United Heroes MUSH - User contributions [en]

10065/A Bounty In Asgard

2019-11-17T03:36:54Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2019/11/16 |Location=Town Square, Kvalvika, New Asgard |Synopsis=Beta Ray Bill vs Lobo. The Horse Thor vs the Main Man. Who will emerge victorious..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2019/11/16
|Location=Town Square, Kvalvika, New Asgard
|Synopsis=Beta Ray Bill vs Lobo. The Horse Thor vs the Main Man. Who will emerge victorious on the sacred grounds of New Asgard?!
|Thanks=Lobo wishes to thank Beta Ray Bill, for being an incredible player.
|Cast of Characters=1742,8657
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     The Broken Antler was long as far as longhouses went, a proud building that although didn't have much history yet, was quickly gaining a reputation of respect and community good will. In front of the building, people were walking up and down the thoroughfaire mostly just living their lives, some of them perking an ear up at the sounds of smashing and commotion but mostly going their own way.     And very soon, they have to scatter out of the way like meercats as the side of the wall(that may or may not have had a window) explodes into splinters and possible glass shards. A scrawny, red-headed man with multiple blue tattoos went hurtling ass over teakettle, looking up with blood streaming down his face as his heavily bearded face was frozen in an expression of fear, pale lips open in an 'O' shape as various gold and silver teeth were visible. The man who was responsible for this gambler and thug's journey was soon visible, stepping out from the smoke and rubble.     Long jet-black hair, ghost-white albino skin, he was sporting numerous tattoos himself under his sleeveless leather vest and his black leather-like pants. In his left hand was a massive Asgardian beer stein, with the figure chugging with his eyes closed. However, that right hand was gripping a sawed-off boomstick, lever action and pointed straight at the fearful looking Asgardian.     That was the scene anyone would see, if they looked upon it. 

:'''{{#var:8657|Beta Ray Bill (8657)}} has posed:''' Why in the hell was Beta Ray Bill here? Shouldn't he be the space Thor that he is and be protecting the cosmos? Well, to answer that particular question, even someone like Bill needs to relax and regain his strength after a long journey. So here he is outside of the broken antler, having only recently arrived and drinking a large mug of the finest Asgardian mead while he watches a line of Asgard's warriors and builders alike try to lift the mighty warmaul, Stormbreaker. As the twin or brother weapon of Mjolnir, it beared many of the exact same enchantments and was thus, impossible to lift if you were unworthy. Bill does this on every planet that asks what the weapon is about and so far? Not a single one has been able to lift it besides Odin, Thor, and Bill himself. But alas, his relaxation was suddenly quite firmly interrupted when a warrior was shattered through the wood of the bar and hurtling until he hit the ground. Bill rose to his feet and approached this mystery man. "Who are you, and how dare you cause destruction on Asgardian ground!" 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     The mead goes down smooth, and with a powerful belch, that stein is hurled aside to crash noisily against a nearby table. At the powerful voice that yells out, the albino figure turns around to consider the alien creature with those blood-red eyes of his, the black markings around them adding to their intimidation factor. Also, whoever the man was and however destructive he may have been, that handlebar mustache of his was truly impressive.     "I'm usin' the necessary force, geek. Got ourselves a bail jumper, thought he could hide behind this crappy wood architecture. Little did he know, The Main Man never gives up on a job!"     Case in point, with the tall rough and tumble looking alien stood there with his full attention seemingly on Bill, the red-head in the street figured this would be a good time for him to make a run for it. Without looking, Lobo's left hand shot outward, throwing a hook attached to a long chain, that hurtled through the air and wrapped around the man's ankles like a bola, until it hit home with that hook piercing through one of his thighs. With a scream the man went down in a heap.     "You got somethin' ta say about it, horseface?" 

:'''{{#var:8657|Beta Ray Bill (8657)}} has posed:''' Bill watches as Lobo emerges from his hiding place, the somewhat intimidating pale figure of raw muscle, bad music, and slicked back hair....even that thing on his lips draws all of Bill's attention. "Using necessary force for what? What is this man's crime that you hunt him so?" Of course, the man runs and he gets a hook in his thigh for his trouble. At that, Stormbreaker, which has been embedded in the ground thus far, is summoned to its master's hand, and Bill steps right on up to Lobo without any kind of qualms about the situation in question. He's a warrior. But his attention is strictly on Lobo, not the man he captures. "Without explanation? I do." He doesn't strike first though. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     This close, Bill is able to see all of Lobo's gear, the various knives attached to his belt and 'hidden' throughout his person, the massive metal boots made especially for stomping in faces, the glossy metal skull-shaped kneepads and of course, the numerous firearms. He might also see Lobo's arm flexing, a tattoo of a blue-skinned woman looking almost like it was dancing depending on how the arm was positioned.     Those red eyes watch the hammer/axe combo fly through the air, and gives a smirking sneer even as those glistening yellow canines were exposed.     "Cool mallet. Well if ya wanna know what ol' Oleg here was charged with, then I suppose-"     He interrupted himself by kicking his right leg backward, aiming the heel square for the monser-faced dogooder's groin. If that's where the reproduction organs were, as they more often than not were on most bipedal species, that would at least be distracting, Lobo hoped. He did hit like a truck, maybe that would be enough.     Just in case it wouldn't, Lobo whirled around and aimed that lever-action boomstick of his right at the center mass of the creature. CH-CH-BOOM!     "Then I suppose ya can go suck eggs, geek! A bounty's a bounty, irregardless of what it's for! An' the Main Man always delivers!" 

:'''{{#var:8657|Beta Ray Bill (8657)}} has posed:''' Bill sees the gear and he's frankly not that impressed. But of course, he doesn't know who Lobo is or what kind of enemy he's facing. However, the tactic that he uses: aiming low and below the belt after cutting off mid-sentence? Bill has literally been confronted with that strategy a million times. He only fell for it about one hundred times, usually semi-occasionally. This time though? Telegraphed. When Lobo lifts that leg, Bill lowers his hand, blocking the kick with his palm before there is suddenly a scatterblaster - er - Shotgun right in his chest! The thing goes off and Bill stumbles back, but it doesn't seem to have pierced his armor. "Not today, you won't." Wait what? Bill suddenly swings the hammer-side of Stormbreaker at Lobo, trying to clock him straight across the face with the weapon! 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Lobo turned around, and probably had some sort of snappy clever retort ready, but that hammer across the side of his face really put an end to all that. The self-proclaimed 'Main Man' went flying the way Oleg had moments earlier, the ghost-skinned bounty hunter flying and hurtling through the air like a comet or a missile. Unfortunately, that chain and hook was still wrapped around the scrawny Asgardian's legs, and the other end of that chain was wrapped around Lobo's left arm...that meant both men were now taking a trip that took them all the way through a blacksmith's hut well across the street, as people screamed and scattered.     Inside, Lobo was sprawled across a sea of breast plates and helmets and spears, all half finished, some utterly bent and broken from that impact. He was slowly sitting up, even as Oleg was off in the corner of the room near the hearth. He might, or might not have been mouthing the words 'mommy'. That was about as loud as he could yell, at the moment. "Awright...this is gonna be a fight." 

:'''{{#var:8657|Beta Ray Bill (8657)}} has posed:''' KABOOM! Lobo gets sent sailing and so does his prisoner! Was that intentional by Bill? Well, if Oleg really is guilty of something, then call that the punishment before the trial. But, Lobo might be surprised to see Stormbreaker sailing after him! Though its not aiming for him, the bladed edge of Stormbreaker is aiming for the chain to cut it to pieces, thus freeing Oleg from being ragdolled in the future. Hopefully, unless Lobo moves his chain out of the way of course. Bill doesn't immediately recall Stormbreaker, instead walking casually - for a warrior - towards Lobo. "Cease your actions now and you will not be harmed further." 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     He can still hear her sayin', "let us never break the chain...     never, break the chain!"     But, the chain was broken and sliced, which meant while still entangled, Oleg was technically more free than he was a moment ago. For his part, the Main Man emerged from the wreckage with a sneer on his face, and a fair amount of debris in his hair and 'stache. Coughing up dust, the Czarnian staggered out into the open with a short looking sword sticking right through his midsection...either short, or it might have actually been broken.     "Spare me the boyscout act, lizardteeth. Better hope ya got spacer insurance, 'cause yer gonna need some spare arms an' legs, an' various other pieces of anatomy!"     As he was speaking, the big man was breaking into a run, crouching low about half way from the space viking so that he could extend himself into a powerful leap. His leg muscles were taking him right toward Bill's face, so it might have been surprising when the man fell short suddenly, landing just in front instead of on top. Another dirty trick, instead of an easy to dodge Czarnian meat missile, Beta Ray now had to deal with Lobo's patented suckerpunch, an uppercut aimed right for the alien's very prominent and impressive chin. If this connected, it would be Bill's turn to go flying! 

:'''{{#var:8657|Beta Ray Bill (8657)}} has posed:''' Alas, Bill knows many tricks, but few of the people he's fought against had the level of strength that Lobo did. So, when he gives hi ma spiel, Bill is not quite impressed. Any idea how many times he's heard 'You're gonna die tonight!', 'I'll tear ya to pieces horse-face!', and 'Time to die!'? Too many to mention. So, he's about to summon Stormbreaker to him when suddenly Lobo is right in front of him, swinging for that sucker punch to the fences! The impact with his chin is -astronomical- and honestly, it would've killed him immediately if he was a regular person. Instead though, it just sends him flying. Imagine the Asgardian's surprise when Bill smashes into the ground a good ways out of the forge. Cracking his neck, Bill now summons Stormbreaker to him, possibly bashing Lobo in the back of the head on its way over to him. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     The shockwave of that punch was enough that Lobo and Oleg both had their hair blown back, and the Main Man was rubbing his knuckles quickly while the big cybernetic asskicker was in the air. Bill's landing created another shockwave, one that sent the chained up possible-criminal flying backward and causing him to slowly try and crawl and scuttlebutt his way out of this dire situation.     Meanwhile, the Czarnian merc was stalking toward the downed Beta Ray William slowly, slightly hunched over while he was tossing a hunting knife back and forth between his hands. He had excellent reflexes, he didn't even need to look down, and seemed to have no fear whatsoever of the consequences.     "Don't even know what you is, Clyde, but we gonna find out what kinda blood you got. I tried playin' nice, that's the last time I offer anyone some'a my trademark saintlike patience an' understanding, nah I'm gonna dress ya like a Thanagarian sky-fish, that means from tha bottom ta the top of yer neck. Yeah, we're startin' right at the scro-HRNLLG!"     Instantly, Lobo was clobbered right in the back of the skull, hurtling head over heels and coming up in a confused stagger. That knife he'd just been playing with? It was now embedded deep in the right side of his face, impaling him through one of those red eyes that was now oozing pink puss, this was in addition to that sword through the left side of his body.     "Feetal's giz!"     Perhaps he was in shock and the pain hadn't set in yet, but he was still swinging a sloppy haymaker aimed for the side of Bill's face or mouth. Though considering his current impairment, it was a miracle that the punch was anywhere even CLOSE to target...it kinda wasn't. 

:'''{{#var:8657|Beta Ray Bill (8657)}} has posed:''' Haaaah. Whether Bill has a sense of humor or that was just extremely well-timed, Stormbreaker smashes the back of Lobo's head and right back into Bill's hands. "You talk far too much, outsider." He approaches Lobo, the sloppy haymaker hits nothing but air, Bill literally just swaying his body out of the way. "My turn." He reels that left hand back and tries to just punch Lobo right in the face, hard enough to launch him if it hits. "But you truly are overmatched!" Bill says, a hint of Adopt-Asgardian pride and arrogance in the victory he believes is guaranteed. Little does he know...victory is another matter entirely. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     He didn't normally do this, but Lobo was starting to feel woozy enough that through his fractured vision, when he saw that punch coming his way? Instead of taking it on the chin and laughing, the big man instead threw up what looked like a sloppy boxing guard, catching the punch across his tattooed forearm and bicep. Of course even that impact was enough to cause him to fly backwards a few feet, stumbling when he hit the ground and falling backwards. Of course, he had better balance than first thought, because he was instantly rolling back to his feet and pulling that knife out of his own face with a 'pop', one red eye still stuck halfway down the blade like a baby tomato. That knife was hurtling through the air right toward the Asgardian's face, even as the Czarnian growls and roars in anger.     "Yeah I got a match, my butt an' yer ass! Let's go!"     A button was pressed on Lobo's belt, and the bike that had previously been hovering above the Broken Antler was now swooping down, its machine guns locking target on Bill's general location and firing in three round bursts inbetween its automatic evasive maneuvers, loop de loops and barrel rolls to dodge attacks that may or may never come. AI was kinda stupid, so all bases had to be covered ahead of time. 

:'''{{#var:8657|Beta Ray Bill (8657)}} has posed:''' Bill watches Lobo as he launches across the area, the knife that was in his head apparently taking his eye a little bit, but most people would...you know, be dead. The knife comes after him and Bill catches it like it was nothing, dropping it to the side just enough before suddenly, he's being hailed on by bullets! What in Odin's name is -that-. Thankfully, Bill's body is incredibly durable, equal to Thor's own perhaps, or slightly lesser. But, the bullets just bounce off of his skin, but they HURT. "What manner of devilry is this!?" He lifts Stormbreaker into the air and tries to call down lightning to strike Lobo's ride! 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Instantly, the large gash along the side of Lobo's face was starting to knit back together as within that momentarily empty black eye socket, a little red seed was beginning to blossom larger and larger like time elapsed footage of some plant on a vine. The Main Man by this time was aggressively pulling that sword out of his midsection and tossing it aside, letting it clatter loudly along the wall even as he broke into another heavy run. There was no feinting or dirty tricks this time, this was a full on running sprinting tackle, the momentum and force of the impact aiming to smash both men through the wall of this poor blacksmith's hut, and out into the street yet again.     "HRAAAAGH!"     As Lobo called out intelligently, that streak of lightning did not directly come down on the bike, but it was close enough that something fizzled in the computer systems. It wasn't shut down or destroyed, but something happened that caused it to panic, immediately stopping its assault so that it could fly off and run diagnostics. So it down to Lobo himself again...just the way he liked it!     And meanwhile, Oleg was inching away like a worm slowly and slowly... 

:'''{{#var:8657|Beta Ray Bill (8657)}} has posed:''' Beta Ray Bill manages to at least get the bike off of the battlefield so he could focus on only one opponent. Though surprise, surprise...the Main Man is now trying to tackle Bill through the wall of the blacksmith's hut. Bill manages to stop most of the momentum, but he's still smashed through the huts wall. Eventually, he holds Lobo there, lifting up Stormbreaker and slamming it down on Lobo to try and smash him into the ground! "Cease, this is your final warning or I will kill you." Bill's not playing around. He's held back much of his might in favor of not breaking New Asgard, but this guy is a -serious- threat who seems to have some level of regeneration to still be standing. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Lobo is smashed, and his face hits the ground violently, though when he rolls over he seems to be mostly recovered. Blunt force trauma, it seems, is something he can deal with more easily than other forms of violence and carnage. In his right hand was a small round metal sphere, something with a small tin pin and a trigger. Lobo pulls that pin, and the trigger clicks and starts ticking. No prizes for guessing what it did...even as he chucked the small device over into the nearby longhouse, the one they'd smashed out of originally. The one that was still filled with a large amount of people.     "Warnin's are fer buttbrains, buttbrain! Go play fetch!"     As he spoke, he was already scrambling and running...away from Bill, and toward the escaping Oleg. So now, Beta Ray Bill, one of the supreme asskickers of the galaxy, had a choice to make: Go for the singular threat who was now on his way to potentially leaving? Or deal with the grenade that was for sure, about to explode and murder or grievously maim dozens? Even as the Main Man whistled for his bike and would soon be a speck of light in the atmosphere.     (Just for brevity's sake, if Bill goes for the grenade, when he gets close to it it will immediately go off. But instead of an explosion, it will simply portray a holographic display in the air of a popular rude galactic cartoon character giving an equally rude hand gesture with his tongue sticking out. And moments later, the ball would 'explode'...but in simple blue sticky dust, aimed merely to ruin someone's day instead of taking lives. In other words, total bluff.) 

:'''{{#var:8657|Beta Ray Bill (8657)}} has posed:''' Bill looks at Lobo when he seems to somehow, still raise up and throw what looks to be some kind of explosive device! He can't take the risk, an Asgardian could die. It might be a bluff, but who cares?! They rarely are and Lobo seems like the kind of person who doesn't resort to bluff grenades. Nevertheless, Bill actually dives for the grenade, trying to put his hand over it to nullify the blast radius, but then it turns out its just a hologram with a very rude gesture being given to him. Its too late. Lobo is probably long gone by now, but Bill nonetheless looks that way to see if there's even a chance of pursuit. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     By the time Bill was looking around, Lobo was long, long gone!     EPILOGUE:     The detainment center was big and imposing, run mostly by Green Lanterns and feeling very much like any prison that's ever been encountered. Lobo stood there with his arms crossed, chomping a cigar as the read out the list of Oleg's crimes.     "For the crime of knowingly using illegal technology within the Contraxian casinos to gain an unfair advantage, you are sentences to a fine of 600 credits, please send the payment and/or payments in at your earliest convenience."     As Oleg stood there dismayed at being caught, with a hook still embedded in his thigh and blood still running down his face, Lobo nodded smugly to himself.     "Another outlaw brought to justice. The Main Man is unstoppable!"     Oleg then fainted from blood loss. 
}}

User talk:TheMainMan

2019-11-15T05:20:42Z

TheMainMan: Just adding another pic

Storing these pictures here, so I can use them later.

