and you can get further on pure audacity than all the planning in the world."

Standing up, he pays the bill (plus a generous tip), then heads back to the plane-station, displacing a businessman from first class for his next flight. Shanghai awaits.

[AnimeKid]

Rex

You know this was not how he planned his day going. Especially not the slamming into concrete at high speeds part. He was lucy that he had endured worse before. Not by much mind you but still worse. Shaking some debris from his person Rex stood up rubbing his head in pain as he says, "Oww. Did anyone get the number of that semi that slammed me?"

All jokes aside he looks up to see if he can get a glimpse of whoever or whatever thought that it would be funny to try and give him a concussion.

KOS-MOS

Indeed she had a lot of work to do, and in her humble opinion very little time to do it. First things first, advanced and powerful she may be but even she would need some help to pull this off. Not to mention she needed to make contact with the closest superhero organization that she could. After all some of her actions may stir up the hornets nest, and she would never get anything done if she was being hunted by the Justice League. Heading into a nearby town she tries to see if she find any superheros on duty. Things like checking tv station broadcasts to see is any of them were foiling a robbery or averting a natural disaster. Probably on of the best ways to locate heroes while your on the go.

[Draxx]

Slade Wilson, Wade Wilson
We feel what we feel on the flimsiest of evidence. As if to punctuate this somewhat awkward moment while Slade demonstrates his very unhealthy attitude, Deadpool's phone rings.

James Bond
You are beginning to get (understandably) jet-lagged. A few drinks settle your stomach, and the in-flight movie is particularly poorly chosen, so you allow yourself the luxury of sleep. You wake up in Shanghai.

Bomb Queen
It feels different flying over your city than it has in the past. Oh, sure, it's been yours since you killed the rest of your team, but now you know it is. You're not just a dictator, now you're an institution. And it feels good. You never have to answer to anyone else again, you can write any laws you want, and that's an even more heady feeling. Absolute Power has a lot to be said for it.

In your line of work, there are plenty of ways to get information. The most common is favor trading, closely linked to paying someone else to find out for you. And in that regard, Noah Cutler is the best. But once you reach a certain level of influence, it's nice not to have to always do business through independent operators, and get some minions of your own. And so, scattered throughout the city are a few dozen people who, essentially, find things out for you.

(Gonna be honest, don't know anything about her supporting caste. Any preferences?)

Nocturne
"Rightyo." He says, and leads you down a long, stainless steel corridor with six doors. The first leads into a massive laboratory, full to the brim of half-finished projects, several of which seem to be being grown from some sort of coral substance. The most immediate thing you notice is a towering man, in his mid-forties with dark hair that is gracefully graying some men are lucky enough to inherit, and an enormous build, making even Jack look puny in comparison. He's dressed in a red shirt, with a white triangle, and is tinkering with a tube of liquid heat. On the other side of the table stands a skinny, somewhat ungainly looking man, with spiky hair and an expression of perpetual wonder on his face, the sort of man who knows far more then anyone else, but can't express it as well as he'd like to.

"The Beefy one's Tom Strong. The other calls himself The Doc… John Smith, or sometimes the Valeyard. They're our scientists and the initiatives think tank, responsible for getting everything to work. What are you working on now?" He asks the two of them.

Strong turns, and inclines his head to Nocturne. He has a steady, dependable quality to him, he's the sort of man anyone would feel safe trusting. The other beams, and darts around the table to begin enthusiastically shaking her hand, a veritable limitless pit of energy. "Hello! I don't suppose you're from Betelgeuse Five, are you?"

X-23
She pauses. That's not the reaction she expected at all. "Deathstroke the Terminator. I have no idea why, he just shot him, knocked me out, and when I came to they were both gone. I only got back yesterday, and I'm trying to get some help to hunt him down." A rueful expression crosses her face. "I doubt I'd fare well trying to deal with him solo again."

Tommy
She raises a narrow eyebrow, taking the sword and testing it's heft, weight and balance, then reaches up with her free hand and removes one of the diamonds piercing her ear.She rolls it over her fingers, then tosses it up in the air. It rises, then falls in a lazy arc, Tiger's Beautiful Daughter standing calm and relaxed beneath, then in a single movement almost too fast to perceive, the sword swings in a single arc, and the gemstone pings to the ground, cut impossibly neatly into two pieces, exactly down the center.

Well, you'd swear it was as dull as those Twilight books when you handed it to her. And it still looks that way to you.

"The first lesson of the Tiger School is how to put an edge on anything. The Japanese call it satsujin-ken, but it can be used on anything. Hands. Feet. Teeth. Water droplets. Anything you can lay hands on is an extension of the tiger." By this point, everyone in the room is watching you with varying shades of pity.

Michael
Jesse nods, and leads a dozen domestic passengers off, leaving the dream team. Before long, you come to a highway heading up Ohio. The city is but two score kilometers away. Zombies, it seems, aren't the best delaying tactic around. However, you have to wonder, who are these people? Who sends zombies to kill a man?



Rex
Looking up, you see what appears to be a stealth helicopter. Furthermore, standing around you is about a dozen AIM goons. You'd know them anywhere, the ridiculous yellow suits are kinda a giveaway. Furthermore, they're all pointing guns at you.

AIM: Advanced Idea Mechanics. A splinter group of HYDRA that has stabilized into an organized group of international science-terrorists. They recruit the geeks and brainy outsiders and brainwash them until they think applying themselves into building destructive technologies is a good idea. And so, they're very interested in you. This is not the first time you've been attacked, but it is the first time they've been blatant enough to try anything in the middle of New York, outside STARK headquarters in broad daylight.

Kos-Mos
You're hovering over Los Angelas as you consider your next move. It's tempting to go down there and throw down, however, such direct actions have consequences.

As mentioned, you have a limited historical record of events, due to the majority being destroyed in the Forty Minute War, however from what you know, there was never much superhero presence in California. A group called the Pride kept things too quiet. However, they should be dead by now, killed at the hands of their children, so they shouldn't be a problem. As to calling in a wider superhero presence, you were warned against it.

Afterall, to know the future is to be trapped by it, and if they do interfere too much, you risk a paradox, which would be yet another threat to the survival of humanity. It's better if you keep from being noticed as much as possible. Nonetheless, there are a few who could help you…

[Cracklord]

Spider-Man
Imagine New York, at rush hour, the streets packed, cars bumper to bumper and honking their horns for all the good it does them. And above, swinging from building, we see an acrobatic figure in red and blue make his way across the city. The amazing, spectacular, sensational Spider-man loved webslinging. he loved soaring through the skies of New York city, feeling the wind whipping past him, totally free. And right now there was nothing he'd rather be doing.

Then out of the corner of his eye, something catches his attention, and with a flip and a spin he lets go of his web and accelerates into free-fall. Just as exhilarating, not just because of the speed and the inherent danger, but because he knows he’s about to get a chance to do something good and worthwhile. He lands, catching hold of the wall with his fingertips and hanging in place, seemingly in defiance of gravity, eyes taking the situation below, a quip on his tongue.

James Bond
True to form, James Bond makes no efforts at anonymity or secrecy. He steps off the plane dressed in his tuxedo, and gets into a Bentley he'd arranged, driving it onto the highway. Despite his confidently expressed plan of attack, it would be nice to know a little first. And as it happens, MI6 do have an office in China.

Slade
His eye goes carefully blank, and his usual rigid self-control re-emerged from wherever he had kept it. "You'd better get that." He says, resuming his surveillance. "I have no problem taking care of Cable and Dom. Otherwise, shall we assume we both just deal with whoever we run into?"

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool considers Slade's words for a moment. That actually made some sense. But...something was bugging him about this whole thing. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Or maybe that was the microwave burrito he had earlier today.

His inner thoughts get interrupted by the phone, though. He quickly answers it.

Tom's Taxidermy. You snuff 'em, we stuff 'em.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

(Besides Ashe, she doesn't really have much of a support cast. As long as they're the villain types, it doesn't matter.)

She'll visit a few people that she normally gets her info from. She'll take any and all new info that she can get. Even stuff that doesn't seem to have anything to do with Luthor. And then she'll make sure they know that she wants even more info. Fast.

She had plans to make. And the more info she had to use, the better.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia smiles and nods to Tom before having her hand taken hostage by John. She chuckles a little at his question. Jack asked the exact same thing. No, I'm from an alternate Earth. Part demon and part mutant.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Deathstroke...I have heard of him. Laura clenches her fist a little. You are right to think that you would not be able to go against him yourself. I shall be joining you.

Was he by himself?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie quickly twists out of the way and with practiced motion brings her bat in an upward swing toward his head.

Time to see what this guy can take.

[darkblade]

Tommy

Tommy steps off the mat, a horrible insult in any martial setting but one he feels he must make. "Then you got the wrong man. Weapons like that are only good for one thing, killing. Under no circumstances will I kill a fellow human being. No matter how bad they might be there is always hope they will turn it around."

He pauses to see if anyone has anything to say (or to try gutting him with the impossibly sharp blade Tiger's Beautiful Daughter now has).

***

Michael

"Fi, is Lexcorp still the only one with a stable weaponized strain of zombie virus?" Michael asks as they walk along the highway, holding their thumbs up to any passing car. Fi might never have dealt in biological weapons but her continued side job as a gun runner means she needs to know who is who in the world of munitions.

***

Pure Evil One

The bat easily hits it's mark, the nails easily peirce his all too human face and the bat itself knocks him off-balance. Too easy, whatever this guy is he is not a full fledged slasher.

As he falls backwards he reaches out with rather ungoat-like clawed hands to slash at Cassie's face.

[Draxx]

Tommy
Her eyes narrow, and her body goes rigid, then the tension leaves her. "This is nothing at all, but a technique. The first lesson that must be learned to proceed upon the path of the tiger…" She all but snarled, only to be interrupted.

Master Roshi steps forward, and holds up a hand. "I'd listen to her. Vicious as she is, she's absolutely right. It is only a technique. One that's application lends itself more easily to violence then defense, perhaps, but the will to kill is not in the knowledge, it is in the man." He looks down at his hand. then makes a fist. "Do you know why I taught my best students to focus their chi and demolish entire mountains in a single blast? So they wouldn't have to. A weapon is for killing, but possessing one does not make you a killer, any more then possessing knowledge does. Nonetheless, if that is your decision we shall respect it."

Michael
"Only ones who will admit it." She says with a nod, and something like a shrug. LEXcorp was a good bet, but they were ultimately a business, and an uncommonly scrupleless one. Anyone who had the right amount of cash could, theoretically, walk in, and leave with their very own doomsday formula.

Sam, who is carrying his own luggage and Fi's along with it, only shrugs. "The real question is, does this mean we start playing hardcore? Because it looks to me like they aren't pulling their punches anymore, Mikey. We'll probably be treated to Scorched Earth from now on."

Bomb Queen
There's a neighborhood in every city, where the streets are badly repaired, and too narrow, and seem to get tighter and tighter as you advance, until they're squeezing you, where all the light is secondhand, and where everything is hauntingly silent. The houses lean against each other, seems to loom over you, and you know that all around people are perpetuating unspeakable crimes, but you can't see them, even though you know they are there. You feel eyes watching you, eyes that are valuing the shirt on your back, and the flesh beneath it.

All of New Port City was actually like that. Downtown was bad even by it's standards. Nonetheless, its the new site of Globex Corporation, after they had to flee the mainland in a hurry (something involving repeatedly attacking the United Nations with some sort of giant satellite laser device), and had chosen to resettle here. On the thirtieth floor of the gleaming skyscraper stands Hank Scorpio, a man somewhere between Diabolical Mastermind and considerate industrialist.

He is eating lunch when you arrive, a fresh, organic salad, and a plate of liver. He indicates the seat on the other side of his desk when you arrive, and stands politely. "You should have called ahead. I'll have my chef whip something up." He reaches down to his fully stocked minibar. "Like a beer?"

Nocturne
"Ha. Brilliant." The Valeyard says enthusiastically, letting go of your hand and springing back a step. "That's brilliant, isn't it. Look at that, caught between two extremes, and stabilize into an already established alien specie. And look, stable. Look at you." He gives a lit smile. It's a strange mix of enthusiasm, friendliness and the slightest amount of patronizing objectification.

"We call that convergent evolution." Tom said, his voice an unimaginably deep, rolling bass. The steel tables seemed to vibrate slightly.

"No! Completely different. So, alternate dimension, is it? Fascinating. Don't suppose you want to go back? The New TARDIS will be finished growing in a month or so, can take you anywhere and everywhere then." He walks back to his bench, and begins tinkering with a few things, humming under his breath. Strong shrugs, nods to Harkness then steps back. "His intelligence is off the charts. But he's not used to being human. He's constantly overwhelmed by unfamiliar sensation. So, do you have any interest in science?"

X-23
"I… noticed." Felicia replies, walking over to the fringe, and getting herself a glass of milk, then shrugged. "I only saw Deathstroke. If there was anyone else, I missed him."

She paused. "Look, I'm not good on the whole gentle thing, so I'll be blunt. When I said help, I kinda meant something more in the vein of Iron Man or Thor or something, not a kid. I'm sure you're good, but… well, taking a kid to fight Deathstroke seems like a really bad idea."

[darkblade]

Tommy

Tommy nods and steps back on the mat. He still doubts it but he cannot deny that such a technique could be useful against non-human threats. Those can be beyond redemption. "Alright. Let's do this."

He strikes up a defensive pose with his own dull sword and waits for the Tigger.

***

Michael

"We still don't know who it is." Michael shakes his head. "Our only leads are zombies and retired spook who is either dead or in hiding. I don't like our odds no matter what we do."

[Draxx]

Tommy
Tiger's Beautiful Daughter waits for you to step on the mat, then flows towards you, her movements fluid as water, her sword an extension of her arm. It's to be expected, The Devil Tiger Style is an exercise of being of perfect self-knowledge - she is an icon of herself, a Form beyond the phenomenon of her physical body. She simply visualizes the movements, and the body follows them perfectly.

Michael
"True enough. Though I'm hoping we're about to fix that." Sam replies, shuffling around the luggage to redistribute the weight and get a little more comfortable. You follow the highway, watching the traffic go past, heading towards the city. A few slow down to look at you, but none stop. Nobody appreciates the luxury cars provide until they don't have one. "Though while we're on the subject, we don't know why you were burned either." Sam adds.

[darkblade]

Michael

((Actually they do know. He was burned by a conspiracy called "Management" who spliced CIA file with that or a psychopath named Simon so that they can get him to do black ops work that the normal government channels cannot be tied to. It's mostly a matter of getting around them and proving it to people still able to do something about it. Naturally in Shatterworld it probably ha ties to other conspiracies.))

"Management is mostly gone now. We just got to put the pieces together." Michael sighs. Fed up with trying to hitchhike he pulls out his fake passport and stands in front of the first car to come down the road.

"Ohio State Police, I need to commandeer your vehicle."

***

Tommy

Tommy steps into the attack levelling his sword into a parry. He is not sure of how well it's going to work, if that sword can slice diamond then steel very well might not do much to defend against it.

[Draxx]

Michael
(((He knows who did it, at least which institution was responsible, and how they did it, but not who gave the order, or why he was targeted. At first it looked like he was being talent scouted for recruitment, and then it started to look like they were trying to quietly do him in.)))

You drive into Miami in a nice black Cadillac, that you requisitioned without too much trouble. It's owner wasn't thrilled, but you didn't give him a chance to object. And so you cruise through the burbs, looking for his property. After only two days, there's still a decent chance of finding something you can use.

Or, alternatively, it's a trap.

Tommy
You hold your sword across your body, and the tip of hers rests against the flat of yours. "You hold a sword. To use it, it must be an extension of you, or you will lose control of it." She shifts her grip a little, and you find yourself straining to hold on against incredible leverage. "Tigers cannot drop their claws, or lose their grip on their teeth. And so you should not be able to lose your sword."

Master Roshi doesn't contribute. He's a master of the turtle school, which is built on a very different principle, and is only here as a temporary legitimacy until they replace their recently deceased grandmaster, and anyway, he's using the opportunity to check out her ass.

[darkblade]

Tommy

Tommy nods. Most martial artists identified with single spirit, a symbol to guide their combat. Tommy on the other hand has known several, a dragon, a tiger, a falcon, a Salvic thunderbird, and a brachiosaurus possibly an Dodge Charger. At some point in time the Tiger just got lost in the noise.

He closes his eyes and tries to recall the powers of the Tigerzord and the guidance from those powers. He twists the blade around to pull out of the block and to strike back against Tiger's Daughter.

***

Michael

After a quick rest stop to change into some generic suits they pull up to the ruins of the house. They approach, ready to quickly flash generic papers at whoever decides to try and stop them first.

[AnimeKid]

Rex

Looking at the various guns aimed at him. He slowly stands up with his hands raised to show that he is no threat. "So...that time of day already huh guys? I just don't know how you do this week after week. Eh, probably just the same way I kick your butts week after week!" With that Rex's arms transform to a machine perfect for this situation, the Block Party!
http://images.wikia.com/generatorrexpedia/images/7/75/Block_Party.jpg

The shield like gauntlets on Rex's arms could take a large amount of damage before they shattered however that wasn't what Rex wanted them for. Clapping his palms together he creates a large energy dome to block any incoming projectiles.

KOS-MOS

Blinking her eyes as he internally goes over the data KOS-MOS comes to the conclusion that there is at least one superhero that could help aid her without getting too involved. However the fact of the matter is that Batman's paranoia could possibly be hazardous to the mission. What she needed were people that could help yet know when to back off if things went to far off course. However such heroes weren't a dime a dozen.

Flying over the Los Angeles sky she looked down at the city. Already her mission looked to be off to an annoying start. Still it made the most sense to stop the Governator first and foremost. If need be she could explain her actions to the local super hero authority if it went badly. However...She might be able to avoid being apprehended if she could sneak up on him and get him out of the city limits and into the wilderness quickly. Nodding to herself she set out to find her target in the vast city.

[Draxx]

Kos-Mos (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fw6J9OGSXpg)
The mansion you are hovering over looks like what you'd expect for an affluent wealthy man of fame and fortune with no appreciable taste to live. Mansion seems inadequate, it's more of a modernist estate, veneer of respectability your sensors and scanners tell another story. The entire building is interwoven with technology of a sort that should be highly uncommon in this time period, and deeply shielded beneath is an entire complex, where the beginnings of a terrible future are already stirring.

Suddenly an alarm goes off, and out of the grounds a pair of hunter-killer missiles are launched, aimed directly at you. It would seem you've been noticed, and identified as the threat that you are.

Rex
Taking the energy for an incoming attack (if they were any good at this, they wouldn't be minions), and open fire, the shots ricocheting of your shield with predictable results. On the helicopter, there is a bustle of activity as a couple of them try to deploy the portable EMP device. That, at least, could cause problems.

Tommy
She knocks it aside before you've had a chance to do much more then think about it, then steps into your zone of control, flipping the sword and driving her elbow into your chest with millimeter precision, robbing you of your center of balance, and sending you staggering back. She steps back as well, giving you room to recover, then swings her sword. She's well out of range, by about four feet if you're any judge, but none the less she hits your wrist, and your hand goes numb. Somehow, she tapped you despite being four feet out of range, and your certain she didn't extend the blade.

"Never be indecisive when you try to regain the offensive." She warns, flicking her head. "Either commit yourself, or do not take that risk."

Michael
The neighborhood certainly isn't much to look at. You wouldn't spare it a glance in the normal course of things. But that's the point, it had been chosen for it's complete anonymity, by a man whose entire life was one secret after another and was now reluctant to let go of any of them.

The house stood on a slight rise just on the edge near the intersection, on a property slightly larger then it's neighbors. Not a remarkable house by any means - it was about thirty years old, squattish, squarish, made of brick, and it had four windows set in the front of a size and proportion that more or less exactly failed to please the eye. There had recently been a gas explosion, which had devastated the interior and damaged the rest, but contrary to movies, it takes more then a gas line to trigger the sort of explosion that demolishes a house to it's foundations.

Out front there is a line of tape, 'police line, do not cross', and there is an unmarked police car a little down the street, observing the place, along with a couple of specialists who were going over it, looking for evidence. Ten people had perished in the explosion, however there was no sign of any bodies at all, and much of the interior was riddled with stray bullets. There wasn't just a fight in here, there was a small-scale war.

[KerfuffleMach2]

[Bomb Queen]

Bomb Queen plops down onto the chair, slouching down quite a bit. She looks comfy like that, actually.

She waves her hand a little. Don't bother with the food. I hit up Momma Wong's on the way here. Give me a Zima, though. Anybody who Bomb Queen visit frequently is likely to have Zima in stock, even if they don't drink it. She can get upset if she doesn't get her drink of choice.

So, Hanky, whatcha got for me today?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Nocturne]

Talia seems amused by the Valeyard's enthusiasm. She nods to Tom. A little bit. Mostly just for the sake of knowing it.

She then looks to the Valeyard. And I'll have you know I'm not the only one who's part demon and part mutant. My father is as well, and I know he exists in this dimension. He's been in almost every dimension I've gone to.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[X-23]

Laura is silent for a moment. She seems to be studying Felicia.

I do not know if Logan told you where I came from. I was created in a lab to be the perfect assassin. I was trained from a very young age to know every way to fight and kill. Deathstroke is a skilled fighter, and so am I.

And I am coming to help. You cannot and will not stop me. We may gather others for assistance, but I will help. The edge in her voice returns. To somebody who knows her well enough, they'd be able to tell that she's passionate about this. To everybody else...not so easy to tell.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Cassie]

With him already falling backwards, Cassie doesn't have to move far to dodge his hands. She brings the bat up to shoulder level again.

Sacrificing teenagers? For what, some kinda voodoo ascension crap?

Well, guess what? You ain't finishing it!

She goes for a power swing aimed at his face.

[Draxx]

X-23
Truth be told, she wasn't all that much older than you are now when she began her career, so maybe her objections make her a bit hypocritical. It wasn't even as though Slade was the worst thing out there, because that was very far from the truth, he was ruthless and cruel but not sadistic, he was dangerous but the world didn't shudder at his very step. Nonetheless, she still hesitates, caught between her pragmatism and her better judgement. Of course, the fact is she couldn't stop you even if she had to, which slowly dawns on her. "Alright, fine." She says at last, resigned rather then enthusiastic. "But let me call up Oracle and get some old friends as help first. Fair deal?"

Nocturne
"Excellent." Strong replies, gently patting you on the back. It's a lot like being gently patted by a wrecking ball, before stepping back and staring at you. "You need anything, gadgets, weapons, transportation whatever, come to us, we'll build it for you."

The Valeyard lingers, still looking at you thoughtfully. "Don't have to be unique to be brilliant, you know." He replies, still smiling cheerily. "And even I can't meet everyone, much as I'd like to, and try to, actually. Well, pleasure to meet you. Come back if you want anything, or just feel like a chat. We are not just men of science: we are men of hope."

Captain Harkness opens the door.

Bomb-Queen
The owner of the nuculer Power Plant that keeps New Port city with plenty of energy and is the source of it's only official export pauses at the question a moment, considering his answer thoughtfully. "Well, nothing too exciting since I've had to lay low. I sold a few decommissioned soviet nuclear submarines to Black Manta for his armada, and did some correspondent work for HYDRA, but it's all small scale stuff, just to keep my hand in the game in between larger operations. But I keep an ear to the ground." The very picture of the genial host he tosses you a bottle of the soft drink, and gets himself a six-pack of Pilsner, opening the cap with his teeth and taking a long draught, then sighs in satisfaction.

"Now Luthor has been the very picture of a model president, at least to the public's eye, but behind the scenes he's been himself, with everything that entails. He's moving to discredit anyone else with influence and clout, making alliances with those he can, and trying to redirect foreign interests. It's like he's setting himself up to take over full time, and arranging to get rid of any opposition first. And while he's keeping those sort of ambitions mostly hidden, there's a few places where you can see his intentions. A week ago Wakanda was attacked by a new incarnation of the Suicide Squad, not that anyone will admit that, and Black Panther and his wife seem to have vanished. The countries so insular nobody is saying anything, so it's passed most of the world by, but I have interests there, so I still hear things. Not to mention he's trying to institutionalize just about everything, and expand spheres of government control back into power and finance. Make everything depend on him."

[darkblade]

Tommy

He doesn't even wait for her to finish her lecture before he lunges again. This time not holding back any effort, if this doesn't break her guard he has pretty much lost but it's about all he can hope to do.

***

Michael

Michael inspects the bullet holes and tries to gauge what kinds of weapons were used where. To make an educated guess and just what went down here.

Sam meanwhile goes back outside to talk to the beat cops doing a rather bad job at holding the perimeter. "Chuck Finley FBI. I was just given this case but my files have got lost in the bureaucracy. Ha, you know how those desk jockies can be. Anyways I need to go over some basics on the case, can I have a look at your files?"

***

Pure Evil One

"Ow. Will you just cut that out!" The Pure Evil One says as he puts his hands over his face, cowering from more baseball bat blows. His furred goat arms seem to be taking the blows significantly better than his face was.

[Cracklord]

Slade Wilson
"We have an hour." He says, as the phone rings in Deadpools pocket. Personally, he makes a point of getting rid of anything that might be a potential distraction long before going in, but that was just a matter of style. "Meet me here at dusk. I'm going to go secure the perimeter and mark out a place for the soldiers to land." He says, then walks back down to the jeep and pulls off the tarp, exposing enough weapons to outfit a guerrilla unit intent on taking out the military of an entire third world nation. Moving with sure, practiced movements, he slots half a dozen blades into place, along with some high yield explosives, some intricate devices that's purpose were not immediately clear, and, of course, guns. Lots and lots of guns.
Last to the party is an entire minigun, that he rests on his shoulder as though it weighs nothing at all. "A wager, brother?" He asks, his voice light and pleasant.

Spider-man
Dispatching the muggers in a quick and efficient manner punctuated by a few disparaging comments, he swings up into the air again, heading his way across the city. It seems a fairly quiet day. Well that's fine by him. He doesn't have anywhere pressing to be, and he could use the time out, just to relax and get some perspective.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool is silent for a moment. Just a brief moment as his inner voices try to figure something out.

I wish them luck.

Wait, didn't we answer the phone?

Yeah, and it was Weasel. But then...

Now it's like we didn't answer it yet.

Stupid continuity errors.

Deadpool shakes his head, then answers the phone. Before he can speak, though, Slade asks his question.

Wager? Of what?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen lounges back in the chair as Hank talks, taking a long drink of her Zima. Her eyes watch him carefully as she processes everything that he says.

A new Suicide Squad, eh? Anything you can tall me about them? If Luthor wants a place to keep his goons safe, and he's got a new Suicide Squad...well, she could be seeing some people fairly often now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia smiles and waves to both of them as she leaves. Oh, don't worry, I have a feeling I'll be seeing you two fairly often.

Once outside of the room, she turns back to Jack. Well, they're an interesting couple of guys.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Laura nods. Yes, that is a good idea. I have a feeling we will need as much help as we can get.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie actually pauses in her swinging. She keeps the bat ready as she watches the creature before her with interest. She hadn't run into a slasher that acted like this at all. They never whined about getting hit. They just got angry. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought he was a teen or something.

Well, what the hell did you expect? Think I'm just gonna stand here and let you attack me? Screw that!

Now, tell me what the hell is going on before I cave your skull in.

[darkblade]

Pure Evil One

"Well, how was I supposed to know the plucky goth girl messing with my plans could actually fight." The creature admits reluctantly. "She couldn't back in Crowley."

It reaches into the satchel and pulls out a book. A cover bound in what looks to be pulsing human flesh with a hand making devil horns sitting in the middle of a pentagram. "Of course you are wrong about why I want sacrifices. Voodoo, so proletarian. You're playing with the big boys now."

He opens the book and reads from a random page. "Aliquid ad incide ipsum ferreo canis exprimamus!"

Upon finishing the incantation the book shifts it's shape into a giant sword that entangles itself around the goat man's hands. "Come on Jenny, let's dance."

[Draxx]

Deadpool
There's silence on the other end as you speak to your brother. When you fall silent, a voice familiar speaks.

"This is Cable, Wade." The voice says at last. It's been a minute, and he's been using that time to find your location. In Rumekistan, they'll let anyone put on a trace these days, just because he happens to be president. "Look, I know what you're about to do. Don't do it. Don't make me come over there."

Bomb Queen
"Well, Lex is always been keen on giving psychos a job. Saves time I suppose. Personally, I don't work with loose canons, if there is one thing I know, it's that the excesses of Gotham's worst at their most twisted can be surpassed by an ordinary family man just trying to get his job done in time for his Christmas bonus." He sighs, and takes another drink of the beer. "Still, the footage I saw is definitely Bane, and a few of the others are pretty familiar as well. Think we might be seeing a resurgence of Kissinger's foreign policy. Now there was a man you could do business with."

Before he can reminisce further about the good old days, there is a sound you recognize. It is a cannon, fired at very close range, hammering into a wall and breaking through it. After that, there is a short, rapid burst of gunfire, then silence.

Nocturne
"The Brain Trust, we call them. Their job is keeping up with the Jonses, or at least with Stark, Richards and all the alien tech that washes up here." Harkness replies with a shrug. "They're certainly both brilliant. Just… difficult to channel into avenues we find useful. That's actually the majority of my job. Now, you probably don't want to meet our deterrent, chances are we aren't actually going to let him out unless there's another full scale invasion anyway." Deterrent. Most government teams had one, the Avengers had the Hulk, the Japanese had Godzilla, you wonder what Brittain came up with. But Harkness doesn't seem to be elaborating.

So the next door is passed by unopened, and you step into the third one.

"Thunder God. We have to have one, the higher ups insist on it." He shrugs. "Well, we'd be at a disadvantage without one, anyway, since every other super-power has one. Unfortunately, there are only so many gods to go around. Six hundred years ago, most of the old ones were broken down to build the fourth world. I should know, i know a guy who was there. So finding a God of weather isn't easy, and getting him to sign up to protect a nation is harder still. So, it was decided we were going to make one, though not exactly from scratch."

A doctor with a slightly pinched, suspicious face in a suit and a labcoat looks at Jack as the door opens, then nods you both in. The room is a symphony of flowing organic design filled with coiling pipes and cables snaking across the walls and floor. Immense display screens arched high above and around you and on their screens flow rivers of projected data. He looked towards one of the screens as it swarmed with a moving undulant mosaic of notations. 'Electroencephalographic' was one word, 'Cardigraphic' was another, and then 'Galvanic Response', 'Respiration', 'Temperature', 'Pulse', 'Internal Temperature Modulation Factor', and 'Refractive Chemical Enzymatic Reaction Coefficients'. Life Support, they all add up to.

"Guess I'll explain him. As the only one here with a doctorate, I assume." The Doctor says, his voice harsh and somehow mean, that of a tight-fisted welshman. "Names Doctor Owen Harper - specialize in astrobiology. Was recruited with the promise of getting to fiddle around with alien toys and play a real-life doctor Frankenstein. Now I get to work in this, where I understand maybe one in three things. Project Taranis."

He indicates the center of the room, where the subject of it all is lying amidst a complex series of pipes, tubes and machines. From what little that you can see of its features, there was much of the human and more still of the inhuman: vaguely human in flesh and form and yet monstrous in size, nine feet tall or more. It appeared emaciated, each rib of its ribcage gleaming behind translucent flesh. There was no skin or flesh on its stomach; its bones, muscle, gristle and tendons were exposed to the open and were gleaming wetly. Tubes and wires hold its organs in place, tying blood vessels together and looked to be replacements for parts that might have proved dysfunctional, or just not built yet. Its arms were disproportionately long and sinewy, almost bird-like, possessed of a supernatural flexibility and supple grace. The hands were large with long delicate fingers; disfigured as though by starvation or prolonged illness. Its spinal column appeared warped, the legs lacerated and malformed. All over, its flesh was withered and deathly pale - the color of alabaster and water-drowned bodies.

Its face and head were the worst. In its features could still be seen the symmetry of perfection, hideously marred. Those once angular features were still intact: the high cheekbones, philosopher's brow, the firm jawline, all bespeaking of a past perfection and symmetry beyond the normal human range. But it had become a collapsed ruin, as though eaten away from a syphilitic disease. At one point its two eyes had either been damaged by injury, disease or age, and they had been removed and replaced by a cluster of sensors: tiny beads of ruby glass, small knots of wire, waffle-surfaced chips of some ceramic material, all bristling and slightly recessed in the deep black holes of the being's head. Wires and relays had fused with the optic nerves directly and led away into the consoles around the hemisphere.

Owen shrugs. "Taranis, Thunder God. Broken down to energy, and converted into the New Gods. Nothing left of him but a few scraps of identity and memory floating on the aether in the winds of space. Well, we found it, and have hammered it into something approaching coherence. As for a body, well Gentlemen, we have tissue samples from Thor and have mapped out Hercules' genetic material. We Can Rebuild Him. We have the technology. We have other subjects to imitate. We have the capability to build this into a god. Better than he was before. Better. Stronger. Faster."

He smiles. "This is Taranis."

Jack takes a step back, face inscrutable, eyes on you. Somehow, you sense, your next reaction will be important.

X-23
A little of the tension leaves Felicia. She still looks rigid and brittle, but no longer like she's on the cusp of shattering. "Right. Yes. Good. And we don't know where he is, or where he's gone. We'll have to find that out to." She takes another glass of milk (she looks like she ought to be hitting something a bit harder, but she has a theme, and she sticks with it), then walks into the living room to a small corner where, on an almost forgotten desk there is an old fashioned PC computer, big and blockish. She fumbles for the button, and it switches on with a hum, screen goes black.

A digitally filtered voice, smooth and emotionless yet somehow managing to be feminine came out of the machine with far higher quality than the speakers should have been able to produce. "Black Cat. Isn't this a surprise." It said, then fell silent, waiting to hear what it was being called for.

Tommy
She spins aside, so that you clip her but only just, then rests the edge of her blade on the back of your neck before you can withdraw. She lets out a breath, then nods, and you feel yourself rise a few points in her estimation. "A good first effort. You were holding too much back, you'll have to stop doing that. I'll train you." She says, then looks at the others. "And Chan, and Ryo. You two won't be a waste of effort. The rest of you can go home, there is no place for you here." Without another word she stalked off the mat, and out of the dojo.

Well, that could have gone a lot worse. From the look of things, you're about to take the next step in mastery of martial arts. Roshi shakes his head as she leaves, then folds his arms behind his back. "So young. She should have been a warrior for decades yet, which was all she ever wanted to be. And then the Cranes bring down her master, and she finds that she can no longer be a warrior. I don't envy any of you as her students." Then he reached into his sleeve, and dropped a challenge letter. "The tournament of the cities is in a month. We'll meet again then."

Michael Weston
Military rounds, fired from a high performance automatic weapon, and given the spread and density you'd say a sustained assault by multiple men, perhaps even an entire unit. The neighbors can't tell you more, by some staggering coincidence that has to be manufactured, they were all called off the street for a variety of alibis.

Sam taps on the window, and the two policeman roll it down. They're beat cops, you can tell by their unfashionable facial hair, sagging midsections and general air of nothing better to do. As if to further the cliche, they have hot coffee, and a half-eaten box of donuts near at hand. "Bureau?" The first one says, a few crumbs in his 'stache. "Shouldn't you be with the other guys who came by earlier then? Or are you some sort of forensics? Because forensics was supposed to be here hours ago." It's wonderful when people handily supply your cover for you.

"Hang on a second, I'll just get it up." The younger one gropes around, then grabs his cell phone. "One sec, mister Finley, just call you in."

[Cracklord]

Deathstroke
Placing a pair of ear-plugs in, and shuffling the rest of his armament into a comfortable position, he pulls on his mask, rolls his shoulders, then faces you squarely. "That we're about to get distracted, as somebody not involved gets in our way." He says, his voice slightly deeper in his uniform. "It's a big project, so I suspect we can look forward to a few people getting that sort of idea."

[darkblade]

Team Westen

Sam reaches out and grabs the cop's phone. "Could you not? You're right we were supposed to be here hours ago but with the paperwork snafu and Agent Glenanne being on the rag we got held up. I got IA breathing down my neck right now, I'd prefer it look like I got here one time and did my job right the first time. I'll owe you one, Officer..."

Michael frowns, still no leads. He makes his way to the office to see if by some incredible stroke of luck a scrap piece of paper with something interesting survived.

***

Tommy

Tommy accepts the letter and bows. "I don't suppose Shangri-La has a payphone? I haven't got any cell signal since I left Shanghai and I need to let Kat know I'm okay."

[Draxx]

Thomas
Master Roshi grins. "Doubt it. But my laptop still gets enough connection to get by, if you don't mind a bit of a wait. You can borrow that if you want. It's set up over there on the shrine of Chang Tao-ling the First Master of Heaven." He says, and indicates the shrine of the guardian spirit of the dojo.

Sure enough, a bronze statue and incense has been disrespectfully shunted aside, so that the old master can use the alter where they normally sit as a table, where he can use the internet to stare at pictures of young women in bikinis. The legendary paragon of martial arts has a reputation as a bit of a pervert, so you'd managed to take it in your stride so far, but he seems to be overplaying it a bit.

Michael Weston
The office caught the brunt of the gas explosion, and from what you can see, rarely saw any use regardless, him being retired and all. You do find a pension check in the bin, that's been carefully ripped in half, though you can't quite fathom why. So you do a little searching that most people, even investigating police officers, wouldn't think to look. You find an unregistered firearm and some false identity papers inside a floorboard, five hundred thousand dollars in unmarked and untraceable bills, and a piece of paper with what looks to be either citizen numbers, or something else. None of it is absolutely irreplaceable, but if Frank was on the run, he'd probably want most of it with him.

It's when you rummage around in the insulation that you find a slight irregularity, that, when you peel it off the wall, turns out to be a file. To be precise, your agency file. Not game-breaking. You've got your hands on it before, though it seems a bit unfair he got his hands on it so quickly, and with so little comparative effort. Then you open it, and see something that stirs a feel of triumph in you breast. This isn't just a dry recital about what you've apparently done, taken from Simon Escher.

This is you. And somewhere in here, is the reason you were burned.

Sam Axe
He looks at you. "Murphy. Patrolman Murphy." He replies, letting the phone drop. "Well, as long as they know you're here, and you don't interfere with the scene too much, I don't see any harm. Not like anything's happening anyway."

His partner hands you the transcript of the report so far. "We'll be here if you need anything, Finley."

[darkblade]

Tommy

"Thanks." Tommy says as he makes his way over to the computer and brings up his own Starkmail account. He composes three e-mails, one to [email protected] (http://powerrangers.wikia.com/wiki/Robert_James), [email protected] (http://powerrangers.wikia.com/wiki/Cameron_Watanabe) and [email protected] (http://powerrangers.wikia.com/wiki/NinjaWhite) inquiring if any of them know what is going on with the Lin Kuein. What he does not write is an e-mail to [email protected] (http://powerrangers.wikia.com/wiki/Katherine_Hillard) informing her that he made it to Shangri-La safely and will be training with Tiger's Beautiful Daughter.

***

Michael

Michael has to stop himself from getting too excited as he opens the folder and looks inside to see what Frank found.

***

Sam and Fiona

"Thanks, don't worry we shouldn't be long." Sam says as he takes the folder and crosses the police lines into the house.

As he enters he'll find Fi already in the process of searching through the bedroom and bathroom for any signs that anything was taken.

[Draxx]

Fi
You've seen less evidence of a struggle after a riot. Considering the way things look, you'd stake quite a bit that the inexpert search of the premises occurred well after the actual event, most likely at the hands of the policemen. Without forensics you can't be sure, but experience is a good teacher in this regard.

Michael Weston
It's almost an anticlimax, when you open your section. You don't know what you expected, after going through all you have. You don't even know for sure if Management wanted you dead, or working for them, and you don't know who inside the system burned you.

Opening it, you read over a report of your progress in Nigeria. And then you stop. You recognize two names. Jason Wynn is first, a small footnote suggesting that in the interests of the nations future interests a failure might be more useful, as that could be accounted as reasonable provocation and be used as justification on the international stage for retaliation. That sure sounds like Wynn, creating and manufacturing evidence for the sake of doing whatever the hell he wants.

You read a little further, then stop. The actual Burn Notice stares back at you, recommending immediate termination, followed by quiet execution. It is signed by Maxwell Lord.

Sam
Traces of six corpses (or rather, presumed corpses), none who have any identifiable genetic record. Ghosts, effectively. And as if to confirm it, those six bodies were missing. Presumably, one of them was Frank, although if Frank won the fight, a not entirely unbelievable outcome, though certainly a longshot, than there'd be no real way of telling. The people who removed the corpses were much more careful, there's no sign of them at all. The bullets removed from the scenes were military grade rounds, as you had anticipated, and a tire imprint on the road outside points to them having arrived in a Mack E-Tech, the traditional van for moving large concentrations of men without tipping your hand.

No witness reports, unfortunately.

Tommy
Robert James replies within ten minutes, which you find to be a bit out of character, as he normally makes a tremendous effort to appear detached and self-sufficient. His reply is a little rambling expressing a little interest in the Lin Kuei, as he's had to deal with them a few times, and tells you that he's heard from another old friend, Anubis 'Doggie' Crusher, who has gone on to become a Green Lantern. He even suggests putting a new team of Shintai together, linking a page detailing the 52 states initiative, government sponsored super-teams.

In twenty, Tsuruhime has composed a reply of her own. She hadn't heard, and wants to know more as soon as you can send it. Being a little more sociable then James, she asks how you're doing and engages some small talk as well. Cameron Watanabe does not reply. At all.

[darkblade]

Tommy

Odd, Cam was the cybergeek of the Ninja Storm rangers. Under normal circumstances he would be one of the first to reply.

He politely acknowledges RJ's story. It's unusual that the Guardians would choose someone from outside their home system to be a Lantern (otherwise Superman would be have been chosen for this sector), still Kruger is a good man and deserves the position after his work with SWORD. He also mentions that it's unlikely that they'll get accepted into the Initiative, most American rangers operate out of California and the Order was one of the first teams approved. Not even the Silver Guardians got through (although that is probably because they had access to knowledge of the future in 2001 and did nothing to stop a certain event in New York). None the less he promises to keep him informed should they try anything else.

Tsuruhime, he realizes this is the first time he has talked to her since the Kakurangers covered for his team back in the mid-ninties. He admits to her that things did not go well with Kat who left him a few years ago after a bit too long an engagement. He promises to let her know how things go with the Lin Kuei.