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e4/96/a4/e496a4996a5ab103aa4f21ad39f3d54f.jpg

https://boundingintocomics.com/files/2016/12/batman-spawn_00248272.jpg

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/05/84/08/05840896f19648332237aa82a37fb307.jpg

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/41/a6/7a/41a67afdabe5b9bebdcedab3d36732e6.jpg

http://depblog.weblogs.us/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/aleksi_spawn_aof_street438_700.jpg

9175/Hellbound: Cutting Through the Flesh

2019-09-14T02:44:33Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2019/09/13 |Location=North Point, Nantwich |Synopsis=Film Freak is sent by the CIA to assassinate an old spy, but Spawn's timely intervention foils..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2019/09/13
|Location=North Point, Nantwich
|Synopsis=Film Freak is sent by the CIA to assassinate an old spy, but Spawn's timely intervention foils the plans of Film Freak's betters and leaves Burt Weston back in Arkham Asylum. Will there be a sequel?
|Cast of Characters=1658,1490
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1658|Burt Weston (1658)}} has posed:''' In the Veidt Building, top story, there is an old, weary man, a veteran of the Vietnam War, some fifty or sixty years ago, in the storied tears of American history. He sits in a penthouse, arrayed especially for him, dressed in an old suit jacket and button-up shirt, left open, his rotund belly and man breasts on display. There is a sad, heavy bearing to him, as he smokes a cigarette and holds a lowball glass of three hundred dollar Scottish whiskey, the type of drink that Swedes vie for and their Scottish cousins brew for the consumption of the illiterate rich. It's a drink for the Damned. His sins are unimportant, merely that they are vast and deep, blood sitting about his ankles in the schismal worlds of space and time. He has made love, he has made death, he has made war, and he has refused peace. Therefore, the Grim Reaper approaches, and not in the form of the easy peace of sleep, but in a dagger or a pistol or even bare hands. Film Freak steps out of the shadows, an old television set in the background, far too old, playing the National Anthem. It's five in the morning, and Film Freak has come here, just to kill this man. "Sit." Film Freak takes a seat, across from the man, holding a syringe. "Let me tell you a story, Film Freak." 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     From above, a shape watches the scene down below. From outside the wind is howling like a screaming mother under the light of her stillborn moon, but inside it was nearly silent, save for the two speaking. For the shape's part, even looking up it would be difficult to see anything was amiss, the figure was fully cloaked and nearly blending into the little corner between wall and ceiling. And as those eyes narrowed, he continued to observe the play that was currently unfolding. He did not act, not yet. Just watching, would be enough for now. 

:'''{{#var:1658|Burt Weston (1658)}} has posed:''' "I've run for a long time, you know, Film Freak. Those old legs, they look big, but the heart is always young when you're from Dixie." Film Freak looks on impassively, the shade across his face from the dark room, an eerie pallor cast over his head by the television set behind him. The quiet hum of the National Anthem bellows on with a stacatto shape to the room, offering the wind outside a rival, quiet as such. "I've killed so many people. I'd thought you'd be the last. A contract hitman's life is nothing, in comparison to a soldier." Film Freak's thumb slowly slides up the glass surface of the syringe, the lethal rattlesnake's venom inside producing a bubble at the subtle heat of his finger. "They wouldn't just call you back, would they?" Film Freak quietly tilts his head down, whispering, "You can't kill your own messenger, Mr. Beaters. That's a saying protecting me, not your betters." The old spy laughs, chuckling and hacking up phlegm, before swallowing it and shakily inhaling on his cigarette. "Imagine that, defeated by a country saying," Mr. Beaters whispers, placing his glass on the table beside him. "A brilliant play, them making that saying." Film Freak rises from his chair, palming the needle so the old spy can see it, before preparing it by removing the syringe's plastic cover, then handling it delicately. Film Freak shares, "Country sayings are where they found you, you know, sir." "Hmm?" Film Freak smiles. "A stitch in time, saves nine." 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     "I think I've heard enough of the bullshit."     The powerful deep voice rolled out over the blaring anthem, echoing off the walls and thick window with a lazy power behind its low, gravelly pitch. The ceiling creaked a bit from sudden weight and movement, as it seemed whoever was watching, no longer saw any need for stealth or subterfuge. Instead, the voice's owner dropped down in a blur of movement, the muted shadowy colors of the walls and ceiling suddenly morphing into a dark red. A form shaped very much like a human fell like a limp corpse, tumbling through the air until it landed in a deep crouch, right over that desk, with a black and white mask, and green glowing eyes, inches from the 'Film Freak'. All around them, the leathery rustling of a brilliant red cape could be heard, almost like the sound of autumn leaves dragging over a stone crypt.     The ball was in the hitman's court. Or the spy, if his jaw could be picked up off the floor. 

:'''{{#var:1658|Burt Weston (1658)}} has posed:''' The old spy jolts and lurches away, as Spawn drops into the penthouse, having been unaware that something of such mass was present watching the pair. Film Freak, meanwhile, slowly turns about with a pivot, looking over his shoulder, with a sleepy Crow warrior's tension rising up into his shoulders, practiced pilates and stretching muscle tensing into whipcord strength. His rave boots swivel about as he steps to face Spawn, slowly and carefully setting his venom filled syringe down on the table, next to Mr. Beaters' lowball of scotch. "A little conversation with a dying man offends you?" Film Freak tilts his head, with a cant, to the right, furrowing his brow in curiousity at the shape. "Are you the one called Spawn?" He's heard of the monster's reputation, on the streets of Gotham, despite the fact that the geist rarely visits. Tonight must be Film Freak's lucky day. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     "You do your homework."     When Spawn spoke, it was almost as if it were an afterthought, as if joining in the act of communication were low on his list of priorities. Straightening up to his full height, he leapt off the desk so that he could circle and pace around the room, that cape of his swirling behind that lean, muscular form of his. The very tattered and torn edges of that remarkable piece of clothing almost seemed to 'snap' at the Freak when they got too close, and as it moved sounds could almost be heard coming from the fabric, something like whispering though what it was saying? That was a mystery that would not be solved tonight.     At the same time, the various chains that were wrapped around Spawn's torso unfurled and moved of their own accord, tightening and loosening and acting independently of their master. The last piece of significant information to take in was the brown leather shoulder holster, under the Hellspawn's left armpit. It seemed that on top of this creature's natural abilities, he was packing heat of a more worldly sort. It seemed it never hurt to be prepared.     "When there is no more room in Arkham, the loons and wristcutters will roam the streets. It seems after all this time, some prophecies still hold true." 

:'''{{#var:1658|Burt Weston (1658)}} has posed:''' "There's always plenty of room in Arkham, Spawn," comes a murmur with a smile, as a glint of silver steel comes from his hand as a knife is slid from a brown case on the hip of his designer jeans. "Just not enough in a doctor's head." Film Freak begins pacing as well, matching the circling Hellspawn, watching his chest, directly his chest, aware that the chains are his most dangerous foe. Binding, pinning, stripping, cutting, pulling, throwing, any of those, even the worst, strangling or lifting or ripping. "You know what the worst thing about Arkham Asylum is?" Film Freak says. "It's the fact that it makes you normal." There's a lowering of his eyes, as he lifts his left hand in a knife fighter's forward posture, of the Native variety. The sotto sound of the National Anthem concludes, and there's a loud broadcast voice from Gotham general broadcasting. Film Freak pulls his hand back and goes rushing forward with surely set feet, rushing into Spawn with a swipe down and from the right, his left arm swinging behind him in a tilt hipped swing as he puts his right leg forward recklessly and drunkenly, before his left leg pommels forward and he swings his left shoulder around into a block, his knife swiping back out with an upward slash from the double-bladed dagger. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     There is a rule in unarmed combat, that if an untrained man has a weapon, then that man has just become a black belt. It was true that when it comes to movement, defense and deflection, Spawn is good. Spawn is damn good, the result of years of the best training Uncle Sam had to offer, on top of his own explosive anger and desire to break opponent's faces open. When Burt feints, Spawn counters. When he lunges, he feints or parries. But a knife is dangerous, and even though the blade is deflected every so often by an oversized gauntlet or a shifting chain, there are multiple occasions where the knife performs its intended effect. Hands, fingers, his torso all get slashed as green, bright-glowing blood pools slowly down as if already coagulated. But the man in the fancy costume doesn't seem to give the pained responses that the 'Freak' might have been hoping for.     "Don't worry. You don't have to be normal...to bore the shit out of me."     The Freak was inside Spawn's reach, which meant a right-handed backhand was coming the man's way. Thankfully for him, those big metal spikes on that massive red gauntlet weren't sharp enough to draw blood. But the strength and speed that the attack was traveling, meant that if the man didn't have an answer, he might be taking a trip through the air, into that window that was currently protecting them from those violent, cold howling winds. 

:'''{{#var:1658|Burt Weston (1658)}} has posed:''' Film Freak dances around Spawn, slashing and cutting, performing a graceful dance with his knife, cutting and slashing and thrusting, splattered in green ectoplasm as he grunts and grits his teeth and squints, before the backhand comes. There's a glimmer of light as the knife goes flying across the room, out of Film Freak's hand, simultaneous with the man being swung spinning into the window. The window shatters, wind howling into the penthouse. The violent gusts upset the penthouse, the curtains flapping violently and billowing, as the high altitude, twenty or thirty stories up, bevels its drafts into the whole room. Hanging down, one floor below the window, is Burt Weston, out of character as Film Freak, now just a regular method actor, terrified and hanging from a piece of statuary, a black eagle emerging from a freize below the windows of the floor below. He hangs on for dear life by his right hand, his legs shifting as he grips the smooth head atop the staring eyes and curved beak. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     Burt is hanging on to that statue for dear life, so he more than anyone would have a grand view of the very ends of that cape, as the form of the vigilante(?) comes out to stand and perch right above him. Curious, that while the wind was blowing so hard that things like Burt's hair or jacket might have been whipping around violently, the flow and physics of the cape, currently wrapped around Spawn as if he were Dracula, defied physics. Even his massive collar remained where it was, until that cape slowly unfurled and spread as if they were the wings of a terrible bird of prey. This was so that the chains around him could unwrap from around his chest and legs, and try to loop and snare around the auteur's wrists, and ankles, and throat. Not enough to choke or throttle...but tight enough for him to feel how sharp they were, and how easily they could tear into flesh, if their owner willed them to. If this worked, then Spawn would lift the figure so that they were seeing eye to eye.     "I have come to take you to HELL, boy! Ambulance or hearse? I only offer the choice once." 

:'''{{#var:1658|Burt Weston (1658)}} has posed:''' "Ambulance, ambulance, ambulance," come the terrified squeals of Burt Weston, shivering in the severe cold of the early morning's night. "I was working a company contract, CIA, CIA, not mob, I swear," he whines. Poor choice of words, given Spawn's origin? 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     And so, Burt was left, hanging by his wrists from that precarious eagle statue, as police and ambulance rushed over thanks to an anonymous tip. The entire time Spawn had been watching while in plain view from street, locking eyes with the very unfortunate hitman. When the sirens got louder and the police pulled in, then and only then did the shape in the cape slip away, racing away from the light like a scurrying spider along the floor of a nursery. He was finally gone. But was he ever really gone? Perhaps the actor might never truly know... 
}}

9026/Westside Beatdown

2019-09-01T04:13:07Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2019/09/01 |Location=Upper West Side, Manhattan |Synopsis=A fight with the Tornadoes leads to Spawn meeting Hulk for the first time. They don't lik..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2019/09/01
|Location=Upper West Side, Manhattan
|Synopsis=A fight with the Tornadoes leads to Spawn meeting Hulk for the first time. They don't like each other.
|Thanks=Hammerhead
|Cast of Characters=8676,338,1490
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:8676|Hammerhead (8676)}} has posed:''' The Upper West Side is a more upscale part of NYC which one would normally not associate with crime. What crime did come through this neighborhood was mostly through street punks or individual criminals. Recently however, a street gang calling themselves The Tornadoes have shown up in the neighborhood and started causing trouble. This gang, which were easily identified by their blue seaters and blue jeans, were a gang of spoiled trust-fund kids and rich punks who decided to play gangster for fun. While most people have seen them as nothing more as a nusicence, they have been well known to be surprsingly brutal, especially to people who cross them. Even more infuriating was the fact that they tend to get out of jail easily, leading to rumorts that they have someone inside the legal system helping them out.           A group of these Tornadoes were walking down the street, clutching sports equipment. The leader of this group was a thin Asian man with neatly groomed hair clutching a baseball bat. As he walked, he said to his friends," After i get out of college, Father said he would get me into Harvard Law, then a job in his firm. Who knows, maybe I will be defending you chumps someday?" The rest of the group have a good laugh at this. 

:'''{{#var:338|Hulk (338)}} has posed:''' In a parking lot nearby sits a mobile home, an attachable trailer next to it. Inside that trailer is one Bruce Banner, handling some biology work for one of his ongoing projects. So far, it's looking like an uneventful day, and now he's looking to take a break. Stepping out into the night air, he puts on his baseball cap and takes his fold-out chair, placing it before he sits down and leans back into it, relaxing. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     As the thugs talk amongst themselves and snicker and snort, and while the general populace cowers and gives them a wide berth, one figure seems to head right toward them. In the night sky it was hard to get a good look at the person, dressed in old, fated ratty army jacket and jeans, their features were vague and almost intentionally boring, their skin some average shade of sickly pale.     This figure heads right towards the Asian one speaking, and the voice that comes from him is muffled, almost hard to hear. But the gravelly pitch was anything but.     "Yeah but life has different plans for you, asshole." 

:'''{{#var:8676|Hammerhead (8676)}} has posed:''' The group comes an abrupt stop near the mobile home when the figure blocks their way. The Asian man takes one look at the man and his faded clothes and lets out a guffaw. He then says to the man in a snide voice that had a hint on anger," What do you know. You looked like you crawled out of the shitty gutter. I am worth ten of you! Now, out of the way beofore I make you move!" 

:'''{{#var:338|Hulk (338)}} has posed:''' Oh boy. Maybe the police can handle this one? Bruce is in no mood to have an episode in New York tonight. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out his cell phone, dialing 911, "Yes, I'd like to report a disturbance in progress." 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     The ragged looking form never stopped walking as the thugs kept talking and started making their threats. Even as he was hunched and doubled over, something about him carried a confidence that would have been suspicious to most people watching, most people who had seen millions of situations like these, where some homeless man wanders into a viper's nest of scumbags and gets his skull cracked open because of it.     That's because most bums in this situation weren't actively looking for a fight, like the man in the army jacket who got close enough to throw a wicked looking open-handed strike that was aimed for the Asian thug's throat and adam's apple. At the same time his knee rose up to strike at the poor bastard's groin. Whoever this hobo was, he was -fast-. And he hit like a ton of bricks, if any of these connected. 

:'''{{#var:8676|Hammerhead (8676)}} has posed:''' The man lets out a nasty-sounding gurgle as he is struck on the throat, which is quickly replaced with a horrific scream as he is hit in the groin. The man falls onto the ground, screaming in pain as he clutches both his throat and his groin. A second thug, who looked similar to the big brute one of the spiders webbed to the wall the other night steps out from the group weilding a cricket bat. He then lets out a angered bellow and swings the bat at the hobo. 

:'''{{#var:338|Hulk (338)}} has posed:''' "Make that assault in progress." Bruce can feel the sudden anxiety spike, but keeps his cool for now as he watches the goings on. Still, he should try to intervene at least. "Hey, guys. Police are coming. Let's not take this any further, yeah?" Bruce shouts to the group, walking toward them. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     Whoever the homeless figure was, it was clear that he had training and some noticeable skill in handling himself in a stressful situation. But anyone could be blindsided, and as the figure's attention turned toward the shouting man from the trailer home, he was cracked right across the face by a European sporting good. It was a -hard- hit, that caused a lout 'CRACK!' to echo across the nearby streets and walls. The figure was hit so hard that his upper torso spun around from the impact, standing with his legs apart, staggering.     When he finally turned around, the side of his face looked like it was ripped apart and open, because instead of flesh, it appeared that instead that part of his face was a shape of dark red...material. Material that started moving. Soon his face in general started melting and ripping itself away, as the entire form seemed to unravel like a mummy.     "Alright...so we're doing this the hard way."     The material fell away to reveal itself as a cape, the black suited figure now standing much taller than he had previously. The spikes, the chains, there was no denying that the 'big' thug had seen this one before.     "You should thank that man over there for dialing the police when he did. Means I don't have a lot of time to break my foot off in yo' ass." 

:'''{{#var:8676|Hammerhead (8676)}} has posed:''' "Holy fuck! It's you!' The brute thug looked horified to see that "thing" again. He remebered seeing it burn Richie's hand and carry him away to God knows where. He had been ranting and raving to everyone from the police that arressted him to even Judge Billingsly's assistant Claude when he bailed him out what he saw, but know one believed him. Now, that creature was looking at him again. The Brute immediatley throws his cricket bat at Spawn and flees, being follwed by another goon shortly after. The remaining goons look absolutley terrified. One of them, a tall, broad-shouledered goon suddenly sees Banner and rushes up to him and and wraps his arm around him. He tehn pulls out a knife and sticks it to Banner's neck while saying," Back off dude! Or i'ss stick this fucker!" 

:'''{{#var:338|Hulk (338)}} has posed:''' And there it goes. Knife to the neck. One bad thing about going incognito is that when people don't recognize you, they don't know to leave well enough alone. "Please don't-" His words are cut off as he coughs on them. Spawn and the others in front of him will be the first to see it. The green eyes. The sudden skin tone change. It'll take a few seconds, but Bruce also starts to grow in size, body mass starts to come out of nowhere. Few people will probably realize what is going on, unless they research the Hulk... but anyone who does will immediately recognize the transformation as the Hulk starts to come out. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     The cricked bat collided with that leather-clad torso and bounced off uselessly, Spawn just watching the fool head for the hills. But his attention was soon on the hostage taker, instantly the Hellspawn's eyes were flashing dangerously and his cape was swirling violently. This rage it seemed was unfounded, because someone here was far angrier. The giant green figure and the man in the Dracula cape were now stood apart from each other. Instantly, Spawn's plan about coming here and beating more information out of the Tornadoes was forgotten. Now, he had a whole other problem to deal with. Or was it a problem? He stepped forward, sizing the figure up as he spoke.     "That man behind you just told me he thinks you're a pussy. And then he tried to stab you, with a knife. Are you going to let him treat you like that?" 

:'''{{#var:8676|Hammerhead (8676)}} has posed:''' The hostage taker's eyes widened as Banner's transformed into Hulk. He immediatley let go and fell of The Hulk's back. The man's eyes were wide as he started at the Green Behemoth, obviously familiar with him from past rampages. He immedialtey books it down the street, followed by the last remaining thug, leaving Spawn's assult victim lying on the ground, wraithing in pain. 

:'''{{#var:338|Hulk (338)}} has posed:''' As the Hulk growled as he gained his full ten feet, he turns his head in place and roars loud enough to be heard for blocks at the man fleeing with the knife. It's a bestial, raw roar of rage. Then, he turns to regard Spawn, "Hulk not hear that. Hulk not like being lied to." The Jade Giant sniffs, brings his forearm across his nose absentmindedly, and starts to walk over to Spawn. Loud 'thumps' can be heard -and felt- as the multi-ton creature stalks over, "Who is black and red suited man? Hulk not recognize you." When he gets near the victim on the ground, Hulk takes his finger and 'bonks' the man. It's just enough to knock him out like a light as he keeps his eyes on Spawn. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     That roar was probably enough to make some men deaf, and it was powerful enough that Spawn's cape flew backwards as if he were in front of an explosion. The chains around him flung backwards as well, but the figure stood his ground. And when Hulk got closer, the former soldier started walking as well. He started pacing around, walking in a circular fashion around the embodiment of anger, and the question from the giant received an answer. Short, curt.     "...Spawn."     It was amazing how well he was adapting to his new life, and how freely he gave out his new moniker. Sizing the monster up, the other monster spoke even as the start of sirens could be heard faintly in the distance. It seemed somebody heard the familiar sound of that familiar roar. Or were they just interested in that original anonymous tip Bruce had left?     "You know, the Agency used to hate you. Had a running bet on who in the world might be able to put you down for good. I always thought it was stupid, myself." 

:'''{{#var:338|Hulk (338)}} has posed:''' "Humans are stupid. Hulk strongest there is, but they keep trying to hurt Hulk. Humans lucky Hulk isn't being hunted anymore." Hulk leans forward so he's eye level with Spawn. "Chains is lucky Hulk not mad at him." With that said, Hulk looks to the fleeing humans, and /jumps/ right over to them. The landing is easily enough to crate a crater and minor shockwave... which Hulk targets right next to them to knock them over. Then, Hulk roars, and jumps again. This time, going north. High and fast. Seems Hulk is content with leaving the scene. 
}}

8906/PowWow

2019-08-22T01:05:05Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2019/08/21 |Location=SHOPR-9, Sector 1686 |Synopsis=Drinks are had, words are said, and bounties are collected. All in all a very productive day! |..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2019/08/21
|Location=SHOPR-9, Sector 1686
|Synopsis=Drinks are had, words are said, and bounties are collected. All in all a very productive day!
|Cast of Characters=1414,1742,8657
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1414|Valkyrie (1414)}} has posed:''' It's a good day. In one way or another, Bryn has been been "manhunting" for thousands of years. Whether that's choosing the finest warriors as Chooser of the Slain, or gathering manpower for the games on Sakaar, it's a skill set she has a lot of experience with. And that means that given the...currently volatile nature of Asgard, it's a good way to make a living right now. She's just finished making a drop-off, which means she's flush with cash for a change. And THAT means living it up, to the maximum. So she's currently heading out from the cells, and looking about for wherever she can get a drink the fastest. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     He'd accepted a job to kidnap a princess from a faraway planet. He was looking forward to it, but the distance that would be travelled meant that this would be one of the rare occasions that Lobo would have to plan his journey and the methods he would use.     He needed the credits for a ship, something just good enough to get him and his bike to the lonely backwoods corner of the galaxy. Because he needed credits, he was doing as many clean-up, bottom of the barrel jobs for Ramona as he could.     So currently, the albino-skinned terror was stalking through the mall, a couple of big ugly thuggish alien beasts all slumped and unconscious, all with various grievous injuries as they were dragged along the ground via chain over Lobo's shoulder. Some of them may, or may not have, been alive, but that was no skin off the Main Man's various areas! He was pushing past all the shoppers and layabouts, everyone giving the bastiche a wide berth on his journey. 

:'''{{#var:1414|Valkyrie (1414)}} has posed:'''     You don't work in this line of work and NOT get to hear stories about Lobo. Let's be honest, even if you're NOT in this line of work, and just living in space, you may have heard of him. So, especially given that she's in a REALLY good mood right now, Valkyrie looks over Lobo's way and gives a call. "Hey, Lobo! Tell me where the best bar is around here and there's a drink waiting for you when you get there!" 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Without skipping a beat, the loud and abrasive Last Czarnian called out over his shoulder, first with an almost supersonic belch, and then with some genuine advice.     "Well whatever ya do, don't go ta Gus'. That slop shop is fer tourists an' the more geriatric persuasion if ya get what I mean. Down three stories is Hardon Harry's, one 'a them hardonians that don't understand innuendo. He's got a face like a moon crater, but the man knows about drinks!"     And with that, Lobo made his way toward the salon, but rest assured he was going to be right back down to where his free drink was waiting. In this line of work, that was something to take seriously. 

:'''{{#var:8657|Beta Ray Bill (8657)}} has posed:''' They are definitely not the only mighty beings on board. With Stormbreaker leading his charge, Battlin' Beta Ray Bill arrives on the Hub, landing firmly on the ground hard enough for it to crack. Stormbreaker still in hand, that mighty battle maul ready at any moment to strike down a foe, Bill moves with the discipline of a warrior, glorious red cape moving behind him. Was there a crack of thunder in the distance? Nevertheless, Bill finds Valkyrie and Lobo, narrowing his eyes specifically at the latter. "Hail, Valkyrie." From one Asgardian to another (even if Bill was adopted Asgardian) 

:'''{{#var:1414|Valkyrie (1414)}} has posed:'''     Good enough for Valkyrie! She'll start on her way down towards Harry's, since she's been tipped off to the right spot...and then she sees Bill. Even if he's not biologically an Asgardian, you can't mistake that outfit. She gives a nod back to Bill, and a quiet correction. "Bryn." With /Hela/ of all people heading up Valhalla, she's less than equitable with her prior job choices. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Lobo was not dressed like a God or a viking warrior. No, instead he had a black leather cowboy ensemble going. Between the jacket with frills, the similarly frilled black chaps over his faded dark grey jeans, and a broad-brimmed hat shading his blood red eyes, the best bounty hunter in the galaxy looked like he was more prepared for a long trek through the vacuum of space...or looking like he'd already been trekking as evidenced by the bits of frost on the edges of his clothing and in the ends of his handlebar mustache.     Bill lands, and the Czarnian matches the horse-faced berserker's stare. Moments later he gave a wry smirk, looking between Bill and Bryn, 'Bo shifting his shoulders and causing the entire plethora of bounties to groan in pain as that meant the chains got shifted as well.     "Nice mallet. Bet you never met a peanut you couldn't get into. I'll see yous two in a few moments."     And into the salon he went. 

:'''{{#var:8657|Beta Ray Bill (8657)}} has posed:''' Beta Ray Bill looks at Lobo with a still and narrowed gaze, before the Czarnian makes a comment about his hammer. "Nor a person." He retorts without hesitation. Though when Lobo leaves, his eyes fall upon Valkyrie as she corrects him with that soft tone of hers. "Bryn. Forgive me for my misconception." Bill raises a brow at Valkyrie, wondering if she's alright. "Tell me, how have your duties been of late? It is uncommon of me to find another of Asgard out in the vast reaches of space." Though he does keep his hammer in hand, waiting for Lobo to possibly return and cheap shot him. The Czarnian's reputation precedes him. 

:'''{{#var:1414|Valkyrie (1414)}} has posed:'''     Bryn sighs. "They've been...lacking. I don't know what you've heard, but Asgard has not fared well. Odin is dead, that hag Hela has stolen Valhalla..." She shakes her head. "I am dealing with it by getting very drunk. That's where I'm heading now. I'll buy you a drink, if you like." 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Harry was a heavyset creature with sloped shoulders and a face that tended to droop. His species evolved from plant eating bugs that protected themselves by mimicing rocks and boulders. And Harry liked to brag that his skin was harder than any stone, hence 'Hardon Harry'. He never understood why patrons sometimes snickered heavily.     The bar was an absolute dive, cheap mismatched furniture and low dim lighting that flickered every so often, this was not a place where one came for the feeling of warm safety and family friendliness. No, this was where unsavory sorts came to get hammered, when they were too far away from a place like Knowhere.     it was here that Lobo eventually sauntered into, no longer wearing much of the cowboy getup, instead he was down to jeans, vest and boots. (and also a veritiable arsenal of weapons on his person, but those were always going to be there it seemed.) He seemed beat up and haggered, but he still looked around ominously, still ready to prove he was the biggest and baddest around.     After a few moments he spotted the two, and made his way over with that sly grin on his face again.     "Yeah, this place is like a home away from home. The home I don't visit as much 'cuz of that insect odor waftin' around, but that's neither here nor theer." 

:'''{{#var:8657|Beta Ray Bill (8657)}} has posed:''' Bill nods softly to Bryn. "I know. I was saddened to hear of the All-Father's passing. I returned to Asgard to find it has been moved to earth, now known as New Asgard. Thor Odinson, my oathbrother, is King. You have a home there, should you wish it. I know he would be delighted to see you." But when asked for a drink with her, Bill shrugs. "I agree." Then Bryn leads him into the bar. It is here that he manages to spot Lobo yet again, and he finds himself surrounded by scum and the occasional officer, most likely. "Charming place, Lobo." 

:'''{{#var:1414|Valkyrie (1414)}} has posed:'''     "I've had no chance to speak with Thor." Valkyrie comments, her voice a little quiet. But then, the bar! Just what she needs to drown all these morbid thoughts under a tide of alcohol. She moves up to the bar herself. "Harry! A round for me and my friends, of your strongest!" She calls, and takes one of the seats there. "I am entirely too sober for these topics." 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     For his part, as Harry starts fiddling behind the counter and working his bartending magic, Lobo instead reaches across behind the bugman and grabs an entire bottle of stuff that could have been a mix between booze, illegal poison and paint thinner. As he does so, his left hand reaches over and pats the big powerful wielder of Stormbreaker across the back as he looks down and sneers.     "What'sa matter, geek, this ain't up ta yer fancy Korbinite standards?"     Lobo was reading the creature's body language and any other day he'd relish proving Bill's apprehension right...but he had to get out of here, he had a ship to acquire and preparations to make.     "Love as I'd love ta sit down an' have a few brews with ya two, I got some important business ta take care of."     And with that, the Czarnian was gone, like a bat out of hell. Closer toward his goal of abducting a Tamaranean princess from a skeezy little mudball called 'earth'. That would be fun. 
}}

7626/Sidewinder's Bad Day

2019-05-26T01:38:59Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2019/05/25 |Location=Hell's Kitchen |Synopsis=Snakes On A Plane? What about snakes in a loan office?! And they're fighting extremely powerful peopl..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2019/05/25
|Location=Hell's Kitchen
|Synopsis=Snakes On A Plane? What about snakes in a loan office?! And they're fighting extremely powerful people. Poor snakes.
|Cast of Characters=1490,7255,212
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     The truck is totaled, wrapped around a lamppost while black smoke billows up from the engine. The men, panicked, have invaded a small loan office, a collection of masked men in dark green now have temporary base of operations to hunker down while their leader is already barking commands and orders to everyone not to enter the small corner building. All they need is for the police and anyone else to stay far away until their getaway escape plan can arrive.     Meanwhile, they have a collection of hostages who already have their hands bound, and who do not want to die to these men, not today. 

:'''{{#var:7255|Josef Forster (7255)}} has posed:''' Josef Forster sits crosslegged on the floor, looking far more irritated than afraid and glowers over at the fellow hostage to his left, "I'll pay for dinner, you said. I just need a minute, you said. What could possibly go wrong, you said.....Screw you, Alex." He says as he reflexively raises his hand to flip Alex off, punctuated by the loud snapping of restraints, "Oops...Uh...Mr...Masked..Hostage taker...guy....I broke em....Again.....Is it ok if I just sit quietly in the corner? I dont think you've got anything that's not gonna tear everytime I get an itch." He says in a creepily genuine manner towards the nearest masked goon, likely causing more than a bit of consternation. 

:'''{{#var:212|Conner (212)}} has posed:''' Superboy was 'patrolling'. Which means he was flying high over New York to clear his head. There are so many super-heroes in the city he feels there is never much to do. In fact it has been a couple months since he stopped a mugging, and over six since the last genuine super-villain. Of course, it might also be he is not paying enough attention. But the truck crashed against the lamppost does draw his attention. He figures at least he can check out for injured and make sure it is not going to blow up. So he lands close to the crashed vehicle and checks for people needing help, witnesses, and so on. And... he hears something odd from the loan office. He better check that out, too. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     Though many of the goons were armed with stubby little submachine guns, the two more garishly dressed men in the center appeared to be unarmed. One short man(5'9) was dressed mainly in orange mesh under a sleevelss bodysuit of grapefruit red and light purple, a mask covering every inch of his face and making him look like some sort of monster. Between that and the wild cape with the massive collar, he looked...well, eccentric was a good word for it. He looked down at the unwitting hostage in almost annoyance, even as he shakily pulled a hip flask out of one of his big thigh-high purple boots. And the second he spoke, it was as if you could cut the thick Wisconsin accent with a knife.     "Aww fer cripes sake...Copperhead, do me a solid an' get this guy tied up again, he's really chappin' my keister here."     The other man, the man called 'Copperhead', was also dressed strangely. He was dressed mainly in a full-body 'snake suit' for lack of a better term, with a giant snake head looking like it was open and enveloping his head, though his face was bare and exposed to just about anybody. Green gloves, boots and briefs over the costume completed the outfit, and as he looked down at the blonde Asgardian hostage(though how could anybody know this man's divine origins), the tall figure never seemed to blink.     "Yeah, one hogtied dumbassssss, comin' up, Ssssssssssidewinder. Honessstly, we should jusst wasste this sssssssssss...ssucker." By the end of that sentence he sucked in two lungs full of air.     The second Conner made his appearance through the glass and partially broken business door, one of the goons immediately raised one of his guns and waved it wildly at the approaching teen.     "NONO NO NO YOU GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE I'LL WASTE YA, BOSS, BOSS HE'S GOT AN S ON HIS CHEST, WHAT DO WE DO?!"     Both Sidewinder and Copperhead looked up, Sidewinder's eyes widening. The smaller of the men seemed to be the ringleader, holding up both of his hands and speaking sternly.     "Whoah-ho there, hotshot, ya don't wanna be crossin' that threshold. We got hostages an' we're very serious about it. Just stay over there an' hunker down fer us, ok? Whadaya say there, chief?" 

:'''{{#var:7255|Josef Forster (7255)}} has posed:''' Josef smirks at Copperhead's slurring plea for big murder, apparently not overly concerned by the semi-credible villain's murderous impulse, "Now that's just mean. And here, I was gonna give you a reference on someone to see about that speech therapy you've always wanted."      And then one of the goons starts peeing himself at the sight of a Superperson. Josef's smirk widens slightly as everyone else looks to Conner, "Eh, nevermind. You wont be talking for awhile anyway." Before Copperhead can turn to retort, Josef springs up with an uppercut, lifting the snakeman well up off the ground, catching his ascent and whipping him like a boomerang towards Sidewinder. Because restraint is for people who DONT have epic hair. 

:'''{{#var:212|Conner (212)}} has posed:''' Superboy smirks hearing the thug alarm. Yes, he has a S on his chest. Today he is even wearing the red and blue outfit instead of just a black T-shirt with a red S. Mostly because he was going to Metropolis later, to check out with the League about Superman injuries. Gotta look the part for the big bro. Smirk is gone when Sidewinder warns about having hostages. Conner has no X-Ray vision to verify, so he concentrates into trying to hear the people inside, moving cautiously closer to the door. "Hey look, I am not going to do anything but..." Did he hear some punching? That definitely sounded like punching! He burst inside, trying to stop whatever is going on. The young man expects one of the hostages would be resisting or something dangerous, so he is moving quickly. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     Copperhead was a trained fighter and was a 'world class assassin' in his own words. But the being blindsided by what was ostensibly a Demigod was a tall order for anyone to deal with. The uppercut from Josef hit with authority and the tall, gangly figure was sent launching through the air on a direct collision course for the smaller and more garish Sidewinder...and yet, instead of the two crashing into each other, the only thing waiting for Copperhead was the wall. He hit with a thud and slid down like a bird who'd crashed into a sliding glass door.     Strangely, the next anyone saw Sidewinder moments later, he was standing a good few feet behind the running and rushing Conner, snapping his fingers and barking orders to his men.     "Ohhh, these boys ain't playin' fair, light 'em up an' let 'em know how Crimesnake does things!"     Was 'Crimesnake' their criminal organization name? Was that the best they could come up with? Were they afraid of lawsuits from Hydra or Cobra if they got too creative? In any case, two goons in green were aiming their guns at Superboy and opening fire wildly, meanwhile one armed thug behind Josef was bringing the butt of his own gun down, wanting to smash it against the unruly hostage's skull and hopefully knock him out like a light. Presumably, this was not going to work the way he was hoping. 

:'''{{#var:7255|Josef Forster (7255)}} has posed:''' Upon seeing Superboy smash into the building, because tanking walls to the face is what MAWHN do, Josef excitedly exclaims, "Oh my god, are you Batman!?" Causing Alex to droop his head while the other hostages just look confused, "...God damnit, Joe..."      As the goon goes to smack Josef in the back of the head...he connects, with a low crack! This tilts Josef's head slightly, causing him to turn with annoyance, the butt of the gun flaking off bits of broken plastic from the impact. Before he has the opportunity to try plan be, Josef picks him up by the face and flings him like a lawn dart towards the gun toter, already moving to put the line of fire at him away from the other hostages. 

:'''{{#var:212|Conner (212)}} has posed:''' Superboy used the door, mind you. If it was closed, well, it is not anymore. Likely it is not going to be closed anymore. Still, doors are cheaper than walls. He has heard enough complains already. "Guns? Please," he just stands there and takes a few bullets to the chest, to leave clear he is really a card-carrying member of the Super-fam. And definitely -not- Batman. "Not drop... hey!" He turns to glance at Sidewinder. Maybe a speedster? "Crimesnake is your name. Well... I have heard worse. Once or twice." Pause, "anyway, is that truck yours?" He points. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     "What? No no, I'm not Crimesnake, I'm Sidewinder!"     As the ridiculous costumed man continues to insist, in the background, Josef is tearing apart gun-wielding thugs with an ease that should have been frightening to watch, even as others closer to the front of the shop were demoralized by Conner being a bulletproof avatar of justice. Sidewinder, in his ridiculous cape and costume, was counting his options and not seeing many that he liked, and was considering making a break for it when one of the thugs saw an alternate solution. Dropping his smg, he pulled out a small simple .22, and had it pressed against a tied up mother, with her children there watching in horror. The thug spoke, nervous and desperate, and seeing no other way out. Why was it that the stupid ones also happened to be the mean ones?     "Hey hey hey, both'a you assholes just stay right there an' don't do nothin' else, or else I'm gonna blow this chick's brains all over the wall, get 'em all over these kid's faces, bet they'll hate that! Ha ha HA!"     He wasn't even making sense, just looking around with wild crazy eyes visible under his vaguely snake-themed ski-mask, so nervous and so focused on the two powerful lads in front of him...that he didn't see the shape drop from the ceiling behind him.     That shape seemed to be 'cloaked' and the same color of the ceiling and wall, until it morphed and changed into a dull dry red. The shape grew taller and taller, the red unfurling until it was swirling around something very ominous looking, with two glowing green eyes, glowing so bright they were illuminating the entire room just about. The hostage taking goon had no idea, had no idea that this malevolent shape was right behind him. But, he was likely going to find out very soon. 