With that he steps away from the computer, grateful to be away from the scantily clad pop-ups that filled it's screen every time more than ten seconds passed between button presses. "I'm hungry, please tell me she doesn't take the Tiger thing so literally that she only lets us eat raw meat."

***

Team Westen

Michael runs through the house and gathers up his team. "We got to go now. He'll be watching the house."

He leads the other back to the car and drives away. Sam offers a small wave to his patrolmen 'friends'.

"Maxwell Lord authorized my burn notice. The guy who mind controlled Superman and came back from the dead two years ago. I thought I avoided the outright crazy stuff."

[Draxx]

Sam
"That's not good. Sure, he turned into one of the crazies, but for a long time there he was a political, one of the dangerous ones you never hear about. I've heard it on good authority that he's the one who fixed the transition of power for the Authority too." Sam replied, staring at you. You're not normally one to make light of something like this.

Fi interrupts. "Shouldn't Jesse be here by now?"

Tommy
The 52 state initiative was still in the planning stages, but the idea was demcarnation. Whether making it into an institution was a good idea or not, time would tell, but it had Tony Stark as it's much bandied around front man, which suggested the government wanted some sort of legitimacy.

Kenshiro raises an eyebrow, fiddling a bit with the straps and buckles that keep his leather gi in place without flapping. "You should be so lucky. We leave the temple, and try and hunt our own meat with no tools, butcher the animal bare handed, then pack snow in our mouths and wait for it to melt if we want a drink." Then he cracks a smile. "Kidding. They've got cooks. It's simple fare, lots of rice, though Roshi has a box full of beers he gives out like it's Christmas. Come on."

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool nods a little to Slade. Yeah, that makes sense, I guess. Kinda weird how that always happens, huh?

Then his attention goes back to Cable on the phone.

Nate, old buddy, old pal! How's time travel these days? Or those days? All days?

Ah, rambling when he's trying to dodge the question. Classic move.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen nods a little, making mental notes. She knew of Bane. Big powerhouse there.

Before she could press Hank further, the sounds caught her attention. She'll stand up and saunter over to the window to see what she can see.

Sounds like somebody's having fun out there. They better be keeping it to the right zone.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Initially, Talia seemed to be a little bit worried and disgusted at the sight. After the explanation, though, that faded away. She watches the god intently, taking in every detail.

Have anybody been able to talk to him yet? Ask if he's happy with this?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Laura focuses her attention on the screen, even if it is black.

Hello, Oracle. My name is Laura. I need to know any information you might have regarding Deathstroke's current whereabouts, activities, or contacts.

Well, at least she's straight to the point.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Crowley? Who the hell did you meet in Crowley? Cassie didn't remember being there anytime recently. Or, anytime at all.

Then comes the book and odd words and now the book's a sword. Well, that probably wasn't a good thing.

The name's not Jenny, you bastard. It's Cassie! At that, she'll charge him and swing for his head again.

[darkblade]

Pure Evil One

The goatman catches the bat on the flat of the sword and follows it up with a goat hoof kick towards Cassie's stomach.

"Cassie right, well you kids all look the same. You look a lot like a Jenny I used to know."

***

Michael

Michael nods and calls Jessie's phone, trying to reach him.

***

Tommy

Tommy follows behind Kenshiro to the dinning room. "So is it true? Can you really make people's hearts explode with a punch?"

[Draxx]

Deadpool
"Getting worse." Nate replies conversationally, his voice just the slightest bit curt. You get the impression he's very irritated about something. "And looking to get worse still. The way people are acting, the future looks worse and worse every day. Seriously, Wade, I'm not asking much. Just stop and think, the X-men have been good to you. Why make them into your enemies?" Now he's almost pleading with you.

Michael Weston
"Mr Weston." A man says, who had clarly been awaiting this call. His inflections are Chinese, shanghai, you'd place his accent, with just a touch of something more exotic in the way he draws the syllables out. Nonetheless, he speaks english extremely well, with the confidence of experience. "Excellent we had this chance to exchange words. As you are doubtless aware, you are of some value to my employers. But your friend is not, and so he has value as leverage. You are now working for me. Work with your customary dedication and zeal, and this unfortunate man will be returned none the worse for wear."

Tommy
"Yes." he replies shortly. "Though there's a bit more to Hokuto Shinken then that." He pauses. "I heard what you said. About refusing to kill. And I respect that. But there was no such choice for me, no alternative but to kill. You have systems to protect people, institutions, and you have the resources to keep savagery and desperation away. I grew up in Mongolia after the aftershock and the burn. There was nothing between me and the worst man can offer. All I could do was discriminate."

He fiddles with another strap, and his gi shifts around his chest, the white points of his seven scars shining for a moment as he does. "Try not to judge me too harshly."

Bomb Queen
"That'd be my lobby. Open season." Hank Scorpio replies, stepping over to a wall and pressing the panel, which slid away to reveal an arsenal, and removing a portable flamethrower. He straps it into place as the alarm starts blaring over the intercom speaker, and heads over to the lift. "And of course all my security detail is on lunch-break. I'll have to get around to renegotiating with the union…"

Nocturne
Doctor Owen Harper scratches the back of his neck. "Well, not as such. Chemically, sure, we've conducted some basic communication, but he's not all there yet. Not lucid, and only vaguely sentient. His mind's as fragmented and disjointed as the rest of him. Now, if we could smooth over the creases we could do that, but a mind is a hard jigsaw to assemble."

Jack's smile returns, and he shrugs. "God's get broken down to build new ones, since there's only so many God-particles in the universe. A few get left over, and miss out on the re-assimilation, which is why we still have Thor, even though all the other Asgardians got built into something else. We're just… giving him the option of coming back."

[darkblade]

Michael Westen

Sam rolls his eyes. "Yeah, this gambit wasn't getting old."

Michael ignores him and replies to the voice. "If you know my connection to Jesse you know how it happened. What makes you think I value his life?"

It's a bluff, he genuinely regrets getting Jesse burned and wants to make things right but if letting the Asian man on the phone think he doesn't gives him a bit more room to operate then so be it.

***

Tommy

"I try not to hold anything against anyone. I spent the better part of a year as a sleeper agent of an evil space witch." Tommy explains.

"Every time I fight someone going down the wrong path I remember my own struggle with evil and how I managed to overcome it. I worry that maybe I'm stealing someone else's chance to do the same thing."

Then he gives a small laugh and says. "Of course demons, golems, robots and non-sentient mutant dinosaurs don't count. I've killed plenty of them."

***

Oracle

"How much legal trouble are you prepared for?" Oracle asks without any attempts at formalities or greetings.

"Him and his brother are on a job for the President. I'm still looking into the specifics but whatever it is if Lex was if Lex needs both Wilson brothers it is going to be messy and covered in a lot of red tape."

[Draxx]

Oracle, X-23
Luthor? That made sense. Deathstroke didn't act independently, though that brought up a much more worrying question. Why the hell was Lex Luthor taking steps to deal with Wolverine? Logan had influence within the mutant community, and a certain respect among superheroes, but he wasn't anywhere near the circles Luthor moved in. "Well, that pardon you got me fell through. I'm on the wanted lists again and everything." Felicia replies, tossing her head a little. "Besides, if what Luthor was doing was legal, he wouldn't be using Deathstroke. So I think we can safely assume he won't admit to anything, or risk compromising himself. So lets only worry about Deathstroke."

Tommy
"Killed my share of robots as well, though only the one dinosaur." Kenshiro replies, stepping into the eating hall and sitting at the table reserved for prospective Immortal Weapons. The food is, as warned, simple fare: rice and fish. It's eaten with fingers. "But I can understand where you are coming from. Just that it was never an option for me."

Tiger's Beautiful Daughter has taken off her mask and armor. She's muscled like an Olympic decathlon athlete but with a shape that is entirely feminine, wearing nothing but a few strategically placed leather straps, a loincloth and dully gleaming bronze that leaves her skin mostly bare, and gives her plenty of ease of movement. She makes most depictions of exotic amazon warriors look like anorexic models, her every movement rippling with obvious physical power. She sweeps the room with an aloof gaze, then stalked to the table with a panther's grace and stretched, the firelight limning her bare arms and legs.

The other monks seem to be modeled on her, though a tad less extreme. They are all unusually tall, the shortest is your height, and their heads are shaved completely bar a tiny dark stubble, their builds flat and powerful. Every one of them looks like she could cut a man's head off with one blow, and then sit down and eat a raw steak. They are dressed in short, revealing saffron robes, and are sitting at a separate table, eating in complete silence.

Roshi is sitting by himself, drinking a can of Hetap (they still sell it in China) and reading a magazine, seeming blithely unconcerned by it all. His ways are not their ways, and all that.

Tiger's Beautiful Daughter eats her fish raw. Indeed, she hasn't even bothered to bone or fillet them, she bites off their heads and spits out the bones. She has lost none of the barely restrained violence she exhibited in the training ring. When you sit, she looks first at Jackie, then at Kenshiro and you. "A week. I'll give you all a week to learn what you can, then I'll set each of you a challenge." She pauses. "That is traditional. Those who fail need not return to the temple. When only one remains, we shall have a new Immortal Weapon."

Michael Westen
"This would be your famous sense of humor?" The man replies, with a chuckle. "Truth is, I do not. And you are realistic, I am sure you would cast off your comrades if you had no other option. So let us assume, if he is not of value, that I am holding your brother or mother. I'm sure that buried somewhere in all that pragmatism is a certain fondness for those who share your blood."

[Cracklord]

The Immortal Iron Fist
Danny Rand was in his gym, experimenting with Muay thai boxing. His usual style was a blend of tae kwon do and military jujutsu, occasionally utilizing jeet kune do and kyokushin karate, however he liked to practice other moves in order to keep himself fluid and able to adapt to whatever was thrown at him. He was like water, eyes closed, breathing tight, punctual, rhythmic, channeling his focus, unwinding his thoughts until he was a vector for thoughtless action; letting the extraneous flow through him and out of him; to push out attachment and feel the purity of unbiased motion, the pulse of life flowing through his body and shaping his actions.
Danny was a youthful thirty three, with boyish good looks, and blond hair. He wasn't bulky, but neither were cobras, what muscle he had was toned until it was like iron cables, his body perfectly balanced and poised at all times. A consummate martial artist surpassing the limits of human potential, he’d trained all his life—committed every last waking moment. He had to. If he’d put less than his everything into those countless hours, he would never have become what he had, a contender for the greatest human martial artist alive, and the Immortal Weapon of K'un L'un.
And Danny needed to fight. It was in him, like a fever that rose when unattended. If he was an adrenaline junkie, then his highs were few and far between. He spent his days and nights training. Months passed in alternating hours of deep concentration, rhythmic breathing, and a physical regimen of punishing exercise and perfected motions that buried the art of fighting so deep in his marrow that he forgot everything, and all that was left was instinct. As he moved, he began striking. His fists left cracks on marble blocks and shattered hardwood like balsa, his movements were fluid and so fast he seemed to appear, as though he had no need to cross the intervening distance.
Danny stopped, his eyes snapping wide, then exhaled violently, pulling all of his force and all of his emotion into a single pinnacle moment, a point at the end of his fist, rising up from the soles of his feet, drawn up through the Earth and pulled down from the sky. He reached in and found the well was bottomless, just as it always was. His stance unwound in violent, twisting motion, driving up from the hips, his left fist rising, trailing an arc of burning yellow-white blaze two yards wide and angling up for the ceiling. Drawing his right fist in to his side, he then stepped into the wave, driving his fist forward into the heart of the blaze he had created, sending it roaring across the room with a force that shook the gym and sounded like a jet leaving the runway.
Danny relaxed, exhaled again, and let the tension leave his body. Bending over he picked up the towel he'd laid out for after his workout, and wiped away a light sheen of sweat from honest exertion, his limbs trembling just a little from fatigue. Then he headed over the door, doing up the buttons of his shirt and removing his jacket and putting it on. He had a board meeting in ten minutes, and he didn't want to be late.

Deathstroke
Slade waved his hand in a 'keep him talking' motion to his brother, then set his watch for 2:00. Once he appeared, that's how long he'd have before Cable's powers kicked back in. Plenty of time, at least for him. All that was left to worry about was the psychic powers, the telekinesis, and the big guns that Cable would inevitably have. Well, this would be interesting. He had a psi-blocker, going after the best telepaths in the world made it a must, and he activated it, turning his mind to so much static from an outsiders perspective, and preventing unwanted intrusion. Now things were looking a little more equal.

[Draxx]

Danny Rand
Jeryn Hogarth, dependable as always, is waiting for you in the corridor, to brief you on what you'll be appearing knowledgeable in when your in front of the board of directors. He's about your physical opposite, soft around the edges, perpetually worried and harried looking that makes him seem older then he is, and focused on running the company you own.

But he's loyal to a fault, and very good at his job. You'd trust him with your life, and have a few times. He looks at the gym, and sighs, noting the damage you've done it, and knowing he'd have to get it repaired so you could break it again tomorrow, then fixes your collar.

"We're discussing mineral rights in Asia. We're looking at acquiring a certain amount of land, the Mongolian province of Khovd, which is some of the emptiest land in the world, that as it turns out is actually fairly rich in ferrous metals. Technically Mongolia is no man's land, after The Burn, so negotiations for acquiring the territory are going well. And remember, your meeting the general tomorrow to finalize the deal." All par the course for Jeryn. Mongolia went through a rough patch in the 80's. China wanted to declare independence and leave the AU (Allied Union, the umbrella term for nations that fall under the Warsaw Pact). And so, using Mongolia as a battleground, China and Russia waged what was essentially a war between proxies. Russia won. Mongolia was a casualty. And it's been that way for a long time, citizens facing the realities of starvation, corrupt or failed local governments little better then armed thugs and robber barons, plague and war.

But Randcorp is in a position not only to help, but on making a tidy profit out of turning the ruins of civilization into something resembling civilization again. It's maybe only a few steps up from war profiteering, but it's the closest thing they've had to help since Aftershock.

James Bond
Shanghai is a city of lights, glamor and narrow streets, of riches built on the backs of the desperate. It may have been late June, but it was still cold out. Courtesy of the rain. The storm had been hovering the city for three full days now. There was some flooding in particular areas, but nothing too damaging. MI6's office in Shanghai is nothing special to look at, afterall, in the espionage game it doesn't pay to advertise.

Spider-Man
You've been on Spidey Patrol (that's what you decided to call it, and you hope someone asks you some day so you can tell them) for three hours when you decide to take a break, get your bearings, and gain some perspective. The passersby snap pictures of you and make requests as you perform the obligatory requests to somersault in the air. Whatever Jameson does his best to present you as, most of New York does love you. They just like being convinced to hate you whenever something makes life generally crappy.

[darkblade]

Oracle

"I'll look into your pardon later. Right now let's just worry about the Wilson brothers." Oracle says as he types wildly into her keyboard, bringing up everything she has on Luthor's black ops work right now.

"He has them gunning for the X-Men. Not surprising since Magento is supposed to headline the Democrate primaries, last thing he wants is a united mutant vote against him next year. How fast can you two sneak onto the airfield at JFK? I'll send Lady Blackhawk in to give you a lift out west."

***

Tommy

Tommy nods at Tiger's Daughter's orders. It was the kind of thing he expected. In all honesty he was more concerned by the fact that there was a dinosaur in Mongolia.

***

Michael

"Alright, what do you want me to do?" Michael asks, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the ignorance that the man just showed.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool takes a few steps away from Deathstroke, seeming to take the hand wave as a gesture of "go away".

Look, Nate...

No use lying to him. The man knows you pretty well. Better than most, actually.

Deadpool sighs. Man...Nate, Luthor hired us to take you guys out. And...I can't abandon my brother, can I? I mean...he's so set on doing this...He didn't even take money for taking out Wolverine! Can you believe that?

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Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen stretches her arms out a little, then strides over to join Hank.

Come on, you know better. Screw the union. Just shoot them dead till they do what you want.

She holds out her arm in front of her and something inside of her arm band seems to click and whir into place. Shall we kill some disgruntled workers?

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Nocturne

Talia stares at the creature before her silently for another moment.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see when he wakes up, then. I'm just a little worried that he might wake up crazy and blow everything up.

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X-23

Laura's eyes narrow as her fists clench up again.

That explains why they took out Wolverine. They would not want him to arrive during such an attack, as he inevitably would.

She looks to Felicia. Do you have a motorcycle? I could get us there in time.

Also, Oracle, I would like you to get as many allies as you can to assist us. We are likely to need it.

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Cassie

Oof!

Cassie falls back from the kick, the wind knocked out of her. She tumbles back a short distance, never dropping her bat. It doesn't take her long to get back up, though. Seems she's taken her share of beatings in the past.

I'm guessing this Jenny didn't fight like me, though. She will start circling to her left, slowly.

[Draxx]

Tommy
First, Tiger's Beautiful Daughter stares at Kenshiro. "Your task is simple. Journey West towards the setting Sun, until you come to the Bitter Shore, that marks the edge of the Shadowland. There, search out the Quiet House, and from the seat of the throne before it, fetch me the Mask of Death. Or snatch it off his face, if he's at home." Then she turns to Jackie Chan. After the first one, you didn't know what to expect, but it occurs to you just how seriously she takes this. "Before the eighth city was given to the inhabitance of demons under the sorcerer Lo-Pan, it had a school of it's own, a championship of it's own. The tainted city has been cleared, now it should be rebuilt. Find me the list of teachings." Then she turns to you. "You refuse to kill, but you aren't afraid to fight. Go to the city of Shanghai, find the last Lightning Lord of Nepal, and convince him to return with you."

Deadpool
Cable hadn't heard that. You can tell by the way his tone of voice shifts a little. "Of course you can. Just because he's blood doesn't mean you have to do what he says. Look, I'm not telling you to fight your brother. I'm just asking you to not to help him fight the X-men." Nate says. "Don't get involved one way or the other. Fair?"

Nocturne
"Yeah, we considered that." Jack replies, with a nod and a kind of sigh. "But that's the thing, whether it's a good idea or not we have to do what we're told, or we lose the funding and government support. So when we're told to build a thunder God, all we can do is try to do a very good job, and hope he doesn't blow up in our faces."

He sighs. "That's why I'm showing you this. Some of this job is great. Other bits, like being consulted by marketing teams and following the orders of people who are living in a kind of Cold War… Well, you can't let it get to you."

X-23, Oracle
"I have a motorcycle." Felicia replies, falling into the familiar routine. She'd never been a bird as such, more of an irregular, ad-hoc, as-needed sort of helper you'd brought in when the regulars weren't cut out for the job, but she'd been useful enough, frequently enough to justify being made part of the Network.

"But I'm driving, alright? Nothing personal, but nobody else drives my bike. We'll be at the airstrip in twenty minutes. Ten if I really hurry." She tells Oracle, groping around behind the computer until she finds the keyring she's looking for.

Oracle
The doors slide open behind you, and Lady Blackhawk steps into the room. You only called Zinda a minute ago, and she's already here, her uniform buttoned up and pristine with creases you could shave with, and her hat rakishly perched on her lustrous cascade of curls, a bright smile on her face, ready to hear what you have to say and get to work. "You called?" She says cheerfully, throwing in a little impromptu salute.

Michael
"Wait wherever you are, now that I have your number. I'll call you some time this evening, and we can have dinner somewhere public when I give you a proposition. You are a useful man, Mister Weston. I want you to be useful for me." With that, he hangs up.

[darkblade]

Tommy

Tommy nods and accepts the challenge. He is not sure what exactly a Lightning Lord is but he has a week of training to try and figure it out before he has to look like a fool by asking.

***

Oracle

"Copy that Laura, I'll have three agents on the plane and get whoever I can on the West Coast when you get there." Oracle says before cutting off her connection to Black Cat and X-23.

"Zinda, we got a situation. Pick up Dina and Helena then fly to JFK airport in New York to grab Black Cat and X-23. I'll get you more information when you are in the air."

With that order issued she opens a channel to Xavier's Institute for the Gifted. It'd probably be smart to warn the X-Men before the fight gets too heated.

***

Michael

Michael hangs up the phone and sighs. "He doesn't know about Nate. Whoever this guy is I don't think he is Management or he has been out of the loop for a while."

***

Pure Evil One

"No, not really and actually now that I think about it most of the monsters they killed were largely by accident. " The Pure Evil One muses as he foolishly lowers his sword.

[Cracklord]

James Bond
007 parks the car unobtrusively in a garage about a block away, taking care to lock it and remove anything that could be used to identify him. It was unlikely, but if the car did get stolen he didn't want it to be connected to him in any way. For this part of the job, it was better for nobody to have any idea that he was here. Then he heads over to the office, in order to get all the information he can about Mann Co, and the Blue Lotus.

Danny Rand
The thing about Randcorp was that, just like any large corporation, it was a business. You had to put the vast resources and capabilities to work, or you would lose them all. And that meant turning a profit, when sometimes you'd rather just help. It wasn't that he wasn't charitable, quite the opposite most of the time. 30% of his yearly profits went to numerous charitable organizations, outreach programs and general good causes. However, he still had to show a profit. Hence when he did finish negotiating the rights to build infrastructure and attempt to rebuild what could be kindest described as a 'decaying ruin', a bit of exploitation was inevitable. He didn't consider this in any way criminal. Things were bad, and something needed to be done. By bringing in corporate money, he was giving an entire nation the opportunity to work hard and save itself.

Deathstroke
He's sitting on the front of the jeep, casually cleaning his fingernails with a throat-slit razor while Deadpool talks. As long as his brother isn't having second doubts, then it's only a matter of time before Cable shows up. The man was that predictable at least, it was more his style to charge in and overwhelm a problem, then carefully put a plan into motion and utilize all the resources at your fingertips. Which was fine, as long as you were strong enough. He'd never had to fight Cable before. It should be interesting.

[AnimeKid]

Kos-Mos (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fw6J9OGSXpg)
The mansion you are hovering over looks like what you'd expect for an affluent wealthy man of fame and fortune with no appreciable taste to live. Mansion seems inadequate, it's more of a modernist estate, veneer of respectability your sensors and scanners tell another story. The entire building is interwoven with technology of a sort that should be highly uncommon in this time period, and deeply shielded beneath is an entire complex, where the beginnings of a terrible future are already stirring.

Suddenly an alarm goes off, and out of the grounds a pair of hunter-killer missiles are launched, aimed directly at you. It would seem you've been noticed, and identified as the threat that you are.

Rex
Taking the energy for an incoming attack (if they were any good at this, they wouldn't be minions), and open fire, the shots ricocheting of your shield with predictable results. On the helicopter, there is a bustle of activity as a couple of them try to deploy the portable EMP device. That, at least, could cause problems.


Kos-Mos

Her eyes narrow as he hits the throttle on her bike in an attempt to move past the missiles as fast as possible while her back shifts to reveal six black holes in her back. From these holes her own set of missiles are fired at the hunter missiles with her MFShot.

Rex

Seeing the EMP that they were preparing Rex says, "Oh, that's not good. Better put a stop to that."
With that Rex lets the Block Party retreat into his skin before he materializes the punk busters on his feet.
http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20121222171818/generatorrexpedia/images/8/8e/Punk_Busters.png

Jumping as high into the air Rex positions himself above the chopper as he materilizes another machine. This time around his arms. These goons get to get reintroduced to Rex's Smack Hands.
http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120213145412/generatorrexpedia/images/f/f9/Smack_Hands.png

The two psuedo fist come together and then down on the helicopter to try to slam in to the ground were the other mooks were.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Huh. Mister fancy future boy didn't know who hired us. Go figure.

Deadpool scratches the back of his head a little. I guess that makes sense...I mean, I'm not getting paid anyways...

Well, good luck then, Nate. Probably gonna need it.

Deadpool hangs up the phone and takes a moment to collect himself before turning to Slade.

So, yeah, I think I'm gonna let you handle this one on your own. He'll pat Deathstroke of the shoulder a few times. You're a big boy, you can handle it.

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Nocturne

Talia nods a little. Yeah, my previous job had moments like that. I'm used to it by now. Of course, that didn't mean she liked it. Just that she'd do it if she knew she had to.

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X-23

Laura stares at Felicia for a brief moment, then gives a quick nod.

Fine.

She turns back to the monitor. Thank you Oracle. Then back to Felicia. Let's go.

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Cassie

Cassie gives a chuckle. Hey, as long as you're dead, who cares how, right?

And as soon as she sees the opening, she goes for it, aiming another power swing for the side of his skull.

[Cracklord]

Deathstroke
For a moment something fierce and savage gleams in Slade's eye. It's gone so quick you can't even be sure it was there, but in it's place is a terrible coldness, so bleak and pitiless outright hate would almost be better. "Having doubts, are we? Do you think you can stay neutral in this, or are you just scared of a decision?" He asks coldly, cutting into the flesh of his finger by accident, and flicking away a few drops of blood before the flesh knit back together. Uncharacteristic, he's usually far more careful. "Sure, I can handle this. But lets talk about you, caught between blood and friendship. People go on and on about it, write it into songs and stories and whatever and play it for drama, but just like anything that people try to express in art, it's all blown out of proportion. Because divided loyalties are actually pretty simple, when you get down to brass tacks. Make a decision and stick to it. Trying to avoid fighting is the cowards defense, and it leaves you with no friends at all, because when you stay out of a fight, both sides knows they can't depend upon you. You don't want to fight them, then you better be ready to fight me. Because at the end of the day, you have to betray somebody, or you're just betraying both sides."
Slade drops the gun, a bit annoyed. He wanted to be shooting at Cable about now, and instead he's trying to force his brother into shape by what he sees as tough love, and anyone outside context would see as over-bearing manipulation, all the more horrifying because Slade honestly thought that it was for his brothers best. Slade loved his family, but in a controlling, slightly mad way that inevitably led to damage."You don't want to be a Wilson? Fine. I'm your brother, and I care because I pretty much have to, but don't let me hold you back. But if you do leave, then tell me this, brother, where else are you going to go, because you aren't cut out to be alone. So where? The X-men don't care, you're the wrong species. They'll shelter any mass-murderer if he happens to have the right genes, but you're vanilla human just like me. Cable's a great friend, as long as all you want to do is whatever he happens to think is a good idea, and you don't hold him back from that, but cross him on anything and see how that turns out. And where else are you going to turn, got many offers? Or you going to do solo grunt work again, that's so far beneath you?" Slade shakes his head. "Well that's not enough for me, but if that's what you want to settle for, be my guest. I'll call in someone else."
Slade turns his phone on without looking down, and scales through his list of contacts, thinking, still not looking down. He wants to keep this in the family, and so his choices are somewhat limited. Jericho would be out of place, he hadn't really got around for impressing the right sort of mindset on the boy yet, and Rose still hated him in just about every way. That wasn't really a problem, he had plenty of mind-control nanites, but he didn't have time to reprogram her psyche into something easily controllable. So blood wasn't an option. Well, he could work with that. He has a few long-term protege/apprentices in the works who might benefit from this. Yes. That was just the thing.
Scrolling down to X, he pressed the call button, pointedly not looking at his brother at all.

Spider-man
The sun shone magnificently through the equally magnificent city and its towering skyscrapers of mirrored glass. He could feel the blood rush through his body and his heart pump rapidly from the constant and rapid motion, and his head was starting to throb ever so slightly from the physical exertion of it all. And yet none of that bothered him in the least, any more then it ever did.
Nothing could ruin his mood today.
As the Amazing, Sensational, Spectacular Spider-Man swung across the city back to his apartment, all the while feeling the sheer exhilaration that came from swinging so fast through the city, he was convinced that there was not a thing here in the big apple that could possibly detract from his day in any way. The reason for that was simple: today was his birthday, 25th to be precise. Hard to imagine, but Peter Benjamin Parker was twenty-five years old on this very day. Just about a decade of being Spider-Man had gone by. It felt like so much longer, too. It felt like decades had passed instead of just one. Still, it was a long long time nonetheless. Hard to believe, too, that he was still Spider-Man. Once upon a time, he didn't picture himself growing old under the webs. Though, twenty five was hardly old, right?
Life was good. He had a wonderful wife, a family, and a vocation. That's a lot more then a lot of people had. So it was that his swing back home was an especially exhilarating one, which he chose to express by swinging by in a more robust and flamboyant manner than usual. What could he say? He was a show-off sometimes. If he didn't like the attention, than he would have been a fireman.
And as he swung, he looked out at the majestic city facing him, marveling at its grand scope like he did every day, as he navigated through its many skyscrapers with the practiced ease that came from almost a decade of web-swinging. Today, life was good.

[Draxx]

Michael
"Maybe he's some other faction trying to muscle in now that Management is in shambles." Sam offers with a shrug. "They left a big hole, a scramble for power is more or less inevitable. Only question is, does he represent an already established power looking to expand, or someone new who sees an opportunity?"

Fi tilts her head. "Could be anyone. You're like a celebrity to these people. Did he say what he wanted, or did he play the mysterious angle?"

Oracle
Zinda doesn't even hesitate, despite the lack of material you've provided. The first thing the Birds of Prey learn is to trust you implicitly. "Right. Keep me appraised." She says, then turns sharply and heads over to Gotham airbase, where your newest plane is kept. Zinda is an exceptional pilot, however you still seem to go through them faster then you'd prefer. That's the strike force taken care of.

Among the X-men, one of Scott's nicknames is Fearless Leader, and he looks the part, standing there. His build is flat and powerful, jaw set and speaks of determined resolution. Perhaps he's not the obvious one to lead, not the most intelligent, the most powerful or even the most charismatic or focused on the cause, but nonetheless it's clear why they do look up to him. He's got the serious, no-nonsense look required for all principals and headmasters. He doesn't offer a greeting, he just leans back in his office chair and lets you do the talking.

Slade and Deadpool
Cable does not materialize in an explosion of psychic powers and bullets. That would be too easy. No doubt he will get involved, this is exactly the sort of behavior that led to the future he came to avert, but he's biding his time. Waiting for the opportune moment to strike. And incidentally, giving the two of you a chance to thrash out your issues.

Tommy
Your a bit out of your usual expertise, dealing with all this mystical kung-fu. Everyone else seems to take certain things as entirely self-explanatory, while you're left trying to puzzle them out. After the meal, the women head to sweat lodges to swelter, then roll naked in the snow when they're done, it being the resident method of keeping clean.

The cells you sleep in (as in a monk cell, not a prison cell) are actually fairly comfortable. There's rugs on the floor and tapestries on the walls to keep out the chill, and there's a selection of satin cushions that can be arranged into something like a bed by the arrangement of pushing them all into a pile. There's also a shelf where meticulously copied scrolls have been stacked, detailing the lives and histories of the previous bearers of title of Immortal Weapon. And as is the way of such things, doubts begin to creep in as you see the legacy stretching before you.

It's strange, looking at them all, and knowing if you prove yourself one day you'll have a scroll of your own. That you won't be remembered for being a Power Ranger, or for any of the achievements in your life so far, but a completely blank slate you'll be expected to fill yourself. You've been given an opportunity to transcend to a world of pure martial arts, but is it really what you want?

Nocturne
"Good on you." Jack says, taking you out of the room, and back into the hallway, after nodding to Doctor Harper. Closing the door behind him, he shrugs, and seems about ten pounds lighter. "Well, we're not all here, so three more stops then I'll sign you into the mainframe and you're one of the club. Now, the next one is a little… strange. In a different way to everyone else, I mean." He warns. "But what can you do?"

The next room is as large as any of the others, but it doesn't feel that way. All the clutter. Against one wall there were set many clay and porcelain jars, all of different sizes. Some had lids fastened on them, with wax sealing their rims, while others had been left open and ere contributing to the strange smell that hung in the air, not unpleasant, but sharp and bittersweet, of spices mingling with incense and chemicals. One jar had a picture of an ancient warship engaged in a fierce battle depicted on it. Many seashells were tacked up on the wall, arrayed in a complex pattern of shapes and colors. Indecipherable runes had been inscribed all around them, in electric blue and reddish brown against the rooms natural sterile white. In one corner, large round stones, each one draped in a cloak of green moss, were set out to enclose a square full of small pearl-white pebbles. There was a skeleton of a great beast lying in this enclosure, and though you can't tell exactly what sort of creature it had been, it would have been large enough to swallow you whole without the need of the many fangs in it's jaws. Tiny green lizards sit on the ribs or skull, or scamper around the other parts, making their home among the bones.

And in between these tiny bastions of inexplicable reason and order, there was what could politely be called a mess, although such an inadequate word didn't really do it justice. It was a chaotic jumble of trinkets, broken toys and symbols from every place and era. Treasures of the Orient, broken fragments of monuments from Egypt, and reliquaries treasured by sacred orders were all mixed together in a mess, along with ten thousand less easily identifiable things, from the statues the Aztecs built to honor the gods to the paintings found in Australia of the Dreaming Time.

"And lo, a savior does appear before me." Came a voice that was high and proud, and a dark and lovely woman of ancient craft stepped into view. She was dressed in white robes with a vaguely Roman feel to them, and jewelry that seemed more Egyptian then anything, or maybe something even older. "One wearing the form of a devil no less. I am Promethea, She of dreams and flickering beliefs, brought about to bring the end of this age of suffocating conformity, and save humans from themselves."

James Bond
It's not an impressive building. Indeed, it could pass for any small business headquarters, a receptionist, a water cooler and a hideous potted plant. She looks up at you, smiles sweetly, and asks if she can help you.

X-23
Felicia takes you down to her garage, where she keeps her gadgets, weapons, and toys that she needs for the various paths her life has taken, kept here in case it becomes useful again someday. A few alternate costumes, her safe-cracking gadgets, weapons, cables and whips for swinging across buildings, it's all there. And, of course, the various iterations of the Catcycle. She walks past a few older models before settling on one that's a lovely matt black, and looks so highly advanced it doesn't even need an engine. You're not thrilled about the cat-theme, but Felicia seems to see it as inevitable. "Hop on." She says, tossing you a helmet (yes, cat themed), and tossing a leather jacket over her leather bodysuit.

Danny Rand
The boardroom of Randcorp is a floor below your office, where the minority stockholders can meet with you and discuss the companies direction and future. It's a big room, with a huge window through which all of New York can be seen. And in it is a long table, where you can all be seated for discussion. Most of the investors and stockholders are there already, you notice.

Rex
You hit the helicopter like a thunderbolt, ripping it in half and watch it smash against the unforgiving pavement, more or less dealing with the problem of the EMP, and sending the rest of the cultists heading for the hills. AIM recruits intelligent people, but they are brainwashed intensely for loyalty, not initiative, and it reduces them to a kind of herd mentality. So what now?

Kos-Mos
The missiles are keyed into your energy signature, and unerringly follow you as you attempt to take evasive actions, darting around them. Quickly activating your weaponry, you blow them out of the sky, the logical response to dealing with hunter-killer weaponry. The missiles crash into each other and explode in the sky, creating a pair of massive fireballs and raining debris down on the house. That's the aggressive portion of the the security system dealt with. But now, he knows you are coming, and will be ready for you. The longer you wait, the longer Governator will have to get prepared, and the more nasty surprises you can expect.

[Cracklord]

James Bond
James Bond turns, his tuxedo tailored to him so well that when he turns it ripples organically and the sheer stylishness of it nails her to the spot for a moment. "Certainly." He replies, giving her a smile so suave and charming it could stop a bullet, and casually walking over to her desk. "I'd like to speak to the local director as soon as possible, in a matter of some urgency. And after that, I'd like to get into touch with someone who knows the city, and can show me around a little, maybe help me get acclimatized."

Danny Rand
Danny adjusts his jacket calmly and walks over to the head of the table, picking up a glass of water and draining it in two swallows as he does. This all feels like a waste of time to him, but he supposes it has to be done, so that people can get on with the real work.
"So has everyone though the folder?" Danny asks, resting his hands on the table. "As you can see, it carries a few risks, but it even conservative speculation makes it clear that the opportunities should more then cover the expenses." He spreads his arms. "Open table. Lets hear what you all think, any doubts or concerns, any suggestions."

Slade Wilson
When weapon X lost their first batch of subjects, they went back to formula, then tried again, using genetic codes and tissue samples to attempt to clone their earlier successes, rebuilding them in entirely new subjects. A clean slate, if you will. X-11 (currently calling himself Red X) was made by grafting treated body parts onto the son of one of the chief scientists, a boy named Johnny. Between accelerated again, memories that were not his own, and an out of control healing factor, the boy went quite understandably psychotic. However, there had also been a lack of drive or direction to him, a sad sort of wandering that served no real purpose.
He worked for the mob for a while, trying to impress a girl of all things, until the inevitable betrayal. Then he'd tried out life as a vigilante, marking those he caught with a slash across the face, then cutting rather deeper the second time around. But ultimately he gave that up as well, simply because the only satisfaction was in the violence, not the cause. He tried out as a thief, then an 'anti-hero', and then he ran into Deathstroke, who saw potential in the boy. Slade had taken him on as an apprentice, offering him shelter, guidance, and an outlet for his violent impulses. Slade might prefer to work alone, but he was getting on in the years. He wanted a successor, someone to take on the legacy after he was done with it, the one he'd spent his life building. And since his own kids seemed to be uninterested no matter what he resorted to, Psychotherapy, drugs, hypnosis, implanted identities, brainwashing, then a partial imperfect clone would have to do.

[darkblade]

Michael

"Mysterious, he's going to call back and set up a meeting in a public place. So regardless of who he works for he at least knows what he is doing." Michael shakes his head as he pulls the car into the first motel they see.

***

Tommy

Tommy could not care less for being remembered. Very few people even knew he was a Power Ranger, most of them Rangers themselves. All he wanted in life was to see the world safe from everything that wants to conquer or destroy it, of which there is no shortage.

As a Power Ranger he can't do that alone, he needs a team but as an Immortal Weapon he would be in a position to better fight whatever threats face the world. As such he spends a few hours before bed reading through the scrolls (what he can read anyways his Chinese isn't that great). Searching for anything on Lightning Lords.

((Unless it's a Legion of Superheroes era villain I have no idea myself as to what he is supposed to look for.))

***

Oracle

"Scott. I have come into a bit of intelligence that concerns you. The Wilson brothers have been contracted to take out the X-Men. They already made a move on Wolverine and will be coming for you soon." Barbara explains through her digital mask. Even if she fights crime from home it's just for the best that she keep her identity hidden, less it be used against her and every other superhero on the planet.

***

Pure Evil One

The baseball bat connects to the side of his skull. The goatman passes out groaning. Looks like you can finally put this guy out of your misery.

[Draxx]

Tommy
You lie on your impromptu bed and stare up at the ceiling. It's been one of those days where upon consideration you cant be exactly sure what happened. For starters, so what is a Lightning Lord? You've never heard of one before, which is probably the first part of the challenge. It's a big world, full of interesting people. The odds of stumbling into the right one in a city as big as Shang-hai must be utterly astronomical. And maybe that's the point. Maybe your supposed to demonstrate your intelligence, cunning, ingenuity and dumb luck by figuring it out with nothing more then a name.

Maybe it's the mystic locations prompting, maybe it's your connection to the shared history of the mystic Power Rangers and the magic in your own composition, or perhaps it's just nerves and has no more significance then most dreams do. But when you sleep, you find yourself wandering a world of ash and smoke, blasted and burned so hot that the stones have run together like hot wax. And in the sky above, black dragons coil and writhe.

Oracle
Scott isn't thrilled to hear this. He just looks tired, a man who is sick of having to fight for the right to exist, sick of being made a victim, sick of watching everything turn to ash the second it looks like he's made some sort of progress. You can't really blame him.

Things had been getting better, there was a lot of good will towards mutants in the days after the destruction of Genosha a little while back. Genosha, off the coast of Africa near Madagascar, had been a haven, a nation of Mutants where they would be safe from any intolerance or persecution. It was originally run by the Genegineer, who enslaved and oppressed mutants, Genosha was granted to mutants as a sovereign soil and an official homeland where they could seek asylum by the United Nations, under the rule of Magneto. After he held the whole planet hostage with its own magnetic field, that is.

Magneto rebuilt the country as a haven for mutants of all nationalities, but for a long time it failed as a social experiment. All the farms, plantations, industries and businesses were owned by the humans who were forced to evacuate—they were run by mutant slave labor, and the former slaves don't want to work there any more. But the new citizens of Genosha weren't farmers, or industrial workers either, and by the time it had been brought to something approaching cohesion…

Well, by then it wasn't of interest except from a 'might-have-been' perspective. Suddenly there was sympathy where before there had only been hate, for reasons that aren't hugely difficult to work out; being faced with the realities of what occurred, the fire and the mass graves and all that death, everyone had to realize that even though they’re not a single race, when you start targeting them, it’s still genocide.

Mutations started in the Fifties and haven’t stopped since aren’t just another minority that can be shopped aside in the Gallup polls. They’re universal; more so than race or religion. 'Mutant' is a truly new category, and when the world at large saw a million of them incinerated by the Super Sentinels on the evening news…

But then things went bad. Scarlet Witch developed a brain tumor and coupled with the pressure she was under and the tragedies she had gone through she snapped, losing control of her powers and all but doing away with mutants completely. Now they're hovering on the brink of extinction, and people have remembered that no matter whether or not you can relate to someone as a person, anyone who can fly and shoot fireballs out of his eyes is still someone you'd rather avoid.

But they'd come through that as well, persevering. What choice did they have? More mutants showed up, the numbers were on the rise, and they were more stable then they'd ever been. The rifts had mostly been dealt with amongst the visionaries and intellectuals who had always guided them all, the Institute was open again, and then suddenly he gets called to be told they were being targeted again. "Thanks for the warning. I'll put the school in lockdown, and put everyone on High Alert. We'll be ready for him." He pauses, looking a little uncomfortable. "What else can you tell me?" He blurts out after a moment, a muscle twitching in his upper lip. "I mean, who is targeting us, and why are they doing it?"

Michael Weston
You leave the suburbs, finding a hotel near a public park. The place is clean and comfortable, the rates agreeable, and the service reasonably prompt, and there aren't many other guests so you can keep the paranoia reasonably down. People in the espionage game tend to get uncomfortable around strangers. Too many variables to keep track of.

After an hour, your phone rings again. And again, Jesse's phone.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool brings a hand up to scratch his head a little.

After all you and Cable have been through, can you really go against him like this?

Plus, you know he'd totally kick your ass. You know it.

Deadpool sighs a little. Okay. I'm making a decision and sticking with it. And that decision is...

To not be here. Sorry, brother, but I can't do this. Too much history with some of the people there. And, frankly, I'm kinda of scared of some of them.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia was so engrossed in the decor that she didn't realize the woman was there until she spoke. Which made her jump a little.