:'''{{#var:7255|Josef Forster (7255)}} has posed:''' As Sidewinder insists his name is cool, Josef calls out to his protests as casually as if he were just in the other room grabbing a slice of pizza, "You're the map from Halo? I always liked Blood Gulch better!" That's cold, man. As the thug decides 'oh yeah, I haz hostagezses' and takes one, Josef continues to snark, even as he complies with the threat, "Who do you think you are, Shocker? He tried that exact thing last week. Now his hands are broken. You really think a numpad lister like /YOU/ is gonna make out better than he did?" And then the ceiling pukes out a blob, which turns to dried Kool-Aid, which turns into the unliving embodiment of the nineties itself. Josef's eyes widen slightly in surprise as he looks behind the panicked thug, "....Huh...I wish I could call that weird, but this /IS/ New York..." Cover PERFECTLY preserved, great job Joe. 

:'''{{#var:212|Conner (212)}} has posed:''' Superboy was talking to Sidewinder thinking he was the dangerous one, so the hostage-taking is a nasty surprise. It doesn't help the thug in question seems pretty nervous. "Calm down, man. I am not going to hurt you. And look, if you kill that woman you are going to jail forever. Why don't you just leave? It is not as if you are a super-criminal and with the snake guys here... uh..." someone else is coming. And Conner doesn't have a good poker face. "Hey," he turns back to Sidewinder, if the snake villain is still there, "you tell him to drop the gun, if he fires it would be your fault because he is one of your men, right?" 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     As it turned out, Sidewinder was not where Conner originally looked. Instead, he was knelt down beside the still very dazed and unhappy Copperhead, Sidewinder's cape draped over the crumpled form. After a frustrated sigh, the two were gone in a flash of blue light and the two were officially vanished. Which wasn't good, because their truck full of stolen goods and stolen money were still in a side-room here, impossible to get to just right now.     But near the two powerful young lads, the final conscious thug was slowly realizing that all was not well in his immediate vicinity. Horrified, he looked wide-eyed over his shoulder as three pairs of chains immediately and silently snaked and wrapped tightly around the man's gun-holding wrist. The sounds of bones snapping was immediate as that gun was dropped into a waiting black-gloved hand. The figure remained stood there as the edges of his ragged cape swirled and moved on its own accord, even as the former hostage had taken her kids and was booking it at light speed back home. Moments later the chains were released and the former goon dropped hard to the floor in the fetal position, clutching at his very injured wrist and hand. And from the figure in the cape, an impossibly deep voice was heard.     "They never learn. Not a single one." 

:'''{{#var:7255|Josef Forster (7255)}} has posed:''' Josef looks unimpressedly at the crumpled goon, shaking his head with contempt, "Yer tellin me. I got crushed by half a fuckin bank last week, and somehow people still think trying to rob me is a good idea." He says as he glances up to the Spawn. An awkward moment passes before the obvious happens, ".....Oh my god, are /YOU/ Batman!?" Josef excitedly calls out. Meanwhile, in the corner struggling to get to his feet, Alex calls over, "I hate you so much right now, Joe." 

:'''{{#var:212|Conner (212)}} has posed:''' They never learn. "That is a very depressing idea, man, I am sure there is at least a ten percent thug that learn. Or maybe a seven percent," he is trying to come up with an example, but he never talks much with the super-criminals' minions. Besides, Spawn is kind of unnerving. He is probably one of those magical dudes. Definitely not Batman. "I better call the cops," he mutters, pulling out one of those brand new Starkphones from his belt. Luckily this time the bullets missed it. 
}}

User talk:TheMainMan

2019-04-17T10:21:40Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "Storing these pictures here, so I can use them later. https://boundingintocomics.com/files/2016/12/batman-spawn_00248272.jpg https://i.pinimg.com/originals/05/84/08/05840896..."

Storing these pictures here, so I can use them later.

https://boundingintocomics.com/files/2016/12/batman-spawn_00248272.jpg

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/05/84/08/05840896f19648332237aa82a37fb307.jpg

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/41/a6/7a/41a67afdabe5b9bebdcedab3d36732e6.jpg

http://depblog.weblogs.us/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/aleksi_spawn_aof_street438_700.jpg

Destroyer

2019-04-15T09:46:28Z

TheMainMan: LOBO RULES!

{{Cutscene Header
|Date of Scene=2027/04/15
|Location=Knowhere/Lobo's Head
|Synopsis=Lobo wants to fix his bike...but gets drunk first.
|Cast of Characters=Lobo
}}
Lobo watched the Milano fly away, watched it take off out of Knowhere and toward who knew where. For his part, the Main Man was more than happy to be off that crowded boat and back on solid land, even if it meant he was hauling his own vehicle on his back for a while. Ever since that fight with the terran in the black costume(Editor's note: See log number 7174 "Abduction" for details.) the Spacehog had been acting erratically, shorting out and on one occasion nearly punched a hole through Quill's ship before Lobo ripped its engine and central computer right out, both of which were hanging from the damaged bike that was currently slung over the bounty hunter's shoulder...it was inconvenient, to say the least.

On his way to one of his safehouses, the Last Czarnian muscled and bullied his way through throngs of people and scumbags, many of them giving the recognized murder machine a wide berth. The few who didn't, ended up regretting it. Truth be told, Lobo barely paid them any mind, all he wanted to do, was get very very drunk, black out for many many hours, and then try and put his ride back together. Otherwise his one way off this hive of scum and villainy was to try and steal a new ship and learn how to pilot it on the fly. On the fly, his brain was making puns now. He really NEEDED to get drunk.

-----------

Try to picture a more beautiful paradise than Blessed Czarnia, and you will surely fail. Every aspect of their planet and society, from the geography to the formation of clouds to the very cycle of day and night was perfectly controlled by its inhabitants, by its beautiful brilliant inhabitants who never knew war, or famine, or misery or conflict. For a Czarnian, life is spent eating grapes atop the tallest mountains, exploring the beautiful serene and tranquil oceans, making love for weeks continuously whilst reflecting upon the questions asked by the great philosophers of past eras.

For a Czarnian, dispute and conflict are pointless concepts because they've nothing to do with your destiny. At Creation(either in a test tube or less popularly, 'the old fashioned way') an infant is inspected by a team of scientists, behavioral therapists and other similar gifted minds, called 'Seers'. Once they See your destiny, they help you obtain the goals that will make you happiest.

One baby, unusually born 'the old fashioned way' is Seen, and what is Seen chills them to the bone. This child is the Destroyer, the Other, the antithesis to their perfect paradise. Perhaps they should have killed him, but on Czarnia such an action is unthinkable, such an action is so alien that it is impossible to even be considered. Such as a lizard would never think to fly or a falcon would never think to burrow, so a Czarnian would never think to slay, especially not one of their own. No, instead this child is raised by all, as all children are raised by all who are capable.

A child is named Lobo, the Destroyer, the Ruiner. A child with evil inherent within it is whispered about in hushed tones. When he makes himself known, their gazes are averted. He feels their avoidance. He hears their whispers.

On Czarnia, there is no 'property' or 'ownership'. Food, clothing, shelter, transportation, everything belongs to everyone. But there is the concept of charity. The cold are given warm clothes, the starving are given a meal, the exhausted are given a bed. On Czarnia, the communal good and the social connection is more important than the material.

The Destroyer is given a wide berth, any conflict alien and impossible to fathom. When he wants something, it is surrendered immediately. Lobo gains the material, while the communal good continue to leave him to himself. When he speaks, they do not answer, when he approaches they retreat. The boy grows older, and is learning what they teach him.

In the darkness, the boy looks into the mirror, seeing The Destroyer as they do, as they often whisper. "I am the last", he says out loud. "It dies with me."

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

In the darkness, the ghost-white form stirs awake finally, sitting up slowly surrounded in empty metal cans, and empty glass bottles hard enough to cave in a Terran's skull. In the glass of the bottle at his feet, Lobo could see his haggard reflection staring up at him, the lines in his face deep, his cheeks and nose and everything else clearly showing the signs of living the life he did. Nude and left bare he had nothing to say, and turned away from his own critical gaze while kicking that bottle hard enough to shatter into shards well across the room.

He stayed like this for nearly twenty minutes before grabbing another bottle, and drinking it empty after a good ten seconds of straight chugging. This stuff was so strong that legally the Nova Empire considered it a poison and thus illegal to purchase or carry within their borders. So it would be strong enough to act as hair of the dog and get him started for the day, at least. Now he was ready to put the Hog back together. Put his property back together, get back to collecting bounties, and get back to taking what belonged to him. And frag anyone who tried to say otherwise.

(Soundtrack for this cutscene: "I Don't Believe A Word", by Motorhead. Go check it out.)

7202/Hooked

2019-04-11T04:57:33Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2019/04/11 |Location=The Milano |Synopsis=Bounty hunters try to work out a deal with their quarry, while trying not to get Lanterned and blowed up..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2019/04/11
|Location=The Milano
|Synopsis=Bounty hunters try to work out a deal with their quarry, while trying not to get Lanterned and blowed up in hyperspace.
|Cast of Characters=1742,105,1622,111
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     For Lobo, the situation was no longer as tense as it once was...but it was still pretty awkward. His bike, useless for the moment off in the corner, his blood all over the floor of the Milano, and a Lantern standing right there while another one remains in captivity...with his fraggin' hook still in her shoulder. A normal bounty hunter would be paranoid about what could happen next.     For the Main Man he merely remained sat on the floor, legs splayed out as his blaster was tossed aside in favor of grabbing a can of brew. He popped the tab with just his thumb and middle finger, clearly he's had experience at having one limb before. Speaking of, at his left nub around the elbow, five little bumps and protrusions were starting to grow out of the wound, wiggling almost on pure instinct.     "Fraggin' robot...next time we meet I'm gonna take his cool purple glowin' head and shove it up his...huh...guess a robot wouldn't have nothin' like that. Still, gonna have fun trying!"     At this point he was more muttering to himself. He didn't so much as offer Suzanne anywhere to sit, or anything to drink. How rude. 

:'''{{#var:105|Suzanne Reinhardt (105)}} has posed:'''     Good thing about being a lantern, they can make their own chairs. Suzanne has made her own chair and has actually gotten something for herself to eat and drink, as well as a table to set it all on. "He wasn't a robot by the way. He was an actual person. And he lived, by the way." She then chuckles. "Not used to someone actually stand up to you, hmm?" 

:'''{{#var:1622|Nuala (1622)}} has posed:'''     There is a spark from the inside of the cryopod, and suddenly the door bursts open, a plume of smoke from inside. The captive is out. She rolls out of the pod, coughing from the smoke, and trying to recover from the near stasis that she entered before managing to break free. The suit pulses silver, and she reaches up behind her neck, pulling free the hook and tossing it to the ground.     She points her wrist blaster at Lobo. "<Turn the ship around, bounty hunter,>" she orders in galactic common before giving another cough as the smell of an eletric burn fills the cargo hold. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     The Main Man could tell this was a tense situation, and a situation where the power dynamics just suddenly changed. But you'd never know it to look at his face, or look at his body language. Perfectly calm, perfectly relaxed even as every once and a while a few more millimeters grew out of his left stump. In fact, with that blaster pointed right at his face, the Last Czarnian took another swig of his booze before belching up at the two women, and speaking.     "I ain't turnin' a damn thing around, on account'a I ain't the pilot. Also onnaccount'a, I don't do what crazy she-broads do, an' I don't care what kinda fancy Nova toy they're pointin' at my face. Now you can turn yer frail human behind around an' get back into yer dog cage, or you can continue ta play Accuser, an' whoever we hired can figure out yer Cyberlimb blood type."     Another swig. Can was finished, can was crushed. Can was chucked at her face. Lobo grinned. And then Lobo belched.     Well, it was almost cool. 

:'''{{#var:111|Star-Lord (111)}} has posed:''' There's a sudden shift in the air and motion of the Milano. Anyone who's gone into hyperspace will instantly recognize it; the Milano just went through a jump point... which meant leaving the ship and going outside the protective hyperspace bubble was suicide for the vast majority of beings in the galaxy now. It's also when Nuala managed to open a damaged stasis pod in the cargo hold. Peter had planned to handle disarming Nuala during the jump. Instead, he's probably going to have to fight in the Milano. In hyperspace. Against a Lantern. "Aw, crap. Can't I get a break this month? Already got the a-holes on Takron Galtos to deal with." Peter complains out loud to no one in particular from the cockpit. The ship isn't being torn apart and turned into atoms, so there's that. Maybe they were smart after all. Soon though, Peter is heading out of the bridge and starting to head down to the cargo bay. 

:'''{{#var:105|Suzanne Reinhardt (105)}} has posed:'''     The can stops in mid-flight before it can his Nuala and Suzanne crunches on a cruton. "I don't know how hyperspace works, but I don't think we can leave at this point. Or turn it around." Suzanne says over to Nuala. "Nuala....Something is amiss here, doncha think? If there's bounty hunters here...that means there's a bounty on your head. If they turn around now....MORE will show up." Then Suzanne puts her food away into a portal...same with her drink. "Someone put a bounty on your head, Nuala. I would like to find out who, and honestly? I'm sure they could've done a lot more damage than they did." She then looks to Lobo. "Am I right?" 

:'''{{#var:1622|Nuala (1622)}} has posed:'''     Nuala holds her fire, only seeming to right then realize that Suzanne was onboard. "Su-" she stops herself. "Blue Lantern?" she asks. She listens as the case is made. "I got an idea," she answers. "A real piece of work in Nova, I got him busted down from Admiral due to...well, that's not all important right now. Probably caught wind of what was happening," she says. "Wanted to give me my just desserts, if I had a guess. Tried to get me dismissed three times already. Can't imagine he'd like that Nova was going to let me be." She doesn't lower her arm, but asks Lobo. "Virek?" she asks, trying to confirm her suspicions. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     "Blueberry, yer askin' the Sultan of Slaughter, the Bishop of Brutality, the Pope of Ordinance, the Assassin ta' Royalty and Scourge of the Cosmos himself, if he coulda ripped this girl inta eight pieces if he wanted to? Get real, the only reason her entrails ain't wrapped around this ship as if it were a Life Day Tree is 'cause we been hired fer retrieval, and not fer disposal and slash or 'example makin', end air quotes."     He flashes Suzanne a wolfish grin, before looking around at Nuala when she asks her question.     "Sorry there, sport, the Main Man don't give up his sources, an' he don't give up on his word."     As he spoke, his left hand went down to his belt, opening a thick box-shaped hard-plastic pouch nearest to the ultra cool skull buckle. There he pulled out one of his most important gadgets: A primo cigar. Since he didn't have access to a cutter, he just used his teeth, biting into the very end and spitting it off into the distance.     "Now, there's the little issue of you bein' outta yer room before supper. We ain't big fans o'that in the bounty huntin' business, see." 

:'''{{#var:111|Star-Lord (111)}} has posed:''' It takes about ten seconds for Peter to get from the bridge down to the cargo bay: It's not a huge ship, and the cargo bay is in fact one of the bigger places on the ship. When he hears voices though, Peter frowns and pulls out both his element guns, keeping them in an idle position as he walks in. He's still wearing the same setup he was when he was flying around, sans helmet that's been retracted back into the device near the back of his neck where it situates. "We have a 'wanted alive' bounty. That pod you were in is supposed to keep you in stasis until I had time to disable your armor." Peter clucks his tongue in a 'shit' manner, "That's gonna be as easy as finding Elvis, now." Peter looks to Suzanne, then. "At least you're smart enough to realize starting a fight in hyperspace is a terrible idea... but I'm still gonna need those weapons disabled." Peter gives a head nod to Nuala, then looks towards her, "Are you going to turn this into a hyperspace disaster on us, darlin?" 

:'''{{#var:105|Suzanne Reinhardt (105)}} has posed:'''     Suzanne ponders a bit, before looking to Quill. "I'd worry less about her and more about me, guys. It'd be a hyperspace disaster for you and 'the main man' here....and not me or Nuala. However, I think we have an opportunity here." She says looking to Nuala. "If it's who you think it is, we have something to work with....and these bounty hunters get paid." She then stands up and her chair disappears. "The idea is this, Nuala acts as if she's still captured, I act as one of your 'crew' on this ship...and we find out for sure who did this. Then, once we find out...'The Main Man' Causes a bit of havoc, and we leave. Well....Nuala and I will have a bit of a chat though." 

:'''{{#var:1622|Nuala (1622)}} has posed:'''     Nuala gives a laugh. "Paid?" she says. "Nova is not likely to front him money for this," she says. "I think he will try to cheat you." She glances back at Suzanne, then up to Peter, and lowers her arm, the wrist blaster sinks back into her suit, and she lets out another cough. "So, Are you saying that they deliver me, and then you..." she hesitates, trying to consider exactly what happens next. 

:'''{{#var:111|Star-Lord (111)}} has posed:''' "No deal." Peter looks to Suzanne. "What you're asking for is downright unprofessional. We'd never get contracts again when word spreads, and our reputation would be ruined." Peter gestures with one of his element guns to Nuala, "Her pretending to be captured would get around, and no one would trust our contracts because our record would be blown." Then, he looks to Suzanne, "We lose our livelihood, and we might as well burn this entire ship to a crisp and take you with us for all the good that deal gives us. Now, if we get double crossed by the client? That's an entirely different story... and we're not responsible for what happens to her afterwards, once we get our credits." He shrugs, "If the bounty is legit, the most I can guarantee is not interfering with what comes after." 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Lobo, for his part, finally rose to his feet where he limped over to the main table and sat across it as if it were a chair. At his height, it was easier than finagling one of the chairs or more 'official' seats. From his left stump a slimy, gooey, blood-covered beginnings of a hand were starting to emerge, four fingers and three sets of knuckles, right down to half of a palm sticking out of the wound. Smirking downward, he gave everyone there a small wave, before flipping his stump around so that he could flash them all briefly the middle finger...perhaps it meant peace and love on Czarnia. But it probably didn't.     "Yeah, I gotta go with Quill on this one, ya dweebs want us ta just roll over an' narc on the guy who hired us...frankly, I don't give a whizz if it's Darkseid or Thanos, credits are credits an' a job is a job."     As he spoke, he grabbed his scatterblaster from off of his bike, flipping the lever-action, sawn-off weapon around with his one good hand, before tossing it to his stump-hand, and grabbing his flip lighter to light his cigar, and to fill the hangar with the smell of it. 