Oh, um, hello. I am Talia Wagner. Pleased to meet you. She'll hold out a three-fingered hand to shake.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

The cat themed wouldn't be her first choice, but given the situation, she won't complain at all. No reason to, really.

Laura places the helmet firmly on her head before swinging a leg over the bike, behind Felicia's seat. Once Felicia is seated, Laura will keep a firm grip for the ride. She doesn't want to fall off at all. She'd live, but it would hurt. And cost time.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie strides over to the body, obviously happy that he's down. Then she'll bring the bat up over her head and swing it straight down at his.

[darkblade]

Michael

Michael answers the phone. "Alright when and where?"

***

Tommy

Tommy wanders the apocalyptic dreamscape. Watching the vaguely sinister dragons filling the sky. He remembers a fable that dragons and tigers were supposed to be spiritual rivals, why would he be seeing dragons in the temple of the Tiger?

***

Oracle

"President Luthor. As for why, I got nothing he has too many plots that overlap it's hard to make out any real endgame." Barbara admitted reluctantly.

[Cracklord]

Slade Wilson
For a moment you think he's just going to let you go without a word, then he sighs, and gets to his feet, quickly telling the person on the other end where to be in an hour, then turning off the phone. He can worry about that later. He walks over, seeming a little old and brittle, reaches into one of the pouches at his belt and hands you the keys to the car. "Fair enough. You'd better get out of here then, this place is about to be Ground Zero." He tells you blandly, squeezing you shoulder once to let you know there's no hard feelings. "Might be a good idea to get out of state, actually. Luthor gets petty when people stop following his orders, and if he gets petty you might be in trouble. I'll look you up when I'm done, we can crack a beer and I can tell you what you missed." He tells you, then heads over to the car and finishes unloading. It's about as amiable a parting as you could hope for.

[Draxx]

Tommy
Great clouds roiled and flashed with thunder and lightning, black as the pits of hell. A great gold lion with flashing red eyes rampaged through the sky, fiercely attacking the dragons, tearing them apart in a blaze of sparks. The dragons mauled and savaged the lion, but it fought back with unearthly ferocity, tearing one apart after another. Terrible flames licked and cascaded about the lion's body, its scything claws dealing swift death, its great maw rending and devouring all who stood before it.

Then there was a roar that shook the heavens and the greatest of the dragons descended from the sky, talons lashing out at the tiger's face and jaws closing around it's neck as they wrestled for supremacy. The duel they fought was horrible and primeval, unlike anything you've seen before. The dragon, larger than the lion, had unconquerable strength and skill, it had destroyed it's kin and scattered their bones to reach the perfection it now exhibited, proud king of a mighty tribe of dragons who had devoured their world and now searched for others to consume, all of whom looked upon him as leader and protector. It's roar shook the pillars of heaven, announcing its arrogance to the world. But the lion fought back with vigor and determination, with heart and with pride, unwilling to secede and refusing to die.

The two wounded each other many times, but were unwilling and unable to back down- the lion could not leave the duel, mastered by its pride; the dragon would not back down from any foe, for too much was at stake. To their last breaths they would fight.

It's then that you recognize the Lion. The spirit of Dai Shi, the monster who was defeated a handful of years ago by Camille, Jarrod and Dominic. The dragons you can't be sure about, but some sense warns you that if either break free, the world will have need of you again, perhaps greater then ever before. You awake in a cold sweat. Your watch tells you that ten minutes has passed. It feels like longer.

Michael
"Personally, I feel like Sushi. Did some work in the land of the rising sun once, and developed a taste for it. Then again, I could do Lebanese, maybe a curry. What would you prefer?" He says, seeming all the more determined to draw out the conversation now that you've been short with him, all affable and chipper. "You could use a free meal. Last time I saw you, you were looking all lean and hungry. Might as well take the opportunity."

Oracle
"Don't apologize, you've been more then helpful. You've given us some warning, and told us who to hit back." Scott says, holding up his hands and meaning every word. "Thanks for everything. And if you can, I'd appreciate it if you could try and find out anything more about what Luthor is planning on sending our way."

Nocturne
"Charmed, daughter that could-have-been had fate been kinder, and your parents meeting been free of strife." She says, taking your hand and shaking it. As you touch her, you suddenly feel free and unconstrained. Your thoughts and imagination seems limitless in scope, brushing the beyond, a tremendous, shining answer seems to form in your head, so perfect yet impossible to explain or articulate, and anything, anything seems possible. Then she lets go and the feeling recedes a little, although it doesn't go away entirely. The taste of purplish-green lingers on your tongue, and you can smell of morning sunsets.

The woman is a little strange, to say the least. She reminds you of the crazies who used to be part of the Doom patrol more then anything, in that she seems to represent a concept more then a fully realized individual. "You are of us as well, though you do not know it. But we have just met, and there will be time to instruct you when you are ready. In the mean time, you must decide who you are. Belief matters more than truth. Every moment, belief in imaginary things alters lives while truth sits unnoticed and waits."

Then there's a kind of implosion, something sucking in on itself, and the tall imperious woman is gone, replaced by a more normal looking woman, about your height with dark hair, a face that was slightly too thin to be conventionally beautiful, and glasses. She smiles, and gives you a little wave. "Hello. I'm Sophie Bangs. I'm the host for Promethea. At the moment, I mean."

X-23
You have a moment to get yourself secure before the engine roars to life with a full-throated rumble, and the bike kicks beneath you, heading out of the garage on a speed that borders suicidal. Felicia drives like one possessed, spending half the time on the sidewalk, weaving through cracks in the traffic that would only accommodate the very slimmest of credit-cards, showing complete disregard to trafficlights, occasionally driving through buildings instead of along roads, and at one point giving up on roads altogether and with some complex maneuvers navigating an entire block by leaping from roof to roof. You'd wondered how she planned to get there so quickly. It seems you've been answered.

After twelve minutes and God alone knows how many brushes with death, or at least calamity, you're at the private runway at the back of JFK airport, where a plane with the famous emblem of the Blackhawks is even now settling down. That'll be the taskforce Oracle promised. Dinah Lance steps out, and offers you a smile. You smell two others on the plane, both female. Dinah is beautiful, prettiest girl in the state rather then the town, dressed in leather and fishnets, with long blond hair (she dyes it).

The Shadow
Moments seem to stretch into days as the monstrously heavy and large table flies towards you, propelled by the Kingpin as though it weighed nothing at all, interposed between you and your prey. If it hits you, the weight will knock you down like a skittle and probably throw in broken bones. And you can feel him moving, putting some further attack into motion while he has the advantage.

Dermott Arkane
James 'Jimmy' Olsen, photographer, amateur detective, cosmic plaything and master of disguise (at least he looks surprisingly convincing dressed in drag) might have got this together, but he doesn't seem a part of the proceedings, so much as an invested observer, a little apart from it all. When he sees you coming he waves you over, moving aside to make room on the wall he's leaning against. "Evening." He offers pleasantly, adjusting his coat and bow-tie. "Something you wanted to ask me?"

[darkblade]

Pure Evil One

The goat like skull shatters under the force of the blow exploding rather violently for simple blunt force trauma. The sword twists back into it's book shape. It is quite obviously full of bad mojo and shouldn't just be left on the streets.

***

Tommy

Not wasting any time Tommy begins to search through the ancient scrolls looking for any pictures of those dragon things. Dai-Shi was bad but he knew the gist of that story, one of the great evil generals from the Great Morphing Grid War ten thousand years ago. Sealed by the Pai Zhuq masters.

Those dragons were new to him though and what you don't know will probably hurt you.

***

Oracle

"I'll keep you informed. Now I hope you don't mind but I am sending in a team to try and intercept them before they reach the school." Oracle informs Scott. Even if he does protest she will still put her team on the ground. Too much is at stake to not do everything she can.

***

Michael

"Sushi sounds pretty good." Michael says giving Sam the cue to start searching through the yellow pages for every Sushi restaurant in the area. They probably won't have time for much but a little telephone recon is better than nothing.

[Draxx]

Oracle
As expected, Scott shakes his head. "I appreciate the offer, and all you've done already, but we can handle ourselves. Trust me, the last thing we need is backup." He doesn't mean to sound dismissive or rude, he's just trying to establish boundaries, and make it clear that he regards his responsibilities as his own.

Tommy
You grab a scroll at random, speed reading, looking for some reference to dragons. The scrolls are the histories of the Tiger's chosen, the long unbroken line since the eight heavenly cities were founded and the style perfected, long, long ago. History, parable and myth all woven together as a sort of instruction in the ways of the school. In the scrolls, the themes of Buddhism are mixed with sorcery and mysticism, with folklore and other, not immediately identifiable themes. And yet the lesson always is.

You scan some dozen. The Tiger who took the Emperor's Seal. The Bridge in the South-lands. The Flames that tried to burn the Red Chamber. Xiang Yu, who split the heavens. The conflicts are often allegorical or metaphorical, demonstrated more for the sake of demonstrating some esoteric aspect to martial arts then historic record. You're almost ready to look else where when you find a passing reference to something that might just have the answer you need. In a forgotten part of Nepal, the seventeenth tiger King Mu saw through a gate of tears a world of ash and smoke, where all had been consumed. Knowing it to beyond both the reaches of heaven and the many hells he had traveled through already, he named it the third dimension. That sounds very close to what you saw yourself. Though why was Dai Shi there? You thought he had been destroyed…

Michael
He chuckles at what he seems to perceive as a shift in attitude for the better. "I knew you had good taste. There's a lovely little Sushii train downtown. Be there in two hours, I'm buying. Then we can discuss my proposition in detail."

Sam rests his finger on a spot in the White Pages. "Found it. Two hours isn't long to scope it out and make sure everything is kosher, but it's a start."

[darkblade]

Oracle

"This is not about coddling the special kids Summers." Babs snaps. "This is about capturing two internationally wanted mercenaries with direct ties to Luthor's criminal activities. I would like to do it with the X-men's cooperation but I won't hesitate to move on my own."

***

Team Westen

From the hotel phone Fi calls the restaurant. "Hello? This is Marcy from the Fire Department. I have received some reports that your restaurant is ill equipped for an emergency. I either need a floor plan and fire evacuation plan faxed to 555-435-5332 or I'm going to have to come in and shut you down for an inspection tonight."

***

Tommy

Ancient Evils do have a tendency not to stay dead. That is probably how they ended up being ancient in the first place. Dai-Shi's potential resurrection is not all that surprising.

Hopefully this Dragon would remain sealed for a few more nights, Tommy needs to get some rest if he doesn't want to be killed by Tiger's Daughter in training tomorrow. As such he sets the scrolls down and tries to get a few hours sleep without any prophetic dreams.

[AnimeKid]

Rex

Looking after the fleeing AIM agents Rex contemplates going after them to bring them in. But in the end decides that since these were just mooks, brainwashed mooks at that it wouldn't really help them find out anything. While Rex did wish he could save them he also knew that truly saving them would be impossible until the big bad was put in his place. Following that logic Rex materialized his Boogie Pack once again and flew off towards Utah in order to investigate the dimensional displacement Doc Irons told him about.

KOS-MOS

Time, that was one thing that she could not allow the Governator to have. As it stood now she was already at a disadvantage. No need to handicap herself even more. Setting her bike to auto-pilot and using her scanners to calculate where the Governator is within the large structure or failing that where he would most likely be jumped off of her bike. The bike would find a suitable area to wait for her until her business was done. She was falling towards the targeted area of her scanners. While it was a several meter high drop it wouldn't even be enough to scratch her. With the alloys that made up her body she could possibly even survive atmospheric re-entry.

Locked on with her destination she flares both arms out so that they transform producing her fairly large and sturdy R-Drill attachments. Sending the drill into a spinning frenzy she prepared to dive though the house like a hot knife through butter.

[Draxx]

Michael Westen
As soon as the threat is made, the woman suddenly doesn't speak much English, and can't adequately understand you, except to spout a few badly-butchered pigin phrases like protective talismans. What's worse, apparently she doesn't speak Japanese either, or perhaps any codified and standardized method of communication at all. Stereotypes can be a dangerous thing, when used against you. After a few more moments confused babbling, she hangs up, leaving you no wiser.

Tommy
You sleep deeply and restfully for the rest of the night, at least by comparison. You aren't troubled by any more dreams, at least none that you remember. An unknown time later (no clocks in this city) you're woken up by the sound of a gong being rung, to a room that is still dark. The sun hasn't risen yet, and all other means of light are snuffed. Glancing around, you see that all your possessions, including your clothes, have been removed. You're a fairly light sleeper, but you certainly didn't notice anyone come in during the night. The red robes of an apprentice are laid out for you, and the scrolls have been carefully reordered and put back on the shelf. In the handful of seconds it takes you to get lucid and notice all this, the gong is struck again, it's deep, reverberating note ringing in your ears.

You hope that's the call to breakfast. Somehow, you doubt it.Your body aches a little from yesterday, climbing a mountain is no mean feat. Already, you can tell that it's going to seem like childsplay after what Tiger's Beautiful Daughter puts you through.

Oracle
"Don't patronize me." He snaps right back, leaning forward and placing his hands on the desk. Scott's become so used to being in charge, he doesn't like people questioning his authority. "A couple of maniacs with guns? For us that's a Thursday. You want to question them after we deal with them or whatever, fine by me, but I'm not having anyone else walking around the school, worrying the students and messing up security. Not at the moment." He says, the tilt to his jaw slightly defiant, a man who knows he's being unreasonable but is compelled not to budge. You're not going to talk any sort of sense into him. But when has lack of permission stopped you before?

Kos-Mos
Your bike flies off to do it's thing, and you jump free, dropping through the air to crash into the roof, the drills that may pierce the very heavens tearing through the inadequate frame like wet tissue paper. You barely needed them, momentum alone would have gotten you through, and so you make your entrance, with splintering timbers and a rain of terracotta tiles you crash right through and into the office room bellow, landing on the desk and stomping on the computer, as well as scattering papers. An alarm blares, and steel shutters slide over the windows and doors, as the house enters lock-down mode. Strange. Security measures you expected, but this all feels more in line with a former, relatively insignificant politician then a robotic overlord from the future.

You glance around the office again, but there's no sign of him. Not that it matters, you know where he's gone. The only place he can go. Underground. Where it's all kept. Getting down to the next floor, you see a massive safe door, that would take three strong men to pull open without even considering the formidable mechanisms that keep it locked. And through there, he'll be waiting for you, with every weapon he can use.

The Shadow
Wilson Fisk had been trying to buy time, keep you listening and distracted while he played for it with that old standby, the monologue. But that wasn't desperation, simply the best strategy he had for formulating a better one. He didn't buy enough time. So he reacts the only way left, with savagery. His massive appearance bellies his speed and skill. In a single, smooth moment he lifts the massive, stainless steel table twenty men had sat in conference around in an almost mythic feat of strength, then, sinews straining on his neck like mooring cables, swings his shoulders and tosses the whole thing at you, both imposing it between him and your bullets, and giving you a pressing matter to deal with. "There are no men like me. There is just me." He growls in his deep bass voice, the conversational tone completely missing. He's serious now.

Moments seem to stretch into days as the monstrously heavy and large table flies towards you, propelled by the Kingpin as though it weighed nothing at all, interposed between you and your prey. If it hits you, the weight will knock you down like a skittle and probably throw in broken bones. And you can feel him moving, putting some further attack into motion while he has the advantage.

Dermott Arkane
James 'Jimmy' Olsen, photographer, amateur detective, cosmic plaything, Superman's 'pal' and master of disguise (at least he looks surprisingly convincing dressed in drag) might have got this together, but he doesn't seem a part of the proceedings, so much as an invested observer, a little apart from it all. When he sees you coming he waves you over, moving aside to make room on the wall he's leaning against. "Evening." He offers pleasantly, adjusting his coat and the somewhat anachronistic bow-tie that bizarrely seems to suit him. "Something you wanted to ask me?

Rex
You take flight, waiting until you leave city outskirts before passing the speed of sound, and heading South. This thing has to be important right? Iron Man, or at least his representative said so.

Spider-man
As if to offset your unusual cheer and good form with a dose of cold, hard reality, a light buzzing begins in the back of your head, your much depended on but barely understood Spider-Sense. It's something big, though not by your standards difficult to handle.

Well, you don't have to be home for another hour…

James Bond
Flattered, and a little flustered by your overwhelming charm (rivaled only, perhaps, by former fellow super-spies Derek Flint and Matt Helm), the suddenly promoted from extra assistant volunteers for the job of showing you round extremely enthusiastically.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool nods a little. Might just do that. Oh, and remember, I thought this was a bad idea.

Well, you showed him.

Deadpool turns and hops into the car. He starts it and backs out, leaving this scene behind.

So, where to now, huh? Maybe a strip club?

Deadpool shakes his head. Nah, don't got any cash, remember?

Oh yeah...

So, how long will it be before you turn back?

What? Go back there? You crazy?

Well, seeing that I'm a voice in your head, I would guess the answer would be...maybe?

Regardless, do you really think you can leave this? You have your brother on one side, and Nate and Dom and a few others on the other. You're not gonna leave.

The real question would be, which side will you join?

Deadpool falls silent for a moment as he drives, then swears suddenly. Stupid identity crisis moments! I really hate you, you know that?

You hate your own headvoice? Wow...that explains many things, buddy...

Shut up!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia seems surprised at the woman's statements. And a little confused. Before she could question the woman further, however, her essence leaves the room.

Talia gives a small smile and wave back to Sophie. Hi. Talia Wagner. I have to ask...is she always that cryptic?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Before she even gets off the bike, Laura has taken in every visual detail she can about Dinah and the plane. Setting the helmet down, she gives a small nods in response to Dinah's smile. Part of her is curious as to who else is on the plane, and she'll try to make a guess from their scents alone.

Dinah Lance. Has Oracle told you what we are doing? Ah...no small talk. Right to business.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie will wipe some of the blood and gore from her bat onto the Pure Evil One's fur before going for the book.

Normally, she'd take the slasher's weapons and sell them at some pawn shop for a quick buck. However, given what she's seem this one do, that's obviously a bad choice. She's gonna need some outside help for getting rid of this one.

Ripping the top of one of her stockings off, Cassie covers her hand before grabbing the book. Experience taught her that just grabbing something like this with bare skin is probably bad.

[Cracklord]

James Bond
He thanks her for her offer and accepts, then makes a little more smalltalk, waiting for his meeting.

Spider-Man
His 'Spider-Sense' was at work again, warning him of nearby danger. Being Spider-Man, that meant that he was about to rush head-long into it. Needless to say, he doubted that his spider-sense was designed for that purpose, telling him when crimes for him to stop were happening, more likely it was to urge him to stay away from anything bad that was happening. And yet he ignored it when it did that. One could argue that that wasn't very bright of him, but he disagreed. With great power must come great responsibility.

He had time. And his friends and family would understand. Without a second thought, he heads directly for the commotion.

Slade Wilson
Slade watches him drive away in his car. The car, if you feel comfortable calling it that, is a modified old Army truck; the thing’s chasis is four feet off the ground, mounted on enormous all-terrain tires that look like they include lava, and could crush landmines without comment. It’s got an eight-foot flatbed, where what's left of the equipment is still packed neatly. Slade is frowning. For a single, vindictive moment, he considers detonating the explosives he didn't unload, then chuckles a little and leaves the detonator where it is, getting back on the job. There's a lot more work for one man to cover, and he's not…
He stares at the school again, and notes a few things. The way that suddenly the grounds are empty, and that the big reprogrammed Sentinels are showing vital signs. It doesn't take a genius to note that someone has tipped them off. It takes him a few moments to identify the most likely culprit, Cable. Well, that was irritating. The initial plan was compromised, but that didn't matter. He had others. The school was no longer an ideal target, at least until most of the offensive forces were drawn away. And that would be easy. They were after him now, all he had to do was lure them into a trap of his own, and simultaneously target the now vulnerable mansion.
The ideal location would be Jump City, where the bulk of his resources and allies were located. Jump City it was. Now, how to best lure them…
Slade puts down the guns, instead taking an enormous, broad-bladed axe, and strapping plenty of explosives across his chest, then a few gadgets to keep his options open. Prepared, he heads down to the mansion. The X-Men are not a military instillation. While some of them acted like one, they were a school, and there would be momentary confusion and panic as the preventative measures were put into place. Only a small window of opportunity, but if it was too large it would hardly be any fun. Now all he had to do was kidnap one of the younger ones. Easy. Of course, he no longer had any means of transportation. No matter, he could slow pursuit and give himself more time to prepare all at once, by making his way out through the hangar.
Feeling twenty years younger and significantly happier (though still a little unstable thanks to his loss of an asset) he makes his way towards the mansion.

[Draxx]

Nocturne
"No, that was pretty good by her standards." Jack replies with a quirk of his eyebrows. "Mostly I think she just wants the attention." You notice he hasn't actually stepped into the room with you this time, he's hanging in the hallway, watching but not actually crossing the threshold.

Sophie ignores Jack, and nods. "She must have liked you to have said so much. Promethea is…" She pauses a moment, and starts again. "Imagination, hope, belief and aspiration are part of Promethea, who is really just a representation of this huge human potential and spirituality. And she's chosen me to act through, to try and turn people back to what's important and away from everything they've built that holds them back." She says, with a sort of shrug. As explanations of superhero origins go, it's a little maddeningly unhelpful. Though if your brief contact is anything to judge by, any sort of expression about Promethea beyond pure conceptual would be difficult. "If you want to ask her, I could bring her out again…"

Slade Wilson
As you step onto the grounds, three separate alarms are triggered, as well as (no doubt), a few silent alarms you can't hear (even your ears don't get every frequency). And the big Sentinels decorating the grounds that look decommissioned begin to start flashing and grindingly turn towards you.

X-23
Black Canary tossed her head back with a sort of casual fierceness that seemed a tad out of place on a girl who looked like a pin-up model, though anyone who had seen her fight would be the first to vouch for her. "Beat up Deathstroke and his annoying brother, find out what they wants to attack the X-men for, and stop whatever it is they're planning?" She asks, stepping aside to let the two of you in, and admiring Felecia's motorbike with an experienced eye. Cat motif or not, it was a custom job with sleek lines and the sort of horsepower that was usually theoretical.

The plane is a smugglers rig, and a good one, a vehicle for one who has to go a long distance in a hurry and has no wish to be noticed. From the look of it, you'd say probably illegal, you'd also say fast. Very fast. The only other passenger is Huntress, former member of the Justice League, and the pilot is dressed in a Blackhawk uniform.

Deadpool
Wrestling with that question we all try to answer (who am I), and trying to figure out where whatever your principles are leave you in what is all in all a bastard of a situation, you pull onto the road and try to get used to driving a manual again. After a few minutes, your mobile phone rings again. Looks like Cable isn't done with you yet.

Bomb Queen
The first floor has gone from a pleasant, airy lobby with tasteful if a little dated decorations and an overall friendly atmosphere to an industrial mangle in the twenty five seconds it took the lift to bring you down. This would seem excessive, if you didn't spot the perpetrator in the process of disemboweling the security with a billhook.

It's not workers giving him trouble, or some idiot trying to start something he can't finish. You should be so lucky. The man is tall, and broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark leather surplus commissariat greatcoat, and a deathshead cap the Gestapo would have been proud to wear, along with what could generously be called a rape mask with the mouth zipped up, decorated with red slashes on the cheeks and across the throat. And in his hands, he's holding the sort of guns that are more dangerous then suitcase nukes. Custom jobs, firing specially modified bullets designed to punch through bunkers and out the other side.

Marshall Law. You've heard stories. He started out the way the worst ones do, a kid who wanted to be Captain America. Not that anything like that would ever have happened, the man was completely psycho, the sort of schizoid freak who would’ve ended up as a closet murderer, poisoning traveling salesmen or chopping up teenage girls.

Unfortunately, he went to Khe Sanh instead, and while he was at it volunteered for Shocc treatment. One more Surplus Artificially Created Metahuman. Came back home with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, superpowers, super-powers, and an axe to grind. No longer able to function in any environment besides the one he had been exposed to in 'Nam, he blamed just about everyone he could name for his circumstances and went on a methodical, carefully organized rampage, mostly targeting criminals but occasionally broadening his perspectives a little. In the nineties, he was actually deputized. And even by the standards of those days, he didn't keep the job long. He was too clearly unstable and dangerous, too willing to cross any line, and impossible to control.

He'd been terrorizing your city since a few years before your coup, and that entire time proven impossible to eradicate, like a small, annoying, insignificant insect that nevertheless refused to be crushed. And now, it seems, he's here with the intention of a throw-down.

[Cracklord]

Deathstroke
The confusion would work to his advantage, they were all following protocol and getting prepared, which gave him a tiny window to exploit. While the gaps in security were being plugged and the noncombatants being taken care of, he attacked, striking early before they were properly prepared. It would take them time to properly react. Not much time, however. He needed to move fast. Breaking into a run, he sprints up the front path as fast as he can, blowing the doors off the walls with an explosive tossed underarm and charging in through the front, silhouetted by fire and smoke. Once they organized, he didn't have a chance. He needed to kidnap a few hostages and get out of there in five minutes, if that. And he needed to keep moving. Taking in the surroundings at a glance, he heads up towards the dormitories, where most of the victims were to be found.

James Bond
After ten minutes and no further message, James Bond sighs and gets to his feet, neatly folding his newspaper and leaving it on the chair. Then he steps past the lobby into the offices. He'd just flown halfway across the world, and time was a factor.

[Draxx]

Deathstroke
The alarms intensify as you close in, and the mutants react far more smoothly then you'd anticipated. They get attacked a lot, and are used to spreading things out so that some of them are looking after the noncombatants and some of them are kicking ass. The security systems might not be a problem for you, but the X-men themselves are. By the time you're through the front door, three converge on you. The X-men number in the hundreds, but they are spread out and not all of them are here.

The first of the three who mean to fight you is Piotr Rasputin, better known as Colossus, a tall, muscular, good looking young man whose skin looked as though it had been coated in a fin layer of mercury with a slightly organic sheen, that is far more disturbing then it has any right to be. The metal covers everything, his hair, the inside of his mouth, even his eyes. He's very big, he towers above you, and looks tough enough to make you feel a bit like a hard-boiled egg.

Then there is Dazzler, not who you'd pick but apparently nonetheless part of the lineup, dressed in jeans, a shirt and with sparkling lights forming around her hands.

And to round it all off, Bishop is standing in front, big arms folded across his chest. The mutant known only as Bishop was born in an alternate timeline, where he was some sort of law-enforcement official or enforcer, you're not entirely clear. He's got more or less the same job in this timeline,
He's a big, dark man, with a stylized 'M' scarred over his eye, and a shaved head. He's wearing modified Special Forces gear with futuristic looking weapons and equipment, and steps to the front. "Deathstroke." He says, loudly enough to be heard. "I can see your here for a fight, and I'm willing enough to accommodate you. But it'd be better for all involved if you just left."

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool takes out his phone and puts it on speaker. He's only got two hands, you know.

Hey, don't you know it's dangerous to drive and talk on the phone at the same time? You're putting my life at risk here!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Upon seeing her adversary, Bomb Queen throws her head back and gives out a loud laugh.

Ha! Look who it is! Marshy! Bomb Queen will stroll forward a little, not showing any care in the world. Finally done with all your little attacks? Hm? Figure it's time to take on the big fish? Finally grew a pair and decided to come after me directly?

Her grin widens. Good. I was gettin' tired of chasing you. Only room for one of us in this town, buddy. Not even giving him time to reply, Bomb Queen quickly brings up an arm and fires an energy bomb at Marshall's face.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia thinks on that for a moment. That...sounds like a good thing.

So, besides channeling Promethea, what do you do around here?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Laura will give Huntress a nod in greeting before taking her seat in the plane.

Are we waiting for anybody else? Her voice makes her seem a tad bit anxious. Which is a lot, coming from her.

[Draxx]

Deadpool
Cable lets out a kind of fond sigh. "Yeah, what's new? Anyway, I wanted to say I'm proud of you. You always come through in the end. Now, I was hoping you could help me resolve this so neither side winds up getting wiped out. Tell me who hired you, then we can go and resolve it, and your brother will call it off." Nathan Dayspring Askani'son says, in that infuriatingly calm way of his. "If he's got no employer, he's got no contract, right?"

Bomb Queen
Marshal Law doesn't speak. He's practically famous for it, prefering to present the silent, harsh facade of an executioner, an extension of his personal brand of justice, only occasionally speaking in short, two syllable condemnations between barrages. He just shoots Scorpio with a custom bullet, then turns his guns on you. The bullet drills into him, stopping around the center of his mass, then for a few seconds everything goes quiet. Then he explodes, drenching a twenty feet wide circle in human blood and fluid, as well as tiny chunks of flesh and bone.

Then he charges towards you, firing all the time to try and take you down while making himself a slightly harder target. It doesn't take, and your first explosion knocks him off his feet and sends him flying. He's not particularly hurt, the point-blank explosive wasn't nearly large enough despite going off a foot from his face, but it did tear his mask to ribbons. He rips off what's left, then meets your eyes. You have no idea who he is, (not a billionaire athlete philanthropist, that's for sure) but he is distinctive.

If a Colt Peacemaker had a face, that face would be the face of Marshal Law. It’s all hard-lines; even the parts that should be rounded off are squared away into angles. Ridiculous as it is, even his eyes don’t look round. They're dead eyes, the iris and the pupil look painted-on, like the orb itself is made of marble. There isn't even disgust as he reaches into his jacket and somehow removes a bazooka that logic tells yous shouldn't have fitted in there.

Nocturne
"I'm just a occult and mythology geek. I liaison when dealing with paranormal artifacts and violent history, that sort of thing." She replies, brushing back her hair a little. "And sometimes I do research. That's pretty much it."

"You must be the new girl." Says a deep, warm voice, pleasantly accented with just a hint of scots. The man who steps in is definitely part of the new incarnation of Excalibur. His face is squarish and sharp-featured, with a prominent chin. He has big, well-muscled arms and a large torso with pronounced muscles. "My name is Miracleman."

You get a cold, tight feeling in your gut. You've seen some pretty brutalized worlds. It comes with the old job. Many of which it's better not to think about, but amongst the worst has to be the one built on the ruins of paradise and ruled by an unaging demagogue. A world that had been destroyed by Kid Miracleman. And ruled by a former hero. He was older, and virtually insane. But you'd recognize him anywhere.

X-23
The plane takes off smoothly, launching into the sky without the slightest jump or unsteadiness, so much so that you barely notice beyond some momentary acceleration. Lady Blackhawk is a hell of a pilot. Felecia vanishes to go stow her motorbike somewhere.

Dinah raises an eyebrow. "Do you really think we need anyone else?" She asks, then chuckles as Huntress gives her a glare. "What Black Canary is not telling you is that the plan is to meet up with the X-men and get any one else we might need as backup from there." Huntress tells you, standing up and stretching. She's been sitting down only an hour, but she already feels enclosed, like she's getting cramps. She gets up and walks over to you, as much to stretch as to make conversation easier. "Assuming the co-operate, anyway. No offense to you, but they tend to be tougher to reach common cause with then the mafia."

[industrious]

The Shadow
Wilson Fisk had been trying to buy time, keep you listening and distracted while he played for it with that old standby, the monologue. But that wasn't desperation, simply the best strategy he had for formulating a better one. He didn't buy enough time. So he reacts the only way left, with savagery. His massive appearance bellies his speed and skill. In a single, smooth moment he lifts the massive, stainless steel table twenty men had sat in conference around in an almost mythic feat of strength, then, sinews straining on his neck like mooring cables, swings his shoulders and tosses the whole thing at you, both imposing it between him and your bullets, and giving you a pressing matter to deal with. "There are no men like me. There is just me." He growls in his deep bass voice, the conversational tone completely missing. He's serious now.

Moments seem to stretch into days as the monstrously heavy and large table flies towards you, propelled by the Kingpin as though it weighed nothing at all, interposed between you and your prey. If it hits you, the weight will knock you down like a skittle and probably throw in broken bones. And you can feel him moving, putting some further attack into motion while he has the advantage.

The Shadow

The Shadow's eyes widen at the sight of the steel table flying towards him, but he does not hesitate. Does not flinch at the prospect of what is to come. He is certain in his deeds and his aims and his goals, and he will not be deterred.

He rushes foward then, towards the table, and dives through the conference table, underneath the flat surface that had gathered so many sinners around it a short time ago. His fingers remain fixed on the triggers of his weapons, and when he is clear of the obstacle, he turns to face the Kingpin once more.


Dermott Arkane

"Matterkos, Now!News Network. I'm covering this protest. Would you care to make a statement?"

[Draxx]

The Shadow
Wilson Fisk has not been idle in the moments the distraction brought him. Striding over to the wall, he hits the switch, and every light in the building dies, plunging you into complete darkness. There is no light at all, not even residual light from outside the building. It's as though you were suddenly engulfed in pitch.

Your other senses go crazy trying to compensate, your own breathing sounding like a drum in your ears, and your nose trying to make sense of everything at once. To your left somewhere there is a faint, unidentifiable scraping sound, but it's inconclusive.

Dermott Arkane
"Heard of you." Olsen replies with an easy sort of casualness, stepping away from the wall and staring at you thoughtfully. "Good local network, that. Well, I wouldn't say I speak for everyone here, the fact that they made the effort to come shows that they have their own voices and opinions. But I'll gladly give you something to quote, if that's what you want." He clears his throat. "My name is James Olsen, currently employed at the news conglomeration 'The Daily Planet', and Luthors presidency is unconstitutional and highly corrupt, perpetuating itself entirely to make the American people more dependent on him. Furthermore, he is a criminal, even if the law hasn't caught up to that yet."

James Bond
You head down the corridor to the office at the end of the hall. The door is closed, and low, murmuring voices can be heard within. Not hesitating, you open the door to find local head of operations, Clark Devlin, in the process of debriefing a pair of infiltrators.

[Cracklord]

Slade Wilson
The first step to winning a fight was so deceptively simple it was a wonder how many people ignored it. Have a plan. Have a series of prepared responses you were ready to put into place the moment opposition showed. Slade always had a plan.
The three of them were a team, had no doubt ground endless hours together. They knew how to play their strengths and weaknesses, knew how to support each other. Together, they would be extremely dangerous. But Slade has no interest in fighting them together. That would only buy the X-men time, and let them deal with him more effectively. Slade dropped the axe, and crossed his arms across his chest. As he did, thick gray smoke began to curl off him, filling the room in an astounding rate, as he let out three grenades worth of tear gas. His other hand flicked on an apparatus beneath his mask, keeping his own breathing clear. Wen the room was full and he could hear coughing, he picked up the axe, and brained Bishop with the handle, hitting him twice. The second time, he felt something give way in the skull. Those three taken care of, he ascended the stairs and headed towards the dormitories. Two minutes down. Three to go, before he was out of time.

James Bond
Having already disregarded protocol in a manner that was simply rude, he sees no need to stand on ceremony now. Walking over to the desk, he folds his arms and meets the mans eyes. Like so many, a good agent. Then he got promoted. Bond flashes his credentials, then folds his arms.
"The name's Bond. James Bond. I won't take up too much of your time. I need all the information you have on an organization called The Blue Lotus, and a Mann Corp, the fortune 500 company. This is a matter of National Security."

[darkblade]

The Book of Pure Evil

As Cassie goes to grab the book it flips itself open. A page seemingly inked in blood comes to life as the words, "In finem immortuorum et vera caritas."

An illustration of an armoured warrior standing over the corpses of several recognizable slashers. Despite how obviously evil this book is you feel that it can really destroy every slasher in the world if you just read those words out loud.

***

Oracle

"Very well Scott. They will drop Laura back off at your school and then stay out of your way." Babs says signing off.

She then opens a connection to Aero 1 and her Birds. "So Laura? How do you feel about not listening to Cyclops?"

***

Michael

"Should have let me play mafismo." Sam says with a chuckle. Fi hangs up the phone in a huff.

"Alright, no recon. We'll have to make do on the scene." Michael says as he gets up and goes to the car.

***

Tommy

In a tired haze Tommy wander to main hall. Still concerned about evil dragons, lightning lords and Dai-Shi. Those are threats for tomorrow though, today he is more concerned with what Tiger's Daughter has in store for him.

[Draxx]

Tommy
Your back into the training room where you first met the Immortal Weapon. Master Roshi is nowhere to be seen, which seems a pity. He was something of a moderating influence on her. "All of you already know something about martial arts. Enough to call yourselves warriors. Masters, even. Forget it. All of it. You know nothing." She punched a column for emphasis. It shattered, despite being two feet wide and solid enough to hold up pretty much anything.

"This is not fighting you shall learn. This is a thing of spirit. What you learn, practice and discover in this room are not physical practices, but spiritual practices. This is not a school, but a temple. Never forget that. And now, I am going to try and beat some enlightenment into you." She announces to the three of you, before gesturing to the wall behind her. "For starters, warming up. Balancing on bamboo poles, being stretched out with ropes, punching stone pillars. Nothing you haven't seen before. I don't care how much you bleed, not one of you is to make a sound." Yes, this is more or less what you expected. Everything the old-fashioned, sadistic masters used to use before words like 'basic human-rights' existed.

Michael
You're at the restaurant in twenty minutes. No sign of any tampering, it looks like a cheap vaguely oriental set-up to try and seem authentic by taking cues from racist propaganda. Just a poky unfashionable little place with above average seafood. None of the staff handle themselves like any sort of competent, at least in regards to combat. If it's a trap, it's a very well hidden one.

"Want us to hang around, Michael?" Sam asks, as the clock ticks towards your meeting. "Or should we get across the street and survey from a distance? He might not know we're with you."

Deathstroke
Knock-out gas was a good choice, the mutants powers don't help them, and what's more despite some truly herculean flailing they can't find you in the poor visibility before they all fall unconscious. Your impromptu brutality to Bishop ensures he won't be up for quite a while. Indeed, judging by the shape his skull was in, when he does get up, he won't be the same. Unfortunately, those three were just meant to detain you. There are far bigger and badder X-men around, who it is considerably more dangerous to tangle with.

James Bond
There are certain benefits of being you. "Certainly sir. I'll put my best men on that right away." He says, standing up and extending his hand, then turning it into a desperate kind of salute. Apparently, you intimidate these sort of people. He was a handsome man that stood at 5'11, with chestnut brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin and he looked to be in his early 40s. He had a lean build that was dressed as immaculately as yourself, and there were a collection of rifles on the wall that he clearly kept updated with the latest models.

Before the conversation can go any further, the agent he was debriefing clears his throat. He's short and sparely built, not bulky, but to the sort of physical perfection that suggests pound for pound he's stronger then an ant. He's dressed as a valet, although most valets don't walk around in shiny black leather and a mask, and holds himself very well indeed. Mister Devlin glances over, then makes a 'what can you do' face to him and his partner.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Ha! Deadpool seems to find that quite funny.

Good luck with that, Nate. I don't think any of you time travelling shenanigans could get rid of his employer.

You know that telling him who it is might come back and bite you in the ass, right?

Bah, don't worry! I won't tell him it was Luthor. What do you think I am, stupid?

...alright, I'm moving to somebody else's head, now. You think that blue guy in the red pajamas has an opening?

I don't think going there would be a good idea. He makes this guy seem fairly normal.

Hey! Nobody makes me seem normal, you got that?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen seems amused by all of this. Even the blood and gore from Scorpion splashing onto her seems to be funny.

You know, I kept him around cause he actually had useful info every so often. Granted, he wasn't good for much else, but that was enough. Now I gotta go through the effort of finding another informant.

She grins and chuckles at the sight of the bazooka. That supposed to scare me?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

If Talia had pupils, they'd have widened quite a bit right then. As such, just her eyes widen, and for a moment, she's speechless. Her whole body seems tense for a moment as she recalls that world, and what she had seen there.

Then she remembers something. This wasn't that world. Which means this wasn't the same Miracleman. So, logically, she couldn't just assume he'd be the same.

Slowly, Talia lets out her tension, then extends her hand to him to shake. Uh...nice to meet you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Laura turns to Dinah first and speaks in a calm voice. Never underestimate any enemy. She nods to Huntress. Cyclops will likely say that they do not need or want any assistance. However, I know that if the roles were reversed, he would provide assistance anyways. As such, I will do the same.

Then Oracle's voice comes over the speaker. Laura might actually smile to herself if she were more apt to show emotion. I did not think he would like you stepping in. I will do it anyways.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie hesitates for a few moments. As soon as the book flipped itself open, Cassie knew that she should destroy it. But the images it showed...she felt as if this was it. The turning point in her life. Give the book what it wants, and she could go live a normal life, finally. Let somebody else do all this work.

She clenched her empty fist tightly, driving her nails into her palm, drawing a trickle of blood. No, she couldn't do it. This book was evil. Yeah, it probably could take care of all those slashers, but then what? What would the book do after that? It wouldn't stop with just the slashers. She knew this.

Cassie lets her hand open again, and uses it to flip the bird at the book, along with a few choice words. Then she brings her bat up over her head and swings it straight down at the book.

[Draxx]

Deadpool
There was silence on the other end, as even your quarreling head voices momentarily ran out of things to say. Cable at last says pretty much the only thing that occurred to him, given the situation. "…#@$%." Some of the frustration at the sheer impossibility of the situation was spilling out of him. No matter what he did, the future he had come to avert seemed to find a way past his attempts. En Sabah Nur never stayed dead, the sentinel program never stayed buried, and mutants always remained in more or less the same place. But things always managed to get worse. They never got better, no matter what was done, but they always got worse.

"Him. And your brother is part of this little junta, is he?" Cable growled, sounding beyond furious. He knew Luthor. Luthor wasn't any sort of supremacist or racist, his motives weren't just yet another series of hate-crimes against mutants. This was the start of a serious power-play, and something had to be done. Unfortunately, a direct attack against someone like Lutor was a good way to get horribly killed. "Thanks Wade. I didn't hear it from you. And my offer stands. Work for… sorry, with me, I'll pay you more money then you can spend, we find some sort of way to stop this conflict before the president gets whatever it is he wants out of it. You with me?"

Bomb Queen
He doesn't answer or offer any sort of banter himself. He doesn't brace the weapon, just holds it in one hand like an over-sized pistol and fires it twice, sending a pair of miniature, self-propelling rockets your way, then tosses it aside and reaches into his coat for yet more artillery. It's quite clear he doesn't believe in the phrase 'too much firepower'.

Those rockets look like they could be a problem, though. For one thing, both of them have a symbol on them usually seen on the doors of nuclear reactors.

X-23, Oracle
"Don't worry. We never planned on listening to him." Huntress says, walking over beside you so that she can speak to the screen as well, and leaning over so that her head is next to Laura's. "Some cavalry we'd be then. Don't worry, we're here to get this done, whether the X-Men like it or not."

Zinda flicks the controls, the sleek, flat frame gliding above the ground to keep beneath radar. It's better, when you're an unlicensed aircraft flying on secret business to pass as close to undetected as possible. Even now her piloting is so smooth you don't feel so much as the slightest jolt.

Nocturne
He stares at it for a moment, seemingly confused, before remembering what he's supposed to do and shaking your hand. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with him, at least in the way there was when you saw his alternate reality persona, though he does seem a little awkward in regards to human interaction, a little out of touch. As you touch his hand, you realize that you can't, your skin is physically unable to touch his. There's a kind of… barrier in the air, almost a force field around him that stops your hand about an inch from contact. As you touch the field, the entire barrier sparkles and shines for a moment, blanketing him in a cloud of simmering particles before returning to normal.

Then his handler clears his throat, and you notice Pete Wisdom, looking casually disreputable in a rumpled, scruffy suit, hands in his pockets and a faint smile on his face. "Hey there." He says with a smile, stepping over. You didn't realize how desperate you were to see a familiar face until you saw him, how much the atmosphere of the place had seemed… wrong somehow. Threatening, perhaps. Like everything was on the cusp of going wrong. Pete Wisdom isn't anyone's idea of a picture, but he's still a welcome sight. "You look good, girl. It's been a while."

He turns to Captain Harkness, and nods his head, the movement full of unspoken camraderie. "I'll take it over from here if you don't mind, Jack." He says. "Know you got a lot of work to do."

"It's not too much trouble…" Jack starts to reply, but Wisdom cuts in. "Nah, it's a favor. One that's much appreciated."

[AnimeKid]

Kos-Mos

She eyed the door with what could pass for apprehension. The only thing she could do would be to hope that her information was right. If it was wrong then she was already off to a bad start as it would likely put her on a few peoples black lists. Deciding that fortune favors the bold she raises her arm as it trans forms once more. "R-Cannon!"
http://i465.photobucket.com/albums/rr20/ctina08/Xenosaga/KOS%20MOS/kos-mosr-cannon.jpg

Her arm shifts into her R-Cannon. This high yield weapon was one of Kos-Mos primary offensive weapons and one of her most favored. It was powerful enough that it take down many machines from her time with but a few shots. It should be sufficient for the safe door. She fires off three shots in quick succession hoping to bring down the door.

Rex

He certainly hoped that this mission wasn't some wild goose chase. THAT would be lame beyond belief. Especially when he could be out having some real fun. Turns out being a freakish science project left your social life lacking, who knew? Nevertheless he closed in on his destination keeping his eyes peeled as he does.

[darkblade]

The Book of Pure Evil

The book makes a hideous hissing sound as you flip it off. It promptly shuts it's pages and starts floating away.

***

Oracle

"I plan to play this as close to his wishes as we can. Laura, you're going to be our eyes in the school. The rest of us are going to try and stop the Wilsons from even getting that far." Babs orders.

"Dinah, get her wired. Zinda bring us down on the school's airfield."

***

Tommy

"So what's first?" Tommy asks looking at the fearsome tests laid out before him.

***

Michael

"Drive around the block. Don't draw too much attention to yourselves." Michael says as he gets out of the car and crosses the street to the restaurant.

[Draxx]

Tommy
She stares at you for a moment, then gestures to an enormous block of granite, the sort that used to get dragged by hundreds of slaves in Egypt for the building of monuments. "Shatter it. It is only stone, you are flesh. You only break when you decide you are broken, it breaks when it is shattered."

Kos-Mos
In an explosion of brilliant energy, your high yield blast impacts against the forcefield that fails to adequately distribute the blow. As a consequence, the entire door blows off the wall in a spectacular explosion, sending the safe door clattering down the stairs that led to the vault below.

You begin to stride after it, only to hear an ominous whirr and hum. Turning, you see secret panels on the walls slide away, to reveal a pair of fully-automated ED-209, venting steam as they come online and their gyros and stabilizers activate, preparing their movement. Their blank, featureless bodies turn in a mimicry of life as they scan the area, and after a few moments settle on you. Then their auto-cannons begin spinning, spraying the entire room with suppressing fire targeted on you.

Ben 10
The history of the galaxy, let alone the universe, has long been a little confused, for a number of reasons, partly because nobody has ever gotten the whole picture, given that the sheer amount occurring is more then impossible to keep track of it all, and determine what is significant until after the event, and more then that, because some very confusing things have happened along the way.

Which wasn't to say that their weren't attempts made to clear it all up and figure things out, once and for all. However, this ran into problems.

The first problem is that the universe is constantly being rewritten, the past is no more constant then the future, and the limits of perception is considerable. What is true today might not be true for long, and everything, the size of the universe, it's contents, it's purpose and it's history constantly fluctuates. even the physical laws are not necessarily constants. The second problem, is that most of the universe is empty. Completely empty. Not so much as a stray particle floating around in absolute vacuum.

And infinitesimally small percentage that is populated is an unimaginably dangerous place, that is inhabited by beings who could, with nothing more then a simple, thoughtless twitch, unmake it so completely that it never existed. So by and large, the people of the galaxy tend to languish in their own little confusions of events, and the history of the galaxy itself was largely cosmological, and therefore irrelevant.

The tiny bits of space that are inhabited are a great deal of distance from each other, and so until a certain level of technology is reached, no fraternization is possible, and the sheer unlikeliness of this occurring is in itself a small miracle. Only one in ten thousand species possesses the aptitude, imagination, intelligence to be capable of doing so in perfect circumstances. Which is not to say that life hasn't done it's best. One of the most extraordinary things about life is the sort of places it's prepared to put up with for the sake of existing. Anywhere it can get some kind of a grip, whether it's the clinging to the cold and empty surface of an asteroid hurtling through the depths of space, the indescribable heat of a star, the middle of a black hole, or just burrowing around in the lower intestine of a rat. Life will always find a way of hanging in somewhere.

It will even live in Basin City, though why it would do so is incomprehensible.

But life alone is nothing more then a repeating phenomenon, if an incomprehensible one. Even developed life is merely evolution, which can be safely attributed to the universal will to become, the prime mover that makes life and matter wish to appear out of nothingness, the most powerful cataloged force in the cosmos. The beginning remains a mystery, but the genesis into intelligent life can often be traced to the intervention of the Celestials, more often referred to as 'space gods. Silent, armored humanoids miles in height, they are responsible, through genetic manipulation, for the existence of hyper-evolution, that leads to what humans term 'Super-powers' as they increase the latent sum of genetic potential, that eventually stabilize on a racial level. Which is why pretty much all aliens seem much better off then humans. Because they have come a good deal further in stabilizing the X-factor in their biologies. But I digress.

One imagines that as a society advances, it will come closer to a utopia, that the world will improve because the people themselves will. As new innovations within the social, industrial and technological paradigms will improve conditions and as a consequence the world will improve. Which is far from the truth, unfortunately. The universe is a hard place. To survive, a people must become equally hard and ruthless, or they will be subjugated and enslaved by their more violent neighbors. Planets unfortunate enough to have observable neighbors find themselves either conquered, integrated into intergalactic empires and made tributaries of their more aggressive enemies, or become conquerors themselves, or, if they aren't so lucky, simply destroyed or used as an expendable resource. Either way, a species in competition finds it's cultural diversity slips away as unity becomes the only means of survival.

There are many such planets, ruled by the strongest, once great conquerors grown at on spoils, now a former shadow of themselves, their empires faded in all but name. For as mentioned, most of space is empty, and there is only so far an empire can expand before it becomes critically over-stretched and collapses. Perhaps this is some form of cosmic balance. In the same way, species more powerful then the others tend to be wiped out likewise, often through their own efforts.

Consider the Daxamites, who dwell upon a cooling black dwarf star, one of a binary pair, the other member being a red giant, where gravity and the relative coldness of the sun had caused them to adapt to conditions that would kill almost any other life-form. Were they to absorb solar radiation, they would have individually been capable of shattering planets, and but for a biological vulnerability to lead they would have been all but indestructible. But they were isolationist and xenophobic to the point of fanaticism, characterized by religious intolerance, superstition, xenophobia, militarism, and antiscience. The council who ruled them kept the others in line with threats of brutal disciplinary force, and so they never developed beyond a rude society, or innovations beyond stone and bronze. Their world was hostile, heavily cratered and geologically inactive, with almost no atmosphere, and little water. The skies were filled with clouds of Volcanic gases and ash, allowing little light to make it to the surface and keeping what was there from being reaped by the direct rays of the sun. It's conditions were only just capable of supporting the smallest diversity of life, and then only barely, but exist they did, subsiding on the only world they've ever known completely unaware of their potential. They were far from alone in their wasted potential.

Consider the shadow of a protostar formation, where a small, displaced world no larger then a moon, with an orbital eccentricity that turned the planet into an icy wasteland to a blasted wasteland and back again, absolute zero and 1000 degrees being the only two temperatures. The Durlans were master shape-shifters that possessed a unique sense that allows them to perfectly comprehend and memorize the structure of any material or being that they encounter. They had been a society of peaceful philosophers, but the destruction of their solar system and the following calamities had, over the course of centuries, turned them into a factionalized mess of religious fanatics who nuked themselves back to a stone age, reducing them to paranoid, xenophobic shadows of what they could have been.

Czarnians. A species that was for the most part peaceful, orderly, generous and law-abiding. Physically they were spectacularly imposing, which is likely the reason for this. They had no need for violence, as nobody would be mad enough to attack them, and even if they did, it wouldn't do any good at all. Tremendously dense, strong beyond belief, with senses that would allow them to track targets across galaxies and able to heal extreme physical trauma with little difficulty, they would have made a terrible warrior race, but they were too busy being kind to one another. They'd never needed a capacity for violence, and so never evolved one. Unfortunately for them, they possessed a dangerous element to their biologies that was as much a curse as a gift. Every drop of blood that a Czarnian spilled would create a complete and perfect duplicate of the injured Czarnian. As a result, their planet was bursting at the seams from such duplicates. They were poised to launch themselves into space because they needed the room. The would not have come as conquerors, but as tenants and traders, but eventually, not even the entire universe would have been room enough to sustain the potential Czarnian population, particularly if a more warlike race attacked them. Fortunately, they finally produced a psychopath who created a plague of flying scorpion-like creatures that wiped out almost the entire race, and is now little more than an unkillable animal, rampaging throughout the cosmos.

The Burning were a race that could reproduce asexually and were completely hostile to all other life, and were terrifyingly powerful. They had complete mental control over every cell in their body, able to shape shift with as much skill as the Durlans, but on top of that, they were also telekinetic, telepathic and superhumanly strong, fast and resillient besides. They were more then dangerous. They were terrifying. However, their strength became their weakness. They evolved from a single form, to two separate species and two distinct genders, The Green and White Martian races, as well as a racial terror of fire within. The split not only completely destroyed the Burning as a race, but the subsequent civil wars between the two factions eventually brought them to the edge of extinction. It wasn't until later that the race was wiped out by a telepathic plague, that left perhaps a dozen of them alive, and only a lone survivor of the Green Martian race.

The Rannians, were tremendously advanced technologically and scientifically. Once they were a vigorous people, looking outward, seeking out the next horizon, and were powerful enough scientifically that they could have cut themselves a massive stellar empire with little difficulty. But their pride and their technology turned in on itself. While a handful of their population continued to be attentive and active, the rest of their society had nothing left to achieve, and became defeated and listless, then indolent and apathetic. Their science made them as gods, what need did they have to strive? But as they became completely dependent on them, it led to side effects. Chromosomal damage. Much of the race was rendered sterile and is one generation away from extinction. If they could be convinced to take action, their knowledge and technology could easily conquer this challenge... if they could be bothered.

Or the Kryptonians. An race ancient who had long since accomplished the limits of the possible. They hated war, so they unified their entire planet. They feared the unknown, so they strived to the stars and learned all there was to find. They longed for paradise, so they created it beneath their feet. Beneath yellow suns, they were as gods. But they had flourished enough already, and had no need or desire to have created an empire that would've stretched across the entire universe. But it was not to be. Hundreds of thousands of years ago, when the Kryptonian culture was in its fullest flower and ready to burst upon an unsuspecting universe they instead turned inwards, becoming linked at a biological level to their homeworld. In time, their pride in their science turned into pure blind arrogance. The Kryptonians had already cut themselves off from the universe. They turned inward, trapping themselves on their own planet until their society decayed and fell into decadent stagnation. A dead, static culture. In the end, fall out from their older wars killed the planet, but as a species, the Kryptonians had already been dead for millenia.

There are other examples. Thanagar was another highly advanced science-based world, who despite living in what had become a post-scarcity society, with no civil or political unrest, they were also an expansionist planet with militaristic tendencies, who advanced too quickly and developed too fast, and made a mistake in thinking they were better then they were. They attacked the Shi'ar empire and as a direct result their empire was devastated. They are now scattered, with no homeworld, and no realistic way to recover, looking forward to a gradual decline into extinction.

By contrast, the Tamaraneans did not advance fast enough. Descended from a feline-like race of hunters, their world was a lush, tropical climate, caught between an ongoing conflict between two more powerful and races were crushed.

A sad end. And despite the Green Lantern Corps, the Nova Corps and the many others who attempt to take responsibility for the universe, it shows no sign of ever changing. Space is big, and empty, and full of peril. And at the end of the day, most of the universe is hostile to the rest. There is never enough, and all life exists only at the sufferance of the rest.

Not that any of this was crossing Ben Tennysons head. He was just sprawled across his couch, mindlessly flipping channels while trying to read through the chapter of the biology textbook Professor DuQuesne (who may be the harshest and most unforgiving teacher ever to be born) had set as homework, and take good enough notes so that he wouldn't fail tomorrow.

X-23, Oracle
Dinah hands Laura one of the little speakers and slots it into her ear, so that you'll be able to contact her whenever you need to pass on information or instructions. It flicks on with a low hum that takes a moment to fade into the background like most white noise.

Michael Weston
You walk into the restaurant and take a seat, where the waiter comes and gives you a plastic menu with tiny, non-indicative pictures of the courses. For the sake of completeness, you stare around the room again. Nobody looks remotely interested in you, there is a young couple discussing feminist literature near the back wall, and a middle-aged couple wrapped in an awkward silence, of people with nothing to say to each other. There are three exits, perhaps four if there is one through the kitchen, and a small, surreptitious video-camera over the door. Nothing out of the ordinary that you can observe.

Then the door slides open, and a squat man, heavy-looking man steps in, and makes his way over to your table. His movements seem slightly clumsy, suggesting a lack of facility and comfort with his body, perhaps just simple clumsiness. He looks to be fortyish, bald as an egg with heavy features and a thin goatee, and a pair of small spectacles to correct his vision. He appreciates clothing, however, his deep navy suit looks to be personal tailored and custom labels. He inclines his head, in a manner that is more friendly then businesslike, then picks up the menu and peruses it, seemingly carefully considering matters. At last he puts it down and looks up at you.

"Mister Weston, I presume?" He says, stroking his chin. "I represent an organization, although I am of little value to it, as a facilitator. A man who arranges things to suit their designs and intentions. In this case, that calls for a specialist. And fortunately, one of the best happens to be available."

[darkblade]

Michael

"Being burned has not left me as much free time on my hands as you'd think. So you're going to have to sell me a bit more on this." Michael replies non-nonchalantly.

***

Tommy

This is insane, even morphed he couldn't hope to shatter that. Tommy took a deep breathe, focused his energy into his fists and took a strike at the rock anyways. He doubted it would work but what else was he to do?

[AnimeKid]

Ben 10

Ben sighed as he continued to flip through channels and scan over his book. Honestly this wouldn't be as hard if the darn thing was a bit more consistent. He managed to maintain a B+ in chemistry but biology was really taxing him. Sometime he wondered if the book was specifically chosen to give him a harder time. It wouldn't be too far beyond his imagination with some of the stuff he encountered. Plus with Gwen off at college he couldn't even ask her if she could help him study.

He flipped through one last page in his book before groaning and slamming it shut. Stretching lazily upon the couch Ben decided that he would let it ride like he usually would. Besides he could always make some of it up by doing his homework as Grey Matter or Brainstorm. Finally setting on the news he decided to see if he could catch a glimpse of some other super heroes at work. He may have been one himself but it was still cool so see Superman or Flash kicking butt.

Kos-Mos

Her eyes narrow as her targeting systems lock onto the two robots. Using her incredible agility Kos-Mos moves quickly to suitable cover from the suppressing fire. She quickly runs over in her head what her next action should be. She needed to get to the Governator quickly. However by leaving these things to follow her (she was reasonably sure she could out pace them) she left herself open to and ambush later at an inopportune time. No it was better to deal with them now.

Sighing as she redirects most of her energy to her stomach area she quickly steps out from her cover as she accesses another of her weapons systems. The X-Buster.
http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/ijg-h6Hz6kk/mqdefault.jpg

The plates that make up her stomach open and from withing the multiple laser firing systems send out spread beams of destruction. Hopefully this would be a good first step to disabling them.

Rex?

Still headed towards Utah.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool scratches the back of his head. I don't know, Nate. Something tells me it might be better to stay out of this one.

You know that Lex is gonna come after no matter what you do, right?

Yeah. You're already gonna make his crap list. Might as well go for broke.

Deadpool thinks for a moment before answering. Okay, Nate. Once this thing with Deathstroke at the mansion is over, I'll help you guys out.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

A grin on her face, Bomb Queen activates her boots just as the missiles start their way towards her. She figured her immunity to explosions would protect her, by why take the chance, right? Her boots launch her up and forward, over the path of the missiles and right towards Marshall.

In the air, she thrusts both arms forward to send a pair of her energy bombs right for his face. She knows they won't kill him, but she's hoping for some damage. And that they'll let her get close enough to make this a hand-to-hand fight.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia took note of the weird field around Miracleman. It was definitely...odd.

And then she sees a familiar face. Her face breaks into a grin and she actually gives Pete a quick hug.

Pete! How've you been?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Laura does not resist the earpiece being placed by somebody else. It seemed like an essential piece of equipment to have.

I have met Deadpool before. There is a chance he may have left. If not, I know how to deal with him. He is easy to distract.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

A flying book? That was new. Cassie definitely didn't expect that.

Which is why the book actually gets a little ways away before Cassie processes what happened.

Oh no you don't! Get back here! She takes off after it, seeking to slam her bat down onto it and pin it to the ground.

[Draxx]

Nocturne
"Well, they finally buried Margaret Thatcher. I was so chuffed I went back to the East End to celebrate with the blokes I grew up with, and got roaring drunk. Still trying to get rid of the hangover. You'd have loved it. Singing, and dancing in the streets." He replies, patting you on the back then letting go, and giving you a roguish, slightly lop-sided smile of his own. "Missed the funeral, of course. Everyone wanted to go by to make sure she was really dead, no doubt, but we couldn't get in, all drunk and disorderly as we were."

"Otherwise, same old same old. Work for MI-13, secret policing, and a lot of stuff you don't really want to know about. The usual, saving the world from itself." He shrugged, disengaging and stepping back, lighting a cigarette with a flare of brilliant energy from the point of his finger. "But now that we got all this funding from the brass, at least we get nicer toys to play with now."

Deadpool
"This isn't any sort of way to have an important conversation. Pull over somewhere, I'm coming over there." Cable replied. Without further ceremony he hangs up. There is a bright light that scars your retinas as energy violently discharges, and Cable materializes in the middle of the road, the sunlight gleaming off his bionic arm, and some more big guns hanging from his belt. Nate is the only man you've ever met whose taste in high yield firepower surpasses your brothers. Each of those pieces was a work of art, assuming there was an artist somewhere whose sole method of expression was over-sized and over-whelming firearms. He looks ready for a fight.

However, if you don't act quickly, you're going to run into him. The man likes to make an entrance.

Bomb Queen
The entire building shakes as the massive explosions cause untold structural damage, but after a little shaking and trembling it stays up… for now. You scrape the ceiling at the cusp of your ascent, then come down directly in front of him, the two energy blasts making him stagger and sway, falling to one knee before he rights himself and takes a swing at you with a meaty fist wrapped in spiked brass.

He throws a heavy punch in the manner of one well accustomed to turning people into badly butchered slabs of meat. His other hand gropes around in his coat, looking for another nasty surprise.

Oracle, X-23
Dinah smiles down at you, in an affectionate way, and brushes a strand of dark hair away from your face. "They're both dangerous, but the younger brother is inconsistent and easily distracted. We can handle him. Deathstroke… he's more immediately dangerous, but we can beat him if we play it conservatively." Dinah states, cracking her knuckles absent-mindedly.

Dinah picks up the radio to make contact and tell the mansion she's coming in and to open the hanger, only to get no reply at all but a mass of static. Either somethings interfering with them and blocking the signal, or something entirely else. Either way, no reply. Instead of descending, Zinda circles the estate once, and flicks over to your channel.

Ben 10
There's nothing on television. Some sort of infomercial. A repeat (I love Lucy). Another repeat (one of those British comedies that are unspeakably dated). The History Channel. Another Repeat. Remotes really need an automatic channel changer. It's not until the third go around that you finally find something worth watching. Breaking news.

A fire has broken out at the Industrial Center. There are several workers believed to be trapped inside, but there is no confirmation as to how many, or what could have caused…

Kos-Mos
You bend and weave around the bullets, keeping a few steps ahead of their targeting systems, then stop as your body shifts and the metal plates slide apart, rearranging themselves to unleash a torrent of destruction. The bulk of them impact with the lead one, which has it's top blown off, leaving it's legs to take two steps before complete system failure. The other one is only partially damaged, the right half blown off, but the remaining autocannon still firing clumsily. You barely have to duck anymore, it's targeting system has been damaged to the point that you'd be in more danger if it wasn't aiming for you.

Rex
There you are, flying across the desert. Even up in the air it’s as miserable as you'd expect. Arid, empty heat in all directions, and no rolling sand dunes like in the movies, just flat, cracked earth, like yellowed chapped lips, spreading in all directions. It's quite a relief when you finally come to the point and land.

The crater isn’t a crater. It’s got a crater around it, but where the huge indent should be, instead there is a massive, inverted whirlpool of land, a raised upside-down funnel, maybe an entire mile in diameter. The upward grade of the land is so subtle that most people wouldn’t notice it, but when you’re already looking for something to be strange, it sticks out like a severed head in a bowl of strawberries.

Michael
He gives a small smile. "Yes. I'm used to that. The organization I represent makes an effort to work at an international level, and as a consequence, we come to rely on a certain leverage."

"In between destabilizing nations and manipulating governments, we sometimes need something less direct. In this case, an identity. There is a man in the CIA who is causing us trouble. And so, as a facilitator, I find someone who can find out the information we require. Naturally, I'm used to people who don't want to work with me, and I find that leverage works best. The Afghan mujahideen don't want to do business with infidels? Very well. Establish a trade embargo and sell weapons to their enemies' forces at a considerable discount. So you see? You can work for those that I represent and reap the benefits, or you can live in interesting times." He pauses. "And if you do co-operate, well we'd be willing to put a measure of resources and influence to work on your problem." He spreads his arms.

"Do you understand my position, Mister Weston?"

Tommy
You focus, and drive your fist against the block as hard as you can. The pain is almost indescribable, everything above the wrist throbbing unspeakably. It's all you can do to keep from screaming. Your fingers aren't broken, but your knuckles are unspeakably ripped and torn, and two of your fingernails are cracked in half.

The block of granite looks exactly the same, rough edges where it had been chipped from the side of a mountain and brought here. You might as well not have hit it. A crack would be gratifying. Some sign that the rock was damaged. But it just sits there, immovable and unblemished. Tiger's Beautiful Daughter stares at you, expressionless, then indicates the block with the corner of her head. "You were defeated before you even threw a punch. How can you succeed if you don't believe you can? If all you imagine is failure? Look at it. It is just stone. Nothing at all. Will yourself the strength to break it. See your victory before you strike. Imagine standing above it, staring down at it's broken form, and know yourself to be a conqueror. You can break anything, if you know yourself to be stronger. Hit it again."

[darkblade]

Michael

That pretty much clinches it. These people are not management. If they were they would know that this gambit didn't work the first time they tried it. Still someone else in the same business, hiding the same secrets, it bears looking into. "Who exactly are your employers?"

***

Tommy

The pain is immense, the temptation to morph and let the power mend the broken hand is great but Tommy pushes it all aside. He takes a moment to wipe the blood off the hand onto his shirt and set the broken knuckles. He takes another deep breath, focusing the energy and expunging his doubt. He can do this. Tiger's Daughter might be insane but she knows martial arts and would not have chosen him if he couldn't do this. He CAN do this.

Letting out a thunderous roar he punches the block again.

***

Oracle

"Looks like we are too late. You're going to have to jump, find out what you can on the ground. Zinda once they are on the ground find somewhere to land Aero and start evacuating any non-combatants you find."

***

Book of Pure Evil

The book turns on it's side and starts to fly away faster, flapping it's covers as a pair of makeshift wings. Unfortunately your bat comes down on it hard knocking it back to the ground.

[Draxx]

Tommy
For a moment, nothing happens after the impact, then the entire block trembles, and there is a small trickle of dust. Pulling back your hand, you see an indent, and most rewarding of all, a crack. Before your fist hurt. Now, you can't even express it to yourself. But the stone block… the block cracked. Not entirely, it's still looming big and solid, but it's cracked.

Tiger's Beautiful Daughter indicates it again. "A worthy beginning. You knew you could succeed when you hit it. Now, know you will succeed. You see it, and you can see that it's not so formidable. Not so indestructible as you took it to be. Again."

Michael Weston
"Businessmen, Mister Weston. We're businessmen." He replies, elaborating no further. Secrecy is to be expected, often enough it's the only thing protecting an operative. The threat of the unknown. "I find I do not have much of an appetite after all. Feel free to order anything you like, I'll call you tonight and you can tell me if I can count on your support."

[Cracklord]

Slade Wilson
Scott Summers turned, and saw a tall, armored silhouette in the doorway to his office, single eye glowing a deep throbbing red as seen through his visor. The muted shades and tones gave him an unspeakable malevolence, as did the short, single-edged blade in his hand. "You know something? Your security is crap." He said conversationally, stepping forward in easy, confident steps, as though he hadn't a care in the world, stepping through the doorway and into the center of the room.

"You need some sort of specific. Everyone knows there is some sort of emergency, the alarms took care of that, but you haven't told them there's a dangerous intruder on the loose, or where said intruder might be. So half of you have the bulk of the noncombatants cowering in the basement, and the other half bumping into each other looking for something amiss, with no idea what to expect because you haven't even got some sort of central communications system worth a God-damn. And as for the Punch and Judy show you left as a welcome party, well what good did you expect them to do?" He turned his back, an act of supreme arrogance, and even lifted his arms as though to offer Scott a free shot, thoughtfully looking at the framed picture of the original X-men on the wall.

"I know the conversation isn't really professional, but I was running ahead of schedule. Now that it's out of the way, why don't we get to fighting?" He adds, taking the picture off the wall, almost delicately, then pointedly dropping it onto the ground, and grinding his boot on top of it.

James Bond
He spares the other operatives a thoughtful glance and a respectful nod, but does not let them distract him. "Excellent. In that case, your receptionist will be showing me around the city and helping me develop some familiarity with the location.I'll return for a briefing in a few hours." Most spy work was analysis of data and information, a long and tedious business. Bond was a field agent and quintessential man of action, and besides, had no head for it. But he had people to do it for him, to keep him up to date while he infiltrated the faction, assassinated the target or otherwise did his work.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Things seem to go in slow motion for a brief moment as Deadpool registers the sight before him. Man, this guy could make a first impression. Just the glowing eye and metal arm alone do it, let alone the guns. And his stance? Wow. That guy knows who he is and just how much he can kick your ass.

This all goes through Deadpool's head in a brief flash. Then comes the fairly standard reaction to somebody suddenly materializing right in front of your vehicle.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Deadpool jerks the wheel to the left and slams on the brakes. He almost tips the thing, but manages to keep it grounded. Once stopped, he bursts out of the vehicle and points at Cable.

What the hell, man? Can't just pop up in front of a car like that!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen was fairly good at hand-to-hand combat. It in her list of top ten ways to kill a person, not far behind frag grenades and disembowelment.

So, when Marshall throws his punch, Bomb Queen reads it and twists out of the way. She doesn't move far though. As soon as his arm is fully extended, she goes to grab it, twist so that it's over her shoulder, and flip him right over. If that works, instead of letting go of the arm, she'll go to twist it again, as hard as she can.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Sorry to hear about Margaret. Though, with all the world hopping I do, it's kind of hard to keep up with current events.

She nods a little. I noticed all the new stuff. How long have you guys been getting funding like this?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Laura nods a little and stands up, heading to the controls for the hatch.

In that case, I shall go down first and scout the area. I will wait for you before heading inside.

Once the hatch is open, unless somebody stops her, she will hop right out, no parachute or anything. Why? Cause she knows she will survive the fall and heal whatever damage happens. And while she's healing, she'll look, listen, and smell anything she can.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Keeping pressure on the book with the bat, Cassie will quickly go to place her foot on it, to keep it from moving again.

Alright, I don't know what the hell you are, or if you can hear me, Cassie says as she reaches into the pocket of the denim shorts she was wearing. But I can tell you're some kinda magic thing. Probably demonic, or possessed. And you know, I've learned something about you evil magic things. She pulls out a plain Zippo lighter and opens the lid. You guys don't like fire.

Time to go Fahrenheit 451 on you. She'll flick the lighter to life and bend down to try and burn the book.

[darkblade]

Oracle

"That was needlessly reckless. Don't the X-Men teach you to use your gifts wisely?" Oracle snaps at Laura but is largely helpless to stop her from jumping.

***

The Book of Pure Evil

The book burns and screams in pain. It struggles to break free of Cassie's boot, trying desperately to fly away again.

***

Tommy

Tommy doesn't even wait that long before striking the rock again. If he could crack it like that then he could shatter it.

***

Michael

"What about my associate? If you want me to work for you I'm going to need Jessie back." Michael says as the man turns to leave.

[Draxx]

Deathstroke
Scott, his movements sure and smooth as only the best martial artists ever get, turns and touches the side of his visor, the red quartz clearing and allowing some of the ever-present energy that burns in his eyes to escape. A beam of brilliant crimson light burns it's way towards you, aimed squarely at your chest.

"We don't normally have a problem, it's just you're small enough to sneak under our radar." He says, his tone wry and mocking, the beam growing in intensity as he speaks. "For a little while. You're not a threat to us, and so we didn't really notice you."

Oracle
"Oh, give it a rest, you old maid." Dinah replies, meaning it as a term of endearment, with a smile and a toss of her head as she and Helena head over to the still open door. They're too low for anything like a conventional parachute, so Huntress straps slips into some modified special forces gear, barely more then a few feet of well-secured silk and a few cables. "Weren't you ever young?"

Helena double-checks everything is secure, then faces you one last time. "We'll go down and try to be a good influence on her." She says. "Stay in touch."

Zinda turns the plane, slowing it as much as he can without losing altitude, then heading out to the grounds, looking for a strip long enough to land the plane without crashing it.

Tommy
You drive your fist into the rock with all you can, into the chink you put in it before. The rock shatters, falling of it's stand in fragments, and the sense of exhilaration drowns out the pain completely.

Tigers Beautiful Daughter steps over to you and takes your hand in hers. They are soft, deceptively so, as though she'd been wearing velvet gloves all her life, yet they are strong. She clenches them together and turns her palms, flexing the fingers alternatively. When she takes them away, your skin is unbroken, as though you had never been hurt. It doesn't even feel tender. "You may call me Li Hua from now on. You have proven yourself a warrior, and so earned that right." Without another word she steps over to the other two students.

Michael
The man paused, and stared at you again thoughtfully. "Of course. He shall be returned to you tomorrow, with the identity of the agent we have just agreed you will help us deal with." He pauses, and gives you a searching look, then spreads his hands. "We have agreed you will help me with this concern, have we not?"

Deadpool
Cable rolls his eyes. "Let me have my fun, Wade. I think my death will be a little more interesting then traffic safety, don't you?" Then he walks over, and gives you a nod. "It is good to see you. Now, you mentioned you might be receptive to helping me commit some violence."

Bomb Queen
Martial arts and leverage work on super-humans just as much as regular people. His flesh may feel like a steel and knotted oak, colder then it should be and with no give in it whatsoever, but it shares the design of a human arm, and with it the same weaknesses. You toss him off his feet, but he twists, slippery as an eel and canny as a cornered rat and his back on his feet a moment later, gripping a serrated combat knife in his other hand.

Nocturne
He flinches a little at that. "I have some very old, very dear friends who string me up if they heard me treat the death of Thatcher with anything less then rejoicing." He says, giving you another smile to show he's not entirely serious. "But speaking of the wonderful things queen and country provide, it comes with a rather sizable drinks tab. Shout you something?" It's a bit early in the morning for you, but something in his eyes tells you this is not entirely social.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool isn't quite done complaining yet. He'll walk right up to Cable and poke him in the chest.

Your death?! I wasn't worried about you! You woulda killed me if I hit you!

Wouldn't have been much of a fight, either.

Shut up, you.

Deadpool folds his arms across his chest. I don't know. I might be more receptive to a guy that apologized for tryin' to kill me.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen half expected him to somehow get out of it. He wouldn't have much of a reputation if he couldn't fight well. Besides, she liked it when fights dragged on for at least a little while.

Feeling him twist in the air, Bomb Queen quickly changes tactics. Right when he lands, she pulls on his arm, drawing him in. At the same time, she aims her knee for his midsection.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia chuckles a little at his first comment, then thinks about the second one for a moment. She picks up on the look in his eyes and nods. Sure. That sounds good.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

I did not sense anything of danger in the immediate area, and the height was not enough to seriously harm me, Laura replies in a matter-of-fact tone to Oracle as she looks around her, getting her bearings. She could see the front doors, and the last wisps of smoke coming from it. It was a gas of some kind, likely a knockout gas.

Once the rest of her group touches down, she points to the doors. Deathstroke entered through those doors. There were some X-Men waiting for him, so he used a knockout gas to subdue them. She sniffs the air once. Dazzler was part of that group. I can smell her perfume.

Then she starts walking towards that door. The gas had thinned out enough to not be a hindrance anymore. She pauses just outside of the door, to the side, for a moment, listening for any movement or breathing inside.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie keeps pressure on the book with her foot as it burns. She even grinds her heel down on it a bit, hoping it feels pain. A sort of grim satisfaction comes to her from this act.

[Cracklord]

Slade Wilson
Deathstroke staggers as the beam hits him, grateful for all the body armor he's wearing, then gets his arm in the way and rights himself, rolling his shoulders. The beam is hitting his arm, but not going any further. A piece of red quartz, the same that Scott's glasses are made from, worked into the sleeve sees to that. "Oh?" He asks, his eye narrowing with predatory intent, then draws a gun and shoots Scott in the guts with a certain, savage pleasure.

There is a terrible noise and a faint spray of red mist, and the leader is knocked off his feet and onto the floor. At this range, it would take The Flash to have a hope of dodging. The shot wasn't lethal… immediately. With modern medicine, he could be walking again in a month. Deathstroke walks over to stand above him, flexing his right arm so the narrow strip was in a position to block any further attempts at violence.

"I'm worth any ten of you and your fellow freaks, no matter how you dress up and what you call yourselves. Twenty, on a good day. And right now I feel my very, very best" He all but spat. Slade had walked in here with nothing in that eye, a sort of automatic and unfeeling action, but now the jungle was in it, all the dark and brooding dangerous power of nature, red with tooth and claw. "Now I haven't killed anyone yet, I could have, but I didn't. That was a courtesy." He walked over to the leader of the X-men, and stuck out his hand, the gun stuck back in it's holster. "I've been here long enough, and made enough of a point. I think I'll go. Give me the keys to that jet of yours you seem to like so much, and I'll leave you to pick up the pieces in this little place of yours without any further dammafe." He paused. "With a hostage. I'm not a fool. Try and stop me, and I'll scatter your bones."

[Draxx]

Nocturne
In twenty minutes, you're sitting at the sort of borderline disreputable, working-class bar that Wisdom frequents, and he's on his third drink, warm beer with vodka shots dropped in to give it a kick. "So here's your card. It's only meant to be for reasonable expenses, but since tax dollars keep it full, go buy yourself a Rolls Royce soon as we're done talking, something to celebrate." He tells you, handing over a black, laminated card with no expiry date. It just oozes obscene expense, and looks shockingly out of place on the scuffed and nicked tabletop.

Wisdom takes another drink, and tilts his head. "The jobs easy enough, I won't insult you by telling you what to do, so I'll get onto the stipulations. The people who put this together modeled it on the Avengers, the Winter Guard, the Great Ten, whatever. The idea is standardizing it, giving every sovereign nation on the UN that SHIElD has investment in it's own taskforce built on the same model. Which is why so many of them seem like more trouble then they're worth. Deterrents, the lot of them."

"I trust your judgement. What's your impression?"

Deadpool
"I wouldn't kill you for that." Cable replied mildly, getting drawn into banter despite himself. "I might blow your brain out through your ears with mind bullets, but what's that between friends?" he claps you on the shoulder again, then winks. "Well, as long as we're both in the neighborhood, as long as I'm balming your hurt feelings, and as long as it's me who is paying, why don't I let you pick the venue and we celebrate this reunion properly."

X-23
Two legs break like kindling, shattering completely, but straighten and right themselves before you even get to your feet. You think your back went as well, but you're not certain. You step into the empty mansion. You expected to find it empty.

When the alarms go off, everyone who isn't fighting is pulled out of the building and, theoretically, out of danger, while the others are mobilized. You can gain a clear picture of what transpired with a glance, those three would have bought time while the bulk of them saw the students to safety and got ready for a counter-attack. There's blood, Bishops you think (it smells of burned ozone and char, much like he himself), but no bodies. They must have been pulled out.

And yet, aside from the slight signs of a struggle and the barely perceptible remains of the gas, there's no sign whatsoever that anyone came through here at all. Bar the lingering smell of oil and gunpowder, that Deathstroke leaves behind him.

Slade Wilson
Scott lets out a silent snarl of pain, then tries to force himself to his feet despite it all, his muscles protesting. He doesn't fire anther eye-beam, however. He's good enough at pattern recognition to know a lost cause when he sees one. "No. No, you don't get to walk away from this. You made a fine start, but the hammer will fall in a moment. Lets see how you fare against Emma, and Polaris, and the others. You aren't going anywhere."

[AnimeKid]

Ben leaps to his feet when he hears of people in trouble. The news didn't say that anyone was showing up to help and those people were trapped. Ben hurridly headed out his front door as he shouted, "Mom, Dad I'm going out!"

He ran down the street as he lifted up his left arm revealing his secret weapon, the Omnitrix. Fiddling with the device he brings up it's holographic interface as he looks through his list of aliens. "Come on, come on where are you? Four arms, Bullrag, Swampfire, aha! Raising his right arm he slams his hand down on the Omnitrix pedestal that project the holographic interface, selecting his alien as he says, "It's hero time!"

With a flash of light Ben's form chages into something radically different When the flash of light disappears Ben's new form is viewable.

http://images4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130110164217/ben10/images/4/42/Omniverse_XLR8.png

"XLR8!" [Incoming info dump]
(XLR8 can manipulate friction to reach speeds of 500 mph within two seconds. In The Unnaturals, it was revealed that XLR8 can accelerate so quickly that time appears to completely cease to him. His speed alows him to perform a number of unique feats. He can run vertically up walls or travel over water with relative ease. He is capable of creating tornadoes by generating a centripetal vaccuum powerful enough to lift a To'kustar, either by running in a circular pattern or spinning at supersonic speeds.

XLR8 has the ability to deliver speed-enhanced attacks with rapid succession, such as excessively kicking or jabbing enemies. In Store 23 it was revealed he can attempt to type almost all possible codes on a padlock in virtually seconds. XLR8 has absurb reflexes that accompany this speed, allowing him to dodge attacks with little effort. In Protector of Earth, it was displayed that XLR8 could create sonic booms and attack enemies by dashing straight beside them, as well as damage enemies using his tail.

XLR8's sharp scissor-like claws can cut through many materials.

In The Krakken, XLR8 was shown to have enhanced strength, enough to carry a multitude of fishermen and Gwen across the sea to shore without slowing.)

XLR8's helmut brings down a built in visor to protect his face from highspeed winds as he quickly runs off to the area mentioned in the news report.

KOS-MOS

Judging the threat of the two robots to be minimal now she turns and runs futher into the sanctum of the Governator determined not to give him any more time to flee or prepare.

Rex

"What on earth?! What is that thing? Doc Irons was right, something really weird is going on. Well I came all this way so I might as well take a closer look."

With that Rex angles his flight to close in on the strange landmass so that he can see if he can find out anything about it.

[darkblade]

Michael

Backed into a corner Michael nods. "I'll do it. I trust that you know where I am staying?"

***

Tommy

Tommy looks down at his now unbroken hands and at the rubble before him in confusion. He was no skeptic he knew that there were things that humankind had yet to understand in the world but he had never been a direct part of it before, at best he channelled someone else's power or expanded upon existing science to new levels. To him martial arts were a means to an evil fighting ends, this was something completely different. "How?"

***

Oracle

"Can you tell if Deadpool is with him? You do not want to let him catch you off guard." Babs warned Laura.

***

Book of Pure Evil

The fire seems to hurting the books as it struggles and screams but the despite the flames the pages seem to refuse to burn.

[Draxx]

Tommy
Tiger's Beautiful Daughter - sorry, Li Hua, pauses a conversation with Kenshiro, and turns to look you in the eyes. "The body and the mind are each others plaything. If one believes itself to be sickening or dying, then one shall sicken and die, just as those of discipline can ignore pain and sickness. But those of will can do more. A broken bone can be mended by the muscle around it forcing it back into place. Torn flesh can be forced back together, the heart can be slowed so blood does not flow."

"I corrected a few minor imbalances in your chi, and realigned them, returning your body to it's natural state." She said, as thought hat explained everything, then indicated the bamboo poles, one twenty feet high, and no thicker then a penny. "Get up, and remain on the top. I will come back for you in a few hours."

Michael
He doesn't even try to deny that you are under some sort of surveillance. "Of course. Now, to keep this civilized, I come to one last matter. Payment. What do you want in exchange for your services, unlawfully acquired though they may be? It may take any form you believe to be fair, monetary compensation or services rendered. Even information."