:'''{{#var:1622|Nuala (1622)}} has posed:'''     Nuala shakes her head, watching the disturbing growth coming out of Lobo's stump arm. "Bounty hunters with honor," she comments dryly. "How inconvenient. That is fine," she says. "But if it is Virek, you two should not hold your breath in expecting that he will come through on the payment." She stands up, only to sit on the edge of the crypod, and turns to look back at Suzanne. "I hope you know what you are doing," she comments. 

:'''{{#var:105|Suzanne Reinhardt (105)}} has posed:'''     Suzanne smiles and points to Nuala. "That one word, right there, is what I've been hoping to hear from you for a while." She then chuckles. "And, no...I don't. I've only seen a Nova Corp operative from a distance...other than you." She then gestures to Quill and Lobo. "Honestly, I don't think the 'bad ones' are any worse than these two twerps. but I imagine if this guy is as true to form as you say, these guys will have no problems tearing him, and his office, a new one as we leave. Cuz, while my duplicity is one thing....someone that doesn't pay a successful bounty is another. The best I can say is...the trap is sprung, but you can hope for the best." 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     By this point, while Lobo was still paying attention, he was also starting the process of removing his various things from his Hog, organizing them carefully elsewhere so that he could fold the clunky vehicle up into a more secure and more compact shape. The process of repairing it would happen later, and would probably require gear and tools found at a real station.     "Either way, Pete, might wanna think about addin' a few trailers to this boat, the way ya keep pickin' up guests an' strays. Takin' that 'Guardian' moniker a bit too literal-like, I reckon." 

:'''{{#var:111|Star-Lord (111)}} has posed:''' "I'm not a total a-hole, darling." Peter counters to Suzanne, "I'm the leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy. Star-Lord, at your service." He gives a charming smile to Suzanne, "and while we are mercenaries, we're not looking to see the universe destroyed. This is all frankly a side trip for some credits right now. We plan to head back to the Takron Galtos Riots right after this. That's where the credits are, and where the worst scum of this galaxy are imprisoned. We're gonna lend a hand." Peter walks over to the pod, then, and starts to work on it, taking off the back panel as he begins to perform maintenance, "I'll even be generous and let you keep the armor until we've confirmed credit exchange." 
}}

7141/Gravesend

2019-04-06T02:35:36Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2019/04/05 |Location=Gravesend |Synopsis=April crashes a gang meeting. So does Spawn. |Cast of Characters=1490,179 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:'..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2019/04/05
|Location=Gravesend
|Synopsis=April crashes a gang meeting. So does Spawn.
|Cast of Characters=1490,179
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     "Glad y'all could join us here tonight, and what a night it is! We got the Red Circus along with the False Face Society, and the Neon Dragon Triads. We got the Dogs Of Hell, rubbin' elbows with Los Muertos an' the Bombers. Hell, we even gots us representatives from Wallenquist an' the Magliozzis. I know half of ya would just as soon firebomb an' slit each others throats, but we got problems that are bigger than any of us individually. I know it. Believe me, I know it!"     The man at the podium had a larger than life personality, his silky long hair and smooth stubble covering his handsome face. In this darkened closed down nightclub, the seats were filled and the tension in the air was palpable, as the entire building was crammed full of dirtbags, sleazeballs and general psychos, hardened men and women who made ther lives off the misery of others. The waitresses were nervous even as they were sent out to serve drinks, take empty glasses and shut up and make themselves as unnoticeable as possible, it was a tough gig for sure.     Of course, there were other places for a snoop to be, if they so wished... 

:'''{{#var:179|April O'Neil (179)}} has posed:''' April is that caliber of snoop too. She'd gotten tips and inside information about this gathering of... exceptionally unique societal antagonists tonight and she'd decided, whether soundly or not, to give it a look. Fearless, April is... reckless she might be... She's actually wearing a Yoda tshirt tonight too, but its on beneath the black hoodie that she has on, zipped up, with the hood up over her head. She also has put a blonde wig on, to help hide her identity a little more, and some stylin' purple sunglasses with sparkling glitter embossed frames. Some knee-torn jeans and black leather boots finish April's incognito attire, and she's just trying to appear as 'one of them'. She got past the bouncers at this nightclub by just flashing them a smile, its all it usually ever takes for her to get inside a place, her face was a gift, she's quite aware of that but she also doesn't let it go to her head because she realizes her looks are fleeting and nothing she can take credit for. As the speech continues on, April stands in a back corner, she's shorter than most of the hulking figures inside this place, and she does her best not to make eye contact. She's TRYING to just blend in. She's also recording all of this though, with a microphone peaking out of her jeans right pocket against her hip. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     Luckily, she's just one of the goons here, or at least that's the perception. Amongst the cut-throats and the tattooed killers in the crowd, she's not very noticeable at all. Ahead of her is one particularly nasty piece of work from the Red Circus Gang, one example of the many 'clown' copycats who came crawling out of the woodwork when Joker became as infamous as he was. The tall bald man had his face painted as it mixed with his dirty nasty grey beard, a tattoo across his neck saying 'Spaulding' and some other things that were less intelligible, as he was pacing around in place muttering to himself. Whenever he got a bit too close to the incognito April she would probably be able to smell gunpowder, fried chicken and the cheap perfume of prostitutes, but so far nobody was paying her any mind.     In the center of the room, the man who had everybody's attention kept going. He had an Asian woman alongside him who just looked out across the room with a psycho look in her wide wild eyes. The man, for his part, was perfectly relaxed.     "Yeah, my daddy used to tell me, 'when it gets too big, stop doing it.' Well there was wisdom in his words, but he didn't see the world change like we did. He didn't know about demigods and sex perverts runnin' around in capes, making things almost impossible for the little guys. He didn't know that he was the last of his kind, part of the greatest generation when a man could head out into the wild an' really MAKE somethin' for himself!"     Every time the man in the center spoke, people started cheering, started getting a bit rowdier. This room was like a powder keg, and the man was lighting one match after the other. 

:'''{{#var:179|April O'Neil (179)}} has posed:''' April's sunglasses covered eyes do take a moment to focus in on the Red Circus ganger in front of her, and his mere presence makes her raise a hand up out of her hoodie pocket to lower her sunglasses down to the very tip of her pert nose, where she stares at him just over the rim of those purple/glittery shades. She picks up on some of those scents that seem to be wafting from the guy too, but this entire place is a hotbed of questionable, to down right gross, odors. The incognito investigative reporter, and internet podcast personality, keeps her shades down on her nose for now, they still shield some of her face well enough to keep her identity questionable at most, but having her eyes not shaded in this rather dark nightclub helps her gather in ore details of everything around her. She still tries hard not to make eye contact with anyone, eye contact leads to conversations... she wants to avoid those for the most part. Silent observer here! Gain information and use it after... thats April's game plan. Her blue eyes peer over those shades and she stares at that Asian girl with the wild eyes up beside the speaker, then she looks upon the speaker himself again as he prattles on. Part of her thinks this is a gang rally, to unify groups for some kind of push toward another crime wave, kind of like what the Shredder organized two years ago when she first met the Turtles. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     "I like her eyes."     The Asian woman spoke for the first time, freely and boldly interrupting the main speaker and apparent leader of this little rally. The entire bar which had been rustling with noise and murmurings suddenly stopped. Even the man in the center looked over in surprise, but he didn't seem angry. In fact, he immediately tried to follow the woman's line of sight, and immediately zeroed in on April. His own brown eyes narrowed in curiosity and amusement, but behind that there was something else, something sinister. Something sadistic. When he spoke with that soft southern twang to his gravelly voice, it was aimed at the clown in front of her.     "Captain, if you would be so kind as to bring that girl over here? Looks like we've got a new player cutting in on our territories, a pawn tryin' ta make herself a queen! I admire that kinda gumption in a woman."     Immediately the 'Captain' turned around, adjusting his very small top-hat on his head and looking down at April with a sneer.     "C'mere, girl, be a good girl fer daddy...or you could run and I could chase ya, hehehehehhh!"     It was strange that when he laughed it also sounded like he could be crying or even growling, his teeth were bared in a smile, a sneer or a rictus grin, with it being impossible to tell at any given moment. It was also strange that overhead, the few working lights started to flicker and fail. It could make sense that crimelords didn't pay their power bills or make sure their buildings were up to proper code... 

:'''{{#var:179|April O'Neil (179)}} has posed:''' Everything seemed to be going just fine, April's recorder was picking up this whole speech and everything that would come from it would be able to be used online, or whatever she deemed necessary-- 'Oh balls.' April suddenly thought as she realized that tweaked out Asian bird just completely called her out specifically! All the muscles in the reporter's body instantly tense up and her body temperature inside of her clothes shoots up from 'comfortably warm' to 'suddenly hot' with fright and intense nervousness. She quickly pushes her sunglasses back up onto her nose to hide her eyes as she realizes the rest in the room were EYING HER now. She also doesn't immediately obey and move toward the stage, it takes her about fifteen or twenty seconds before she finally, and hesitantly, starts to move through the crowds as people stare at her, part for her... and give her way to the stage where the speaker is. As she starts to put herself on display in front of everyone as well, she looks out at the crowd and steps up and over to where the speaker is. She looks away from the crowd toward him and she shakes her head, her blond wig inside of her hooded head gently shifting as she does that. "I'm a nobody." She says to him, though its meakly loud enough that most people at the front of the audience could hear her too, but those in the back likely can't. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     The crowd was watching her with rapt attention, immaculately dressed Mafia guys alongside Friends Of Humanity skinheads and bikers, even as the Red Skulls watched from the club drinking their lagers and adjusting their suspenders.     Up on stage, the tall man looked at her with a smirk on his face even as he started unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves. The Asian woman next to him was holding a sheathed rapier, clearly something this man liked to use. He reached down...and picked up a pair of black leather gloves next to the sword, putting them on ominously.     "You're a nobody? Well hell, I thought I strictly invited somebodies to this little event, all you boys an' girls out there, are you nobodies?!"     The response was almost in unison, and was something to the effect of,     "HELL NO!"     That only left the smiling man, as he turned her toward him by her shoulder, assuming she didn't pull some judo move at the last moment. He was adjusting his gloves, his gloves obviously designed for punching, or at least for keeping his hands clean, even as he looked up at her hoodie and the blonde hair spilling out with a more critical eye.     "Well if you're really a nobody, I guess nobody's gonna mind if I do this...?"     His right hand had balled into a fist and he looked like he was going to step into a haymaker, when one of the bulbs up top exploded, and the rattling of chains could be heard. That stopped all of them, convinced all of them to look up. And similar to the collective denial earlier, a new chorus could be heard, the clicking of guns, and the turning off of safeties. It seemed these men were paranoid. 

:'''{{#var:179|April O'Neil (179)}} has posed:''' April's gaze does look out toward the audience as they cheer and chant about not being 'nobodies' and she realizes she may have used the wrong line there, which makes her visibly fidget up on stage. She still has those sunglasses on over her eyes though, so her nervousness is somewhat concealed still at the very least. Her stare is pulled back to the speaker then as he takes her by the shoulder and turns her to face him. She looks up at him from behind those dark lensed glasses... she can tell he's about to do something, she's noted the sword too... this could go south fast. Luckily April's sweat layered right hand is still inside her hoodie pocket and she's turning her Tazer over to get it into proper place, her thumb sliding up and into the grove on its trigger... she's getting ready to pull it... Her body tenses as she sees the man go for a punch, she HAS BEEN training at her local gym in self defense, so she's about to try to block it and TAZE HIM-- But then the sudden change in atmosphere takes her away and like the rest, she hears the chains and the strange sounds in-general... April looks in the direction that they're coming from now as well, like the rest! 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     It appeared that this was enough to set the 'Captain' on edge, the big heavyset man running up onto the stage, wielding a machete and snarling up at the ceiling like a crazy person, ready to prove what an alpha he was and prove how unafraid he was.     "C'mon, we ain't afraid of no bats in our belfry, an' we ain't got no spider problem! Whatever you is we ain't afraid, come down here an' The Captain'll stuff yer ball-ghraaaaAAAAAAAAAGH!"     Two chains snaked down with the speed of attacking cobras, both wrapping around his right wrist and clearly snapping it gruesomely as the big man was lifted up, and thrown violently into the crowd of anxious gangbangers. That caused a cacophony of gunfire, a deafening thunderstorm of lead being shot haphazardly up into the upper structure of this nightclub. Unfortunately for whoever owned this place.     As the gunfire continued, an impossibly deep voice bellowed outward, and the rustling of dead leaves and the rattling of chains could be heard mixing to the chaos.     "Wrong decision, assholes."     The thing that descended upon the club was only occasionally visible due to the flashes of gun muzzles and the lighting system up top going haywire and deciding to add a strobe effect. The color red would be visible, a cape in motion. Chains, spikes, and a pair of glowing green eyes. Inhaling deeply through his nose, the organizing this thing looked down at the hoodie woman, even as he quickly pulled a gun from his pocket and cocking it.     "Well, time to cut our losses and run. Looks like this just ain't yer lucky day, sweetheart." 

:'''{{#var:179|April O'Neil (179)}} has posed:''' Its when those devilishly frightening chains shoot down out of the darkness above that April jumps backward, but ends up falling back onto the stage onto her butt, she lands with a thud and just continues to scurry backward until her back is pressed up against a brick wall. She watches the man get... murdered, right in front of her, and her first reaction to this? April whips out her Stark phone and starts to record it all. But she can only hold onto the phone with one hand as the other goes up to the side of her head to press her hood and hair against the side of her ear, because that gunfire is SO LOUD inside the nightclub! April huddles up against the wall as she records footage with one hand and... just tries to survive through this! The deep growling voice that booms down from above makes her eyes stop squinting and she looks back up to try to see who it is. Its definitely not Batman... She sees the flashes of red and then the green glowing eyes. The Organizer's voice causes April's stare to break over to him and she seems, quite perplexed, scared but not terrified. He has a gun. Great. April starts to try to slink her way up the brick wall, her right shoulder pressed against it as she moves to stand up, still holding her phone out to record all of this. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     Over time, the sounds of gunfire started getting a little less frequent, and it seemed that in the ruckus some gangs were choosing this moment to turn on each other, and continue their old blood feuds.     For his part, the Organizer(who probably paid Top Dollar to have this big night of his) turned to April with a hint of regret on his face, cocking that pistol of his and shaking his head disapprovingly.     "Is that a smartphone? I'm afraid I can't have my face out there in public just yet. Well, maybe at least I can give those pretty blue eyes of yours to my dear sister, that's the sorta thing really puts a smile on her face."     With that he clicked his tongue, gave her a charming wink...and a metal chain went right through his hand as he looked down in shock. Moments later he was flung off his feet, pulled screaming into the maelstrom of violence.     When the dust settled, the lights were still flickering and strobing, as a tall figure walked slowly out of the darkness toward her. That brilliant red cape was pulled mostly around him, billowing even though there was no wind in this room. The figure looked down at her, green glowing eyes emerging from the dark of the room.     "Walking in here with a camera and a wig...not the smartest thing I've seen someone do." 

:'''{{#var:179|April O'Neil (179)}} has posed:''' April didn't have words for the Organizer of this event. There wasn't a lot she could do really even, she had that tazer in her pocket still but... this place had turned into a blood bath of gang violence and she was trying her best to avoid the collateral damage, you know, to herself! "Look, freak." April finally does speak up though to the man. "You're gonna give nothing to your si--" She cuts herself off as that chain rips apart the man's hand and she steps back in shock at the sight of it! April crouches then, a second later and ducks for cover behind the metal and wood podium that had tipped over in the madness. Its here that she hides to let the dust indeed settle! When it does, and when that voice speaks to her of her wig and camera, April peeks up over the podium, her camera is still held up over it and recording also. She sees the green eyes and she speaks back to it. "I don't think I have the resources available to me to do much better than this?" She says in a question of a voice. With a short pause, she fires out another string of words, much more detrmined in nature! "Who are you?!" 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     With his back still turned, the camera's footage probably wouldn't be the absolute best quality, but it picked up enough, enough to show what this figure was capable of, capable of reducing a room of hardcore criminals to a room of corpses and people who need serious medical attention. The chains still rattling, the cape still swirling, the figure looked over his shoulder directly at the woman, directly at the camera.     "...Spawn."     And with that, two chains suddenly lashed upward, clawing at the ceiling, pulling him up into the air. It happened so quick, that he was gone by the time police and paramedics finally arrived on to the scene, just in time to play the part of janitors. 

:'''{{#var:179|April O'Neil (179)}} has posed:''' April had a second cell phone in her other pocket, it was a burner phone and she used it to call the cops, 9 1 1 all pushed with quick thumb presses without even having to look at the plastic buttons--indicating that she might have a bit of experience at calling for such help. Her eyes are preoccupied, they're on the menacing and intimidating figure of 'Spawn' and as he rockets out those chains and makes to vanish, she too rises, but she only rises up onto her booted feet. Recording all of it, she is breathing heavily and lingers her stare in his direction for a moment longer before she looks down to the carnage left in the room... "Shit." April mutters, she starts to make her way off of the stage, hopping off of it and down to a 'clean spot' on the floor where she steps over bodies and broken furniture, bottles and worse. She heads for the exit where she makes to dart out to the street outside! 
}}

Talk:Lobo

2019-02-26T06:42:07Z

TheMainMan:

So I'm not going to edit this into my page, because I'm kinda wikilliterate, but I wanted to give Lobo more than one theme song. So this is kind of like an unofficial playlist. Also note, I'm not going to provide any links, because if they're youtube links, they may go down in the future, nobody knows when it comes to copywrighted material. But it's fine, you can look all this up on your own, reader.