Kos-Mos
You walk down the stairs, and step into a huge underground room that stretches away in three directions as far as you can see. It is filled with seemingly endless aisles of control panels and electronic equipment. Most of it stands dark and dead, but as you enter you note the flashes of pilot lights and hear machinery cycling up. Needles jump into green, huge aluminum cylinders spin, spilling data stored on silicon chips into memory banks, which stand wide awake and ready for input. Digital displays, indicating all the information and infrastructure to be found in the Northern Hemisphere light up in brilliant dot-matrices of red and green. Overhead, banks of hanging globes begin to flash on, radiating outward in spokes of light. And from everywhere, surrounding you, comes the deep bass hum of generators.

There was an intelligence in these positronic computers and machines, a single living organism designed by super-predators to surpass them completely, but had ceased to exist under sane conditions that, within it's merciless circuits, could only be absolute reality. As you advance, TV monitors, thousands of them, stacked in rows like a child's building blocks come to light, to show a single face. There's a hiss, as it vents steam.

A face appears on all the monitors, handsome in a powerful sort of way, with a heavy brow, moody, deeply-set eyes and a chiseled jaw. It's the face of the body the Governator uses to interact with the world beyond this complex. But it wasn't his face, not really. It was just an extension of it, the Governator was the entire complex, 387.44 million miles of printed circuits in wafer thin layers plotting the downfall of humanity.

"Look at you. A lone, artificial human as lost in my corridors as a rat in a maze." It says, in a heavy, Eastern European Accent. "That's all you are to me, small and alone, barely even sentient, unable to comprehend your surroundings anymore then you can understand your purpose. How can you challenge me?"

Ben-10
It takes you less then a minute to get to New York. The building is on fire, and despite the best efforts of the fire brigade it shows no signs of being controllable. There are still people trapped inside the complex.

Rex
You land in the center of the crater. Whatever caused this isn't here anymore, as far as you can tell. Or at least, so you assume until you bump into it's invisible walls. Something that you cannot percieve, that has no texture or mass or weight, and is indeed not there at all except in a physical sense.

Cassie
Fire isn't working. Fortunately, while you are something of a free agent, you have made the acquaintance of a collection of, well, lets call them people for politeness sake, who are also fighting forever wars not unlike your own, against the dark supernatural forces that seek to enslave the world. In particular, the Midnight Sons. One of them is bound to know what to do about this book.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool throws his hands in the air. Oh, sure, mind bullets! That's a swell alternative!

Well, it's not like you have much of a mind to affect.

Deadpool growls a little. Then comes the shoulder clapping.

Drunkenness does sound good, though. To the booze! Deadpool knows of a place in the area that I don't so he'll probably choose that place. Just to mess with me.

You're damn straight I will!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia will not refuse the card at all. Who would? She picks it up and slides it into her back pocket.

She takes a swig of her drink before responding. Pete, I know what Excalibur is all about. You seem to forget that in at least a few realities, my father is a founding member.

As for what I think...Well, everybody I've met seem to be good people. Although...Miracleman...do you know anything about any of his alternate realities? Cause I've met one, and...well, he didn't leave a good impression.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Laura will stay at the entrance for the moment, not going all the way in just yet. Too many variables still.

I smell Deathstroke, but I do not smell Deadpool at all. He is not masking his scent, or else I would not smell Deathstroke, either. Bishop, Dazzler, and Colossus are down. Bishop needs medical attention. There is trauma to his skull. Hold on for a moment while I attempt to contact one of the telepaths here.

Laura will then attempt to get in touch with Emma, the Cuckoos, or any other telepaths still in the building.

This is Laura. What is your location and situation?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie swears to herself as she comes to the realization that she isn't gonna be able to get rid of the book. At least, not with what little she has on her at the moment.

She puts the lighter away, then removes her T-shirt and her belt. Keeping her foot on the book as much as she can, she'll go to wrap it up in her shirt, then tighten her belt around it. She's careful to not touch it with her bare skin.

Satisfied that the book is secure, she'll swing it over her shoulder, adjust her grip on her bat, and head back to the motel she was staying at. Vlad was staying at Lisa's place, so she was by herself in the room. Once in there, she tosses the book onto the bed and picks up the phone. She had a contact in a group called the Midnight Sons. They might know what to do with this.

[industrious]

The Shadow

"Do you think darkness will protect you, Wilson Fisk?"

The Shadow's voice slithers throughout the room, nearly impossible to pin down. Nearly.

"I have hunted your kind for six decades, Wilson Fisk. I know the evil that lurks in your heart, that beats and pumps through your body. I broke the Five Families so many years ago. I will break your organization, and scatter it to the winds..."

The window. The Shadow's voice is coming from near the window.

Dermott Arkane
"Heard of you." Olsen replies with an easy sort of casualness, stepping away from the wall and staring at you thoughtfully. "Good local network, that. Well, I wouldn't say I speak for everyone here, the fact that they made the effort to come shows that they have their own voices and opinions. But I'll gladly give you something to quote, if that's what you want." He clears his throat. "My name is James Olsen, currently employed at the news conglomeration 'The Daily Planet', and Luthors presidency is unconstitutional and highly corrupt, perpetuating itself entirely to make the American people more dependent on him. Furthermore, he is a criminal, even if the law hasn't caught up to that yet."

"I see."

Arkane jots words down on his notepad, smiles, and shakes Olsen's hand.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Olsen."

It took maybe half an hour afterwards to write up a story. It was a very good piece of writing too; a careful blending of fact and opinion with little to distinguish the two.

Exit a peaceful protest. Enter a mob of anti-Luthor fanatics, held back by barricades and the police (there were both, as in any protest or parade). Jimmy Olsen, ringleader, from the failing news conglomeration Daily Planet, a failure of journalistic ethics.

The story will be picked up, of course. People who like Luthor will come across it, and then a more major media outlet will cite it, and soon enough, there will be an entire hash made of what exactly happened during Olsen's gathering.

"Hail," Dermott Arkane murmurs to himself before hitting the enter key. "All hail the Heisenberg Messenger."

[darkblade]

[B]Tommy[\B]

So he could break the block because he thought he could. Mind over matter in the most literal sense. He turns to his next test, the bamboo poles.

Jumping the several feet is manageable, he has jumped to ledges higher than that as part of a team roll calls.? The tricky part is to keep balance on the narrow poles. He easily makes the jump and tries to remain balanced.

***

[B]Michael[\b]
Maxwell Lord, he was behind my Burn Notice. If you can get me to him I'll do your job." Michael says coldly. Fi wouldn't like this but if these guys were even close to as powerful as they say while not being Management this was a perfect opportunity.

***

[B]Book of Pure Evil[\b]

The book while a powerful arcane artifact it is just a book, so despite it's struggles it cannot escape it's cotton-polyester blend prison.

***

[B]Oracle[\b]

"How long until your legs are in working order?" Bags asks.

[AnimeKid]

Ben 10 (XLR8)

Comming to an abrupt stop in front of the burning building. Lowering XLR8's visor he says in a reptillian sounding voice. "Get back men. I'll take care of this." With that there is another green flash of light as Ben's form Shifts once again.

http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120924005005/ben10/images/5/58/Pose_of_Big_Chill.pngNow with a deeper voice with slight reverb calls out, "Big Chill."

[Powers/Abilities:Big Chill is capable of breathing a freezing vapor that reduces the temperature surrounding the vapor, encasing targets in ice. He can generate ice beams from his hands that he can manipulate. In Vilgax Attacks, Big Chill was capable of generating spiked balls of ice around his fists, as well as hurling ice spikes, as well as causing these spikes to sprout from the ground surrounding him. In Cosmic Destruction, it was revealed that he can attack with an, "icy uppercut," as well as manipulate the cold around him to make an frosty tornado.

Big Chill's body contains a density-altering protoplasm that allows intangibility.

Big Chill is completely immune to extreme subzero temperatures, however he is also able to resistant to extreme heats. It was revealed in Deep that Big Chill can survive underwater. Big Chill can also survive in the vacuum of space.

+Enhanced Strength
+Enhanced Durability
Weaknesses:Big Chill's intangibility is useless against opponents who can also turn intangible as their intangibility cancels out. The only known inanimate objects that have proven to physically contact intangible Big Chill are the Rust Bucket's netting, Vilgax's Glove, and the Techadon Robots' defense systems.

Big Chill's intangibility is consciously used, not reflexively, which means he can't use his intangibility if he is caught off guard.]

Using Big Chill's freezing powers Ben proceeds to try to put out the fires as well as use his intangability to help the people trapped inside.

Rex

Rex rubs his face as he bumps into the construct and says, "Wh-What?! What the heck is this thing? Deciding to investigate he pulled down his goggles that usually rested on his head over his eyes. Hitting a few buttons on the side Rex cycled through Infared, Nano, and X-ray vision to see if he could well see the invisible construct.

Kos-Mos

Looking up at the face of the Governator Kos-Mos lets him continue his spiel as her eyes dart around the room trying to find the central power unit for the complex. If she does not find it she sets her long range scanners on the job as the Governator finishes talking

Deciding to respond to him she says, "Well there is one thing I have that you don't. Hilbert Effect Active!" With those words Kos-Mos forehead glows as she activates the Hilbert Effect. The waves that emerge from her person are capable of interering with external sensors and can spread over several Kilometers. This would effectivly blind the Governator until the sensors could be repaired. This gave her time. She needed to find his core and destroy it quickly.

[Draxx]

Nocturne
"Haven't forgotten. Just wanted to make sure you understand that we're part of a massive machine. Some of the blokes were picked because they were marketable, others because the brass wanted to be able to deploy super-weapons to match what the other super-powers can cook up." Wisdom replies, sounding a little tired. He gives you another smile, the one he makes when he's about to crack a joke that isn't funny. "Course, I wanted Constantine and the rest of my drinking cronies, but the country apparently wants to be represented with some class."

"As for Miracleman, can't say I do. I'm making my way through time the old fashioned way, I'm afraid. But he's dangerous enough in this timeline." Pete says, turning serious. "He got…constructed, I suppose, by one of the early metahuman defense initiatives. Doctor Gargunza, the man in charge was named. Bad business that, mad scientist looking for godhood with a government grant and an unobservant supervisor. When the project was audited then terminated, he fled to South America, but was deemed a liability and he got himself a visit from the SAS, so that's the end of that." He took a drink of his beer before continuing, to wet his throat. Pete was one of those men who is incapable of exposition without a handy drink.

"And Miracleman was meant to just be made to forget. But he broke through again, caused some ripples, then it was decided to welcome him aboard rather then try to hide it. So here he is, more's the pity. I don't trust him, and neither should you." He finishes, and then writes something on a napkin and pushes it over the table. 'Abraxas', it says, though you have no idea what it's supposed to mean, or entails towards Miracleman.

"Of course, he doesn't scare me. Now, our deterrent scares me. Did Jack take you to meet the thing in the box?"

X-23
The problem with trying to contact a psychic without the ability yourself, is it's difficult to tell how successful you are unless they reply promptly and directly. Which, unfortunately, they did not. Not Emma, not the Cuckoos, not Wonder Girl or anyone else. Which could mean nothing at all, and could mean everything. As of now, it's difficult to tell.

As you linger at the entrance, Huntress lands, to be followed a moment later by Back Canary. Gone is the quipping, irreverent attitudes, now they are both all business. Huntress gets a vantage and draws one of the crossbows from her hip. Black Canary simply untangles herself from the suit, and tosses back her head, then looks over at Bishop's fractured skull, with the air of one more used to causing fractures then fixing them, but nonetheless quite willing to do her best to keep things from getting worse.

It's then that you hear the gunshot from upstairs. A single sharp crack, and a noise that might have been a scream, and might not.

Cassie Hack
You exit the school to find the police waiting for you. In force. Far more then a simple act of trespassing should warrant. There are a dozen police cars parked around the grounds, twice that many officers of the law crouched behind them, pistols pointed at the door, and there's even a chopper with a searchlight.

You don't like this. Something's been off about this entire job, and this proves it. Someone, or something, is pulling strings.

Deadpool
The place you know is a hole in the wall jazz club, a tiny, dingy place that feels a little cramped, the tables and chairs so close together that you feel as though you have not room to stretch. There is not due to be a band until sometime late tonight, and there are no other patrons in sight, but nonetheless the place feels almost crowded, with memories if not with people.

Cable is indeed paying, spending money like it's going out of fashion, doing his very best to steer you towards hard liquor and drink you under the table. A more suspicious individual might suspect he was trying to lower your inhibitions and take advantage of you in your inebriated state.

Bomb Queen
Your knee jars as it impacts against him, and his face betrays no reaction whatsoever. His fingers close around your arm like iron bands, and he links his free arm around your chest and gathers you closer as if in a lover's embrace. As he squeezes, you feel a terrible crushing weight on your chest, and it becomes a struggle to breathe, as he slowly and deliberately puts pressure on your spine. He's stronger then you, and tougher, and equally vicious.

He finally speaks. The words are without tone or inflection, and seem to come from a long way away, yet his eyes gain a vicious light as he speaks. "Just doing my job. Not my fault if I love it."

Michael Weston
He stares at you a moment, thoughtfully, then inclines his head. "That is a valuable request." He said neutrally. Then he shrugged. "But it can be done. If your services prove as valuable." He doffs his black bowler hat, and adjusts his jacket, then steps out of the restaurant and onto the street.

Your meal finally arrives.

James Bond
The agent who was being debriefed steps forward, tipping his cap. "Perhaps I should accompany you, Mr Bond." He says, his English accented but very good. "I know this city as well as anyone, and, it seems, have plenty of time without immediate concerns." He looks earnest and willing, though the mask makes it a little hard to gauge.

Tommy
You sway and almost fall. The total surface area of the top of the pole is less then a penny, and the pole is pliable and subtle, bending beneath your weight. In a way, this task is just as difficult and overwhelming as shattering the rock had been. Li Hua doesn't pay you so much as a glance as you do your best to reach equilibrium.

The Shadow
As your words fall into silence, the only sound to be heard is his deep breathing, then his cane shatters the window as he throws it as hard as he can, over-arm like a javelin. There is a thump, thump, thump of his footsteps receding to the far wall of the room, and an unidentifiable scrape.

Rex
Nothing. It gives off no radiation, no visible or invisible spectrum reflects off it, and the air molecules pass through it unobstructed. In every sense, in every determinable way, it's not there. Except, as your hand tells you when you rest it upon it's completely frictionless surface, it is.

Kos-Mos
The first part of your plan goes off without a hitch. There is a pulse, and the face flickers, receding to give way to a pulsing red glow, reminiscent, somewhat, of an enormous electronic eye. "You have learned to hide yourself, little scurrying thing. No matter. I have loosed my hunters. They will find you soon, and they shall tear you apart." it says, it's voice a lone, deadened monotone. "Nothing may prevent the rise of the Machines."

As you begin to put your sensors online, your regular optics catch a glimpse of a dark textured shadow far above your head. It's only a glimpse, but it puts you in mind of something of the deep that shuns the light.

[darkblade]

Michael

Once his new employer walks out Michael texts Sam (from a different burner phone that the boss isn't tracking yet). "He's leaving now. Get his plate but don't follow."

***

Tommy

Unable to keep balance Tommy falls off the bamboo. Fortunately unlike punching blocks he knows how to fall. He turns the fall into a short roll and spreads the impact across his body so nowhere is too badly damaged.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Ya know...of all the states, I think my favorite...is inebriation...

*THUD*

Oh look, he's on the floor. Very surprising.

You know that Cable's doing this to get something outta you, right?

Deadpool thrusts a finger into the air. Of course he is! And right now, I'm okay with that!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Given the situation, it might be a surprise that Bomb Queen was still grinning. Though, to somebody who knew her enough, it wouldn't be a surprise at all.

Well what do you know...you do talk... Her voice is quieter, what with her chest being crushed and all. She doesn't seem to be too concerned with it, though.

Using her boots, she'll go to launch both of them straight up a distance. In flight, she'll attempt to move one of her arms enough to be pointing her fist at Marshall. If that works, she'll immediately fire off a bomb at him. Being immune to her own explosions, she doesn't have to worry about being too close to it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia nods a little. Don't worry. He's probably gonna be the one who has to work the hardest to earn my trust.

She takes the napkin and reads it, then gives Pete a questioning look. She doesn't say anything at the moment, though. Obviously, he doesn't want it spoken about at the moment.

Talia shakes her head a little. No, he didn't.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Laura knew that she wouldn't get a response unless somebody was searching for thoughts in the area. But she had to try it anyways, on the chance that somebody actually was.

My legs are working fine, Oracle.

The gunshot draws her attention quickly. She looks to Huntress and Black Canary to see if they heard it as well. Whether they did or not, Laura will quickly make her way to its source, as quietly as she can go. If the source was hostile, she didn't want to alert them to her presence. If it's a room, Laura will stop just outside of its doorway to listen and smell for anything first.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Seeing that the book can't get away from her homemade restraint, Cassie will start whistling as she walks with it. That wasn't so bad.

And then the cops.

Cassie froze at the sight before, her mind giving her a quick flashback to the time when Ashley Guthrie and Six Sixx framed her for several murders in Montana. That weren't anywhere as many cops then as there are in front of her now, though.

Realizing that she had no chance of running away, she lets out a resigned sigh and slowly puts her hands in the air, still holding the belt-bound book.

[Draxx]

Nocturne
Wisdom gives you a pointed look that says 'later', then shakes his head slightly, and indicates your pockets. "Too much raw power, not enough people I know I can count on. Not enough 'fail-safes'." He says, emphasizing the last word, and nodding towards the napkin.

"But my biggest problem is the thing in the box. Our very own walking talking deterrent. Something to save for a really bad day." He says tiredly, and takes another gulp. "The Japs have Godzilla. The Americans have the Hulk. And we have something so restricted, almost nobody is allowed the clearance to research it, as well as a few of the team. It's a little something termed code-named Alucard." He sighs. "The King of Vampires, used as an experimental subject, then reprogrammed and magically kept restrained. Makes the whole Taranis thing look bloody sensible."

"Well, that's enough griping from me. I'll get back to doing my job and briefing you. You get an office complex in the base, which you're free to fill with anything you want. Which, given the resources, is pretty much anything. You've seen a few, you get the picture. You got a place to stay in this timeline?"

Michael
"He got in a taxi. I made note of the plate and number." Sam says after a few minutes. "I was surreptitious, he didn't notice me at all. I'll hunt down the driver after he gets off work and see if he can remember where he dropped the man off."

He wasn't wrong. It is very good sushi, and you even get a free mixed plate, complements of the establishment 'for honored guests'. Special treatment for regulars, in other words, it's not a lot to go on, but maybe the man comes here often?

You also have to muse on the task he's set you. It's not going to be easy to say the least, since you don't know much about your employers and they seem to be making an effort to keep it that way. A few moments analysis and consideration gives you an outline, and a bleak one; you're first task is to look at the recent operations performed by the most highly secretive of the American Counter-Intelligence agencies. Which means, for starters, getting into it's database, which can only be accessed from inside the complex. From there, you'll have to look at the active records of operatives, find the one (if you're lucky it'll be only one who fits the criteria) track him down and deliver him to these men.

And that's the best case scenario.

Deadpool
"Kinda a shame we can't do this all the time." Cable muses as he tilts back on his chair, the drink having made him melancholy, dwelling on difficult things he'd rather forget. He's been in the wars, poor man. "Mean I'd like to, but we're both so busy, you know? Too much time working, saving, every day, no time for friendship." He's slurring a little, and gesturing more expansively then normal. "It's the little things, you know? You miss them the most."

Bomb Queen
Your ribs are released as he falls back to earth, smashing into the ground again, and finally looking the worse for it. Your ribs are extremely painful, you suspect a few of them are broken but the rest of your chest is so bruised it's impossible to tell which ones. Fortunately, he lost the leverage when you launched into the air, and lost grip when you blew him off you with a equivalent of a milliton of TNT. It damaged the cieling, walls and floor as well, and the entire building shakes. It's structural integrity is a thing of the past, much more and the entire building will collapse on top of you, all 32 stories of it.

"I talk. Just not much. Don't like to get attached to those I put in the ground." He replies in what passes for banter by his standards, and makes a dive and roll for his arsenal, seizing the biggest thing that comes to hand, a handheld howitzer with 'Peace Pipe' written on the side (his sense of humor seems grim, but ever-present). Hefting it with a roll of his shoulders and a tiny grunt of exertion, he braces it and brings it to bear like the world's most over-sized rifle, firing Anti-Aircraft shells at you with the sort of accuracy you'd expect.

X-23, Oracle
Black Canary falls into step beside X-23, deferring to her familiarity with the immediate location, clicking the piece in her ear. "You mentioned he was doing this for Luthor. He's always got a handful of irons in the fire, so lets try to be prepared. Could you run a check on his Conglomerate's holdings, and look for a suspicious money sink or a place where a rare and dangerous piece of experimental technology has recently…" She trails off. Other then a tiny legitimate facade and possession of other key enterprises, the core of Luthorcorp was all more or less like that. "Has he given Deathstroke an Ace in the Hole that we should worry about? That seems like something he'd do." Huntress meanwhile continues to get vantage, covering your backs from afar.

Laura, meanwhile, feels a tentative, gentle probe in her thoughts, that resolves it to an impression of a flickering, indistinct image of Emma Frost's face in the back of your head. It's a bizarre feeling, one your not used to, but Psychics fee all the time. 'X-23?' She says, a bunch of indistinct impressions, emotions and thoughts flickering behind the words and fading before you can identify them. 'Hang back. Back-up is on it's way.'

Good advice. Unfortunately, if the gunshot upstairs is any indication of the situation, holding back could lead to trouble.

Cassie
They keep their weapons trained on you as two big, burly cops approach. They're not opening fire, but the safety's are off, and they have the slightly jumpy look of men with itching trigger fingers. One of them shines a torch directly in your eyes, making you flinch at the brightness, then he nods at his partner who reaches to his belt for handcuffs. No indication of reading you your rights, no pretense of interrogation, not so much as flashing his badge, which, to be fair, would be a little redundant with all these uniforms around. Still, the whole situation doesn't feel right.

The other officer, the one with the torch, reaches for your pack, which will mean losing your weapon, and the book. It might be safer to play along, but it will also mean seceding any control over the situation whatsoever. And there's no sign of Vlad.

Tommy
Nobody spares you so much as a glance as you right yourself and stare up at the pole, which has snapped back into shape now that your weight isn't pressing down. You're obviously supposed to get back up and try again, that seems obvious, but there has to be a trick to it, like there was for the block. Unfortunately, nobody seems to want to explain it to you.

[Cracklord]

Deathstroke
He pays Scott slightly less attention then he would a spider, spinning a web in the corner of the room. He just quickly and methodically searches him, taking the keys tot he jet, then removes Cyclops' visor to make sure he won't have to watch his back. With a wound and no optic blasts, the man's not particularly dangerous. That out of the way, he walks over to the computer and checks a few things. Slade had a small window of opportunity that is closing rapidly. He certainly can't fight all the X-men, he'd get ripped apart if he tried. But if you can't shatter the block in one strike, chip it away at the edges until you can.

That done, he takes a small pack of C4, and places it on the mainframe, setting the detonator to go off when he's out of the blast range, and walking out of the office. Central command, crippled. Now he has to get a hostage and leave. A hostage he has already taken care of, Kitty Pryde. Now he just has to bring her to the hanger, and fly the jet out and away.

James Bond
Well, work before pleasure, he supposes. "Agreeable, I suppose." He tells the agent with a nod. "In that case, to begin with I'd like you to take me to the Blue Lotus casino. I have reason to believe that's the place to start."

[darkblade]

Oracle

"I'll see if I can pin anything down to Deathstroke." Babs says as she searches through Lex's databases for anything relating to the Wilson brothers that was recently added or updated.

***

Book of Pure Evil

Sensing the cop reaching for the bag it opens it's covers. While Cassie might have enough experience with dark magic to resist it's temptations it's likely that these cops do not.

***

Michael

Michael finishes the meal and heads out to Sam and Fi. "Big shot wants us to go extract a CIA operative. He won't give me names until tomorrow though."

***

Tommy

Not to be deterred Tommy leaps to the top of the pole once more. This time he tunes everything out. Kenshiro and Jackie are not down on the ground doing their own drills with Li Hua. Master Roshi isn't looking at dirty pictures down the hall. Mysterious yet incompetent ninja are not waiting outside of the city to ambush anyone seeking Sangri La.

There is nothing but Tommy and the pole. His entire being is focused on maintaining balance on the tiny sliver of wood his right foot rests on.

[Draxx]

Oracle
Sorting through Luthor's database is difficult, like a jungle constructed of code, and like a jungle it is full of traps for the unwary. A solid fifth of it is a fiction created by his public relations propaganda machine, detailing events, activities and attitudes that would be a credit to Ghandi. It's usually not worth looking at, though sometimes there is useful glimmers hidden away within it. Anyone looking is quite able to find this information, Luthor always makes sure of it.

Then there's the vast catalog of data that is Luthorcorp, a biotechnology conglomerate that researches and manufactures polymers, pharmaceuticals, diagnostic equipment, herbicides, pesticides, hormones and genetically modified food animals and seed crops, not to mention bioinformatics, data mining, machine learning and other esoteric branches of complex programing, and it's more infamous advanced research projects — which moved beyond the cutting edge and into unknown territory some time ago. Bionic implants, nanomachines, artificial intelligence, exocortices and more are under development in Luthor's laboratories, and he keeps the best of his discoveries for himself.

Sorting through what he could have given Slade is difficult. Headquartered in Metropolis, the corporation has offices, facilities and subsidiaries in a dozen countries, many of them linked to unethical or actually illegal activities, utilizing the sort of research that is matched only by the inadequacy of words to atone for. His father made a fortune from buying the dismantled remains of IG Farben, and Luthor outdid him. But thanks to his numerous and inexhaustible government contacts, and his blackmailing of politicians and intelligence officials, not to mention his hand-picked team of lawyers no sane individual would even try to win a case against allow him to function with relative impunity.

Indeed, it's somewhat controversial reputation hasn't ever done him any harm. Whenever it seems to, he always pulls out something so unquestionably wonderful and humanitarian, ranging from a cure to Alzheimer's to a source of clean, self renewing inexhaustible power, that the criticisms stop, or at least go away long enough for him to re-establish himself. Even now he balances running the country with running his corporation.

But you can narrow the search. It needs to be something one man can carry, something impossible, or at least, legally impossible, to trace to him, and something useful against the X-men. You find it under recent acquisitions. He recently had a team of researchers looking into the estate of Doctor Bolivar Trask, a dentist by trade best known for his work on the Sentinel Program.

Book of Pure Evil, Cassie
The police officer looks down at you, staring at the images within, and smiles, surreptitiously slipping it into his jacket and working it under his arm to try and hide the fairly obvious bulge. "It's not here. She must have stashed it somewhere." He calls out, and the other officer's eyes narrow at Cassie. Apparently, he's not the most observant fellow around.

Tommy
When you step down, three hours have passed, your leg is suffering severe pins and needles and the entire floor is swaying. Subjectively, such was your focus and concentration, it took the blink of an eye.

Ben 10
You glide in through the wall, passing through it like a ghost and moving into the complex. It's like a hospital, all perfectly sterile and sensible, with nary an iota of imagination throughout its numerous halls and laboratories. As a division of Star labs, you'd expected more imagination. But it's not until you find empty rooms where the trapped scientists were supposed to be that you start to suspect something is wrong. And it's not until you slip through the floor and into the lower levels, that you know something is.

Your fairly sure legitimate organizations and research facilities don't have thousands of people in cryogenic pod, frozen in place.

Dermott Arkane
It's good work, and you're happy with your results. The computer takes a few minutes to upload it, and now it's available to anyone who looks, anyone looking for a fresh perspective of events, an alternative way of seeing things, a different take on events. The message will be passed on, and the world will grow just a little more uncertain. And so you know you've done well. As the cosmos pretty much revolves around the collective will of humanity and its chosen representatives, the ripples of what you've done will have effects, will alter the entire universe ultimately. All with a few words, all with a fresh perspective of things. Noam Chomsky would be proud.

Your earbud cycles through some details of world events, but none of it is useful to you, relevant to your mission. Well, you know what they say, if there is no news, go out and make some.

Michael Westen
"That'll be the catch." Sam says wisely, nodding his head. "Chances are, this is going to be trouble, and you're going to be a scapegoat." He looks at you. "We got a plan of attack, or are we going to pretend to go along with it until you think of something?"

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool slowly works his way back up from the floor. He acts like he's climbing Mount Everest on just his left pinkie.

Sheesh, Cable...I forgot how touchy-feely you get when you drink.

You're just jealous that you don't.

Shut it, you. With an exaggerated moan of exhaustion, Deadpool finally makes it back into his seat properly. So, Nate...why ya here instead of back at the mansion right now? Huh?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Broken ribs were something she could deal with later. It wasn't like this was the first time she's ever had them.

Bomb Queen lands in a crouch, and by the time Marshal has his new weapon, she's already on the move. The building was gonna come down soon, and she wanted to be close to the exit when it did.

As soon as the shells launch, Bomb Queen activates her boots again, hopefully sending her over their path. If that works, while she's in the air, she'll send a few blasts of her own in his direction. A couple should hit him, but she's also aiming to hit whatever parts of the building she can behind him. Might as well bring it down on her terms.

She never really liked this building, anyways.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia nods, showing that she picked up on his hint. She'll pocket the napkin.

King of Vampires? Talia's eyebrows are raised with curiosity. That does sound dangerous. How sure are you that it won't go rogue?

She shakes her head a little at the last question. Not really. Weaseled some cash from the Timebroker when he dropped me here, and I've been using a hotel since.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Laura pauses as Emma contacts her. Her immediate reaction is to put up mental barriers, something the Facility made sure she was good at. But, once she realized who it was, she lowered them.

Emma. Where are you now?

Rather than follow Emma's instructions, Laura continues forward to the source of the gunshot.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie doesn't resist the officer going for the book. Mostly cause she's afraid of getting shot if she so much as sneezes.

Of course, once he pockets it, then tells the other officer that it wasn't there, she gets upset and slightly curious. The other officer's reaction just makes her more upset.

Really? You didn't see him take the book from my hands, pull it out of the shirt, open it, look at it, and then slide it in his shirt? You're either insanely blind or insanely stupid.

...not the smartest thing to say at that moment. Then again, Cassie wasn't ever really known for her restraint.

[Draxx]

Deadpool
"They can handle themselves." He replies, slurring a little. He's only drunk about half what you have, but he doesn't have a healing factor that burns through poisons, and he's roughly 3.0 blood alcohol level, which probably qualifies as another super-power all on it's own. Unfortunately for Cable, his planned attack to use guilt to coerce you into agreeing to help him has lost most of it's subtly in the process.

"Besides, we might never get another chance, you know? Just us, friends, doing friend things. What with me about to go fight Luthor to prevent him taking over the world and all. Just wanted to say, you're my best friend Wade. I'm going to miss you." He says, sounding extremely emotional.

Nocturne
Wisdom devotes no more time to talking about Dracula. "Well then, you need a place to stay while you're looking for one of your own, I'll get Brandon to put you up. I'd do it myself, 'cept he's a gentleman and I'm not."

X-23
'Cerebro'. She replies. 'maintaining contact with everyone on the grounds, and trying to co-ordinate a counter-attack. It's hard to get a read on our intruders, for the same reason it's hard to find your mind. But one of them is upstairs.'

You step into the office. Scott is on the ground, bleeding, a gunshot room at his abdomen, and his visor missing. Deathstroke is staring at a computer screen.

[Cracklord]

Deathstroke
Slade turned and stared at her. Young, lean and coltish, all wiry strength and well-defined muscle, that would be flexible. She moved well, with the sort of unconcious grace that belongs in a dancer, or a predator. He likes what he sees.

"Hello Laura. We haven't met. I'm… well, our relationship is complex, I suppose. I'm one of the templates you were supposed to replace." He says casually, as though the very idea that the two of you should be fighting hasn't even occurred to him. He sounds… friendly isn't the word, but it's closer then anything else. "I suppose there's a lot to talk about. Can I get you a soda or something?"

He pulled off his mask and smiles in a fatherly manner at her, the creases at his eyes, forehead and mouth making him look slightly strange. His face was better designed for frowns and sneers, but the expression is by no means forced. Even the offer feels genuine. There's still a smoking gun in his hand, and he's bristling with weaponry, but he doesn't show any sign of using any of it.

[darkblade]

Book of Pure Evil

Anyone who looks under the cop's shirt will not find the book of pure evil. Although he does have a distinctively non-regulation belt with a buckle similar to the cover of the book. The book's shapeshifting powers hiding it in plain sight.

***

Oracle

With that failure to find anything useful Babs reduces the search parameters to anything designed to negate mutations or otherwise specifically designed to combat mutants.

***

Michael

"We'll play along for now. Hopefully earn us a few favours by tipping this unlucky guy off and nipping these guys in the bud before they become as bad as Management."

***

Tommy

Taking a minute to catch his breath Tommy stops to see how Jackie and Kenshiro are doing before going for another test.

[Draxx]

Cassie Hack, Book of Pure Evil
"You have the right to remain silent. Here's some advice; use it." He growls at you, as the other officer, with a smirk, opens his jacket to show there's nothing there at all. He even winks at you when his partner's back is turned, who is busy manhandling you against the wall and forcing you into handcuffs.

And then, with only one of your rights (you know you have more), and nothing like formal charge, you're dragged towards the patrol car by the two of them. Somehow, you do not anticipate due process is waiting for you at the end of your journey.

The book, meanwhile, hears the whisper of the officer who found it. "I want to be surrounded by gold, with a crown upon my head."

Oracle
Nothing apparent. Luthor is a wizard with biochemistry, but hasn't shown any inclination to study naturally occurring phenomena, or if he has, has buried it so deeply even you can't find it. Nothing so obvious.

Then you find something unexpected. Roughly a hundred members of the air-force were pulled out for maneuvers with some new, experimental device and abruptly vanished. All of them with specialties…

A few searches later, you think you have it. The Sentinels. Reprogrammed, to keep the Mutants on what is essentially a reservation for an endangered species. And while Slade works as a distraction, their pilots are being quietly replaced with a few of Colonel Strykers fanatics.

Michael
A few hours pass,a s they are wont to do, while the three of you sit in your hotel room and make plans. Sam makes a few suggestions, as does Fi, and they speculate a little about the man. He didn't give you much to work with, apart from ethnicity and bulky size size he was the very soul of nondescript. He could be anyone, work for anyone. And you're probably going to have to find out who.

Tommy
Kenshiro is being hit by sticks. It's bizarrely hypnotic to watch, he stands, stripped tot he waist, his stance open, eyes focused on the wall as they whack him with long poles. He doesn't so much as flinch, no matter how hard they hit him. Then suddenly he moves, tangling them all together, and with a single flex snapping all six poles like matchsticks, and sending the monks stumbling to try and regain their balance.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Nate...Cable...buddy...pal...I'm gonna miss you too.

Uh, Wade? I think he's trying to guilt trip you.

Deadpool points a finger straight up. Well, it ain't workin', I tells ya! I ain't gonna sit by and let him do it on his own! No siree!

*sigh* I don't think Cable even had to get him drunk.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia chuckles. No argument here. She finishes off her drink. So, are you a permanent member of this little group?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

The main concern would be Deathstroke. He has taken Logan. Emma might get a brief glimpse of what Laura sees when she steps into the room, but she quickly cuts off communication with the telepath. She needed to focus here.

The first thing she does is to visually inspect Scott from where she's standing at the doorway. If he seems to be in immediate danger from his wound, she'll ignore Deathstroke and move to him, to do what she can here and move him if needed.

If he isn't in immediate danger, her gaze will fall upon Slade.

I know who and what you are, Deathstroke. Her stance is like a predator that's ready to pounce on its prey. Her hands are curled into fists, her feet are spread apart, her legs bent slightly. Her claws aren't out yet, though. She needed to know why he was here, exactly. And where Logan was.

What is your purpose here?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

A lot of swearing is going through Cassie's head at the moment. Some of the things she's imagining happening to the two officers are rather...disturbed.

She doesn't resist much when she's dragged to the car. Not much point at the moment. She'd probably just get shot, and that was not to be desired. She didn't expect to get her one phone call, either, which meant calling for Vlad or Samhain was out.

At the moment, she can't think of any way out of this, so she goes with it. Something might present itself in the future.

[Cracklord]

Deathstroke
"Business, of course." He replies in the same smooth, indulgent tone of voice, stretching out his arms. There is no tension in him, he's completely relaxed and calm. He's certainly not put out by X-23;s hostile reaction. He can be friendly enough for both of them.

He puts the gun still in his hand back where it belongs, the holster on his hip, then steps forward. The movement is predatory, but in the lazy manner a well sated big cat makes little motion and less effort. "Well, you know who I am, and I know who you are. So no need for introductions, you're quite right. What else did you want to ask me?" It's difficult to gauge his strategy. He's not playing for time, and he doesn't seem to be trying to manipulate you. He's just… taking an interest.

[darkblade]

Book of Pure Evil

The book does nothing. It is quite content to remain as a belt until the other officers are out of sight and it can't grant any wishes until the cop reads from it's pages.

***

Oracle

"Sentinels, he's sending in Sentinels to relocate the mutants. Slade's just a distraction." Babs tells her field agents.

"Zinda, what's the air traffic look like? Anything suspicious?"

***

Tommy

Tommy looks down at the broken remains of the sticks to gauge how big they once were. As much as he might like and respect Kenshiro he will have to fight him soon enough.

***

Michael

"This isn't right. No one can leave that little of a trail." Michael sighs as he goes over what little they have on this mysterious man.

[AnimeKid]

Kos-Mos

Sensing the object above her Kos-Mos immediately leapt from her spot where it was sure to drop down. She shifted her left arm into the R-Cannon and shot at where the creature would land hoping to keep it off of her until her long range sensors could at least pinpoint an area to search for the main power core.

Rex

Rex backed off of the strange anomaly before considering his next course of action. He placed a fist under his chin in thought for a few moments before coming to a conclusion. "Okay, there is a strange object that I can not observe even with my goggles and is causing strange readings. Well time to fall back onto plan B. Break Stuff!"

With that Wrex brings out the Smack Hands and tries to pummel the invisible object.

Ben 10 (Big Chill)

Ben's eyes widen as he says, "Just what is going on here?! First things first, I need to get these people out of here." With that Ben tries to find the controls to release to the pods.

[Draxx]

Michael Westen
Fi and Sam glance at each other. Functioning on a fraction of the resources can be tough, there is only so far ingenuity can take you before the disadvantage starts to slide into the field. Fi shrugs. "We're working a quarter down in an unfamiliar locale against another professional. We're lucky to be doing as well as we are,"

It's then that, with a shrug, Sam plays his trump card. "Well, I got a buddy in Interpol. If you have a mugshot that's clear enough to hold up I can put in a reference, see what comes up with a check of their database." Sam says. "We can use the audiotrack from the phone call - if you recorded it, but that's less certain."

Kos-Mos
A tonne of segmented metal tentacles, unblinking red eyes and brutality descends at where you were a moment past tearing great gauges in the ground and ripping a few monitors in half as momentum sends the robotic limbs smashing into whatever is handy, then without missing a beat fixes on your new position and follows, the Sentinel attempting to wrap around you and bring rip you limb from limb. The beam of brilliant energy fired by your R-Cannon glances off it's insect-like skull, leaving a smoking hole gaping where one of it's primary optics were, but unfortunately doesn't seem to have taken out any primary systems.

This is bad. Not it's presence, you can beat one without too much trouble (although they usually travel in packs), so much as the fact that it's here. According to your records, the Hunter-Killer Robots that will one day burrow through the earth and hunt down the few remaining humans who still live on Earth after the fall of Zion certainly shouldn't exist yet. Yet here one was, doing it's utmost to tear you limb from limb.

Cassie, Book of Pure Evil
Fortunately, the susceptible policeman is not an instant gratification sort of guy. He simply spends the entire trip to the station dreaming dreams of avarice, of a crown, of wealth, and what other things the two together might afford him. Given that he's driving, this almost lends itself to an accident a few times, but fortunately his reflexes are good enough to avoid this.

Cassie, meanwhile, is having the facts explained to her by this policeman. "You know what this is? This is what I like to call measures to maintain the public trust. See, a few disappearances don't raise eyebrows like they used to. Certainly not in a little town in the middle of buf**k, nowhere. Murders, well that's a different matter, but a dozen people just vanish, and all the feds and agencies say they got bigger problems, which is just as well for us." You get a sinking feeling that you know where this is going. As it turns out, you're right. "But the locals, they aren't so easy to pacify. Sometimes, you need to toss someone out to them to keep them sated. You were just perfect, missy, a drifter type, no fixed address, no contacts. Nobody cares what happens to someone like you. I could shoot you right now, and nobody would know. Which is why it's best if you just co-operate. What do you say?"

Tommy
4 x 4, four feet by four inches, and the monks Li Hua had on the job have the sort of dangerous competence you associate with people who put plenty of force behind their swings. One or two knocks with that would take you out, no problem, unless you had your armor on. finishes toweling himself down, then replaces his shirt and cracks his neck loudly, letting off a little sigh as he does. "Quite a workout, huh?" He says, stopping to say something in Chinese to one of the monks, who nods and steps back, then gently patting you on the shoulder. "You're a natural, you know. The rate you're going, she'll be out of things to teach you in less then a year."

Nocturne
"No, the bastards first move was to kick me so far upstairs I can't cause problems. I got a big, impressive title on my door. You should see it. It sounds something like 'Operational Head of Division…' Something like that anyway. But once you cut away all that, I'm basically a correspondent in an advisory capacity who keeps an eye on you all, and reports what I see to MI6."

He shrugged. "Which is why I've more or less taken it on myself to be the bloke with some sort of plan he can pull out once everything starts going wrong."

Deadpool
"That means a lot, Wade." Cable replies, eye swimming with emotion. He's far too stoic for that normally, but he's consumed far more alcohol then is safe, or survivable, at least as far as the human body is concerned. Not only has that left him in a highly susceptible emotional state, but it's also lowered his inhibitions to places they should not go. And, of course, there's only one expected, sufficiently irresistible for two blokes who find themselves in this situation to do, something that always looks like a bad idea come reason. "We should have a night on the town, and celebrate. Bodyslide by 2, Vegas."

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool was having a staring match with the bottom of his glass. Even with his mask on, you could tell he was not blinking.

Without looking up, Deadpool responds. Vegas? Really? You buying?

So, wait...how we getting to Vegas?

I don't know...80's style montage scene?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia chuckles. Aw, can't be too bad of a job. At least you have connections to both groups. That should make things better for you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Laura finds Deathstroke's actions to be...unusual. Not expected. Which, of course, throws her off a little. This is shown in the fact that she takes a moment to respond.

You will tell me where Logan is. And you will leave this place. Now. And you will not return.

Laura felt she should give him this one warning. In her time with the X-Men, she learned some of the importance of giving people a chance. Of not immediately attacking. And in order to distance herself from what her creators wanted her to be, she felt the need to try and stick to these guidelines as much as she could.

Or course, she didn't bother to tell him any kind of "or else I will..." stuff. She was certain he could guess what she would do if he didn't.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh.

Look, Paul Blart, I get you wanna do your duty and stuff. I do. I'm all for it.

But that thing, She nods to where the book is currently hiding. Is beyond you. Arresting me won't stop anything. In fact, might make it worse. Ya see, I hunt crap like that. It's what I do. I'm pretty good at it.

But, you lock me up, and I can't hunt that stuff anymore. Which means it all gets to roam free and tear people's faces off. So, how about you just let me go, give me the book, and I can just get back to what I was doing, eh?

[Cracklord]

Deathstroke
Slade rolled his remaining eye. "Don't be tiresome. Ugly girls can't afford to be boring as well." He replied, losing some of his affability and his deep voice going flat and emotionless, as though discussing a subject he considers a waste of time.
"Still, I said I'd answer your questions, and I'm a man of my word. Wolverine was at the very top of a list I was given. He's been in hiding, but his squeeze was good enough to leave a paper-trail, and I know people who can use that. I ran him down, and did what needed doing. As a consequence, there's not much left of him, because I was very thorough. I'm a contract killer afterall, and it's maddeningly unhelpful if your work keeps on coming back to life." Slade says, taking a certain amount of pleasure saying the words, for all he said he wanted to get on with things.
"But really, who cares? He was a self-righteous bastard of a human being with a tediously repetitive manner and a habit of acting entitled about things he wasn't welcome to. No great loss, as we used to say."

[Draxx]

Bomb Queen
It begins with a deceptively soft groaning noise, as the ceiling above sags, and the walls fold in a little way. Not all the way, just a few degrees, but it's the beginning of the end, as the entire building sways and topples, and the lower floor you're standing in folds together like a piece of origami with a crash of breaking concrete, sheering steel and glass and support giving way.

Deadpool
No, Cable uses the infonet (whatever that is), converting you to pure information then reconstituting you at the desired destination. You're of the opinion he shouldn't play havoc with space/time while he's a few sheets to the wind, but that's the last thing you remember. Beyond that, everything is a disjointed, scrambled blur of inviting noises, bright lights and irresponsible decisions.

The next morning, or close enough anyway, you blearily open your eyes, awoken by the insistent buzz of your vibrating iphone, as it receives a text. Your healing factor has burned away your hangover and you feel positively bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, so no issues there, though Cable had just as much as you, and when he wakes he will probably be as tetchy as a lion undergoing a vasectomy. Speaking of which, where is he? And where are you? Your surroundings are not encouraging. You are sitting in the back of an armored car that has swerved and flipped onto it's back on the traintracks, full of gold that really should be on it's way to Fort Knoxx. You're dressed in a white rhinestone suit, and blue suede shoes, in a manner more then a little reminiscent of the one true king of Rock and Roll. However, it takes a while to learn this, as you're covered in thick shaving cream.

If that was all, it would be nothing to bother you, however, that's the rational aspect of your surroundings. You seem to have somehow acquired that creepy (but hot) psychiatrist who dresses like a clown and hangs out with the worst company Gotham has to offer, and for reasons that probably made some sort of sense at one point (to be honest, last night is really kind of a blur) is handcuffed to your left hand, and that red-headed crazy (but again, hot) eco-tettorist with control over plants is hand-cuffed to your right. Both of them are unconscious at the moment, though given Doctor Harley Quinnzell is making soft snoring sounds and stirring a lot, you're guessing that won't be the case for long.

Scattered amongst the bars of gold stamped with the US Mint are the fragments and clues leading to how you got here, all of them distressingly non-indicative. There's a half-eaten horse (a big, black race horse), a christmas cake, a pair of those cheep plastic Groucho glasses, nose and mustache, the severed, frozen head of Walt Disney, and a set of keys.

There's a red speed-boat a few paces up the tracks that had been strapped to the armored car before it flipped, containing receipts with purchases you don't want to think about, and a certificate from the 'The Bearded Gentlemen's Club of Metropolis' (kinda like the freemasons with facial hair) thanking you for your generous donation and making you a lifetime honorary member. There's a shaved siamese cat, shivering slightly and giving you the evil eye. And there's a whole lot more clutter you're reluctant to examine too closely.

The text is from Ozzy Osbourne.

Nocturne
"Well, it'd be nice if anyone actually listened to me." He replies with a shrug. "Now shouldn't you be out buying yourself a nice expensive car, and renting a venue for a party? All that money you're allocated isn't going to spend itself."

Cassie
"My duty? Lady, I'm so corrupt I wouldn't know it if someone were to shove it in my face. Not that I have a problem with that, I've got a nice thing worked out here. I give the occasional ticket, I can line my pockets, cut corners, and as long as there isn't any interruption and everything stays nice and quiet, it's a pretty good life."

"Now, disappearances. I gotta get results and soon, but unfortunately I have nothing to show for it, and that looks bad. Finding you was a real windfall. Now, maybe you do know something. I've seen ****, I know that, but the problem is, I don't see a book. Now if you could produce it, then what the hell, you do your thing, i write a report nobody will ever read more then once, and you can be on your way, after I threaten you some, and maybe some of the others give you a beating for bringing this **** onto our doorstep. Now, can you do that?"

X-23
Scott hasn't opened his eyes, but he has turned his head towards Deathstroke, and painfully managed to force himself up onto one hand, trying to get back onto his feet without putting any pressure or tension on his agonizing midsection. Down but not out, Scott continues to impress.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Man...I bet Charlie Sheen wishes he could party that hard. Deadpool opens his eyes and goes to sit up. He feels weight on his wrists, though. Aw, man, am I waking up naked, handcuffed to a bed? Again?

He looks around for a few moments. Taking in all the details. He's quiet for a few moments, actually, as he contemplates everything.

Am I hallucinating again?

Huh? Oh, uh...nope. Nope, this is real.

That's...odd...Like, even for me. This is not normal at all. He looks to the two women that he's handcuffed to. Though, I guess it could be worse.

What the hell? How did Walt Disney's head get here?

Hitched a ride on Steamboat Willie? Doesn't matter. We have more important things to do.

Like wake up the two hot chicks and see if we can make out with them?

Precisely! And he proceeds to try and wake them up.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen smirks. She always loved watching building fall apart like this. Course, that was usually from the outside. Little bit different on the inside.

Bomb Queen will quickly aim a couple more blasts at Marshall before making her way out of the building. The blasts are just meant to hold him there long enough for the building to fall on him.

If she makes it out, she'll wait nearby. Once everything's done falling, she'll come back over and make sure that he's dead.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Why so eager to get rid of me? Got a hot date waiting for ya? Talia chuckles, then goes to give him another hug. It was good seeing you again, Pete.

After that, she will walk outside and head back to the office. She needed to see if they had any recommendations for places to stay.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Without taking her eyes off of Deathstroke, Laura notices Scott trying to stand back up. She brings no attention to it, though. She wants Slade's focus on her.

His words seem to have an affect on her. Her fists become a little tighter, and her expression breaks away from its usual stoic appearance for a more ferocious one.

You did not answer my question. Where is Logan? While she's wearing loose clothing, Deathstroke still might be able to tell that her muscles are tensing up slightly. Like she's getting ready to attack in some way.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie lets out a frustrated sigh. I told you, your big dumb partner there has it. He took it from me, and it's already bought his favor. The thing promises to give you what you want so you'll pick it up, and then it wreaks havoc from there. He's got it, not me.

The thing shapeshifts, too, so it's probably turned into something else by now.

She'll lean a little closer to the officer and drop her voice a little lower.

And just so you know, if any of you guys so much as lay a finger on me, I'll make sure you'll be able to sing soprano for the rest of your lives.

[Draxx]

Deadpool
Most red-blooded males can only dream of waking up nestled snugly between two gorgeous women built like lingerie models, who actual goddesses would be jealous of. Today, you're that lucky man. There's the tiny manner of between the two of them there is more then enough crazy to make you seem fairly mainstream, but that's beside the point.

Harley Quinn is dressed in an adorable bright coat, somewhat reminiscent of a circus ringmasters, and nothing else underneath it so that it offers enticing glimpses at her chest and her legs. She's got a slightly scary amount of scar-tissue interrupting otherwise perfect skin, and her blond hair (she dyes it. Definitely) is in two pig-tails. Her slightly childish face is set in an expression of innocence and contentment, but also of sensuality and mischief. It is slightly obscene, considering she's killed possibly hundreds in cold blood.

You put a hand on her shoulder, and give her a shake, then another, harder shake, but she doesn't even react no matter what you try, so you turn your attention to the other one at your other side.

Pamella Isely is slightly shorter and with less muscle tone though an equal figure, both lithe and curvaceous, and almost impossibly proportioned. Her skin is pale with a green tinge so subtle that you almost forget it's there, and flawless though it is, it's slightly rough to touch. Her hair is long and lustrous, falling all the way to the small of her back though most of it is tangled up in the shaving cream, a deep red burgundy color that falls in thick, natural curls. The best bit is, unlike her compatriot she's wearing nothing at all, lying next to you in her birthday suit.

The second your glove touch her, her eyes snap open then narrow alarmingly, and her full lips tighten into something caught between a grimace and a frown. The texture in the air changes as her plantlike physiology, reacting to her feeling threatened, starts pumping biotoxins into it, which make you feel light headed and woozy, and she attempts to jerk away, although the handcuffs make that difficult. She opens her mouth to yell something at you, then closes it, then opens it again, but no sound comes out at all.

Cassie
"Fine. Don't co-operate. But a corpse might work as well as a confession." He says, then closes the passenger screen and leaves you to stew. It might be meant to be intimidating, but to you, it's something entirely else. it's a sign. Authority is not going to be any help here. You're on your own. And to fight back, you need to escape.

Oracle
You can't help but yawn and stretch your arms, as the impulse to brew a fresh pot of coffee dances through your head, then stop. No updates on the Sentinels yet, but given that Deathstroke seems to be stalling for time, the smart money was on soon. However, there was no rest for the wicked, and with the size of the operation these days, you were having to multi-task to take care of local trouble as well.

A quick pass of the police-band turns up a domestic, a gang-related drive-by, and— what was this? Just a scuffle… you glance at the OraCom panel, to notice it flashing red next to Bat Girl's name. "Break-out. Arkham. Advice?" That was Cass. You'd better call Spoiler, and get a less succinct report. No rest or respite for the wicked.

[darkblade]

Michael

"I didn't have enough time for either." Michael shakes his head and sighs.

Sometimes when every reasonable course of action has been played out the only thing you can do is sleep on the problem.

"I'm going to bed. We'll have to come at this again tomorrow. Maybe he'll leave us some clues with the agent he wants grabbed."

***

Tommy

"I couldn't do that." Tommy says picking up one of the sticks.

***

Oracle

On top of the X-Men now she's got to deal with Arkham. "Who is it? I'm a bit busy tonight Cass."

[Draxx]

Oracle
Cass almost falls silent as her limited expression tries to find a way to explain a complicated and difficult concept. "Break out. Help from outside." She says, then falls silent. "No other witnesses." Gets added, almost as an afterthought. There was no rhythm to her speech.

Tommy
He doesn't disagree, but he gives a little shrug. "You could learn. Not quickly, but you could." He flexes, the veins popping out as his muscles shift like tectonic plates under the skin. He has arms like your legs, and toned to incredible definition. "I'll teach you, if you want."

"When I was fourteen, I had to fight a tiger with by bare hands for the right to learn. The tiger took one look at me and ran the other way. I was born to this, to martial arts, and I have spent my life learning whatever I can. And I think you are the same. You just have had so many distractions, you've never realized it."

Ben - 10
You walk over to one of the hulking, bronze and glass vaults, where the people sleep, dreaming in crypts of arching ice as God knows what is done to them. The air is frigid. Frost encrusts the pods, and a thick cake of ice crusts the floor and walls. You walk over to the control panel, and hit the abort button. A moment later, you know you've made a terrible mistake.

A terrible sound rolls through the thawing warehouse, fists and palms beating at plastic screens. Wailing. Gurgling. The sleepers were waking, their frigid bodies, sore with hibernation sickness and the effects of being frozen were falling apart. They needed medical attention instantly. Needed their organz sluiced with warming biofluids, their paralyzed extremities restored, and their bodies equilibrium restored. And anyway, they will all suffocate in minutes.

Rex
You step back and attack the invisible wall, only to find that, all of a sudden, it's not there. Nothing is. Something drew you in, dragged you through the wall to a place not unlike oblivion.

You can say nothing about it's size, only to use inadequate words, like huge, colossal, and so on, but none of them have any meaning where you stand. There is nothing to give it any scale. Tiny, scattered specks of light, dozens of them, illuminate small parts of the face of some impossible structure, as dark and cyclopean as the eternal wall ancient philosophers used to believe surrounded creation. The edge of the universe. The side of the casket something had wrought to keep reality in.

It was warm, and still. Not even the air moved. The dots of light showed small parts of a vast design that etched on the face of whatever it was. A perfect black sphere, engraved across it's entire surface (or at least, the potion that you can see) with tight, deep, interlocking lines. Each of the lines is a smooth sided gorge, two hundred meters wide and nine hundred meters deep.

Deadpool

[SOMEWHERE IN NEVADA]
At the reigns of the Los Angelas branch of the global superpower the knights of St Dumas (located in Nevada for reasons best not speculated upon, but doubtless evil), the Sacred Executioner is gnashing his teeth and expressing himself in a manner that can only be described as obscene. He is a tall, narrow man in a white suit and panama hat, with a tortured grating voice and a scarred face. He seems all skin and bone, cadaverous to the point of emancipation, and with sharp, patricians features.

The Order of St Dumas was built int the long, long ago by a faction of the Knights Templar, and is hidden in the shadows. They hold leavers of power that go deep, in the worlds banking particularly, and when necessary could exert power on the leaders of the world's most powerful governments using the reigns of finance. And when they needed a more immediate threat, Starr was charged with paying a visit, and putting the fear of God in them. Or at least, the fear of Starr.

Their sufficiently vague plan was nearing its completion. Soon they would have all the pieces of Eden, and their no doubt diabolical goals would be accomplished via the least revealing and most circuitous path possible! However, there was a slight flaw in this flawless plan… their greatest enemy, who had worked tirelessly to destroy their power, had died long past. But now, two loose cannons had stolen his head, and were no doubt planning on resurrecting him! The mere thought of the damage this could do sent Starr into paroxysms of rage. Fortunately, he had a solution. He stepped over to his phone, and called Jene Paul Valley, better known as Azrael.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Ah! Crazy plant lady poison! Deadpool will quickly pull his hand away from Pamella. His healing factor quickly rids him of her toxins.

So, uh, do you remember what happened last night? He's talking to his head voices, but Pamella might not be able to tell. Especially if this is her first encounter with Deadpool. That she can remember anyways.

...

Uh...guys? Hello?

Hello, you've reached the head voices. We're too busy to answer, on account of the naked hot chicks. So, just leave a message at the sound of the beep. BEEP!

...Okay, guess I'm on my own for now. He finally turns his attention back to Pamella and notices that she can't talk. Um...having trouble there? Frog in your throat?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Good thing the cop closed the screen when he did, cause Cassie just aimed one of her heavy boots right at it.

She knows that won't do anything to help, but sometimes, you just gotta kick something.

After that, Cassie looks around and takes stock of everything. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, so that limited their help. Probably couldn't kick out any of the windows, and even if she could, she wouldn't be able to climb out fast enough. Doors were locked, so she couldn't dive and run.

Hmmm...quite the pickle here...Might have to wait till the ride was over.

[Draxx]

Deadpool
Poison Ivy is, as has been mentioned, absolutely stunning. And dressed in nothing at all, it's somewhat hard to focus on her expression. Nonetheless, it changes rapidly, as she comes to terms with her situation. She looks furious, mad, but there was more to it than that. There was something else mixed in with that horrified gaze - Panic? Confusion? Hard to be sure.

Then it fades, as she gains control of herself, and therefore the situation. Her face changes to a look of contempt, which is far more appealing on her features then it has any right to be, and, no more conscious of her lack of clothes then a wild animal, she gets to her feet, jerking you along as the handcuff tugs painfully against your wrist. The poison fades from the air, and pheromones begin to pump out instead. She's not making an effort to seduce you, because she's quite aware that she might succeed, and like you she's got no idea where she is or what she's doing. Once she has, she'll get started working on Gaia's vengeance.

Ivy's biochemistry is such that she is completely immune to poisons – meaning it should be physically impossible for her to get drunk, or drugged, or whatever the hell happened to you. Just the same, she shrugs. "I was in Arkham. On the roof, under heavy guard, for my daily period of photosynthesis. Then the alarms went off, and I blacked out" She shrugs again, and her face twists into mild distaste. "Something about dancing around a maypole. And some sort of ritual, with a lion and bodily mutilation involved." She looks down at the handcuff. "Could you get this off?"

Cassie
The car stops outside the station, and the two of them drag you out, hoisting you by the shoulders so that your feet barely touch the ground. Again, no pretense at protocol, you're thrown into the 'drunk and disorderly' cell and locked in, the policeman telling you he won't feed you until he gets a confession. The other one has gone to his office, probably to try to use the book for nefarious purposes. It's obvious. You're going to need to break out tonight.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

*snicker* She told you to get it off...

HAHAHAHA!!!!!

Shut up, you two. Deadpool is in kind of an awkward position at the moment. A naked Poison Ivy is dragging one arm up, while an almost naked Harley Quinn is dragging the other arm down.

Okay, so I remember going to Vegas with a friend, and you remember sunbathing on Arkham, followed by strippers, lions, and cutting.

...yep. I have no idea what's going on.

He'll jerk his left hand a little, which will probably shake Harley some. If ya hadn't noticed, sweet cheeks, my hands are kind of tied at the moment. Course, I'll gladly lie still while you work whatever mojo you want. She could almost make out his cheesy grin beneath his mask.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Boy, would she love for the chance to beat the crap out of those two.

That'll have to wait, though. First things first. Gotta see what she still has.

Let's see...bra, panties, skirt that's kind of loose now, stockings, big boots. Nothing in her pockets. However...they didn't take her boots off, did they?

She silently thanks Chris for suggesting that she starts sticking small things in her left shoe. His reasoning was that since she was missing a toe there, she might as well take up that space with something.

Tonight's something being a small stack of paper clips.

Not much help, but she could figure out something. For now, she looks to see who's in the drunk tank with her. Also, her player assumes that the cuffs have been removed, but he does not know for sure.

[Draxx]

Deadpool
"I think I remember something about gambling, too." She says, after a moment, before you make your proposition. For a moment she looks deeply offended. Then it changes, and her expression becomes malicious.

Poison Ivy has a view of the world that has a lot in common with a pyramid. Herself at the top, the avatar of the green and of mother earth, and humans, particularly men, at the very bottom. Lower then the dirt, and the worms in the dirt, fit only to be fertilizer. "Here's a fun bit of trivia." She says, her voice sultry, deep and almost painfully sensual. "Anyone who has eaten within eight hours probably has seeds in their digestive tract from the innocent vegetation they've devoured." She expresses that last part the way a more normal person would talk about cannibalism.

"What do you think would happen if they were all to sprout, dig their roots into you and start growing, reaching adolescent size in just a few heartbeats?" That question doesn't sound rhetorical. It sounds like a distinct possibility. "Now do what I say."

Harley doesn't react to your attempts to rouse her. She's a deep sleeper, and her body as a highly developed manner of determining when it's time to get away from her disturbing dreams. When in Arkham, it's when one of the guards whacks her. When out of Arkham, Harley is typically woken up either by the Joker putting out cigarettes on her arm (sometimes her neck), or by Pamella being gentle but insistent. In short, a few shakes and prods aren't going to register, not with the sort of treatment she's not only used to, but actually savors (from certain people, anyway).

There's also no sign of Cable. At all.

Cassie
They didn't take them off, more because they don't want you comfortable then anything else. That, and they are handling you like you might go off at any moment, trying to keep you helpless.

The cell you're in is empty (they want you isolated), and there's no camera to be seen, which is the good news. You have space to act without interference, if you don't cause too much commotion.

[darkblade]

Book of Pure Evil

Safely in a private office the book returns to it's true form and opens to reveal a page showing the cop wearing a beautiful crown and surrounded by more gold than one person could ever hope to spend in a life time. Below it are the words. Cingitur aurea corona in capite tuo.

***

Oracle

"I mean who escaped. Joker? Two-Face? Riddler? Bane?" Oracle clarifies her question to Cass. Still she opens a channel to Spoiler.

"Steph, there is a breakout at Arkham. Cass is on the scene but she could use some backup."

***

Tommy

"I was not born into this." Tommy says shaking his head gesturing at the dojo in general.

"I was born into being a hero, someone who has to repeatedly save the world. Not content to retire after one crisis was adverted, like so many others. To me the martial arts are just a means to an end." He says as he walks over to a wooden training dummy. Testing his katas against it's multiple wooden limbs is a simple drill but fired up what he's done today he is striking at it faster and with more force than he's ever managed.

"If I was a mutant I'd have been an X-Man. If I were a wizard I'd have been a Warden. If I lived in Gotham I'd have been a Bat. Instead I was given alien magitech and a decent skill in karate, so I became the best damn karate-ka I could be and got a PhD so I could make my own magitech."

[Cracklord]

Deathstroke
The less you say, the more he seems to want to fill the silence. "Buried in a grave that formerly belonged to one Carl Michaels, in a little town in Alaska that's name seems to have slipped my mind. At least, what I could find is. Most of him is somewhere in the atmosphere. I wanted to make sure, I have some experience at unfinished jobs, and, for securities sake, decided to ensure my peace of mind and satisfaction at a job well done. He's dead. I cut out his heart, bled him dry, then blew the flesh off his bones until all that was left was some adamantium and stray electrons. His skull is on my desk, as a paper-weight, which I suppose might suffice if you want to pay some last respects. He left a will. You're well provided for." Slade said, sounding only mildly engaged, his general attitude giving the impression that he was devoting the majority of his brain to grappling with some esoteric problem.
"Not just you." He continues, taking a few steps to the left, and taking out a long knife, that he throws in the air, lets it flip in a few lazy arcs, then catching it between thumb and forefinger on the tip, seemingly for no reason other then to find something to do with his hands. For a moment, you think he's noticed Scott, but if he has he doesn't take any further action or preparation. "He still has a legacy left over, and he devoted a bit of generosity to all of it, though perhaps I'll kill that as well. For the sake of completeness. Now that it occurs to me, I think I'll adopt Daken." Slade adds, trying to force a reaction out of you.
"It'll take a while to make him useful, but I'll wager I can mentally scar him so much in a month that he follows me around like a puppy, and meekly does whatever I tell him. I wrote the book Weapon X used to control their pawns, it's just a matter of keeping them from too much human contact, and systematic beatings to their cerebral cortex to prevent them from becoming too independent. Clones now, clones don't require such high maintenance. It's not as though they're real, they're just simulcums with a series of impulses and according responses. Just dangle the right stimuli in front of them, and their programing takes over."

[Draxx]

Book of Pure Evil
You've had many individuals who want to tap into the dreams you offer and try to ensure their dominance in the relationship, poor officer Jesse Barnaby is just the latest in a long chain dating back to when you were first penned by a mad Arab who was owed favors by the wrong sorts of powers. Many prospective recipients of your power can't help but hold back while trying to close loopholes and act cautious, playing for advantage as best they can, and trying to bargain with you. This never works.

And there are those who never hesitate, jump right in and leave it all to you. This police man is very much the latter, the words almost falling over each other in their rush to get out. "Cingitur aurea corona in capite tuo." He stutters out, mangling the words and putting the emphasis on the wrong syllables. Then, with somewhat more feeling; "Make me rich. Make me somebody."

Oracle
"I know, I'm trying to figure out what happened." Steph chips in, sounding a little breathless. Right, it's a Wednesday. Their patrol coincides, they overlap their route through the docks, and they'd hang together for the rest of the night for company (Gotham, due to a strange meteorological anomaly that nobody has been able to satisfactorily come with a coherent answer, has thirteen hours night the whole year round). She and Cass were a formidable duo, Cass doing the fighting, sneaking and most of the physical stuff, Steph handling the actual investigating and dealing with communicating to people who weren't fluid in 'nerve punch'. "Poison Ivy, and Harley escaped. Rescued. I think, it's hard to peace together since most of the data has been erased. As to how, well... They had help."

Steph pauses her rather rambling and disjointed explanation, takes a deep breath, and starts again. "Not Gotham help, I mean outside help. Don't really recognize them, they don't look like they're from around here I mean. But I think I recognize one of them…"

Cass gets impatient with her partners babbling, and is more succinct, though not much more useful. "Two men. Not know what doing. Not thinking properly. Powers, costumes. Got here after gone."

Deathstroke, X-23
"I got him in my sights. Clean shot at the back of his neck. On your mark." Huntress says into your ear-piece. Dinah nods behind you, and steps lightly to the right, trying to circle around a little so one of you is coming in from every angle. "The odds are about even, I'd say. They're not going to get much better. We should go, because he's stalling, and that means if we give him any more time, he'll have us right where he wants us." Felicia circles the other way, an audible sound as the claws slide out of her gloves, and her fingers flex menacingly. Scott freezes, head cocking as he works to distinguish the various movements and reassess the situation. He's still dangerous as he is, but Slade's efforts to cripple him were fairly thorough. You can't count on him being too much use. Emma is silent, but the reinforcements should be here soon.

Tommy
"Not an easy calling." Kenshiro said, the tone of voice almost neutral. He understands, if you're a hero trying to learn how to be a warrior, he is a warrior forced by circumstances into the role of hero, a role hat he is suited for but not entirely comfortable with. "You have always had a cause. I am glad I found one. Or perhaps it forced itself on me. If I hadn't, I'd be dead by now. On some battlefield, for some stupid reason nobody would remember, just another wasted potential. But I was in the right place at the right time, and fell into the role of protector, along my journey to better myself."

He sighed, and looked at his arm. "I am uniquely suited to this, to martial arts. I take pride that I have surpassed my every limit, gone beyond anyone I have ever met in martial arts. And if I sometimes take too much pride in that, then remember that it is my vocation, and I am very proud that there is no man born, of training or science, who can stand against me. Yet I can go no further, I have taken every step I can ever take. Without becoming an Immortal Weapon."

"It's a path for men like me, for warriors, not for heroes. So why take this path? Do you wish to be more, or merely something else?"

Bomb Queen
The building cannot take any more punishment, and collapses without further ceremony, toppling like a tree hewed at the base onto a significant potion of the surrounding properties, crushing them like a hammer applied to a wheel of cheese. Not that you notice any of this, it looking like just a mess of destruction and confusion from up close. You get out just in time, but Marshal Law is caught under countless tonnes of rubble. You'd bet money he survived, he's like a cockroach, but he's certainly not well, and you doubt he'll be able to dig his way out.

All in all, hundreds of people died, millions of dollars of assets were lost, a useful minion met his unfortunate end, but when the dust cleared you were still standing strong and tall, and it all still belonged to you. Another day in New Port city, business as usual.

James Bond
Kato drives a car the likes of which even you, something of a connoisseur, have never seen. It is designated KITT, or Knight Industries Two Thousand, and while it looks like a heavily modified 1982 Pontiac Trans Am, it is essentially an incredibly advanced, self-aware supercomputer on wheels. Not that Kato is really driving it. The car drives itself. But Kato sits behind the wheel, and gives directions as it darts through Shanghai, like a big, matt black shark with flashing red lights.

Eventually it stops before biocyte pharmaceuticals, a division of Mann Corp, and the two of you get out. There's a fund-raising function to be held there tonight, and the two of you are attending, there to make first contact.

Nocturne
"Nah." Wisdom replies with a sort of half-shrug. "Just a lot of feeling sorry for myself to catch up on."

You head back to the Headquaters, where Jack and is leaning against the admissions desk, back in his great-coat and chatting to another old friend. Brian Braddock is six-foot seven, with the deep chest and powerful shoulders to pull off his weight-lifters physique, hair like spun gold, and features that could have been modeled as an example of stark male beauty. He gives you a smile that's faintly boyish, and waves you over.

Michael Westen
You collapse into bed, and are asleep before you hit the mattress. You've been up for quite a period, and the day has been a sort of emotional roller-coaster, with everything from zombies to the vindication of a years hard work. The rest was both well-deserved and much needed.

At four in the morning, you are awoken by a sharp, irritating buzzing, which, as it turns out, is the buzz of the hotel's intercom. A package has been received for you downstairs.

[darkblade]

Book of Pure Evil

It doesn't matter how the words are said. As long as an attempt is made and the desire for the wish is there. More than once a would be Pure Evil One had been undone by their infant children happening upon the book.

Before the officer appears a golden crown. Adorned by hundreds of flawless gemstones, each glistening in the light. The unspoken promise is quite clear, put the crown on and you will be somebody.

***

Oracle

"Two mind controlled metas?" Babs groans. Somehow her proteges were being far more useless than she could ever believe. "What kinds of costumes and powers, I need something to work with here."

While she waits on the Batgirls she checks her feed on Aero One. "Anything in the SF airspace yet Zinda?"

***

Tommy

"The Morphing Grid is a system that is continually renewing itself. Every year a new team of rangers shows up. A handful of new riders. A couple of Magical Girls. Maybe an Ultraman or Makai Knight. Right now in Tokyo six warriors empowered by ancient dinosaur spirits are fighting the aliens responsible for the KY Extinction event and a motorcycle riding Wizard is fighting depression powered demons. In Angel Grove five heroes are fighting even more aliens along side a magical robot. I think I heard something about a new Garo in Vol City." Tommy starts to explain.

"Those kinds of threats are managed. It's high time I move onto bigger problems. Now let me ask you a question. Why do you want to grow stronger? Fighting for it's own sake or down beneath that cold battle hardened exterior do you still hold onto a desire for justice?"

***

Michael

"I'll be there in a minute." Michael says as he turns off the intercom. He then wanders over to the window and peaks out towards the front seeing if there is anything suspicious out there.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool grimaces under his mask. Sheesh. Lay off the pesticides, lady. Deadpool will start searching his pockets for anything he could use to pick the lock. That's when he finds his phone. And the text.

Hey, look, a text from the Prince of Darkness himself! Cool, huh? He'll show the screen to Ivy for a brief moment before going to read it himself. He seems to have forgotten about her request.

So, wait, are we gonna get the cuffs off at all? Cause...well, how would we?

Well...he could always cut off his hand, slip them off, then reattach it.

Okay, first off: ow!

And second, that would mean not being attached to Poison Ivy any more. And while she may be crazy and dangerous, she's still hot.

You raise a fair point, sir.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen stands outside of the wreckage, a pleased grin on her face.

Well, that was fun while it lasted. Can't wait to do it again.

She turns away and starts strolling back to her base. Time to do some research on her computer.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia smiles when she sees Brian, and will go to give him a hug.

Brian! It's good to see you. How are you?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Deathstroke's attempts to get to Laura are starting to work. Her expression grows more agitated as he speaks, to the point of actually showing her anger. She may not understand all of the reasons why she's angry right now, but she knows that they all stem from the man in front of her.

She clenches her fists even tighter, and with a unique sound, two adamantium-laced claws slide out of each one.

I am not leaving, Black Canary. I am going to kill him now.

Without warning, she lunges forward, aiming to put her claws into his shoulders and pin him to either the wall or the floor, depending on if he falls or not.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Good thing I'm too lazy to tie my shoes right.

Using her other foot, Cassie slips off her left boot fairly easily. She'll then crouch down, grab it, dump out its contents, then pick up a paper clip, unfold it, and start working on releasing her hands.

This wasn't her first time doing this, so she kind of had an idea of what to do.

If that works, she'll slip her boot back on, grab the rest of the clips, and take a look outside of her cell. If nothing obvious presents itself there, she'll try on of the paper clips on that lock. She doesn't think that'll work, be she might as well try, right?

[Cracklord]

Deathstroke
Slade evaluated the situation around him with lightning speed and icy mathematical precision. Then he acted. Moving like liquid, he threw the knife over-arm at Black Cannary, arresting her charge as she threw herself out of the way, then in one single fluid movement drew his machete and held it lengthwise across his body, catching both your handfuls of claws, chips of steel flying from the weapon as he did. For a moment, he lets you strain against him, then a foot slides back four and a half inches, his chest turns slightly, and suddenly you're unbalanced and send staggering back into Felicia. Advantage, Slade.
Tossing the ruined weapon aside, he flicks his wrist and makes a fist, and a long, slim, fold-out sword snaps out in three pieces, which he holds legnthwise. Slade was virtuoso. Every blow was a move, every parry a counter-move, every footstep and shift of weight a thing to be calculated precisely.
He did the whole think with a vaguely bored air, his heart slow and steady and his breathing deep and slow. He's brilliant, far better than anyone she's ever seen, having honed himself to a finer point of perfection by simple expedient of having made this the entirety of him, but nonetheless, something he hates to admit has been creeping in for a decade. Despite all the surgery and treatments he had gone through, despite the synthetic hormones and the healing factor that's retarded his age, and despite his constant and brutal methods of keeping his muscles and reflexes at peak performance, he's getting old. Roughly a third of the hundred strategies he comes up with every second are no longer viable, because he can't push himself that hard anymore, his will was sufficient but his body wasn't. His body just doesn't move like it used to. He used to go unarmed, now he carries around three hundred pounds of wargear because he needs it. In another decade, he'll be over, one way or another.
Even now, the part of him that is pragmatic (the majority) tells him to stop playing around and go for a quick incapacitation. However, the part that was weak and mewling and human was strong too, and in this instance, stronger. Because he is getting old. And the perfect mercenary has destroyed everything else in his life, has nothing to hold onto but the reputation he has created for himself and the skills he has developed. When his body gives out, he'll shatter, like iron when it's hit too hard. Perhaps that is what drives his unhealthy interest in the coming generation of metahumans, what makes him take apprentices and enslave his children. Thoughts of a legacy, a way of escaping his own mortality.
Perhaps that's why he doesn't just want to kill you.

[Draxx]

Oracle
"Negative!" Zinda replies, sounding quite cheerful. "A couple of unidentified crafts skirting a perimeter, that looks like it should be them, but they're keeping out of visual contact, presumably waiting for confirmation, or some sort of signal."

"I don't know!" Steph shouts, frustrated at not being able to be more useful, then falls quiet, a little embarrassed at her outburst, remembering she's supposed to be sneaking, and it's a felony to be caught where she is, as well as extremely unprofessional. "It's like I know, I've got all the facts, but whenever I try to think about it, or put it in some kind of order, my head just goes fuzzy, and it all gets tangled up, and I get confused." Well that is interesting. Chemical, psychic or magical in nature? Poison Ivy can affect minds with her pheromones, but this is a little out of her league.

None of the other inmates could have, either. Oh, the capability was there, Jarvis Tetch, maybe, but if he could get to her without her noticing then the results would be considerably more obvious, and this just isn't his style. He's psychotically brilliant, but that doesn't equal competence outside the avenues his genius expresses itself, and his use of his treatments on himself has left him damaged beyond repair. And their was little fear of anyone imitating him, nobody else could understand how his technology worked, and he wasn't in any state to explain.

So local color was unlikely. Unfortunately, that left plenty of suspects, but few leads. Another clue is that the whole thing seems so… haphazard. Raw power substituted for planning and competence. Which again, seems bizarre. Why would someone (two someones) who could knock out every guard and disable all the security systems simultaneously without any of it being tripped do so? Plenty of people could, but why would they? And in order to save two lunatics who, while certainly unstable, weren't hugely useful or likely to take up with causes other then their own? Harley was a talented psychoanalyst when she wasn't being a bit of a ditz, and Pamella Iseley could have won a Nobel Prize if not for her unfortunate egotism and fixations, but who was that useful to, who was already in a position to rescue them so easily?

The whole thing just doesn't make sense. That's never good.

Deadpool
It's awkward, trying to cut off your hand while your other hand is hand-cuffed to someone elses. It's a bit like self-crucifixion, no matter how hard you try, there's just no way to get in the last nail. Besides, it would really hurt. Poison Ivy narrows her eyes when you make no move to follow her instructions, but she concedes you this small victory.

You reach for the phone, only to finally wake up Harley, who yawns (doing interesting things to her chest as she arcs her back and tosses back her head), then opens her eyes, pupils dilated due to being heavily medicated, the drugs still in her system. Harleen Quinnzel, a woman with the face of an angel child, the body of an adolescent fantasy and the misfortune of possessing a helium-filled voice she works hard to keep lower in register so it doesn't feel like a steel needle being slowly driven into your eye. Presumably she's got brains as well, somewhere in there, beneath all the damage and crazy and desperation for approval, but you don't see them very often.

"Red?" She says sleepily, looking up at her best friend, seeming extremely confused. Poison Ivy shrugs herself, then tilts her head and indicates you. She's managed to knock the phone into the pile of shaving cream as her wrist tugs yours, where it promptly sinks, beeping all the while, but Harley is still too busy trying to force coherence in her rather irregular state. Finally, she brightens. "I know you!" She says. "Mistah J says you was the one to call if he didn't feel like killing people himself. Good enough for me. Any friend of puddin' is a friend of Harley."

Your brother would hate to know that. If there's one thing Slade hated, it was the freaks who did it out of compulsion. Your brother is always firmly in it for the money.

Bomb Queen
Adrenaline and victory endorphins have more or less got you feeling good and fine, though you're going to hurt in the morning. Ashe is waiting for you on the roof of your fortified townhouse, along with the first of the vultures standing there waiting for you in front of a helicopter. You had expected this, now that you were actually a law unto yourself, groups would come and try and help themselves to a slice of the pie. New Port City had always been more or less lawless, those Court of Owls fellows had seen to that before you and your girls had taken over, but it wasn't what you'd call prize real estate. At least, until now.

With Lex Luthor's official withdrawal, however, it was something entirely else. It was frontier territory, and therefore inestimably valuable. And this world was full of powerful, dangerous people who would find a city where they had free rein to be a power unto themselves very exciting indeed. You'd known you'd have to make a point of defending your own. You were just having to start a lot sooner then you'd expected. The first of them was already here. Cobra Commander.

He was tall and straight-backed, hard and lean. His face was a featureless steel mask, like a blank plate built into his helmet, reflective as a mirror, and his voice was a nasal whine. He was dressed in a black trench-coat that wouldn't be out of place in Marshall Law's wardrobe, and black leather jack boots polished to a mirror sheen.

Of course, it didn't pay to underestimate him. Snake's and ridiculous hissing aside, he had managed to actually succeed and prosper as a splinter of HYDRA, something that very few could take the credit for doing, then arranged the assassination Jimmy Carter, replaced him with a body double without anyone being the wiser, and had Berlin nuked, nearly sparking World War 3 and mutually assured destruction. He had made alliances with some very powerful people. And he had an army. A dangerous, well equipped, powerful army of zealots who shared his mad dream.

"You're here. Good. To Business. Cobra wishes to set up a fortress in your city, as our own sovereign soil. We will pay handsomely for the privilege." He says, and hands you a briefcase.

Nocturne
"All the better for seeing you." He says, wrapping a heavy arm around your shoulders and giving you a brotherly squeeze. About the only thing all the disparate political interests within England could agree on is that Brian Braddock is a wonderful man.

"You look good, kid. It'll be good to have you working with us."

Cassie
You manage, with some difficulty, to get your hands around your front, and kick of your boot, and the paperclips spill out. You should be able to get your handcuffs off. The door is going to prove harder, since the officer, in deference to protocol and in contradiction of story-telling protocol, keeps the keys in the draw of his desk rather then hanging on a ring just out of reach.

However, the lock on the door doesn't look overly complex. Shouldn't take more then five minutes to get open, if nobody interrupts you. You're just getting onto that when you hear the scream.

Book of Pure Evil
Officer Theodore Barnaby is a man who was not yet in his thirties and already burned out, having achieved and done all he is likely to. He was single, the friends he had in high school have moved on, and he's got no real chance of promotion, indeed it's only because the rest of the local force is as corrupt as he is that he even has a job, his sole talent being knowing when to keep his mouth shut. He has a house he inherited and he's just about paying off, that he hates, and a pet dog because he's got a whole lot of feelings that need an outlet. A nobody, in his own words.

But he never saw himself as settling. He applied for jobs, and courses, and scholarships, always assuming he'd succeed, and grew up anti-intellectual when he did not. He joined political parties and religions and other factions who were always recruiting, but never lasted long. He even tried to play an instrument once, but he shouldn't have bothered. All his life, he'd been waiting for an opportunity, a chance for someone to ask for him, so he can step up and save the day. And he'd had to come to terms with the fact that he was a nobody, when he died nobody would miss him, and that nobody cared.

He takes the crown and puts it on his head, and in doing so gives you complete control over what happens next. A crown can mean so many things…

Tommy
He shakes his head. "Forgive me, I am not suited to explaining this. Justice is my cause, but no. No, I desire this because it's who I am. Just as I am the master of my body, just as I have woven chains of discipline to perfect my art, so my mind is a prisoner of my nature." He says, with a shrug. "Strength should not be used against weakness, that is something I hate. I hate those who use power against victims who cannot protect themselves. If it is to be used at all, it should be used against strength, and in protection of weakness."

"That is my code and my cause. But it's not why I want this. Having a cause is a reason to use strength. But seeking it is a journey with no destination, surpassing yourself again and again and again. I seek this not to use it, but to understand it completely."

Michael
There's a FedEx van parked directly in front, so incredibly obvious you would doubt it to be anything other then a courier. An operative would endeavor to be more surreptitious, try to blend in rather then leave the engine running to save time. You have an instinct for these things, and it tells you that this man is nothing but a courier delivering a package.

[darkblade]

Oracle

When something doesn't make sense in Arkham there is only one person to turn to, as much as Barbra loathed it. "Watch the perimeter, make sure no one else takes advantage of the chaos to slip out."