The List:

1) Alice Cooper, "Desperado"

2) Hank Williams Jr, "Lone Wolf"

3) GWAR, "Bring Back The Bomb"

0) Motorhead, "Overkill"

4) Megadeth, "Addicted To Chaos"

5) Pantera, "Walk"

6) Denver The Last Dinosaur, "Denver The Last Dinosaur"

0) Motorhead, "Orgasmatron"

7) Bad Company, "Bad Company"

8) Sixty Watt Shaman, "Whiskey Neck"

9) Motorhead, "I Ain't No Nice Guy"

So yeah, that's the list. Note that in-universe, Lobo's never heard of any of these bands, he listens to like crazy obscure spacer bands, who form on planets where concerts are sometimes literal riots or prison breaks. At least one band broke up when the planet they were performing on got ganked by Galactus.

Talk:Lobo

2019-02-26T06:41:32Z

TheMainMan:

So I'm not going to edit this into my page, because I'm kinda wikilliterate, but I wanted to give Lobo more than one theme song. So this is kind of like an unofficial playlist. Also note, I'm not going to provide any links, because if they're youtube links, they may go down in the future, nobody knows when it comes to copywrighted material. But it's fine, you can look all this up on your own, reader.

The List:

1) Alice Cooper, "Desperado"

2) Hank Williams Jr, "Lone Wolf"

3) GWAR, "Bring Back The Bomb"

0) Motorhead, "Overkill"

4) Megadeth, "Addicted To Chaos"

5) Pantera, "Walk"

6) Denver The Last Dinosaur, "Denver The Last Dinosaur"

#) Motorhead, "Orgasmatron"

7) Bad Company, "Bad Company"

8) Sixty Watt Shaman, "Whiskey Neck"

9) Motorhead, "I Ain't No Nice Guy"

So yeah, that's the list. Note that in-universe, Lobo's never heard of any of these bands, he listens to like crazy obscure spacer bands, who form on planets where concerts are sometimes literal riots or prison breaks. At least one band broke up when the planet they were performing on got ganked by Galactus.

Talk:Lobo

2019-02-26T06:40:14Z

TheMainMan: Playlist

So I'm not going to edit this into my page, because I'm kinda wikilliterate, but I wanted to give Lobo more than one theme song. So this is kind of like an unofficial playlist. Also note, I'm not going to provide any links, because if they're youtube links, they may go down in the future, nobody knows when it comes to copywrighted material. But it's fine, you can look all this up on your own, reader.

The List:

1) Alice Cooper, "Desperado"
2) Hank Williams Jr, "Lone Wolf"
3) GWAR, "Bring Back The Bomb"
#) Motorhead, "Overkill"
4) Megadeth, "Addicted To Chaos"
5) Pantera, "Walk"
6) Denver The Last Dinosaur, "Denver The Last Dinosaur"
#) Motorhead, "Orgasmatron"
7) Bad Company, "Bad Company"
8) Sixty Watt Shaman, "Whiskey Neck"
9) Motorhead, "I Ain't No Nice Guy"

So yeah, that's the list. Note that in-universe, Lobo's never heard of any of these bands, he listens to like crazy obscure spacer bands, who form on planets where concerts are sometimes literal riots or prison breaks. At least one band broke up when the planet they were performing on got ganked by Galactus.

5544/Astral Flux: Evolution

2018-10-12T00:48:27Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/10/11 |Location=Xavier's School |Synopsis=Some X-Men, an Iron Man and a Hellboy. Some very important revelations are revealed. |Cast of Charac..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/10/11
|Location=Xavier's School
|Synopsis=Some X-Men, an Iron Man and a Hellboy. Some very important revelations are revealed.
|Cast of Characters=204, 202, 18, 14, 1439, 22
|Tinyplot=Astral Flux
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Hellboy was having a hell of a week. Laughing gas in the Bronx, clandestine meetings with Death Dealers, it was good to just slow things down and have a regular meeting. He'd been walking through the grounds past the open gate, his hooves clacking upon hard driveway as he looked around at the lush green, the birds in the trees. It was rather nice, actually, it was peaceful in a way that things hadn't been for him for a while. He hadn't brought the Samaritan for this encounter, or really hardly any 'gadgets' in his belt, but he was weapon enough, and he wanted to set these people at ease when he introduced himself. So when he got to the front door, he very gently brought his right hand up, takine one knuckle and very gently rapping against the front door.     Immediately one of the side windows around the doorframe broke, and Big Red looked around alarmed. "Ah, shit!"     Well, so much for making a good first impression. 

:'''{{#var:202|Logan (202)}} has posed:'''     Hanging out on the front lawn, around the corner of the house in hiding, was Logan. Logan is currently smoking a cigar, since Hank kicked him out of the mansion for smoking. Growling at the sun, Logan is wearing his white t-shirt, jeans, cowboy boots, and cowboy hat, tipped over his eyes. A puff of smoke curls around his head as Logan exhales, and he is currently ignoring the cool, crisp air of the East Coast Autumn.     Hearing the banging, the cracking, and the breaking, Logan peers around the corner, and says, "What is tarnation is going on out here..." Logan sees who it is, and shakes his head. "Ah. Hellboy right? Fury told me about you. What the hell are ya' doin' here, bub?!?" 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' The grounds are quiet since classes are currently in session. Another reason Logan needed to take his smoking outdoors. Or perhaps it was because the last person that Betsy saw smoking in the building got one of her psiblades to their head. The security had noted someone coming onto the property but that wasn't completely unusual. It was a school, after all. It was when the window broke that the alarms went crazy. A beep on her cellphone in her pocket let Betsy know of the alert. "Continue working on those essays. I will return in a moment." Most students knew that if the teacher left the room, they could goof off until her return. These students knew their teacher was a telepath and should they goof off, she'd know it. Even as she left the room, they continued to work. Betsy walked to the front, noting the broken glass. She opened the door. She remembered Hellboy though today she was dressed as Betsy Braddock, not Psylocke. Dress slacks, button up blouse, heels. "HB, isn't it?" Since that's the name she'd heard him called while at the Triskelion. 

:'''{{#var:14|Remy LeBeau (14)}} has posed:''' Remy is as present as he is often not. On and off he'll show and pitch in with the team otherwise he tends to roam like some stray cat that someone here made the mistake of feeding. The weather to be considered lately an the man not a fan in the least of the cold he is bundled up in a scarf, trench, longsleeved undershirt, cargo pants and boots. Warm fingerless gloves adding to the ensemble with a hoodie drawn up. It's the 'smokers' section that is basically anywhere Logan is that Remy is headed to with his long-legged and easy-sleek walk. All half-cocked smiles and shaded eyes of red on black, "You got a spare, mon ami?" He questions. Fully aware of the Hellboy visit and Betsy making a show. One track mind. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Now, the welcome party arrived. Hellboy already had his hands up in a 'surrender' motion, the sleeves of his trenchcoat falling down his arms a little(and his massive stone right waving through the air next to him), when three arrived on the scene. He looked over to the angriest one of the bunch, his glowing yellow eyes looking at Logan's blues.     "Yeah, sorry, didn't mean to do that. I actually came here to talk to..."     When Psylocke made herself apparant, he pointed over toward the purple-haired woman who was dressed very classily.     "I came to talk to her, actually. Yeah, HB. Short for Hellboy. Long story. It's what everyone called me. Ok, not a long story."     He was talking too much, so he just stopped. When Gambit spoke, Hellboy didn't even think about it before pulling a book of matches from the inside of his coat, and tossing it at the Ragin' Cajun, before continuing.     "Your friends are doing ok. They're a bit beat up, but y'know, they'll be ok. Oh and uhh...sorry for shooting one of them. That was a rough situation." 

:'''{{#var:202|Logan (202)}} has posed:'''     Spotting Psylocke as she peeks her head outy, opening the door. Tapping his cowboy hat, he says, "No worries Bets. Looks like he's a guest who doesn't know his own strength." As Gambit appears, Logan sighs, rwaches into his pants pocket, and pulls put another cigar. Tossing it to Remy, he says, "Here. Ya' owe me Cajun. Ah'm not a charity. Maybe some of those "down south" stoogies ah heard about."     Logan then turns back to Hellboy, and says, "Right. I break a lot of things too, that I "don't mean to"." Logan chuckles, knowing full well he always breaks things he wants to. As he refers to Psylocke, Logan nods, and says, "Ah. Well. Welcome to the Mansion then Red." 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' "Hellboy." Betsy says the name like it isn't strange. Considering her choice of teammates, it's easy for her to take such things as normal. She steps out the door, closing it behind her to try to keep their conversation from being witnessed by passing students. With a hand, she motions to the side so they can move out of the way as well. Some of the students tend to not open the door slowly and carefully so it's for the best. She glances over at Remy and Logan, then the surprise shows as Hellboy helps to support their habits. A wrinkle of distaste then she focuses again. "I'm glad they are healing. I have offered my assistance with trying to repair their minds. I'm simply waiting on the clearance." She didn't think SHIELD would appreciate her barging in. Twice. She does smile a bit though. "The one you shot was not a friend of mine. I had not even met her in person before that moment. It was a necessity and you owe no apologies." 

:'''{{#var:14|Remy LeBeau (14)}} has posed:''' "Merci bien." A politeness fired to both 'HB' and Logan, the not a charity remark has a handsome sharkish smile appearing on the Cajun's stubble laden features. The matches and cigar snared out of the air with a swipe, a finger flick across his palm and he is lighting up to take a puff of his own. A nod of acknowledgement to Betsy when she looks his way. "Remy." He offers Hellboy at the introductions, belated as he puffs. Playing bystander for the moment. 

:'''{{#var:1439|Kaydin (1439)}} has posed:'''     A blur with blue lightning blasts past the group, barely seen and moving with superhuman speeds. It then blasts back out and slows down, stopping to reveal himself as Kaydin. He looks at Hellboy's stone hand. "Is that your hand or a Gauntlet?" He asks, sounding like a hyperactive kid. He then looks to realize the other people present and he chuckles a little nervously. "Sorry, I didnt know this was something important." He says as he begins to back away from hellboy now. 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:'''     The sports car itself would give immediate red flags about who is approaching, even though the driver rarely visits the mansion. The exotic car isn't a particular make or model: it's some creative amalgam, as if someone had some fun with a kitbash kit and this slid out of the 3d printer. Still, the style of it (and loudness of orange racer color, if not the engine, which is mostly silent) make the 'STARK26' license plate make total sense.     Parking directly in front without awareness (or caring) about what he's blocking in the drive, nothing happens for a bit. Stark is still in the driver's seat, poking around on a device, before he gets out, still poking at it. Tony's dressed in one of his immaculate suits, sunglasses, easily recognizable. The activity near the mansion's front door draws his attention, in that he looks over his sunglasses at it ... and then continues with his device's holograms, strolling up the walk from his car with no hurry. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     This was a lot to take in at once. Hellboy started to nod at Logan, started to turn to Psylocke, started to say something to Gambit when a blue blur zipped past the crowd. Hellboy slowly turned his head to regard the blur by the time Kaydin had come back to stand somewhere else, mid-sentence when the speedy lad spoke and now Red was looking over at the teen. Seemingly speechless, the man looked dumbly between the three, and Kaydin, and looking over at the car with the same amount of incredulousness.     "Wow. You're really fast, did you know that?"     He almost completely forgot what they were talking about, before snapping out of it and regarding the group again.     "Well, hey, thanks for the welcome. Again, sorry, I don't know why I knocked with my right, almost never do that these days. Just slipped my mind, I guess. But, uhh...I came here to talk to you, and I guess anyone in this school who wants to listen, about what we're dealing with. This 'Darkness King', or whatever you called him. Err, uhh..."     Realizing that there was a teenager next to them, he glanced over at Kaydin real quick.     "You didn't hear that, kid. Always eat your vegetables. And always buy things honestly." 

:'''{{#var:202|Logan (202)}} has posed:'''     "I see this is between you an him Bets." Logan says, taking his cigar out of his mouth so people can understand him a bit better. Exhaling a plume of smoke, Logan turns to look at Remy, and shrugs. "Bienvenue." Logan chuckles, reverting to his terrible French accent. Thumbing back the way he had come, Logan says, "Well, unless you need me ta' keep this civil, I need to be elsewhere." Logan blinks as Kaydin arrives. "Kid! What did I tell ya' about sneakin' up on a guy like that? Almost gave me a heart attack!" Logan shakes his head. 

:'''{{#var:14|Remy LeBeau (14)}} has posed:''' A tip of his chin up and Remy watches Kaydin show off, this being the school for such things it's not off the norm for most X'ers like himself. A pull of that cigar and it is held away, the thief keeping his fingers close to the tip as though he's keeping himself warm from it. "Dun do anything I wouldn't do. Not unless you invite me first." He says in parting to Logan. His attention shifting from the other mutants, HB and the man walking towards them tinkering with his holograms. "Maybe another one 'ere for Betsy, non? Should I set up a kissin' booth?" A grin wide and he leers at the British psy-ninja, clearly jesting about. "We make some real bank, pretty sure dat one loaded." Darkness Guy? Darkwing Duck? Shadow King maybe? That could be anyone really. Despite his apparent joking around Remy LeBeau is paying attention to the conversation's finer details though without Logan or Elizabeth pursuing it openly, hes contenting himself to just enjoy some brief company. 

:'''{{#var:1439|Kaydin (1439)}} has posed:'''     "I do all that already. Only thing I do that is bad is murals on buildings." Kaydin says to hellboy. He then looks to Logan and winces a little. "Sorry." He says as he then turns to see Stark. "Hey Mr. Stark!" He says with a wave before turning to look to Psylocke. "You think you can convince Professor Gray into letting me have access to my spray paints? I have been invited to do some art stuff in the city, and I am too poor to buy new paint." He explains. 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' As the orange automobile arrives, Betsy glances that way curiously. Not one of the parents that she knows. Unless they got a new vehicle which is entirely possible. At her angle, she can't see the license plate. Betsy considers Hellboy's words for a moment, glancing over at Kaydin and realizing this is going to be a sensitive conversation that shouldn't be held in front of young ears. She starts to open her mouth to suggest moving to a more private location when Tony Stark himself gets out of the car. Her mouth snaps shut before she says a word. Was he a parent? Could be with his proclivities but that was not the reason for his visit. She did feel the need to point out though. "Hello, Mr. Stark. I wasn't expecting you for another thirty minutes." Which is when her class would have ended. Seemed it might be done now with all the visitors. At Remy's jest, she can't help but smile and cut a look at him. "Perhaps another time we will pursue that suggestion." 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:'''     "Saving the world. The usual. Well, for some of us," the confident Avenger replies evenly to Betsy as he approaches. A sleek amusement plays on his goatee as he picks up the edge of Remy's comment. But business. Mostly. "I have an appointment," he continues, giving Psylocke a bit more of a stare though his sunglasses. Maybe she's been possessed by creatures unknown that made her forget vitally important things like meeting with Stark.     "Or did you not get the update about moving it an hour earlier?" Appointments are liquid and shifting with Tony: people who want his attention generally need to be a little adaptive and on their toes. And his statement suggests he's already half an hour late for the moved time. "Hey kid," Tony greets Kaydin offhandedly. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     When Tony approached, Hellboy stepped aside, letting the fountain of charisma do his thing. HB had always been more of a wallflower, hanging out in the background, in moldy mausoleums and dimly lit jazz bars. He was studying Stark intently, though. Though his eyes didn't have pupils, it was hard to shake the feeling of being looked at, from any source. 

:'''{{#var:202|Logan (202)}} has posed:'''     "Later Cajun." Logan says to Remy. Right before he was ready to leave, that vehicle pulls up, and Stark arrives. With a snort, Logan turns again, and says, "Stark." That was as nice a greeting as Logan usually gave. "I see yer taste in vehicles still reeks of too much money." Logan shakes his head, and looks over at Kaydin.     "No problem kid. I appreciate flaunting tha' gifts. It's easy." Looking at Betsy, Logan says, "All yours Bets! Try not to stab any of them." Last but not least, Logan smiles at Hellboy, and says, "Watch this one. She's dangerous." With that, Logan taps the brim of his cowboy hat, replaces his cigar back into his mouth, and heads out back to the garage. 

:'''{{#var:14|Remy LeBeau (14)}} has posed:''' "Be a pass of a good time, sha." Remy assures Betsy before Logan is passing by him, "Words like 'too much' just make things a challenge, you know dis." He cuts himself off there, sobering up some in his demeanor as he studies Hellboy. Getting his attention he flicks the matchbook back towards the big red guy. "You get used to this 'round these parts." Likewise though, hes watching Stark but his gaze says something different. Less likely for violence, more likely to... borrow. Appraisal of a sorts. 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' It takes a moment to keep from making a sarcastic comment to Stark. "No, I had not received notification of a schedule change. In fact, I was in a class until we had a little...accident." Betsy does not look at Hellboy or the broken window when she says this, to her credit. "I had only come out to investigate." She looks to Kaydin, arching a violet eyebrow. "I can inquire about that. You should have a momently stipend from the school that would cover such purchases. Are you between classes?" Since they were still in session. She gives Logan a nod and a smile as he departs, trying not to smirk at the dangerous warning. Hellboy already knows a little bit of that. "Perhaps we should move this conversation indoors to my office? For comfort and privacy." 

:'''{{#var:1439|Kaydin (1439)}} has posed:'''     "Professor grey took my paints because she kept recieving reports of me vandalizing buildings." Kaydin explains. He then checks his phone and nods. "Yea class should be starting about now?" He says as he looks to hellboy and smiles. "Pleased to meet ya red." He says as he begins to head to class. 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:'''     "If you want one, there's better ways to go about getting one," Tony teases Logan in response, easy amusement with the other man as he leaves. He's used to Logan: in the same way Logan's used to him: a relaxed respect level, from Tony. He looks back to Hellboy, a long thoughtful look over the side of sunglasses. Mostly just because Hellboy is outright interesting looking. "You're one of SHIELD's 'consultants', right?" He doesn't keep track. Some hologram bits appear and move in the corner of the glasses, subtly. He looked it up quickly, probably.     "You'll probably care about what I have to say, too. Office? Sure. Wherever you'd like," Tony suggests, attention returning to Psylocke, and looking at her more steadily. Of the people present, he's going to choose the model to really look at. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Hellboy is, in fact, wearing a few identifiers: The symbol on the side of his coat, the black shirt with the SHIELD logo on the front, and his SHIELD badge that's attached to his utility belt, always facing front and outward toward the world. Tony and Hellboy have actually seen each other before, though there's never been much of an encounter or a conversation. Mainly it's just Tony being the belle of the ball, while big red hangs in the back smoking and just waiting for the big dazzling show to end. Hellboy could never be that big, upfront public guy, that just wasn't in him.     When Kaydin goes to leave, Hellboy pulls from a pouch in his belt, a huge KING-sized brick of a chocolate bar, one of those things that could last a lifetime. Or five minutes.     "Here, you're a good kid. Brush your teeth after you eat that! Never, uhh...y'know, don't vote without knowing the issues! That's good, right? Yeah, get outta here."     Now Kaydin and Logan were gone, and it was two X-Men, an Avenger and a terrible, terrible spy.     "Yeah, that office sounds good. We've gotta talk about this situation." 