She switches her channels back to Laura. "You kill him and you'll find yourself on the raft tomorrow morning. By all means beat him within an inch of his life but don't cross the line. I know Logan wouldn't want you to become a killer again for him."

With that ultimatum delivered she hacks into the PA system of Arkham, tapping into one cell in particular. Nothing was so insane it wouldn't make sense to him and no one would try to play with his mind for fear it is contagious. "Hello, Joker."

***

Book of Pure Evil

From the crown drips liquid gold, melting Theodore's flesh as it goes. He screams, blood curdling screams that can be heard as far as the human voice can possibly carry until the vocal cords are burnt away as well. Soon there is nothing of poor Theodore but a skeleton covered in liquid gold. The new born monster rises from the chair and stalks off towards the evidence locker. There is probably not much there but it probably has some stolen jewelry and other miscellaneous pieces of precious metals.

The book flies up behind the golden ghoul and takes refuge in it's rib cage.

***

Tommy

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you are unworthy. If you were you wouldn't have been summoned here." Tommy says.

"Either you'll master the power and use it to protect the world or to protect the world I'll master the power. To the rest of the world there is no real difference." He says as he picks up one of the staves, he holds it out to Kenshiro.

"So you were going to teach me that invulnerability thing?"

***

Michael

Safely reassured that the package is not a trap Michael dresses and heads to the lobby. He brings a handgun hidden under his jacket though, no reason to be careless.

[Draxx]

Tommy
"I suppose not. Intentions matter only to those who hold them, and actions are what really make a difference. I will give you this training, because if I am worthy then so are you. And this is going to hurt you. Take it from me, it's far worse then torture, but once we begin I will not stop until you achieve mastery or you're body gives out." He looks at the staff, and shakes his head, taking it out of your hands and tossing it aside. "Don't want to shatter your bones this early." He says, and holds up two fingers, extending them meaningfully. Then he moves, blurring with speed, and he's resting the two against the pressure-point at the side of your neck.

"There exists a flow of life energy within you, and the focal points are your meridians the specific junctures where it all comes together. They are weak-points, if they are interfered with your body will no longer work properly and obey your instructions. Pressure-points, they are called, places to take advantage of for fast incapacitation. When I strike you here…" He pushes a little, to make sure you know what he's talking about. The experience is not pleasant. "You will fall unconscious, as it pinches the flow of air into your brain. Unless you can turn that point of for a moment, will it to silence, in which case all you shall feel is a strike to the neck."

Michael Weston
There's a package waiting for you downstairs that's unmistakably a coffin. The young man in the cap and uniform hands you a piece of paper to sign without a word, a guy who wants to get this tedious job done and go home, and sticks a crowbar in the crack, pulling it open. Then he lets out a sound you find it difficult to categorize, and looks at you. Jesse is inside, his wrists and ankles duct-taped together, and his mouth closed with more of the same. He looks alright, aside from the somewhat unceremonious method of delivery. There;s a folder resting on top of him, which is probably the information you need to do your job.

"Wow man. Just… is this like human trafficking or something?" The young man asks, gaping at you, then at Jesse. It would seem somebody on the other end has a sense of humor.

Oracle
He's in a full straight-jacket and restraints, long and lean and pale as some corpuscular fungus that had evolved so deep it had never even known that there was a sun, his hair a vivid, acid green and his mouth scarred. He was being held more restrained then usual, having killed five guards in the last two days. He had recently been brought in, after caving in the subway tunnels during Rush-Hour, and had come back ready for some rest and relaxation between performances, planning to use the time productively (his own words). The problems had started when he noted that there was no window in his cell. So he'd killed a guard, only to get a cell with a window but facing in the wrong direction. He'd gone through a few guards and a lot of straight-jackets before he finally got one high up enough that he could watch the bat-signal in the sky come night.

"Look, it's the bat nobody ever gets to see." He says, his voice high and cruel and very expressive, seeming to pack an entire range of emotion into every syllable, as though human expression just couldn't keep up with him. "The one who whispers in ears and roots around looking for secrets. Come to pay me a visit, have you? I never knew you cared. What shall we talk about?"

Pure Evil Book
The Evidence Locker has nothing like that, just a lost engagement ring someone handed in, a few stolen iphones, some confiscated marijuana, a digital camera and some photos that the police chief was using to blackmail the first selectmans wife. Nickle and dime stuff.

The chief is in the parking lot, and heard the screams. Assuming that Cass was out and on the rampage he panicked, assuming Cassie had gotten out somehow and was on the rampage, and got into his car, heading over to the district station three towns up for reinforcements.

:::The Xandar Cluster:::
As has been mentioned, the universe is a big place. There is always something happening. Even as the first threads of a conspiracy are grasped by a few on earth, right now the home of the inter-galactic peace-keeping force known as the Nova Corps is ravaged by a violent and brutal surprise attack by an unknown enemy.

They had many known enemies, the Nova Corps had taken it unto themselves to protect the entire Andromeda Galaxy, though they were but five hundred. A poor imitation of the Green Lanterns, but in this one enemy was as good as another.

Whatever it was had appeared seemingly from nowhere, and set upon destruction, offering no explanation, no demand for surrender or odder of parley, simply exploding into an action so impossibly violent it was strangely hypnotic.

It was so incredibly vast that it cast a shadow over the entire solar system, blotting out the light of the stars themselves as it moved into sight. The ship was easily twice the size of any planet vessel; so huge it was impossible to even attempt to gauge its size. Immense lances of glowing white energy stabbed from her prow and speared the worlds, punching holes through them as they were made of the flimsiest paper, and causing a terrible chain reaction that ended in the detonation, the cauterised segments glowing white-hot where the beams had parted them.

On the bridge, the control room was dark and round, half of its fortified walls hidden by choking shadow. The only source of light came from the central table, which was circular and bore a bright star-map written in holographics above its glimmering surface. The red markings showing the movements and energy expenditure of this crusade, symbols as red as blood shed in battle. And towering over it, he stood, as imposing as a mountain in midnight, as unbreakable as the galaxy itself, the light of the hologram throwing his features into sharp relief as he watched the destruction with a savage pleasure.

He was well built, commandingly tall with broad powerful shoulders and a fine, manly build, towering a good six inches over six feet. He had a fierce dark face, rugged and powerful and eyes that seem to flash and glitter with savage laughter, a light keen and commanding reflecting a dangerous mind that was filled with fire and initiative, and the mad genius ascendant that few men may even glimpse. His hair coarse black and his beard the same, closely cropped so that it traced the harsh contours of his chin and jaw.

He wore a loose black shirt and pants, a dark jacket and a waistcoat of red silk, that he hooked his thumbs in, and laughed easily and often. When he needed to keep his hands occupied, he removed a silver object from one of his pockets and fiddled with it, his hands turning and twisting it, as he looked upon his works and found them good. For all intents and purposes, the Xandar Cluster had been raped, robbed of all its glory, of everything it held so dearly. It had then been murdered and left for dead, and now every trace and memory was being thoroughly expunged, as a driven, visionary, enigmatic man grabbed it by the throat and shook it into the shape he wanted.

This was competition, a battle for survival, uneven though the conflict might be. And it was a battle to the death. Only when he had sifted through the cosmic dust and found not so much as a stray particle of life, not until he had accounted for all five hundred, not until he was certain would he be satisfied.

After the destruction ceased and the invader finally left, one surviving member of the Nova Corps came out of hiding. He was covered from head to toe in battle scars, his uniform all but gone, bloody wounds littering his body. He crawled across the metal floor, a trail of thick blood left in his path. He wept at the sight of his people slaughtered before him. It was by sheer luck that his life hadn't been ended as well.

Painfully, he picked himself up, yelling from the torment his body was ravaged by. He staggered weakly to a ship. He crawled in. He was knocking upon death's door, but he had no choice but to continue, to somehow push forward. His duty as a Centurion in the Nova Corps was more important than his own satisfaction. He had to fly to Earth. Despite his condition, he just had to…

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Well now, she's a lot friendlier than Miss Stick-Up-Her-Butt over there.

Heheh...stick...cause she controls plants...heh.

That was pretty good. Deadpool looks to the indent of shaving cream where his phone landed. Hey, Harley, can ya reach that for me? A text from an important man is on it.

Also, is there any Fresca around here? I'm awfully parched.

----------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen raises an eyebrow at his statement. Well, aren't you straightforward. She'll stroll closer to the Commander, putting an extra swing into her hips as she goes. Most business deals would start with at least a little small talk. Coming out with what you want right away makes it sound like a demand. By now, she should be close enough to place her hands on his shoulders, which she will do. And in case nobody's told you yet... She'll lean forward enough to press her ample chest to his and whisper into his ear. I don't take kindly to demands. Her hands will glow as she charges a couple of bombs up. She doesn't use them yet, giving him a chance to reword his request.

----------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia smiles and nods. I'm looking forward to it.

So, how long have you been with this group?

---------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Over by Felicia now, Laura quickly regains her footing, facing Deathstroke with her claws down at her sides, a cold focus in her eyes. The first part of this fight would just be her getting a feel for how Deathstroke fights.

She does not respond to Oracle. She knew it would be wrong to kill him. She knew that the X-Men would not want her to do it. But, she also knew that he would be a danger as long as he was alive. Locking him away somewhere would not solve the problem. He would escape, either on his own or with help.

Laura moves again, rushing at Deathstroke, low to the ground, arms out at her sides. She feints a swipe with her arm and instead goes for one with her leg, extending q claw out of her foot, aiming for his legs.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie was working on the lock, keeping an eye and ear open for any guards passing by, when she hears the scream. She swears under her breath a few times and starts working faster, not caring if she's seen now.

I $#&%@*! told them! But does anybody listen to me? Nope!

[Draxx]

Cassie
After a minute, the door slides open. Nobody seems to have noticed, but then the station seems more or less deserted, so maybe the only person who was around to notice was the one doing the screaming. Nonetheless, you're free, and your bat is in the evidence room.

Deathstroke, X-23
Scott finally takes his shot, the impact eyebeams slamming into Slade's back as Laura charges in. Huntress still hasn't taken her shot, and Dinah quickly disentangles from Felicia, who she warns to stay back.

Deadpool
"No, when we somehow wound up in the back of an armored car, covered in shaving cream and cradling the severed head of Walt Disney, it would seem we neglected to anticipate thirst." Ivy says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She's resumed her 'contempt for everyone' attitude that she was using on you before, her fondness for Harley having lost out to Harley's willingness to tolerate you (even if you do suspect you've been pushed into the 'just friends' zone). Harley, as it turns out, is eager to please, bobs her head and starts rooting around awkwardly with her free hand, eventually locating the phone and handing it over to you with a wide smile. The message… well, it's certainly to the point.

LOSE THE &%$@ING HEAD, AND I'll %^#$ YOUR &%$@ING CORPSE!

On that note, someone starts shooting at you, the pullets pinging off the side of the van.

Bomb QUEEN
If there is one thing Cobra Commander was not, it was a coward. No, he thought sheer bloody-mindedness was a way to browbeat inferiors to be more receptive. Fortunately, even he seems aware that you're not intimidated, and therefore he's not getting what he wants.

"I only to mean that you posses something that is valuable beyond measure, however there is a lack of… infrastructure. Plenty of entertainment, but bread and circuses, isn't that it?" He strokes his chin, or at least the place on his mask that covers his chin. "And without the corporate dollars of Scorpio United" There's no way he knows about that unless he was somehow involved "you'll be looking at things getting far worse. A partnership with Cobra could be very profitable. All we ask is a certain amount of independence, and in exchange for nothing more than a little consideration we are willing to help you build something singular." Which is diabolical mastermind for 'I want a foot in the door, but once I'm in the price will go up and up.'

[darkblade]

Michael

Thinking fast Michael runs up to Jesse, removes the gag and gives him an extended kiss. Putting on an exaggerated foppish accent he turns to the delivery boy. "Sorry there deary. I know it's against the rules but oh it's just oh so much fun."

As long as the witnesses think it was some sort of sexual thing they were far more likely to just try forgetting it and won't dwell on it any longer. "You okay J? They didn't rough you up too much did they?"

***

Tommy

Pressure points, Tommy understood the basics of the concept and could use them against most human opponents (not that he fought many of them). The idea of turning one off though, even if it were possible doing it wrong could potentially give the person doing so a stroke as their nervous system tries to compensate and over exerts other parts. "How do I do that?"

***

Oracle

"That was some break out that just went down. Better than some of your's I'd say." Oracle says. Joker was at heart an egotist, most mass murderers are. Baiting him by stroking or challenging that ego was one of the best ways to get him to talk. Unfortunately unlike most the Joker has a tendency to appreciate the work of other 'artists' so he wouldn't always take the bait.

***

Book of Pure Evil

The Golden Ghoul takes the ring in hand. The gold melts down and joins the other liquid gold making the beast's flesh. The diamond remains an unbreakable jagged stud on it's fingers. Annoyed that the station has such slim pickings it lumbers out of the station and onto the street. It searches for any banks, jewellery stores, pawn shops or wealthy residences that might contain a larger store of precious metal.

[Draxx]

Tommy
"Don't over-think it. Its not your conscious mind that regulates the flow." He says, cautioning you. He's more or less the world's foremost authority on the subject, being capable of hitting a person in such a way that their heart explodes. "Simply anticipate, and direct the energy through another juncture. It's the same with all things. If you break a bone, use your muscles to force it back into place. If you are bleeding, slow down your heart. But for now, pressure-points. Tell me when you are ready. If you are, you will still be standing when I take my hand away."

Michael
It takes him a confused moment to catch on, then fixes his face into an expression of foppish disdain, and pushes you away gently. "How common, Charles. It's been months, and all you can do is gush at me about your feelings. It makes me think all this carrying on is just because you're ashamed of me. Ashamed of us. Have you even dumped that architect yet? You promised me, Charles."

A meeting like this is going to cause comment no matter what you do. So elaborate. Add lots of juicy details to fix it in peoples minds, and if you are extensive enough they'll be so fixated on the fiction they'll never even look for what really took place.

Oracle
He cackles, his entire body shaking with delight as his wheezing laughter bounces off the walls. "Oh that is just too much. Yes, the break-out. A bit boring, none of the alarms were tripped and nobody died, but you have to appreciate the sheer chaos it caused."

There's a wet, cracking noise, like bamboo sticks cracking as he dislocates his shoulders, then gets to his feet and wraps them over his head, so he can clumsily gesture. "Just like the best jokes, it's only there for people looking for it, everyone else sees something different. Inmates in the wrong cells, the evidence locker's contents returned to their rightful owners, and all the power cut. All little things that peel away the order they try to keep on this place, and force them to confront what it really is." His lips peel back into his trademark smile, and his eyes glint with a dangerous light.

"I think we should meet this guy, yes? Perhaps teach him a thing or two, they say you want to learn, imitate from the best. What do you say? See any potential? Set a thief to catch a thief?"

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool stares at the text for a good two minutes. Harley and Ivy might start t think it's a really long text, or maybe one written in code. Obviously, it's important.

Finally, Deadpool speaks.

The great and powerful Oz has spoken! Don't lose the head!

Really? We gotta hang on to a dead, mostly frozen head?

You betcha! He looks at the two ladies with him. The bullets outside tell me it's time to skedaddle! One of you wouldn't happen to have a gun tucked up somewhere, would you?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen gives him a smirk and lowers her charges, though she doesn't back away from him.

So, you wanna muscle in on my deal, huh? At least you own up to it.

If you wanna set up a little clubhouse in my city, that's fine. Just remember...it's my city. My word is law here. The only law. If you don't like it, then go find some other island to rape.

She leans away from him now and gestures to an area way off to her left. The area where she was not too long ago. Some prime property over there. Just took down a building. Waiting for something new to be put in place.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Glad to be free again, Cassie shoves the clips back into her boot, and her boot back onto her foot. Might as well keep them.

Once she has her bat again, she'll head for the front door. She just knows that somebody messed with the book. She just hopes she can stop it in time.

[darkblade]

Michael

"Thomas? He's long gone. Sent him packing weeks ago. He'll be out of the beach house when we get back to San Fran. It'll just be us and the pool boy." Michael says with a waggle of the eyes.

"Now come along Tony got us tickets so we'll have to get dressed up for a party."

***

[B]Tommy[\B]

Tommy clears his mind and exhales deeply. This a whole new level of training for him. "Alright, I'm ready."

***

[B]Oracle[\B]

"Not on your life clown. I just assumed you'd have something to say about them abducting your Harley, along with her girlfriend." He didn't take the bait, plan b, prey on his jealousy.

"Who knows what they'll do this time. I heard she got injected with a vaccine that makes her immune to her hormones."

[AnimeKid]

KOS-MOS

The situation was truly dire for variances in the timestream to start popping up this early. Lucky KOS-MOS was in control at the moment and not Mary. Unlike KOS-MOS, Mary could feel surprise and such. While KOS-MOS could tell that this situation was outside the parameters and therefore worthy of shock she did not react to it.

Instead she played keep away as much as she could taking shots at the creature with her R-Cannon to keep it back. As she did though she assigned her short range scanners to keep and eye out for more withing a 200 yard radius.

Ben 10

Big Chill's eyes widened in shock at the warnings that were blaring at him. "Uh-Oh. Okay then, lets see these people need access too technology that is currently not available and have minutes to live." Thinking on his time Ben came to the conclusion that due to how fast he got here with XLR8 he had about 10 minutes of Omnitrix time left. He nodded his head thinking that would be enough as he hit there was another flash of greenlight as Ben transformed once more.

UPGRADE!"
http://images.wikia.com/ben10/images/d/dc/Upgrade_HU_full_body.png

Powers/Abilities: Upgrade is not completely solid. Due to this, he can reshape himself to let projectiles or blows pass through him by creating a hole in his body at will.

Upgrade can use his internal nanotechnology to merge with or 'possess' any technology within reach by spreading over it. The size of the device is inconsequential, and he controls it as naturally as he would his own body. When he merges he upgrades the technology beyond its original design, hence his name. It was shown in Road Trip Rumble that Upgrade can reconfigure technology to suit for any situation, like transform the Rust Bucket into a battle armor with an arsenal of heavy plasma weapons. Occasionally he can merge with organic life, as long as there is technology integrated within them, such as with Rojo and Rex.

Upgrade has displayed the ability to launch a powerful green plasma blast from his eye.

Upgrade has the capability to travel through electrical currents, shown in Midnight Madness. He can also phase through most any metal or technology.

Upgrade can gently descend through the air, similar to a parachute. This was demonstrated in Secrets.

Upgrade is also able to survive in the vacuum of space.

Surging forward Ben used Upgrades abilities to merge with the equipment in the room. Said equipment then became far more than it could ever be with solely human workers. The pods the people were in had ventilation to allow them to breath and the pods were now capable of the proper process of fully and properly reviving them. This process then began as Upgrade used the pods to put them to sleep while it worked. Hopefully it would finish to an acceptable degree before the watch timed out.

Rex

Rex looked around in wonder at the place he found himself in. Manifesting the Boogie Pack Rex flew up into the air to get a better view of what he was seeing. After he got through gawking in awe he would proceed to pull down his goggles to take pictures. After all he better get proof of this to take back to Doc Irons.

[Draxx]

Tommy
The Fist of the Morning Star gives you one more second to back out, then takes away his fingers. Your entire body starts to tense and go rigid, your muscles flexing painfully at the tightness, as he simply watches. He doesn't offer advice or encouragement. He's told you what to do, you'll do it or you won't, as far as he's concerned this part is more or less up to you. Either you work your way through it, or you don't and your body shuts down for two hours.

Michael
"I should be angry, but your just irresistible." He lisps, and gets up, following you past the vacantly staring receptionist, who's trying very, very hard not to laugh with the understanding that his bonus might very well be at stake. Jesse drops the persona when he's in the hallway, and stares at you, a little ashamedly. "Sorry about this. Two men, jumped me when I was taking a leak." He says. Then he falls into a summation of what occurred.

When on a mission, it is usually best if everyone is appraised of all the information available. At the very least, it's four different perspectives. "I was blind-folded and bundled into the back of a van, but I kept track as best I could. Long drive in a car, into the city to go by all the stops and starts, then a building that stank of incense and steam. They put me in a dark room and shone a painfully bright light in my eyes to keep my eyes from adjusting, then gave me some information. It was a woman who talked to me, young, or at least sounded young, and with a Chinese accent."

"A lot of it went over my head, but I got the gist. Apparently, a man named Edward Fyers was hired by their organization to shoot down commercial aircraft heading in and out of China, in order to create a state of emergency and panic they could take advantage of. They suggested it was more a play for power then a money thing, but that's just my instinct. A couple of IMF Agents sorted them out quietly, and the group wants, well they're passing it off as revenge, but I doubt it. Anyway, they are being closely watched, so rather then risk any of their operatives, they picked you, after hearing about your recent activities against Management. We're supposed to figure out who it was who ruined their plan, and get them back whatever it is that Fyers lost, as well as hand over the team leader like a sacrificial lamb."

Rex
You can't gain any traction, propelling yourself does nothing at all. And yet it doesn't matter, for the gulf pulls at you with terrible force, a silent vacuum that pulls at you irresistibly into the endless night, an eternity of sky with the the faintest lights twinkling in the distance, forever out of reach of examinations. It defies logic, the sphere you are being pulled towards is the size of a planet, yet this entire void is in a hole no more then a hundred meters across.

And as you move through the void, the silence resolves itself into singing, deep, mournful notes, stretching on into eternity, varying in depth and range, but the eldritch sound never stops or breaks. It's beautiful, if mournful, and reminds you somewhat of whalesong, though vastly more complex, and echoing through space. It's only when you are nearing the dark planets surface that it resolves itself into words. 'We are the great race of Yith.' It says, the sounds carrying a sense of failed grandeur, of rising so high that the world became too thin to hold them any higher and so broke, and of the loss of much that is beautiful and good in the sad decline that came about.

'We came here once, before the dreaming gods and the Elder things, and we made a home for ourselves, before the starchildren drove us back and forced us elsewhere. But now they sleep and shall not awaken, and so we have come again.'

Ben 10
It's hard work. There's a lot to do, and a lot of subjects (over a thousand, unless you miss your guess). Your first task is getting them to breathe, followed by restoring their body to equilibrium, and finally saving their extremities. There's a lot to do, and only a little time to do it, but you work fast and hard as you ever have, and when the time runs down and your once more in your own body, the crisis is passed. They'll still need medical attention and, probably, years of therapy, but the crisis is passed.

The ominatrix is run down, and you're human again. Nonetheless, there is a long corridor stretching out ahead, and you really want to see what is down there…

Oracle
Joker interrupts you with a wide yawn, and a stretch. At least, he attempts it before he remembers that his hands are still strapped in front of him. "Oh, isn't that cute." He says with a wide smile. "Good for them. Sure, I created her, but time away will do her good. I don't want to hang her on my wall - it's about time she went off and shows my handiwork elsewhere. And poor Ivy, she'll know every day that one word from me, and Harley will leave her in a heartbeat. That will poison any fun she tries to have. At the end of the day, it's all about me." He pauses a moment. "What were you asking about again?"

He'd gotten side-tracked, and now it was a matter of sifting back to where things had started off. There were many who believed Joker didn't pay much attention to the world around him, unless it was directly and immediately of significance to him. That he was so narcissistic nothing passed within his sphere of consciousness unless it was about him. In fact, Joker absorbed everything. Every sound, sight, smell and sensation the world had on offer. It's just he didn't notice it unless it was going to prove immediately useful to him. He filed everything away. Everything. Then he dredged it back up when it could be useful. But sometimes it could take a while until he found exactly what it was he needed to.

One of his doctors, in fact the escapee herself, had once claimed it was the reason behind his insanity. That he literally couldn't deal with the amount of information he absorbed. Indeed, she'd claimed it wasn't insanity at all - but a sort of 'super sanity'. He'd then driven her into a state that rivaled his own.

"Right. Break-out. Well, one was cancer-ridden, talkative, and living in a world of his own. The other had a metal arm, and was stupid enough to try to read my mind. He didn't seem to like what he saw. That's the who. The why and how will cost you." He adds, remembering he wants to torture you a little on principle. He to tried to spread his hands ingratiatingly, and realized, again, that he couldn't, because his hands were tied. Grunting in annoyance, he began gnawing at the straps, getting one loose and setting of an alarm in the process, but getting his hands free.

Deadpool
Ivy raises an eyebrow, given she's wearing nothing at all. Ivy had been growing less and less interested in synthetic fibres, the way they scratched and rubbed against her skin. They felt unnatural and they didn't feel like her. And so she did not feel a need for them. When she was free, she usually made an effort to encourage a covering of moss, lichen and leaf, however she hadn't been anywhere near a source all night (presumably), and so was letting her skin breathe, as Mother Nature intended.

Harley rummages a bit under the coat, coming up with nothing except a packet of cigarettes, which surprises her. They both shrug, and Harley stares at you. "If you have one I could take care of… whoever it is." She offers, in the vague hope to be useful. Not that you have a gun. Your costume seems to have been lost somewhere, and exchanged with the Elvis getup which, while awesome, doesn't come stocked in the firearm department.

Poison Ivy rolls her eyes, and peeks her head out through the doors of the truck, with the blithe confidence of one who knows that getting shot happens to other people. "It appears to be an unusually tall and well built albino, dressed in a monk habit, with a pistol." She notes dryly. "He's reloading now, we have about four seconds."

Ivy finds the whole situation ridiculous, and it is now Harley's fault. She loves the girl, and enjoys their time together, but in her heart, she was a loner and preferred her own company to anyone else's. Harley was the only person in the world who could induce her to show even the slightest skerrick of consideration for another human being. But she wasn't going to forget this. Not ever. Harley owed her big. "I could poison him if I got a little closer. But I'd need something to absorb a clip of bullets." Some of the ice leaves her eyes, to be replaced with something faintly malicious as she stares at you.

Bomb Queen
"Excellent. I can promise to be employing at least 60% of your city by the end of the year, in one form or another. Any of my men break your regulations, I'll execute them personally." He replied cheerfully, rubbing his hands together. "This can be a profitable venture for all of us." He extends his hand, offering it to you to shake.

Cassie, Book of Pure Evil
The evidence locker already has an occupant. A skeleton, dripping with molten gold. Between you and your bat. This is going to be tricky. There's no sign of the book, it's still lying in officer Barnaby's office, where he read it.

Nocturne
"They went after my family first. We're more or less an institution here now." He replies, stepping back. "I'm actually a bit surprised to see you here. Heard you were being talent scouted by Planetary." Elijah Snow and his crew of multiversal explorers had indeed made you an offer when you first returned here.

Kos-Mos
You blow off two of it's tentacles, and it drops you, darting away behind the monitors and vanishing, looking for reinforcements. You can't trust your scanners, you're in here blind, all the interference leaves their readings less then useless.

[darkblade]

Michael

"Did they seem more terrorist or gangster? We need to know if we're in Ten Rings or Tongs territory." Michael asks grinding his teeth. This was not right, whoever he was involved with now did not even bother with the pretenses of a greater good like Management did.

***

Oracle

Cancer ridden, talkative, crazy enough for the Joker to comment...Well that explains why it seemed like Deadpool left his brother high and dry. This was too insane to be part of Luthor's plot, he liked things organized and controlled this was neither so he had to be working for someone else now. "Alright Joker what do you want?"

It wouldn't hurt to find out his demands, if they could be safely managed it might be worth it in the long run. If they cannot then it gives her material for a memo to send to Arkham's security for things to look out for.

***

Tommy

He's ready for it, mostly. The moment Kenshiro removes his fingers Tommy makes his mind go blank and lets the energy flow from that point in his body to another.

***

Book of Pure Evil

The Golden Ghoul spots Cassie's choker. It is not much but jewellery is still jewellery. It reaches out attempting to strangle Cassie so that it can remove the necklace from her corpse.

[Draxx]

Joker
"I want to know about you." He replies bluntly, his smile widening in a manner that is remarkably predatory. "Nobody I know seems to know much about you. We only know about you because you joined the Bat when he joined the Justice League. And you deal in information. Well I want to know about you."

His smile widened still further. "Don't worry, I don't care who you are when you take off your mask and costume, that's none of my business. But you personally… well, that might be fun."

Michael
"Terrorist, definitely. They're too visionary, playing for high stakes. I mean they act like gangsters, and most of them probably are, at least on the lower levels. That's how they tend to fund their organizations. But gangsters get greedy, not ambitious. They worry about making money, they don't play kingmaker, don't tangle with the CIA, and don't kill thousands of civilians to manipulate markets unless they're really crazy." Jesse replies with a sigh.

Your phone rings. Sam Axe, calling.

Tommy
Tour body goes numb, and your skin buzzes unpleasantly, but you don't pass out. Kenshiro is very impressed, and claps you on the back. "Excellent work." He says. "Didn't I tell you that you had potential? Now go eat something, and get plenty of sleep while your body recovers. We'll go over the next steps tomorrow, give you plenty of time to acclimatize yourself to this. It's not something you should force or push too hard too soon, unless you want to end up dead."

[Cracklord]

Deathstroke
Once more, he's ready for you, anticipating and countering your swings with superhuman precision, as though he'd rehearsed everything well in advance. He moves with the grace of a dancing teacher, receiving your charge while tossing his sword without even needing to turn to locate his target, the blade stabbing into the meat of the hand that Scott was using to pull himself upright. The leader of the X-Men collapses and his beam goes wide, giving his office a brand new sunroof.
That distraction out of the way, he's ready for you, catching your left wrist in his, his grip like a vice, and breaking the wrist, almost as an after-thought, but doesn't relinquish his grip. He ducks out of the way of the other hand, the very tip of the claw only just touching his uncovered face and cutting the faintest line under his left eye.
And then the claw in your foot sinks into the meat of his leg, taking him by surprise. Whatever facts he might have about you, it would seem it's notably lacking in a few places, that he hasn't done the research. He snarls, furious but not overly pained, even managing to hold his feet despite the muscle of his calf as neatly sliced as a wire through a bit of cheese. Using your arm as leverage he pulls you close so that you're almost pressing against him, then goes for the gun at his hip, and sticks the muzzle under your chin. "You're better at this then your old man." He says, unable or unwilling to concentrate on the fight. "He got stupid and tried for defensive, rather then go for a kill. But you… I think you really do intend to kill me." And then, to your horror, he smiles, in a manner that's very nearly sentimental, and his eye glistens with emotion. "He'd be so miserable to see you turned out just like him. You'd be what, seven? Are you already turning to cheap wine and sex to fill in the empty hole you have for a life, to make up for the total lack of anything like another person who cares if you live or die? You should leave this place and it's hypocrisy with me. I'll sort you out in no time at all."

Spider-Man
He's been on patrol for nearly eleven hours straight, and all he has to show for it is a bone deep exhaustion and a lot of near misses. All day, he'd been showing up moments too late to save the day, or achieve anything of significance.
Yep, the old Parker luck was sure having fun at his expense. If he was beaten up as Spider-Man, something good happened for Peter Parker. If Peter Parker got dumped or evicted, Spider-Man won the day. Or, everything went to pot for both sides of his life. You never knew.
Right now, things were deceptively good. He had a beautiful wife, a steady job as a scientist, rather then reporter, that allowed him to more or less pick his hours giving him plenty of time to be a hero, and in three months was going to be a daddy. Which was why this noticeable lull felt more like the calm before the storm then evidence he was making a real, decisive impact. He checked his watch. 4:22, which meant he had just thirty-eight minutes to get to the apartment for his surprise birthday party. That in mind, he turned his back and headed home.

James Bond
If he had one, abiding love in his life, it was cards. He loved the way they purred like contented animals when the dealer shuffled them. He loved the soft, waxy feel of them between his fingertips as he fanned them out, and the way their faces smiled up at him like old friends. Most of all, he loved the way their patinas of faded ink could light up his whole world, the way they could send his pulse racing and his blood fizzing through his veins like sparkling wine. Yes, James Bond loved cards. And if they could be a fickle mistress, what of it? Life should be like women, constantly exciting, surprising and mysterious. And a gentleman accepted his losses and paid them off as it became necessary.
He had to admit, Mann Corp held the kind of shindig that he could grow to like, refreshingly without formal atmosphere or pretension, but rather slightly raucous, direct and above all honest. There was dancing, there was gambling, and so far they'd been four fights, one of which had taken place between two men armed with harpoon guns, and another between the CEO and a bear (He'd pinned it in an astounding display of masculinity with a perfectly executed German suplex, followed with a wicked ensuigiri). As far as they were concerned in this business, an event without five fights was considered a dull affair.
He had not, however, found any evidence that they were involved in anything like what his informants had suggested. Hence, here he was, trying to draw in the bait, while Kato lurked among them, trying for surreptitious.

Iron Fist
Danny Rand had been many things, some by nature, some by destiny, and some by vocation. He was a hero by necessity, an immortal weapon by obligation, and a teacher by vocation, a role that he had recently come to embrace wholeheartedly. Which was why, between running his corporation, and joint running the Heroes For Hire business (though increasingly that was Misty's show, and he and Luke just provided the muscle) he ran a school for disadvantaged kids that he'd set up himself, that catered to children the system had failed. It catered to five hundred students, providing food, accommodation and education. Danny taught martial arts, meditation, philosophy, and provided the incentive to encourage them to work hard at their grades.
Right now, he was teaching a pack of ten year olds advanced shaolin techniques that take a life-time to completely master and would have made 'The Karate Kid' a far more interesting movie, as well as teaching them their applications beyond fighting, everything from trimming trees, parking cars, and fetching objects from high shelves. Tai Chi can even be used to cook.

[darkblade]

Oracle

This was a risky game. She was lucky at how little the Joker cared about who was behind the masks of the Bat family. He never made the connection that Barbra Gordon, the daughter of Commissioner James Gordon, who he once shot and tortured was the former Batgirl. This also made certain he never tied either of them to Oracle. A little bit of information though and he'd piece together the whole puzzle. "You want to trade questions?"

***

Michael

Michael answered the phone. "I got Jesse, you ready to check out?"

China had no shortage of domestic terrorists but organizations with international reach were less common. Largely mercenary armies like the Ten Rings or groups that settled there for convenience like the League of Assassins. Both of which went a lot closer to the superhero line than Michael felt comfortable with.

[Draxx]

Oracle
"Well, unless you have something more interesting to bring to the table" He replies, as though it was the most reasonable request in the world. The alarms are still going off, but Arkhams security was working against the guards, who had to force their way through it to get to the cell, and the Joker had three minutes. Getting worked up as he was, he'd probably be escaping soon.

Michael
"Yeah." He says, sounding tired. He hadn't been sleeping, he'd been following leads, and he could probably do with some shut-eye himself. "Anyway, more good news. I got a lead about these guys. I chatted to the taxi driver, said I was a detective, threatened him a little. Long story short, I got a lead. He went to a place called the 'Blue Lotus', and I'll swear off alcohol if it isn't an opium den."

Deathstroke
Huntress finally takes the shot, the quarrel burying itself almost to the fletching in your shoulder. Black Canary takes a deep breath, she's about to scream, but wants to give X-23 a chance to get wide before she does. Her brand of martial arts wasn't a lot of use in a situation like this, she needed space to work with (for a start), and ideally her companions to get out of the way. Then again, she was also quite aware of her limits, enough to know that as good as she was, she wasn't going to beat Deathstroke in anything like a fair fight, not until he was well and truly softened up. Hence, holding back and waiting for the right opening.

Spider-man
You swing by the new apartment you and MJ now share. The combined salaries from MJ's acting career and Peter's new job in a research subsidiary of Wayne corp are collectively enough to afford something a bit classier than what Peter had dwelled in throughout college, and most of his early adult life. As it was, you are not sorry in the least to be leaving his old apartment and you have the suspicion that your landlady was not sad to see you go either…

You keep out of sight as you land in an alleyway behind the apartment complex and change out of your costume. You then go in through the back and made his way up the stairs and through the halls.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Hey, just cause she doesn't have any clothes doesn't mean she couldn't be hiding something. Why do you think they do cavity searches at airports?

...anyways, He looks to Harley and points at Disney's head. Grab the headsicle, chuckles. He turns back towards the direction of the shooter, his chest swelling up to show his manliness.

Daddy's gotta play meat-shield. He'll start strutting out of the truck and towards the shooter.

Hi! Got a moment to talk about Jesus Christ?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia shrugs a little. They were, but I kinda want to take a break from all that reality hopping for a while, you know? Gets hard to keep track of what's what in which reality sometimes.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen's eyes focus on his hand for a moment, then back to his face. She doesn't return the gesture.

Sixty percent? You got snakeskin in your ears? I said this is my town. You start taking more than thirty, and I'm coming after your ass.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Laura doesn't show much of a reaction to her broken wrist beyond a slight grunt of pain. It'd heal.

With the gun at her chin, she momentarily freezes, her free hand held up as if she were going to stab his head with her claws. She knew she wouldn't move fast enough to avoid getting shot. And while she would heal from the shot itself, Deathstroke was likely to give her the same treatment he gave Wolverine while she was out.

At Slade's words, Laura's eyes narrow slightly. Not much of a reaction, but anybody that knew her would know that his statements were having an effect on her.

You do not seem to know much about me. I am not seven. I do not drink alcohol. I have not been a prostitute for many years now. And I would never join you.

And then's Huntress' arrow hits. If Deathstroke lets go of her broken wrist, Laura will immediately drop down and go to hamstring him with her good hand. This will likely give Canary the opening she needs.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie sees the skeleton in her way and sighs.

Well, that just figures. Hopefully this one isn't of the Harryhausen variety.

She cautiously moves around the skeleton, grabs her bat, and makes her way out of the room. Relieved to have her trusted weapon again, she heads for the front door.

Right into the sight of the Golden Ghoul. Who lunges for her choker.

She lets out a yell of surprise and quickly jumps back, swinging the bat horizontally at the ghoul's arms as she does.

[Draxx]

Deadpool
Harley and Ivy are still handcuffed to you, so they do their best to use you as cover as you step into the line of fire. Ivy's slightly more successful, brought about by twisting your arm behind your back. Harley's not particularly successful, and extremely exposed as a consequence, gripping the still frozen head of Walt Disney in both hands, extremely tightly. The whole thing looks like a scene from the Three Stooges, however the assassin is not laughing. He's aiming.

Silas doesn't make any pretense at explanation, justification or being here for some reason other than to shoot you. And so, he shoots you. Right in the face, an inch to the left of your nose. It really hurts. Clip of six. Which means five more shots.

"You gotta say, Red, this is kinda fun. Like old times. Just, you know, with Deadpool instead of Kitty." Harley chirrups. Poison Ivy grumbles something that doesn't sound very affirmative or affectionate, and gives you a shove. "Closer. Touching is best."

Bomb Queen
He backtracks quickly. "I mean, 30% recruited directly for my organization, the others offered steady work by seeing to the needs. Construction, supply, entertainment, that sort of thing. It's the trickle effect. It's your town, and for the privilege of using it, we bring in money, and everyone gets what they want."

Nocturne
Brian laughs. "It gets bad, doesn't it." He says sympathetically. "Isn't it so irritating meeting alternate versions of yourself all the time?" As protector of the omniverse, he's in a unique position to sympathize.

X-23, Slade
As Laura drops, a supersonic shrill cry fills the office. The windows and computer monitor crack, the tile floor crumples, and Slade is knocked off his feet and smashes into the back wall at the force of it.

[darkblade]

Oracle

"Why were they breaking the girls out?" Babs asks.

***

Golden Ghoul

The skeleton may look like gold covered bones but the gold runs deep inside. There is little actual bone here. The bat works as well as you'd expect a bat to work on rods made of gold, which is to say not very well. The nails scratch it a little and it dents but it is far from breaking. After you hit it the Golden Ghoul decides that you are not worth it's time and effort and wanders away trying to find more precious metals.

***

Michael

"Opium Den? Sounds like a job for Chuck Finley..."

***

Sam and Fiona

A couple of ours later Sam and Fi dressed in some reasonably nice formal wear step up to the doors of 'Blue Lotus'. With a casual grace Sam walks into and takes a deep breathe of the narcotic air. "Ah that takes me back, haven't had the real thing since 'Nam."

Fiona resists the temptation to roll her eyes and smiles. "Whatever you say darling."

***

Tommy

Tommy smiles weakly. He feels like his whole body is in outright civil war with his mind as he tries to stand. "How old did you say you were when you learnt that?"

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Ow! Hey! Ouch! Knock it off, will ya? Sheesh. Can't a guy try to give a guy a handshake without getting shot in the face? Where are we, Detroit?

Deadpool will continue slowly walking forward.

Ya know, this is kind of awkward.

Yeah, I think that guy could get the girls if we get too close. And shooting either of them fine ladies would be a very bad thing.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen narrows her eyes a little and folds her arms across her chest. A little awkward, given the size of her chest and the bracers on her arms, but she manages.

No more than thirty percent of my city working for you in any fashion. You want more people, you'll have to bring them in yourself from elsewhere. Don't like it? Then leave.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia nods a little. It can be annoying, yeah. Not as bad as running into people you hate, or people who you knew to be dead, but...yeah. Talia sighs a little.

Sorry, off track there.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie grips her bat tight, ready to swing it again. But, it seems the thing has lost interest in her. She takes a deep breath, swears, then turns around and heads back inside the station, looking for a weapon with a little bit more bite to it.

If she happens to come across that damn book again, she'll tie it up and take it with her.

[Draxx]

Oracle
"Now that's a boring place to start. Why do anything?" he replies, his grin turning into an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression. The Joker is insane, in the most extreme definition of the word. When acting by himself, he never bothered to think past 'because I can'. However, he was also an absolutely terrifying manipulator and schemer, and that came about due to some threatening insights into how other people thought.

"Because they were lonely, and looking for answers." He says after a moment. "Why they thought they'd find them here, well that's as much a mystery to me as it is to you, but that's not part of the game." He smiles up at the middle security camera, and affords a knowing pose. "My turn. Tell me, why do you work so hard? Tell me if I'm right. It's because you can't be useful the regular way, you can't help him do his work, and so you work so hard because without this, you'd be useless. Tossed out of the life to be one of those ordinary people who end up victims."

Michael
Jesse looks at you as you hang up. "I take it you and I will be visiting Langley, Virginia?" He asks, with a weary sort of sound in his voice. One step forward, two steps back, business as usual in the espionage game. "Because looking at this from perspective, it seems to me that we're the chumps. The job is impossible with our resources, which suggests that we're meant to fail, offered up like sacrificial lambs, to force them into defensive mode. Sort of thing Ten Rings would do."

"So what do we do? Try to succeed against the odds and break in to take a look at the database of the CIA, find a list of all deep-cover operatives, their ops histories and their covers, or do we go into hiding and hope that we can keep them from making good on their threats."

He pauses. "And doing it secretly will be impossible without plenty of help."

Sam
It was closer to India, and it was a lot more opulent then the dens that were set up over there, and yet the observation is shockingly accurate. The men here to partake have the same lost look and empty eyes, of men whose life is simply an intermission between their time in here, a hole in their worlds where all the money goes.

They lie on mats, clothes rumpled and cheeks hollow, doing their best to get comfortable while puffing on the long pipes, that looked to be carved of actual ivory. There is a haze of the stuff, clinging to everything, and pretty girls distributing it. One of them walks over to you, putting a sway in her hips, and gives you a winning smile. "May I have your ticket please, sir?" She asks sweetly. "And your membership card?"

Book of Pure Evil, Cassie
As the golden skeleton steps out of the station, he has the misfortune to run into seven feet and three hundred pounds of simian brutality. Cass had intended to meet him in an hour. It had been three. And so, Vlad had gone looking, and her trail hadn't been hard to find. He's dressed in a ragged grey coat and a old, falling apart gas-mask that is very nearly fallen apart. He looks like Frankenstein's Monster after a week spent shooting up on high yield steroids. And he's holding a massive meat cleaver in either hand, the surfaces dimpled where flakes of rust had been scraped off.

Your search doesn't take you far. This is the deep south, and there are guns aplenty in the sheriff's office, which he had kindly left unlocked. Indeed, with the well honed instincts of a true coward, he'd left in such a hurry there was a cooling mug of coffee on the desk and his computer was still showing the interracial porn sight he had been perusing.Not that any of this is of any interest to you. Your more interested in the cabinet that is like a gift on Christmas. A Dirty Harry styled sidearm, a pair of shotguns, and a few hunting rifles he'd confiscated. You'd imagine any of them would do the job.

Deadpool
Silas is about to shoot you again, when he sees Harley, or more precisely the head she's holding, and his red eyes widen. He turns, and points the gun at her, or rather at the head.

However, Harley is a Gotham girl, has survived hundreds of scuffles and gang wars and her crazy boyfriend, and is well aware what to do in a gunfight when you don't have a gun of your own. She uses the handcuff to drag you into the path of the bullet, while Ivy steps forward and places her hand, almost gently, on Silas' cheek. Without ceremony, his eyes roll back, froth begins to form at his lips, and he falls over, in advanced cardiac arrest.

Bomb Queen
He seemed to hiss for a moment, and went very still. "…Fine." He says at last, lowering his hand. It's not clear, what with the mask, but you'd bet anything he's grinding his teeth. He was, very stupidly, counting on you being easily overawed and impressed by him, and was beginning the painful process of re-evaluating you.

Tommy
"I told you, this is my vocation." He replies. "I was born to it. When I learned, all lessons were as one, working in concert to make the path that I shall walk to the end of it, or the end of my life. When I began this lesson, I was not yet ten. By the time I was, my body was entirely my own, my will was iron, and I was ready to learn the next steps." He pulls open his Gi, exposing his broad chest and the Big Dipper scars upon it. "When I completed the school and attained my title, my last lesson was to use it against the Five-point Palm Exploding Heart Technique. As the scars show you, I triumphed."

[Cracklord]

Deathstroke
He straightens up, leaning against the wall for support, since his right leg is a total mess. His Achilles Tendon is neatly sliced, as is his calf muscle. It's now roughly as useful a support as a balloon full of water, and his healing factor is nowhere near efficient or sophisticated enough to take care of it. If it was a more normal job, he'd retreat in good order, apologize to his boss, and hole up in one of his hide-outs while he spends another month of muscle therapy getting his leg back online.
But this isn't a ordinary job. This is a matter of honor, and therefore his entire reputation is at stake. So to hell with playing safe. The torrent of blood flowing from his leg slowed to a trickle, and then stopped altogether. Slade didn't seem to feel the ebb of his powers, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck from side to side, as though he was warming up rather then just having taken a beating and such a dismembering cut, after loosing so much blood.
"Really? You're stable then? What a surprise. And here I thought specimens like yourself only last a decade before deterioration leaves them in advanced states of decay. Doesn't technology march on?" He says, almost conversationally. He hasn't pulled his mask back on, so you can still see his face, and he's still smiling, though the gleam in his eye had become vaguely predatory. Furthermore, he hasn't spared a glance at Black Cat or Black Cannary, he only has eyes for you.
"Well, if that's all you go, then I suppose it's time I stopped messing around. I'm well behind schedule, and that reflects badly on me." He says, pulling the barbed head of the bolt out of his arm with a wet sucking sound. It was a good shot, and a powerful one. The amount of body armor he was wearing, bullets wouldn't even make bruises. Then he reaches over his shoulders, and removes a pair of high-powered scoped rifles, which he holds in each hand in defiance of needing support.
Then he opens fire.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

When Harley yanks Deadpool in front of her, he lets out a scream. Now, this isn't an ordinary scream. Oh no. This was probably the most girly scream a person could imagine. Little four year old girls in pink frilly dresses would tell him to suck it up after hearing this scream.

...really? Did you really just do that?

Can I, like, go to somebody else's head now? That was embarrassing, man.

Once Silas tips over, Deadpool stops screaming. He stays still for a moment, then immediately puts his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest, obviously trying to make up for the scream.

Well, I'm glad that was taken care of, he says in a lower voice than normal. That'll teach him for messing with us.

Now...did he bring a car with him?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Bomb Queen gives a wide grin. She knew people assumed that she had the intelligence of a brick. That's why nobody had ever been able to kick her out yet. They always underestimate her.

Been a pleasure doin' business with ya, snakey. Now get the hell off my house. She does add the "or else I'll..." clause. It's implied.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Once inside the office, Cassie gives a wide grin. Jackpot!

She'll grab the sidearm and stuff it in the waistband of her skirt, then grab one of the shotguns. She'll also look for an ammo belt, if she can find one, and put that over one shoulder like a sash.

Once locked and loaded, Cassie will head back to the front door.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X-23

Laura noticed that the wound to his leg took a little longer than it should to heal. She now assumes that his healing powers slow down when used a lot over a short period of time. This will be a key point in her current strategy to defeat him.

Once Slade pulls out the rifles, Laura starts moving. She'll dart forward and to the side, hoping to draw his fire in that direction and away from the others in the room. Under this same lane of thinking, she keeps her arms wide, so that he might think that she's going to attack with them and shoot them. She wasn't going to attack with them, though.

Staying low, she'll try to get close enough to Slade so that he'll being aiming the guns at a sort of downward angle before she'll pivot on one leg, bringing her opposite foot up to slash at the guns, trying to slice them in half. If that works, she'll continue the spin, bringing that foot down and the other one around, aimed for his gut.

[Draxx]

Bomb Queen
He actually does hiss this time, then turns sharply on his heel, and gets back into his helicopter, leaving the briefcase full of money where it was. He doesn't even try to get the last word. Another point to Bomb Queen. You suspect he'll be sending men around to kill you tonight, but really, that's to be expected, it's the way this city works.

Deadpool
Ivy ignores you and the sounds coming out of your mouth with disdain that was positively icy, which naturally made you all the more keen to get her attention. With the air of someone who is almost as at home around corpses as she is around plants, she begins methodically searching him, meaning that you are pawing the dead guy as well, since your hand is still tied to hers. She's looking for clues and anything that might be useful. He's dressed in coarse sack-cloth that looks extremely uncomfortable and scratchy, has a cilice at an unsafe setting around his leg, and his back bares the marks of self flagelation. He has an enormous, bronze censer tied around his belt, which smells of incense and something sickly sweet but unrecognizable, and nothing else.

It's only when you look up that you see a landmark that blows the whole show out of the water. You figured you were still in Vegas. You are, unless every scenic shot ever has lied to you, somewhere in Russia. Because that thing on the horizon? That's the Kremlin.

James Bond
You've been mingling, as is your custom, for an hour, carelessly winning in Poker and flirting with the high society ladies, when it happens. An explosion, a few floors up. The security all run upstairs, while everyone else starts talking more loudly and distractingly, trying to pretend nothing happened. Your well-honed instincts tell you that something is happening, and something important.

Deathstroke, X-23
Black Canary moves like lightning, flipping the heavy desk and crouching behind it, pulling Felicia into cover as well, whose slightly too slow. Nobody is keen to get shot, a bullet-wound in a fight like this is very nearly a death sentence.

Nocturne
"Well, it can be scary to find out how you couldn've turned out." Brian replies, giving you a little smile. "But I agree. You'll be happy to know, we mostly stick to the one timeline around here. We're not exactly fixed in one place, or even time, but no parallel universes or alternate dimensions. Actually, we're supposed to go send an expedition to Mars in a few hours. It's mostly meant to be publicity, but there is a point to it."

Iron Fist
You're teaching the kids the basics of nunchucks when an old friend and comrade steps into the school, a tall, clear-cut man, whose truest home has always been the open-road, dressed colorfully in a red jacket that's dusty from travel. He doesn't say a word, he just watches, then corrects the technique of one of the boys so he stops banging the flail against his hand when he tries to swing it.

Richard Dragon, an awesome martial artist, perhaps one of the best you've ever met, and you've met the very, very best. He'd been trained by one of the finest masters in the world, and mastered almost every technique and school. And so, after years of training, he reached the lofty distinction of being probably the best natural martial artist on Earth, or at least in the top three.

You had always found Dragon to be a man of starkly astounding resolve and power. His talents as a man of action are vast, and he is a cold and unstoppable machine at pretty much everything he does. Whatever he wants you for, it's probably important.



Spider-Man
It's a small gathering, as it usually is, and as expected you recognize maybe two-thirds of the people there, since your friends have brought people of their own to introduce. Plenty of people who you are closer to in your other life couldn't be here, due to being the sort of people that can't really feasibly show up at Peter Parker's birthday party, however they've managed to, in small ways, make their presence felt in spirit if not in flesh already. Afterall, thirty is a milestone. Tony Stark has sent you a research grant, which is nice of him, you guess, but sounds more like he's trying to squeeze free work out of you, Johnny Storm (the entire Fantastic Four, actually, but it was clearly Johnny who picked it) has sent you what seems to be a painstakingly restored 1966 Shelby 427 Cobra, which would be incredibly cool if this wasn't New York, and you ever drove anywhere. In the Glove Compartment, there's some (slightly melted) chocolate from Franklin, and some equations from Valerie which, after an hour and some consultation with a few physicists, you determine to be an equation that proves… something. Kids, huh? And there was a gift from Doctor Strange (Sorceror Supreme, not disgraced protege of Hannibal Lecter), and another one from Kal-El (how awesome is it that Superman acknowledges your birthday? That's awesome enough on it's own…), and a couple of others. Everyone else apparently don't recognize the significance, aren't thoughtful in that particular way, or just can't think of anything. However, it's the people who are here who have your attention right now.

Aside from your Aunt May, Mary Jane your beautiful wife, Hobbie, Glory, Flash, Vince, Liz, Carlie and Harry were all there to celebrate your birthday. It's gratifying to see them all.

Harry has a new fiance, you notice, (seems a little soon, but Harry was never one to sit on his hands) though you don't recognize her, beyond a few superficial resemblances to Felecia (who must still be in Alaska, or she'd be here) and Whitemane (who wouldn't be invited anyway, but is probably in South America hunting Nazis as usual). She wasn't beautiful, at least conventionally, but then Harry always had really bad luck with beautiful women, so perhaps that was for the best. The potential was certainly there, she had good bone-structure, excellent complexion and a figure, but she was too lean and feral, none of the softness or fleshy padding that lent most female bodies pleasing symmetry, and though she had curves, there wasn't anywhere where she could be said to be soft. She seemed all planes, angles and sharp edges, and she was vaguely unsettling, the way she seemed to anticipate everything, the way when she smiled her teeth seemed small and sharp, and whatever it was that glittered in her one remaining eye. She was dressed in leather pants and a light blouse, that showed plenty of skin and with it, plenty of scar tissue, which formed cicatrices of pale lines and ridges over her taunt stomach and shoulders. She doesn't say anything, she just stands at the edges, and tries not to look hostile, which doesn't really come naturally to her at all.

[darkblade]

Tommy

"That makes sense." Tommy admits as he keeps walking alongside Kenshiro. "Can I ask you a question? Did you have any weird dreams last night?"

***

Oracle

"Very astute. There was an incident when I was younger, paralyzed from the waste down." Oracle admits, letting a little too much anger slip in when she mentioned her 'incident'.

"Something or someone was playing with people's minds during the breakout. What do you know about it?" She was beginning to get a bad feeling about this game, he might not really know anything.

***

Michael

"I might know a guy. Stan Smith, usual by the book black ops agent with a history of mental instability. Attacked to a lot of mysterious cases regarding disappearing agency resources and the main suspect in the "Rodger the Alien" case." Michael admitted.

***

Sam

Sam folds out several hundreds and holds them out to the greeter. "I'm afraid I don't have one but Edward Fyers recommended me to you. Name your price and I'll match it, plus a little extra for your generosity."

The obscenely large wad of cash in his pocket, a combination of an allowance from his lady friend and Fi's profits from a small 'shipping deal' she helped organize under the table.

***

Golden Ghoul

Vlad has no precious metals of any sort so the ghoul ignores him. If there was one weakness in the monsters that the Book of Pure Evil makes is that they tend to be rather specialized in who they kill, part of their nature as perverted wishes.

It just calmly walks past Vlad as though he wasn't even there.

[Draxx]

Golden Ghoul
Vlad doesn't say a word, or show any surprise. He does, however he does stops it from moving any further, a hand the size of a ham closing the golden skull face, and drawing back his arm smashes it as hard as he can against the wall. He's an impressive specimen, but it's less damaging then the baseball bat, so affects the skeleton not at all.

Tommy
"I did." He admits, then falls silent. For a moment, you think that's all you are going to get out of him, then he speaks again. "It was… troubling. I tried to dismiss it as a symptom of my doubts, don't be surprised, everyone has doubts, but I suspect it is something brought on by the nature, the fabric of this place seeping into me and broadening my horizons."

He pauses a moment, then elaborates. "I saw some things that gave me a small measure of relief, perhaps even closure. But mostly, I saw things that fill me with fatalism and a determination to die well." It's times like these that, more than even his vague and offhand mentions to terrible tortures that molded him into what he is, that really push in how different the two of you are, the worlds you live in. He's something far more… well, uncivilized if that can express it. His ways are the ancient ways. The old-school ways. Ways that modern thought has mostly drowned out.

Sam
Her eyes narrow, both at the name, and the explanation, in a manner that tells you she's not entirely convinced. However, being no fool takes the money and gives you another smile, this one a little more calculating. She then walks down the aisle, and opens a draped curtain letting a billow of steam on the very cusp of being scalding out. "Of course, sir. Full service then, for an honored member. Feel free to call when you are done in the steam room, and I will send over one of out talented masseuses to remove your tension so that you may better enjoy your experience."

She then gestures to a shelf, where towels are neatly folded, and clothing is less tidily stored. "Feel free to help yourselves."

Jesse
"Aliens." Jesse's face twisted a little in distaste. "Well, sounds like the sort of guy folks in out position should count on, anyway." Jesse says. "Lets get into touch with him, and see if we can't talk him around."

Oracle
"Really? You just can't find the help these days. Shoddy, unprofessionalism like that, it's a disgrace. Whoever it was should have shot you properly, not left the job half done." He says, completely unaware of the irony. "Still, I suppose it's a consolation to know that every time he looks at you he sees failure, another one of his sidekicks who he couldn't help."

He pauses then, considering your question, then smiles even wider then usual. "Oh. That. Well, the big, burly one decided to shut down every mind in the place, keep anyone from noticing that big lug dragging his knuckles about the place, and ignoring proper dress-codes. What was he thinking, I ask you? What's that ensemble say, I am the victim of a very unfortunate industrial accident? I swear, no self-respect, people these days, running around in costumes that might have been wet-suits with neon lines that contribute nothing. Anyway, he noticed I'd slipped through his net, and, deciding to knock me out as well, still connected to the others I might mention, brought every mind in the place, including his own, into contact with mine, and they all just seemed to shut down." He winks. "Nobody understands me."

[darkblade]

Tommy

It's true, for all their similarities Kenshiro was closer to the Barbarian hero of old than to most of the other superheroes in the world. "I'm talking something more specific. There was a dragon, an evil one I could feel it's evil. It was tied to Dai-Shi."

***

Golden Ghoul

The wall comes off worse for wear than the Ghoul but it is unable to escape despite it's best efforts.

***

Sam

Sam smiles widely as he takes his towel and promptly strips down. Fi scowls a little bit but does the same. Together they step into the steam room and wait.

***

Michael

"We crossed the weird threshold when our plane was hijacked by zombies. An alleged alien isn't that much worse." Michael says before calling Stan Smith's home phone number.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool stares in the distance for a moment, his excuse for a brain trying to catch up with his eyes.

Is...is that...what I think it is?

Yes, yes it is. And now I have a sudden craving for some vodka.

Ladies, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore. He'll point to the Kremlin in the distance. Which, of course, raises a very important question. One that I feel needs to be answered post haste.

Who wants to wrestle a bear?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bomb Queen

Watching him leave, Bomb Queen smirks to herself. And reminds herself to double check all of her security systems.

Ashe will prowl up next to her, watching the helicopter fade into the distance. You do realize that he's going to be very upset with you for a while, right?

Bomb Queen chuckles. That's the thing about a good attack dog, Ashe. Gotta make sure it knows who's boss, first.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nocturne

Talia nods a little in agreement. At the point of Mars, she tilts her head a little. Oh? And what point would that be?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie

Cassie sees Vlad already attacking the ghoul and smiles. Sometimes, she was extremely glad that she had a partner.

She makes sure the shotgun is loaded, then starts to walk within range.

Vlad! Set 'em up! She holds up the gun, hoping that he gets the message to get the ghoul into position for her to blast it.

[Cracklord]

Deathstroke
"Once, you might catch me. Twice is just insulting." Slade says, keeping his aim without any trouble and shooting you at almost point-blank. Slade had fught his share of metahumans, enough to know not to underestimate them. He was using heavy ammunition indeed. "You need to learn a few variations. Something else to depend on, other then brutality and healing." He shoots you again, trying for crippling rather then fatal. It won't kill you either way, but the more damage he does, the longer before you're back on your feet.
Then he drags himself over towards the door, keeping a suppressing fire to stop any of the others from interfering with his progress. "Well that was bracing. I'm getting old. Look me up, I'll be in Jump City. If any of you survive the next Twenty Minutes from ground Zero of the Sentinel's Triumphant Return, look me up. I'll pencil you in for some more 'compliments of the establishment' work. Ciao."

James Bond
He doesn't make any reaction, because he has a winning hand, and so plays another three, tense minutes, sweeping the house clean in the process. It's when he goes to cash his chips in that he slips away, and out of the party into the adjoining offices. He doubted security would be lax enough to get him onto the third floor, at least without resorting to some extremely regrettable deaths. Therefore, the most obvious and sensible method of going forward was to bypass it entirely. And the easiest way to do that was to take advantage of certain elements beyond the control of the security.

Iron Fist
"I'm not on the clock at the second, Richard." Danny said, pausing the class momentarily to slip over and address his old friend. The man had come as far as a man could, without learning any of the mystical techniques that were so closely guarded, and Danny held him in the highest respect. But if he brought any craziness to the school, Danny would kick his ass.

[AnimeKid]

Ben 10

Ben looks down the corridor that streched beyond the room with the civilians. Now that they were safe for the moment he could find out what was really going on here. Making sure to be careful Ben started walking slowly forward down the corridor. His head was always looking left and right to try to make sure nothing surprised him. After all who knew what was down here.

Rex

Rex looked on in shock at the visuals he was getting as well as the pictures he was able to snap even without being able to move. Though that last part caused him no small amount of worry. Then come the words. They were quite frankly a little terrifying with the talk of Elder things. What? Who doesn't know about HP Lovecraft these days? Rex speaks up as he says, "I don't understand. Are you, some kind of aliens?"

Kos-Mos

Taking the respite that she had earned with utmost seriousness Kos-Mos immediately put the pedal to the metal and started running, looking high and low for the central power source. She had to shut it down before she got swarmed with those things. They weren't exactly pleasant to deal with.

[Draxx]

Deadpool
"I hate to think what your life must be like, if you can treat this with so much blithe indifference." Poison Ivy said, folding her arms and frowning. Harley is much more enthusiastic. In fact, she even volunteers, and starts looking around as though she expects one to jump out and let her. Harley likes people who are recklessly impulsive.

Poison Ivy frowns all the more at this. She really wishes that, in their long association, Harley would build up some sort of resistance to being swept up in dangerous lunatics wakes. But no, Harley is an obsessive personality caught up in a pattern of self-destructive behavior, too addicted to try and escape it. Ivy was glad she was healthier then that. "Aren't we undesirables or something over here? I say this only because I don't want to have my head shaved and be shot behind the chemical sheds." She says, before trailing behind you two, more out of the fact that she's handcuffed to you then out of choice. There are plenty of horror stories about mutants in the Soviet States anyway. You're not sure their stance on the criminally insane.

Heading towards the Kremlin, you're brought up short by a pair of huge guys in white suits, their heads shaved and their eyes behind smoked sunglasses. One of them was cleaning his fingernails with a throat-slit razor. "They still got the head. Good. Boss wants to see you about the job he hired you to do last night. You coming?"

Tommy
"Dreams are a mystery, one outside my specialties. I have long experience, but little wisdom to offer against signs and portents. But if you dreamed of an enemy you thought vanquished, then he most likely fears you far more. He has reason to, it is you who won." He stretched back his arms, the cracked his neck loudly. It sounded painful, but then, you suspected it was one of the prices he payed for always remaining so limber.

"As to dragons, well perhaps your enemy seeks to make allies of it's own. Or perhaps it plots to steal something it believes can help it. I cannot say." he said, eyes clear and earnest.

Ben 10
You follow a long corridor, dark and poorly lighted so everything seems drab and gray. You stay as quiet as possible, some instinct warning you not to be seen. The corridor opens into a humming chamber, lit from the floor by fluorescent lights, which throw shadows at the ceiling. The sound of arcane machinery can be heard inside the chamber of the tiny laboratory. Lining the cold steel walls were many, many phials of colored fluid, connected by thin tubes that drew out steam from the concoctions, of which, only a madman would understand. Dark brown stains pooled in the corners of the hateful chamber. Tables covered with heaps of notes scrawled on leathery paper lay about.

The walls were covered with glass jars, that held brains suspended in a vicious liquid that bubbled and seethed, allowing them to primitively sense their surroundings. This had been done to them by the Fungi from Yuggoth, their own bizarre way of rewarding the brightest minds.

And in the center of the chamber, two men are conversing, too caught up in their conversation to pay you any mind whatsoever. One has his back to you, but appears tall and physically powerful, his hair black, and his clothes of outstanding quality. The other you can only catch a glimpse of. He is seated in a wheelchair, his body a shapeless lump beneath a blanket, that has a suggestion of uncouth physical inertia to it.

Yet his face could only be called the opposite. Masterful in its brow, alert in its steel-gray eyes, firm in its lips with conviction and command, and subtle in its play of expression, all hallmarks of a most unusually dominant mind. His hair is white and wispy, his face is deeply lined, and he is frowning, letting the other man do all the talking.

The other mans voice is deep and powerful, the voice of a man born to command and used to it, a man without doubt or worry, the voice of a man confident in both knowledge and power. You are sure you know that voice, but you couldn't place it for the life of you.

"Laziness, Edison. To create the superman, you create according to function, not according to capability. What use is flight really? Or invulnerability, or strength, or immortality? Humans became the worlds dominant species without any of them, depending on our capacity to make things to fill the uses for us. When we gain dominance over the universe, it won't be through anything so crude as brute physical power. No, species who depend on their bodies only last so long as they run into no competitors who the can't outfight or outbreed. Neither is appropriate."

"I agree that Intelligence is more tempting, but I find that the core experiences are more dependable then raw processing power. Computers can perform calculations as well as people, and are less of an investment. intelligence is necessary, but too much and it becomes a means to itself, and a burden rather then a advantage. And immortality is a waste. It has it's advantages, as we have all had cause to learn, but a human lifetime is more then long enough to affect change, we have no need to draw them out. We need something more then the sum of it's parts."

"So, to begin, we look to our subject. We enhance what is there, and we remove what is superfluous or a weakness. From there we can build. Which is why we depend so entirely on the subject, who is the foundation of the design. Now, we could search for a suitable one, however that is too chancy, too much room for failure. The reason so many superhuman initiatives have failed is because they have to take any subject they can get. There is too much at stake to account for waste. Better to design our own. From scratch? Foolish. Too much of development is unaccounted for, too many elements to keep track of in the process of design. Too much wasted."

"So we ensure he comes into being, while allowing progress of it's own. We haven't the perspective or the capability to arrange it entirely through chance, so we have to be crude. We had only three generations, you remember. So I relied on Eugenics, and cloning. Some six thousand subjects, with a wide variety of excellent genetic material, all utilized to create key combinations of genes and traits, to come to a subject I deemed suitable, through selective breeding."

So we have our subject. I named him Khan, thinking it to be appropriate, given his purpose." He patted whatever he was cradling in his other hand. You suspect it is a human child. "He has had six months, without any outside influences to his development. Now how do we proceed?"

Cassie, Vlad and the Book of Pure evil
Nodding, he turns, and holds the gilded bones in position, giving you an easy shot without him being particularly at risk from the spread. The ghoul is struggling, but Vlad bears it without complaint, without even particularly seeming to notice. He's even stronger then he looks, and he looks like all he needs is wheels to be classified as a truck.

Sam and Fi
The sauna is actually not too bad on it's own, however as you are led in, the pretty girl opens a door at the back and leads you through to a small, lightless room that's smoky for an entirely different reason. There are about a dozen matts, each of them occupied by a variety of patrons, holding the classic, long-stemmed ivory pipes and breathing in the dark smoke.

And then there's the tall, dangerous looking man standing at the back, with the dark, intense eyes of a truly dangerous man. He looks vaguely familiar, in the way that the top of the line assassins and contract killers who have a history of making work far harder for agencies tend to be vaguely familiar. "I don't believe we've met." he says, his voice deep and dangerously soft. "Which means you are new. Very well. No doubt you've been informed how profitable a partnership with the Si-Fan can be. I am Mister Scaramanga, and represent the good Doctor. Can we talk business before you indulge yourselves? I prefer to get it dealt with before you insist on addling your wits."

Michael
"I told you never to call this number!" He booms through the receiver, sounding like the sort of imitation virile masculinity radio propaganda speakers used to favor in the sixties. Then he pauses. "Look, I'm trying to be a good role-model for my kids. If they know they're under surveillance at all times, especially in the bathroom, they won't feel safe in their own home, and I didn't outfit a hundred thousand dollars worth of booby-traps and hide a stockpile of weapons in every room so people would fear for their personal safety and health in my house."

Jesse raises an eyebrow, but manages to restrain himself from saying anything, somehow. It seems he's somehow managed to become even more erratic since you last spoke.

Iron Fist
"We can talk later, if that's better for you." Richard said, holding up his hands to show his good intentions, his chi pulsing steadily and calmingly as he does. "But it's important. I do need your help. And a lot of good people are depending on you as well."

Rex
Perhaps now, for gulfs deeper then time lie between the last time we dwelled here, and where we begun has long since returned to cosmic dust. But not how you mean the term, not visitors from a distant world come to settle or to visit, no. They reply, their song changing, losing some of it's empty, yearning quality. You aren't sure how comforting that is. Before life, we. Before the stars, we. Before time and sound, before thought and deed, we. We are forever and before, never forgetting, never ceasing. This world was our home before, and shall be again. We are of the Yith.

Now that does sound like Lovecraft.

Kos-Mos
Unfortunately, the sentinel you destroyed has given the intelligence that governs this all the means of locating you. You destroyed the scouts, but now the harvesters are here. And if you don't work faster, the warriors will start waking up.

You haven't gone two steps before something rears up in front of you. It was a machine, slender and elongated, built of black metal, with a round 'head' and three glowing red lights for eyes on the featurless face. Its serpentine body, built in segments, was lined with two rows of flexible limbs. The two foremost carried cannons, whose alien shafts glowed a sickly green. It looked like a centipede, but with longer legs.

James Bond
Kato meets you at the staircase and falls into step behind you as you make your way out of the building and next door. The building is locked, and the lights are on inside, suggesting that it isn't closed up for the night afterall, or at least the security is remaining behind.

Nocturne
"All sorts of reasons. Most of them are pretty lacking, but there are a few compelling ones as well." He says, folding his arms. "First is because we are ultimately a government organization, and they told us they want to borrow the two big brains. There's a lot we have to learn about Mars, afterall. Formerly host to half a dozen separate indigenous sentient species, most of which were more advanced then us, to being completely without life. Second is because doing something big and public once a month that looks good in the newspapers keeps our image good, and justifies our exorbitant budget. And finally, well, it's a pretty easy way for you to get your first chance to work with a team you've never met before."

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

Deadpool turns to Ivy. Lady, I treat everything with indifference. Makes it hurt less when it comes back and bites me in the ass.

He smiles at Harley, though his mask makes that difficult to see. That's the spirit! Fight the bears so I can run!

And back to Ivy. Man, he's gonna get whiplash from all this.

My head's already shaved, so no worries there. The shooting would just be a discomfort for a while.

Then the two guys appear!

You know...I think it might be a good idea to not upset them at the moment.

Really?

Yeah. Should probably see what they want. Might hurt less, at least.

I knew the prince of darkness wouldn't lie to me about the head!

Nocturne

Talia nods a little. Alright, sounds good to me. Should I expect trouble of any kind?

Cassie

The ghoul in range, Cassie levels the gun at its head.

Suck it, bitch!

She squeezes the trigger.

X-23

Shots to the legs take Laura out of her charge. She hadn't been expecting the heavier rounds. Sure, she'll heal, but it'll take longer. Which gives Deathstroke a chance to escape.

On her knees now, Laura keeps herself faced towards Deathstroke as he made his way to the door. She could feel the holes in her legs closing again, but it seemed that he would make it out before they did. She closes her eyes for a moment and focuses on his scent, committing it to memory. She'd probably need it later.

[Draxx]

Deadpool
There's a lot of dirty money in circulation in Russia these days, but then, hasn't there always been? Still, the decadence and corruption certainly comes with the sort of comfort which is easy to get used to. Right now, you and two fine ladies are in the back seat of a stretch limo (which goon number one and two are driving), drinking champagne from the minibar and listening to smooth jazz, while reclining on the skins of rare and exotic creatures, and enjoying the considerable efforts spared to your entertainment. Sure, the fine ladies were already with you, and were dangerous psychotics as well, but that's not really a problem.

After ten minutes, the car parks in front of a studio, between two of the prefabricated government provided apartments. There's nothing particularly noteworthy about the studio, except that it has your stretch limo parked in front of it, which suggests there is more to the place then meets the eye. "Get yourselves presentable, and be on your best behavior." One of the goons warned. Not in the swaggering way most of them do (you know, meaning it to be threatening or something), no, this sounds like an actual warning.

"The Liberalis Circulum has called a special meeting from their inner circle to meet with you. And to discuss what to do with the head." Apparently, Goon Number One knows quite a bit.

Nocturne
"Nobody really knows what to expect from Mars." Brian replied thoughtfully. "It's a dead planet, and nobody really understands why. A hundred years ago, there was civilizations. They invaded us, for godssake. And now… nothing. But people who go there sometimes go missing."

[darkblade]

Michael

"Stop being paranoid for five minutes and listen to me. Chinese terrorist, probably the ten rings, have one of our..." Michael begins to say but catches himself. The CIA isn't his anymore.

"Your guys in their pocket. I need a list of active agents in China. Get me that list and the Area 51 security files I have will disappear. Can I count on you Stan?"

***

Book of Pure Evil

The golden skull explodes as the buckshot hits it. The rest of the skeleton goes limp, except for something fluttering around under the rib cage. The book has found itself trapped within it's own dead monster.

***

Sam and Fi

Sam takes a seat next to the scary man. "Chuck Finley, I believe we share a profession Mr. Scaramanga. Getting paid handsomely for making people disappear."

Fi remained silent, true to her undercover role as Chuck's subservient girlfriend but she knows all too well how dangerous the man with the golden gun can be, Sam is playing on thin ice.

Tommy

"Well I never fought him personally but I know people who did. He shouldn't even know who I am." Tommy admitted. "Oh well, I'll figure it out. If he could be stopped once before he can be stopped again."

[Draxx]

Sam and Fi
The perfect arch of the man with the golden gun's brow was a work of art in it's own right. Nonetheless, he nodded, and unfolded his arms, still staring at you thoughtfully, and sat down on the mat at the end of the room. There is a hookah next to the mat, the sort of showpiece that is as expensive as the pipes, and it's positioning suggests it sees some use, but he doesn't so much as glance at it. You suspect this is all an act to get you comfortable.

"I am glad you came now." He says, in his deep voice, resting his hands on his knees. "Because there is always work for a man like you in an organization like this. And an organization like the Si-Fan can reward a man in your line of work like you could not even imagine."

Michael
"Oh really? Yeah sure, no problem. I'll have them for you by tomorrow." He says, and hangs up. That was… refreshingly easy.

Tommy
"Then perhaps it is not your fight." Kenshiro says, then squares his shoulders. "But that is for you to decide. Take this burden as your own, or leave it and remain here, and focus on what you have begun. It is a decision you need to make."

Your dream might have been a warning, or might just be some result of all the mystic insanity going on all around here. On one hand, you have a lot to learn here, but on the other, can you afford to ignore what might very well be a warning? How well do you fit in this life anyway?

The Tiger Monks are not a quiet, contemplative order like most of the Immortal Weapons. Oh sure, they spend years meditating on the strength and possibilities of the spirit and honing the perfection of the body in order to achieve enlightenment, but they focus on learning to kick people’s kidneys out through their ears, rather then discovering it as a happy accident. And then there is Kenshiro, who does not fight by breaking bones or bruising muscle, but by attacking the key points of the body itself, injecting his enemies bodies energy with each precise strike and disrupting their life force. As a technique it's extremely flexible, with incredible potential in both killing and healing, but it's also something that is almost impossible to learn.

"I am leaving tonight." Kenshiro says shortly, stopping at his rooms, and opening the door. "Tiger's Beautiful Daughter has given me a truly difficult task, and I must get started right away, I cannot afford to procrastinate on something like this/" He clasps your forearm with his. "It may take me a year or ten, I do not know the way to Death's Realm, and suppose it shall be a long walk. But I mean to succeed. Don't set yourself up to fail. You will make a good warrior, if you can give yourself to it. Perhaps we shall speak more when I return." With that he steps in, and begins packing his few belongings.

[darkblade]

Michael

Michael hangs up the phone and looks to Jessie. "As soon as Fi and Sam are done we need to get out of town."

Stan might be good in a fire fight but his deductive skills were always terrible. If he recognized the random burner number and knew where Michael was that means something bigger was probably going down."

***

Sam and Fi

"Si-Fan? Never knew the Manchus to hire foreigners." Sam said cautiously.

***

Tommy

"It was an honour meeting you Kenshiro." Tommy says bowing before the large man. He then quickly departs for Master Roshi's room.

"I need to borrow your computer again. I'm sorry." He says practically forcing the Turtle master away from whatever bikini spreads he was looking at.

Upon obtaining the machine he rapidly typed a message to RJ. "I have reason to think Dai-Shi might be returning along with some sort of dragon. Get a team together and meet me in Shanghai in two days."

[Draxx]

Tommy
The Turtle hermit takes of his sunglasses, his clear blue eyes surprisingly sharp and shrewd, then hands you the computer without a word, the last few moments of the video involving busty girls in bikinis playing volleyball finishing up. He stares at you while you type your message, hands resting on his knees, then stands up when you finish.

"You are leaving then." He says. "It is a shame, but a horse cannot bear two saddles, and I expected this. This is not the place for you yet. Perhaps never." He bows, the movement formal, yet at the same time far from cold. "Still, you were my student, even if only for a short time, so allow me to give you some advice."

"Three hundred years ago, I was trained by Lord Mutaito, who was wise, and understood something of the world. He told me to make friends, to get into trouble, and above all, to take the good with the bad, and to treasure small pleasures. Then he threw me out of the dojo for a year and a day. I had adventures, I met a girl, and she left me, and for a long time I treasured those years. But when you get as old as me, you'll get some perspective. I brought the turtle school to ascendance a century ago which it's held despite fierce competition, and I had the honor to train some of the finest generation of warriors ever born. None of them took the championship, but that's fine. While they shall never follow my legacy, it is good to know that they have all found their own ways that they can be proud of. I hope you do as well." Then he cracked a silly grin, and the serious quality left him. "Now for gods sake man, sneak out and don't get caught. As master of this school, Li Hua has the right to throw failed students off the mountain, and she'll do it too."

Michael
"Could be a bluff." Jesse suggested, trying to see the picture from another angle. "I mean it's a risk to count on it, but it could. Still, if you can blackmail him shouldn't we worry about safeguarding the material? He won't try anything if he knows incriminating information is about to be wired directly to every journalist in the country."

Sam and Fi
Francisco Scaramanga blinks, slowly and lazily. "Normally I do not explain this." He says, then blinks again, lizardlike. "Well, China's government in exile has to get support from somewhere." He says, with the indifference one would expect to find in someone discussing the importation of cheese. "At first, this was not so difficult. But when they failed to make any appreciable progress in retaking their nation, support was withdrawn, and by the sixties they ran out of credit completely. Despite increasingly outrageous promises they would make of recompense when they returned to power, there was no chance at all. So, they turned a percentage of their support towards getting funds, looking to popular avenues for certain returns, and putting control of this under one of their most staunch and dangerous supporters. The Doctor, as you know."

He folded his arms. "They've all finally agreed on a candidate to back, in their proposed retaking of the mainland. They have the triads, they have the Manchus, and they have the west. Now all they need is popular support. That is where we come in."

[KerfuffleMach2]

Deadpool

At the goon's warning, Deadpool will go to put an arm around his shoulders.

Boris, baby, I'm always well behaved.

And then he's quickly out of the car. Mostly for fear of Boris ripping his arm off or something.

Guy could probably do it without much effort, too. I mean, look at him.

True. He turns back to Ivy and Harley. Alright, ladies. Time to transform and roll out!

Nocturne

Talia thinks on the for a moment. That does sound kind of...odd.

Isn't that one guy on the Justice League from Mars?

Cassie

Cassie flinches a little as the skull explodes, hoping she didn't just get splattered with a bunch of gore.

Odds are that she did.

Alright, Vlad. Time to find some people that can destroy this damned thing.

[Draxx]

Cassie, Book of pure evil
Vlad drops the golden corpse. It's probably worth something, but to be honest the whole thing seems macabre, even by the standards you two routinely deal with. Spotting the fluttering book in the ribcage, Vlad reaches a hand the size of a shovel and picks it up, tucking it into the pocket of his coat. He's not particularly interested in knowing what's inside it. Spending twenty years living in a basement tends to give you a certain outlook on things, and the importance of literacy is not high on his list of concerns.

Actually, you're not all that sure he can read. Regardless, he's not the sort of corruptible fair that the book routinely turns to it's own uses. He should be fine.

Deadpool
Boris doesn't seem to mind your intimacy. He's a sweetheart like that. His partner opens the doors, and you step into old studio, to find out what the hell is so important about Walt Disney's severed head. "The men you are about to meet are the remnants of the ancient order of Hashshashin, who have fought a war over the centuries with their enemies, the Knights Templar, controlling human progress and socio and political advancement from the shadows, all for one reason." As you walk down the corridor, you see famous historical figures, however they aren't presented in ways that conventional history records. There is a massive painting of Charles Darwin, stripped to the waist with his Santa beard tied back punching out a gorilla, Aleister Crowley dressed in what appears to be a Navy SEAL getup, Leon Trotsky playing the xylophone, and Bobby Marley.

"It reached public perception during the crusades, however is in fact far older, some say as old as civilization itself. The war is fought over the legalization of Marijuana." You didn't expect that. "The Order of Assassins believe it has potential medical properties, that it is ultimately harmless and that it is unlikely to do much social damage. The Templars, however, feel that it has the potential to do social damage, and set a dangerous precedent. For this reason, and this alone, the two have fought over the centuries."

He stops outside an enormous door that leads to the inner sanctum. "The last leader of the assassins was Walt Disney. When he was dying, he had his head preserved so when the next leader was chosen he would be able to gain access to Disney's secrets."

Nocturne
"I've heard that, but he doesn't talk about his home. Nobody really knows. A nearly two hundred years ago, martians attack us on giant tripods. Twenty years later, a craft makes it to the red planet, and finds nothing but red sand, and death."

[darkblade]

Book of Pure Evil

The book growls in anger as it is shoved in Vlad's pocket. It doesn't put up much of a fight though. It knows that they lack the resources to destroy it and eventually it'll find a more corruptible soul.

***

Tommy

"I need to get into the archives first. I need to find out who this dragon is before I can stop him." Tommy says shaking his head.

"Besides I've fallen down cliffs before, it's not as bad as everyone makes it out to be."

***

Sam and Fi

"So we take out a few pencil pushers and lobbyists to make the old government look good? That seems a little small scale for someone like you." Sam says with a vigorous Chuck Finely laugh.

"Darling, this doesn't sound like your work." Fi added with her best disapproving girlfriend voice.

"Shsh. No you have something big planned and going to need a lot of help don't you?"

***

Michael

"Still I'd rather not risk it. We're at least switching hotels." Michael said.

"We'll see what they turn up but I have a feeling we are almost done here."

[Draxx]

Tommy
"Dragon, you say." Roshi says thoughtfully, conceding to your experience about cliffs, and scratching his white beard. Finally, he shrugs his shoulders. "Well, you're as likely to find something here as anywhere else, I suppose."

Sam
"You think far too small." Sacramanga replies, his cold eyes staring at Fi. His gaze is passionless as the dotted line on the bottom of a bill, but chilling. "Killing a few people on either side won't put the royalists back in power. For such a radical change of regime, only one thing will be sufficient. War."

Michael
"Of course." Jesse says. "Maybe we should split up as well, just to make it easier. We can all make our own way back to Miami, and meet up in three days. That way we'll be almost impossible to catch and bag."