:'''{{#var:14|Remy LeBeau (14)}} has posed:''' Remy's chuckle escapes while Betsy and Kayden exchange in dialogue. It's best he rarely handles or approaches the younger mutants, hes rarely taken seriously by others or himself until it's down to the business end of the deal. He is generally okay with that, it keeps him in good spirits and much less busy than the others. It also applies to parents, guests and apparent visiting billionaires, to which, he cannot blame the man for his focus upon their British companion. The rogue snubs his stoogie and rolls it away for later use, it beats the toothpicks he has been chewing on after all. It's clear he is just awaiting Psylocke's lead on in. Maybe something interesting will spark up in this topic for him to entertain himself with beyond Netflix or attempting to figure out the alarm system on Tony's car. 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' "Have a good afternoon, Kaydin," Betsy calls to him as she turns and motions for the rest of the group to follow her inside. She ignores the broken glass by the front door and just pretends it didn't happen. Though it wouldn't be safe to leave it there. She glances back and notes the shadows. A moment later, the shadows under the broken glass open and it falls into darkness. It's like the Acme Black Hole but better. Her office isn't far. There are a few students out, some obvious mutants, some not so much. The group of adults get a few looks but nothing is said. Once in Betsy's office, she closes the door and moves to sit behind a small, neat desk. Everything is in it's place and perfectly tidy. There is a small loveseat in one corner of the room, next to a file cabinet. Two hard backed chairs are in front of her desk. She sits on the edge of the desk itself as she offers them seats with a wave of her hand. "The Shadow King is the name you were looking for earlier, HB," she offers with a smile. "How may we be of service to you both?" 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:'''     First things first, Tony makes himself comfortable, relaxing in the center chair with his relaxed, casual quality. He has a magical knack of still keeping the attention of a room despite his ease and comfort. It's a charisma thing.     "All right. I'm mostly here to glean what I can about your King of Shadowy places and his network of 'bad guys'," Tony begins, pulling his sunglasses off and tucking them away, to trade for the device he'd had out earlier. It expands with a little hiss of technological sound. It looks like he's just using it for reference, at least so far. "And to share what I can about what's ramping his power up to the stratosphere. That's the zone I have more intel about. If something needs to be built to nullify or separate him from his battery, I'm moderately available." 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     He was gonna say something, but turned to look at Tony. For his part, Hellboy personally liked to stand the most. Cloven hooves, they almost never got tired, or hurt from him being upright.     "Oh, you're looking for him too? You're an Avenger, that makes sense actually."     He was quiet, then, for a few moments, before speaking up.     The guy we arrested escaped, took one of our personnel with him when he did. We know where his home is and we've got it staked out, but I get the feeling that this Shadow King has got these guys all over the place. All over New York? All over the East Coast? The country? It's obvious he's been doing this for a long time, and we're not gonna nail this son of a bitch with our limited psy-division. So I'm here to ask, if you have any information on this guy, any at all. And...if you guys wanted to work together on this. I understand that the Xavier Mansion has a few big deals when it comes to psychic phenomenon. That, combined with the power of the Avengers, and the resources of SHIELD? I think we could hurt this guy. Oh yeah. Also."     Hellboy turned to Tony Stark, finally speaking directly.     "Your mansion...did Shadow King pull that into the Astral Realm? Are we gonna have to deal with mind-controlled and whammied Avengers? What happened to it?" 

:'''{{#var:14|Remy LeBeau (14)}} has posed:''' The loveseat is approached near immediately, a hand pushed to it then he is turning about lounging in a haphazard sprawl upon it, like some cat making itself at home. Remy's casual easy ranks right next to Tony's, he doesn't step in and make eyes turn on him or take the lead of a room, he just becomes one with it and blends unless given full attention. Not something he shys from usually. "Dat always a name loaded with some serious bad cunja." He could feel himself wanting to spit at confirmation of Shadow King but doesn't, his lips just twisting up. The mansion question has him opening his mouth to make a comment but he cuts it off, opting to just listen a moment. He liked the mansion, he kept things there and one day it was just... not. 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' "He escaped?" Betsy mentally berated herself. She felt like she should have prevented it, only there was no way she could have. Not unless SHIELD allowed her to do so and she'd already pushed her luck with that astute organization with her antics upon arriving and demanding to be allowed to assist Mr. Grant. "We have a few personnel who have gifts, yes." She wasn't going to publically out the X-Men but the resources of SHIELD and the Avengers? They probably already had it in a file somewhere. After all, she didn't wear a mask when she was Psylocke. "The Shadow King is one of the two most powerful psionic entities on the planet. But he seems to have more power than we have ever heard. Something boosting his power and making him the most powerful. One of our sources," she says as she slips off the desk and moves behind it again, sitting and pulling open her laptop. She quickly pulls up a file and starts copying it over to a memory stick. Stark probably will have a fit at the old-school technology. "Mentioned something about a ring. But we don't know what that has to do with his boosted power levels." She looks to each man in turn. "He had even managed to compromise one of the more powerful telepaths that we have access to but I was able to sever his connection to her. With that indication and what we've witnessed, as well as the fact at least one of the telepaths in the network seems to be in Mexico, I'd say he has his tendrils everywhere." 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:'''     "Okay, the mansion first, then." Tony's generous. "The Avengers mansion is in another dimension right now; we're going to bring it back, but priority needs to be on stopping this guy, since it's just a building: it can be replaced," Tony says, similarly offhandedly as he has said before. This stuff happens to the Avengers, it appears. "There was a big riot of controlled people that came after the mansion and some local cultural buildings. Dr. Strange was controlled for a bit from what I can tell - a sleepwalker, if you like that term--, and one of my inventions was triggered into a destruct mode by him during that, which threatened to destroy most of the city, but I guess he woke up, and he warped the mansion and froze the explosion. That's the current best guess. He's back with us now." Tony pauses, just for a beat. "So can Avengers be mind controlled? Maybe, when asleep, or walking outside of their bodies into this astral mind realm? Not my area. We have some people that can block it though, like Scarlet Witch, Vision. It's a reason why I don't think we need the Justice League deep in this, as much fun as a controlled Superman really sounds like to me. A few of them might be immune to it though. I'll get someone to check." Delegating.     "As I said, I have a bunch on that 'ring' thing, just not on how he might be using it exactly, or what his MO is," Tony says, staring at her little memory stick as if it was a poor legless kitten. "What is he trying to do, what's the goal." 

:'''{{#var:14|Remy LeBeau (14)}} has posed:''' "How that even a thing? Telling what ones power be at and who the strongest... makes me picture big psychic arm wrestling competitions." Remy muses, his red-black eyes intent on Psylocke's ceiling while a deck of playing cards fans out from hand to hand like stairs. "If he this big a threat, I hope you got some serious defenses for the mind palace. Color me doubtful. Even of the Avengers but den, that more to why you here." The backseat commntary from LeBeau goes quiet as he mulls over the explaination of the mansion while Betsy and Tony data-exchange. Each time 'Shadow King' is mentioned Remy's brow lightly creases closer to a frown. 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' "I have no idea what his goal might be. In the past, he generally was more concerned with hedonistic choices. He didn't really go for world domination or the like," Betsy says as the download finishes. She pulls out that memory stick and pulls out another from her drawer. She must own stock in them. It gets plugged into the port and she begins making a second copy of their files. She looks back to them as she continues speaking now that the download is in progress. "This time, he managed to get control of a man named Harry who was able to network minds. Although, I'm not sure if Harry was the key or just another mind the Shadow King happens to be controlling. The person I mentioned that is part of my group, that had been under his influence, I didn't recall tracing her on Harry's network so I suspect it is simply the Shadow King himself and Harry is simply a tool. A damaged one from the last time I saw his mind. The Astral Plane is now dangerous. We have warned everyone with telepathic abilities to not go near it due to his influence. Phoenix," she opts to use the codename. "Mentioned he had something boosting his powers but we didn't know what. He had emphasized the word ring so it was a guess on our part that it might be tied to the boost. But what is the power booster and how does it work? Is it something we can cut power to? Because with it in play, I don't know if all the powerful minds I have accessible, combined, would be able to stop him." 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     "I don't know how much I can actually mention about it, but SHIELD is sending a team into Mexico, to try and weaken some of this guy's control. I'm going to be on that team. So firstly, anyone here want any souvenirs? I can't make any promises, but I'll do what I can. Secondly, do you have any more specifics about what is there? 'At least one' of them is in Mexico, but is that it? I'd almost want us to be connected during the strike, but if we're putting our heads together in the third eye sense of the word, that could be bad news if we get the whammy put on us." 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:'''     Tony angles his gaze aside to Hellboy where he's standing; Tony's thinking about it, running a finger slowly along the edge of his chin. "I can provide a full layout of the zones in Mexico where we fought one of his minion people before. He'd had one of his controlled people over there defending the fungus abomination. It was a lot of underground cavern areas. A maze. I pulled my drones out of there due to some government unhappiness on something else, but I can send them back quietly for a look-see. I'm aware of what SHIELD is doing, for reference." He's in their systems. A little.     Tony then looks back to Psylocke. "It's something called an infinity stone. But, instead of me paraphrasing the wizard gem thing, let's just do this. Mind if I borrow that?" Tony asks, gesturing loosely at the nearest large monitor in the room. He doesn't actually wait for the 'yes'. He orients his device loosely at it, typing away on the floating holographic orange and blue controls, a few quick swipes, and the video he wants launches for them. It's Dr. Strange, set in a Stark Tower meeting room. There's an Avenger or two present, such as Dr. Banner, just beyond him. Tony's in the foreground, eating a part of maybe a sandwich, but listening. Dr. Strange is describing something, oriented on Tony. "The mind stone. An aspect of the universe that condensed and hardened into a singular rock. The aspect of the mind. It's capable of infinite feats. It could grant you telepathy on par or above that of <redacted>, Tony. It's infinite. And if a being on the Astral plane has access to it in our dimension, it must have some corporeal form to access that power."     Tony pauses the playback. "So, that. But it's a physical thing. It's not in dreamland-plane." 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Hellboy's face was an ugly, unreadable impasse of glowing yellow eyes and a bad case of underbite, and that's when his mouth wasn't hanging open. But his twitching tail was one clue, as was him immediately and forcefully grabbing a cig from his belt to put in his mouth, a match struck against his stone hand to light the coffin nail.     "Powerful psychic, who previously was a Marquis de Sade type, who now has a Mind Gem...got it. Ok. I get it now."     He looked away for a moment, flexing his stone hand. Anyone who was even slightly psychic in this room would be able to feel his urge to punch and break something, if they probed just a little. As a third clue, that stone hand started lighting up in glowing yellow runes and glyphs, even as his fingers clenched into a fist followed by unclenching, over and over rapidly. After a moment he looked back to Stark and Psylocke.     "Mr. Stark, I'll accept any help you offer, I'll tell the guys I'm going with the good news. Psylocke, Ms. Braddock, any help you or the other psychics here can offer, clearly now's the time, right? I'll also write a report with SHIELD, asking them to help you as much as possible. Forget the red tape, this shit is serious."     Hellboy was anxious, and was turning to leave. He'd stay long enough to hear any parting words or advice or what have you, but he wasn't gonna stay here long at all. 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' The largest screen in the room is her flatscreen tv up on the wall. As it springs to life and plays the footage of the meeting"Infinity stone." Betsy says the words like she is trying them on for size. No memory. She's never heard of an Infinity Stone. "If it is physical, we need to find it and destroy it. If it's a power source, is there a way to track it's location? I'm going to guess Mexico since everything seems to be..." Her voice fades off as that cigarette gets lit up. In. Her. Office. She is about to say something when she gets that wave off him. It isn't that she is actively reading anyone's mind. She even has her shields in place. But sometimes, when people are in a high emotional state, it's like they are screaming mentally and it will slam into her shields. She gets that immediately, just as his oversized hand starts to glow. That has her standing from behind her desk, pushing back her rolling chair. It gives her the ability to move quickly should the need be there. He seems in control but she isn't one to take things at face value. She takes the second memory stick out of her computer and offers it to Hellboy. "This is all the information we have on the Shadow King. So you can give it to your people to prepare your team ahead of time. If you wish, I would be glad to go along. I have skills that could provide useful." She offers the second stick to Tony. 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:'''     "Really, Dr. Strange and Captain Marvel know more about infinity stones than I do. I was given the cliff's notes version before they ran off urgently," Tony shrugs, though there's a spark of him not liking that too much. He likes to be central to things.     "Hey, my drones have something, just a moment," Tony says idly to Hellboy as he starts to leave. "Some of the passages I was expecting are collapsed, but I'm getting subtle readings. My AI ran a quick analysis, and suggests it's a 'heart'beat type vibration. Not human, but aligned to the fungus systems when they were city-size. If you're going there, you'll want some of our acids that destroy fungus on you. As a suggestion. Most of it was in the Avengers mansion. ....oh. Cute. No wonder the mansion is missing. Very, very cute."     Tony pauses to consider that. "But I'm cuter. The JLA has some secreted. I'll network obtaining that for you, unless you have pals there." He's tapping away on his device. He pauses to look at the stick.     Urgh. People offering him things. He visable winces, doesn't take it. "I'll just snare it on my device here if that's okay, I don't need a physical copy," says the brilliant inventor helpfully, evading, with a negating gesture of hand; he's in the middle of checking out Mexico drones remotely.     "I'm more at the place where I want to outthink this guy. Anticipate where he's going instead of just playing cleanup. So he's hedonistic, and doesn't go for global domination? That's actually really useful." Tony hasn't gotten up yet, he's comfy. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Hellboy nods, taking in all this information, then speaks.     "Thank you both. Yeah, I saw you workin', Ms. Braddock, I'd feel a lot better with you helping us with all this psychic stuff. I'll talk to the crew about it, help ease them into the idea."     It would be nice to get that anti-fungal acid, but he figured the crew could improvise. SHIELD had ice stuff and the fungus hated ice, right? They'd be fine. Probably.     Hellboy left, hauling ass to go back to SHIELD headquarters as fast as the subways could get him there. There was a LOT of information to unpack. 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' The memory stick is tossed back atop her desk as Tony rejects the offer. He probably already copied everything anyway. As Hellboy leaves, Betsy calls after him. "Just let me know. Safe travels." That leaves her with Remy and Tony. Remy seems content to relax on the couch so she turns to the genius in the room. "He has been in the past at least. I have no idea why he has such a large amount of people he is controlling now though. Historically, from my understanding, it usually is only one or two, mainly the host he inhabits until he uses the body up then he changes." 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:'''     "So we're expecting a single host, even if he's doing all of this random micromanagement because he's more powerful?" Tony suggests. He then looks at Remy, and makes a quick decision. "I didn't mention it earlier, but I think he sent me away on vacation during when the mansion was set to be nuked. I wouldn't have just left in the middle of a project," Tony says, pausing with his device work, giving her a more full version of his attention. His gaze doesn't burn or carry weight or anything like that; more a sense of that there's a lot going on behind the wheel, with him. "I realized, but. I was on a plane to Italy." 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' "That's his usual MO but what is going on isn't like him. I honestly don't know what to think on it. Unless this Stone you mentioned has influenced him? If he follows his usual, he'll be somewhere with all the pleasures in life. Everything in excess. Food, drink...." Betsy doesn't add what else that entails but they can all read between the lines. "Perhaps where the host body is will be where the physical manifestation of this infinity stone can be found. And since the word ring came up, he may very well be wearing it. I say he. It is how we identify him but he could be inhabiting a male or female. He has used both forms in the past." She is still standing so she walks around to the opposite side of the desk, closer to where Tony is sitting. "You acted out of character." Not a question. He said it so she knows. She tilts her head to the side. "Do you hear screaming in your head by chance?" Although she knows the only way to be sure. "I doubt you will find this appealing but I think it would be best if you allow me to look into your mind to be sure there are no tendrils there." Because, now, what if he lies? But if he was being controlled, the Shadow King wouldn't be letting him share information. Madison had been able to though. He didn't control them at all times. Even were he in control, could he be feeding them this information to lead them into a trap? Not being able to even trust one's allies makes for difficulties. 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:'''     "People don't just change their nature. I think all this is to distract or confuse. The core drive'll still be there. Maybe we can use excess to get at him somehow. Everybody's got their weaknesses," Tony says, "Even if they seem like they're kings of magical shadow realms." He smiles a little.     "I acted a little bit out of character," Tony admits, with a move of hand to show how small the amount was between thumb and forefinger. He talks with his hands a lot. "Yeah. Snoop around," Tony agrees, without fear. He'd expected this to lead to that item: he wouldn't have brought it up if he hadn't been willing to be inspected. She'll read that off his surface thoughts if she takes a peek. He's also really interested in her physically but has kept all of that in check. There's some strong emotions to a woman he probably loves that is helping with the good behavior: he's not going to mess up the thing he has with Pepper.     He deliberately starts to think about puppies. Which also fires off a bunch of other thoughts related to Dr. Banner and a giant hulkbuster design and some ideas he'd been rolling around on whether one of the arms needs recalibration; he should make a note to JARVIS... 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' With the offer, Psylocke allows her mental shields to be lowered just enough. Paranoia at its finest. She's not going to leave herself open in case this is a ploy. At first there is no sign of her working as it is just surface thoughts. Those don't tigger an outward sign of her telepathy in use. It's like conversation for a normal person, just the hum of sound as the thoughts race by one after the other. Tony's are a bit different from what she is used to. The closest she can think of is Hank McCoy. Always working on a problem and generally things that are above her understanding. She picks up that he was expecting this. Perhaps even had hoped to be sure his mind was clear of anything foreign. Finding someone that finds her visually appealing isn't abnormal. She is aware of her appearance. She also has been exposed to people reacting to her since her telepathy developed in her youth. That doesn't even get a blink of an eye from the woman. His feelings for Pepper. Puppies. Hulk. Wait, what? Those didn't...oh, now it made sense. A weakness for puppies. Something she made a mental note of for the future. "I'm going to push a little deeper now, into your memories. It won't hurt but I want you to be aware. Just to that day." She wants him to be fully aware of what she is doing. As she begins to probe deeper, the violet butterfly aura appeared in front of her face. She concentrated, found the day in question. He was working...then a shadow. A wisp of something. He wanted to go on vacation. She moved back to the shadow and found a familiar echo. A quick check found no signs of taint or a tether linking him. No ghostly screams that never stopped. A moment later, the violet aura disappeared and they were as they had been. "You weren't actually controlled but a suggestion was made by a telepath and you followed it. Just a little nudge that acted on you doing something you enjoy and you took the suggestion. The work was by a person I have felt before, a minion of the Shadow King. He removed you from the equation." 

:'''{{#var:22|Tony Stark (22)}} has posed:'''     Tony tries to remember that day manually. It doesn't really work well. His memory is all over the place when it comes to minor details due to his hyper-focus. He was not paying much attention to the people he ran into when he went out for a pastrami sandwich during his workday, but the event that made him think of the vacation did happen there: he did see and look at Heather but didn't remember her consciously. He looks at a lot of women, really. It isn't something he stores well. He has enough other things in his head that trivial things get dumped quickly, such as random person at a deli counter.     "Well, that's something of a relief. And appropriate. I would have acted to stop that whole mansion 'issue' if I'd been there. I was remoted in anyway, and my robotics were important to look through the illusion the others were seeing. Obviously, my robots don't have minds, so they were nice and immune," Tony says, with his calm confidence. He moves to stand. "Well, there's lots more to do. I've got to get moving. Thanks for the quick check." 

:'''{{#var:18|Psylocke (18)}} has posed:''' "You are welcome, Mr. Stark. Please let me know if I can be of further assistance." Betsy says automatically as he heads for the door. She picks up the memory stick from her desk and plugs it into her laptop, tapping a few keys to erase it. Then she turns to follow him out the door. Her eyes fall on Remy who seems to have dozed off during the proceedings. There is a flash of amusement in her eyes, lips twisting into a smirk. She follows Tony out and walks with him to the door, escorting him as is the proper thing to do for a guest. And sending little mental nudges out so the students leave him alone so he won't be any later to his next appointment. "Until next time." 
}}

5534/A Bird in the Hand

2018-10-10T22:14:05Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/10/10 |Location=The Bronx |Synopsis=Hellboy and Superboy meet a ballerina carrying a laundry basket full of rubber duckies. |Thanks=Harley Qui..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/10/10
|Location=The Bronx
|Synopsis=Hellboy and Superboy meet a ballerina carrying a laundry basket full of rubber duckies.
|Thanks=Harley Quinn a great roleplayer.
|Cast of Characters=62, 212, 204
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:62|Harley Quinn (62)}} has posed:''' A typical street in the Bronx, at midday, is entirely flooded with people. People going places, people getting there. People hunting, gathering, and foraging. Today is no different. A pale woman in what appears to be some sort of Swan Lake costume is making her way down the sidewalk. Her fluffy white tulle tutu flounces, mid-thigh, with every step. Her hair is swept up into a graceful blonde updo. In her arms, she is carrying a round white laundry basket, completely full of yellow rubber duckies. Full to overflowing, as every few steps one of the little guys bounces off the top of the pile and lands on the sidewalk behind her. She's seemingly unaware of the phenomenon. No, in fact, she is completely distracted. Because up ahead is an older gentleman known to locals affectionately as "Merv," and he mans a hot dog cart. The best in town, or so people say. The costumed ballerina steps into line at the hot dog cart, leaning first one way and then the other, looking down the line. Duckies are spilling everywhere. 

:'''{{#var:212|Superboy (212)}} has posed:''' Trust Conner to know where the best hot dogs in town are sold. He has super-senses for the hot dog detection, and all. So most days he comes here between classes to get some lunch. Today it is not exception, and so Merv is busy getting ready a hot dog 'with everything'. Since he came here during a 20 minutes break during college courses, Conner is not wearing his so-called uniform. Which lately is just a black T-Shirt with a red S on it. But he is not wearing glasses either. Sometimes he gets recognized, but most times he is just another New Yorker paying little attention to the world around him. Super-senses and all it takes him a minute to spot the blonde and the duckie trail. "Miss," he points out, a hand already extended to receive the hot dog. "You are losing some ducks." 

:'''{{#var:62|Harley Quinn (62)}} has posed:''' The blonde turns to look at the guy without glasses and definitely no red S on his shirt. Wild blue eyes go wide, and she glances up at the towering pile of ducks in her laundry basket, then back at the few around her feet, and that one back there by the trash can. And the one a four year old is nabbing off the sidewalk as she passes. And the one toppling ass over teakettle as a city worker blows it along the gutter with a leafblower. "Oh. So I am...I'm such a clutz!" Five more duckies have hit the ground while she visually followed the trail back as far as she could see. 

:'''{{#var:212|Superboy (212)}} has posed:''' "Well, they are a lot of ducks," replies Conner diplomatically. He was about to go picking up ducks when Merv delivers the hot dog, and soda can. "That'll be five, fifty" he notes. Which is really unnecessary, it is like the 100th time Conner buys this. "Yeah, here," replies the dark-haired young man, giving the man some coins. And now his hands are full, so no space for duckies. Sorry, duck-lady. "So," he adds conversational-like. "Why so many ducks?" Then he takes a big bite out of the hot dog. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     For his part, Hellboy was getting off work after a long day, and his 'casual' uniform was a bit more...casual. Khaki shorts that ended at the lower thigh, held up tightly with a thick leather belt, along with what looked to be a black 'gym' shirt, of the long, sleeveless variety. Across the front of that black shirt was a yellow oval, with a black bat inside of it. It was a 'classic' sort of logo, one easily recognized here on the East Coast. Aside from a black watch around his massive left wrist, that was all that was covering the massive red form of one of SHIELD's loudest Agents. No gun, he kept that at the Triskelion. No utility belt or 'gear', that was all back home. No, Hellboy was just walking along the street of the Bronx, ice-cream in his left hand, his massive right stone one at his side, passively.     He wasn't close enough to the two to join in on the conversation, though he was getting close enough that when a cloven hoof stomped across one unfortunate rubber duckie, the squeak was shrill and loud. Enough for the half-Demon to look down with surprised yellow eyes, beneath the freshly sanded-down 'stumps' of his former horns.     "What in the crap?!" 

:'''{{#var:62|Harley Quinn (62)}} has posed:''' "Oh nooooo!" squeals Ballerina Harley, turning to look back toward the squeak in despair. "STEVE! Steve are you okay? STEVE!!" With a crestfallen gaze and quivering chin, she watches Hellboy look down at the duck. "He was my favourite..." Harley murmurs, half to the handsome guy helping her with ducks, and half to herself. "The more important question," she begins, looking back at Conner, "is why NOT so many ducks?" 

:'''{{#var:212|Superboy (212)}} has posed:''' Conner munches some delicious hot dog while looking at Harley with a slightly quizzical expression. Why not so many ducks? "For once," he swallows, "they fall off," Steve included, it seems. There might be also some other important reasons why not so many ducks. But to be honest, the hot dog is even more important, so the young man steps back to see the, uh, big red guy. GIANT red guy. Yes, Big Red can deal with the duck situation best. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Well, 'massive' was a bit of a loaded term, but definitely he was the broadest shape in this trio of people. Hellboy lifted one hoof, kinda bouncing around slightly as his right hand peeled the flattened rubber soldier off the bottom, looking at it in the palm of his hand.     "Uhhh...sorry. Y'know, maybe you could get a lid for your duck bucket, right? Keep 'em from doing...this. Hey look that kid's taking one, I mean are you cool with that?"     Big Red was gesturing around, looking at the slender blonde woman, and the dark-haired alien clone teenager. Not that he knew that, of course, but it just went to show how radically the public sphere had changed in the last few years. He still remembered when SWAT riddled him with bullets in '82. That hadn't been fun. 

:'''{{#var:62|Harley Quinn (62)}} has posed:''' "Huh? Oh...yeah sure. Nah it's cool," Harley says nonchalantly. "It'll probably be fine." She turns back to Hellboy and smiles. "Got some Steve on ya there," she chides, bowing with a flourish to pick one last little piece of yellow rubber from his hoof. "By the way, could ya direct me to the Hudson River, Big Red?" 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Hellboy looks around, adjusting his shirt even as idly, his right hand dropped the remains of 'Steve' back in her basket, nodding and grunting as a form of thank you when Harley scoops the last little piece off. The expression on his face was rather neutral at all times, but inwardly, the gears were turning. He didn't have any proof or any evidence, but his gut was telling him something was off. But he'd answer her question, pointing off toward some buildings.     "Here you go...thataway."     He immediately finished ice-cream and cone both, woofing them down like they were nothing. And to his digestive tract, they basically were. He'd watch Harley, but before she went too far, he'd hold up his hand and yell out, following after her loudly with clacking hooves.     "Hey, wait a minute, mind if I walk with you? I got some business over there, myself." 

:'''{{#var:212|Superboy (212)}} has posed:''' Conner pauses on his hot dog-devouring to point the way to the Hudson River. "It is some walk, though," he offers, "Harlem River is closer. About to blocks." He suggest helpful. Hey, maybe she wants to put the rubber ducks there. He is getting the idea the little blonde is not... serious, lets go by 'serious'. 

:'''{{#var:62|Harley Quinn (62)}} has posed:''' "Oh uhh...sure!" Harley has already gone several feet, precariously balancing the ducks to keep any more from escaping. "I mean, if you wanna. It's gonna be a boring trip. I'm not interesting at all. At. All. Harley isn't waiting, though. In fact, she's hustling her bustle a little more, in the direction of 'thataway.' "Oh no, it's okay," Harley chirps. "The Hudson River is way bigger!" 

:'''{{#var:212|Superboy (212)}} has posed:''' Conner uh huhs at that statement. Part of him idly wonders how many ducks will make it to the Hudson. But duck-lady is really not the oddest thing he has seen in New York (maaaaybe this week) so he takes it all like a New Yorker. With a hot dog. "See you later," he offers. Not likely, he thinks. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Immediately, Hellboy was moving his massive right stone hand, aiming the back of it for Connor's chest. Now, this was not an attack, or anything offensive, he just wanted to stop the lad a moment as he muttered with a low voice. Of course no matter how gently he meant it, it probably wasn't gonna 'tickle'.     "Listen, kid, I don't trust this. You might wanna get outta here for a few."     It was just advice, freely given as the big red man started following behind the pale woman. From his left pocket he pulled out something that looked like a beeper, but he seemed to mutter right into it, coordinates, badge number, simply updating SHIELD that he was checking something out. Did he need back-up, or his usual tools? Probably not...but he just hoped that if worst came to worst, that he could do anything with his limited toolset. 

:'''{{#var:62|Harley Quinn (62)}} has posed:''' Harley keeps right on flouncing in the direction indicated. She gets distracted once by someone selling cotton candy, but she is back on course soon enough. Laundry basket of ducks in one arm, giant rainbow cotton candy in the other hand. "I can make it from here, guys. Honest!" She calls back, hastening a little more. 

:'''{{#var:212|Superboy (212)}} has posed:''' Conner unghfs when the stone hand pushes him. Stone magical hand, goes right through his invulnerability and he blinks in surprise. That hurt. A little. "Hey, what?" Oh sure, he is big and red and maybe he is not a mutant but something else. "You leave that duck-y... er... lady, alone," demands the young man. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     In annoyance, Hellboy spun around and gave the kid a stern 'point'. The point could mean many things. 'Stay there'? 'Go in that direction'? 'You are special'? Whatever it was, it was likely a bit ominous.     The girl knew she was being followed now, which meant this was now becoming an extremely low-speed chase. Sighing in exasperation, Hellboy reached down the front of his gym-top, pulling from around his neck the SHIELD badge so that it could dangle proudly. He was walking a little faster now, hooves clacking against pavement.     "Hey, wait a minute, I just wanna ask you some questions is all. I just wanna know what you're gonna do with those ducks! You're not in trouble!" 

:'''{{#var:212|Superboy (212)}} has posed:''' Conner was about to get involved to, well, save Harley from the mean Big Red probably demon when Hellboy pulls out the SHIELD badge. Woah. Okay, so he is a cop. Or is it a spy? Definitely Big Red would be a crappy spy so Conner assumes 'cop'. And he is chasing after a little blonde with rubber ducks. Maybe a crappy cop too. "Hey Merv," he turns to the cart and forgets about duckies. "Give me another hot dog, okay?" 

:'''{{#var:62|Harley Quinn (62)}} has posed:''' With a squeak and a flail, Harley starts to run. Her hair is falling down from its updo, revealing it's black and red tips. Unfortunately, rubber duckies make better doors than windows, and she trips right over a curb, sending duckies everywhere. Along with the Jack in a Box in the center of the basket. With a panicked look, Harley looks back at Hellboy, pulls a device from her cleavage, jetting in the other direction just as the Jack in a Box explodes, sending Smilex gas everywhere. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Hellboy hits the dirt when the explosion happens. When the smoke clears, Hellboy is in the fray, coughing and helping as many people as he can, and probably losing Harley in the aftermath. He'll have to go to the SHIELD doctors to get this case of giggles taken care of, but at least this stuff didn't erupt in the water. 
}}

5496/Raining Dogs And Bats

2018-10-05T14:26:53Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/10/05 |Location=Manhattan Subway System |Synopsis=A Death Dealer, and a monster hunter. More alike than different, they actually hit it off. |..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/10/05
|Location=Manhattan Subway System
|Synopsis=A Death Dealer, and a monster hunter. More alike than different, they actually hit it off.
|Cast of Characters=761, 204
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' Its been several days since the Hag Event in the abandoned subway station, but as it were, Selene uses the subway system of Manhattan a lot. Once the sun has set on a day, she glides her way back out into the city to begin her work, to begin her hunt... someday she's out even during sun-up hours but those days she's usually hooded or down here, retreating from the light. Such as she is now, Selene is in transit between locations. She's seated inside one of the subway cars as it rolls down the tracks. She's in a back corner and has one of her booted legs up on the seat across from her, her jacket is on but its hanging down off of the seat beneath her. She's gotten a lot of 'looks' as it were, because of her general appearance and attire, but thats nothing she's not used to. Her guns are safely stored inside her jacket and out of sight, she's waiting for the next stop to arrive where she'll stand up and disembark the train however... headed for another section of abandoned tunnels where a fight club is known to organize for underground competitions. As of right now? She's just lounging and thumbing her cell phone's screen, cycling messages and reports from her fellow Death Dealers, being that they're a very wealthy coven they have all the latest and greatest tech. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     The routine was the same. The car went through tunnels, it stopped, people got on and people got off. This time was the same as the three previous others, except it appeared someone new got on the station, someone who was turning a lot of heads the way Selene had previously, except there was a little bit of a murmur and panic as the big, red-skinned man clacked on to that cramped little tube. he was dressed a bit more 'casually' at the minute, his trenchcoat folded around his left hand and arm, and wearing a black stretchy spandex shirt over his muscled torso, with a pair of khaki shorts over his hips, held in place with a thick chunky leather belt. People seemed to calm down a little when he pointed out the SHIELD badge secured to the side of that belt, but there was still an air of nervousness.     He stood around for a few minutes, until he looked around, and seemed to notice and recognize the blackclad woman way off in the corner. And it looked like he was starting to walk her way, with a wry smirk on that face. And somehow, impossibly, his glowing yellow eyes were able to convey a sort of warmness or fondness. Maybe it was something in the lighting of the subway car. 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' Whatever it was... Selene does a quick double-take down to the front of the car when she sees him and she recognizes him pretty swiftly. She also sees that SHIELD badge on him and to no surprise she gently sighs and drops her booted foot from the railing it was propped up on. The pale skinned woman in tight black leather sits up then and she moves to stand, her long trenchcoat falling around her lower half as she raises a hand to grasp onto one of the metal support rings as the train is starting to slow down. Selene's eyes look back over toward the big huge red man and she stares at him a moment, but the passengers board the train are all standing up now and blocking him from reaching her... and now that she knows he's an Agent, she has no intentions of sticking around to chat... so when the doors to the train open up on her side she quickly sweeps out of them with the flow of her trenchcoat waving around behind her legs as she walks... He might have a little bit of trouble catching up with this woman, ontop of the trouble he may have already had just finding her at all! 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Funnily enough, Hellboy actually wasn't specifically on just to find her, no he here tonight off-shift, looking to maybe catch a few jazz shows in the city tonight. But now that he had the opportunity to track down the woman from before, he wasn't going to let this opportunity slip away. So immediately he was back off the train he'd just got on, dancing his way past the crowd with those cloven hooves of his, and immediately clacking toward the blackclad form of the woman. One thng about Hellboy, you could hear him coming a mile away. And that was before he yelled out for her, hustling more so that he could jog over.     "Hey, wait a minute, I just wanted to talk! You're not in trouble or anything." 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' Selene was certainly 'spooked' by him now that she'd seen his badge, it made a lot more sense. She knew that SHIELD has a division dedicated to rooting out the darker sides of life, vampires included amongst that. So even when he calls out to her she doesn't stop and he seems to be just too far behind her as she moves on ahead down the tunnel. He'll find her stepping up to a service hallway door that is chained off, but she has the chain off of the door in a matter of seconds, and is then stepping inside it and shutting it behind her. She holds one hand on the bar of the door and stares back at Hellboy, then she turns and vanishes around the corner of the long tunnel that goes alongside the subway track. The door that she'd gone through is closed, but its still unchained and unlocked now, and the padlock on it has been broken, not picked, she ripped it open with her bare hands... thats comforting for him to know, likely. Further into the tunnel beyond he'll see she's completely vanished, but how? 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Hellboy's detective instincts were strong, and he stopped to investigate her handiwork. the busted chain, the ripped padlock, yeah he knew that she was capable when they dealt with the 'Crone of the Countryside', but it was always good to have a reminder of what you were dealing with. When he stepped through the door, he had his trenchcoat on, and was in the process of fastening a large, chunky utility belt around his waist, handcannon ready at his hip. He took his time going through the tunnels, taking out a flashlight with a powerful blue beam, as strong as concentrated moonlight. All of the illumination, none of the solar heat that might bother someone of the fanged persuasion.     "You know I knew a guy who studied under Houdini, once. He said one hundred percent of the time, he was usually hiding under a milk crate. Oh yeah, he was also a midge a uhhh, a dwarfttle person, he was a little person. That's the term they prefer, I remember now." More silence, and then.     "Y'know if you used teleportation and aren't actually hiding somewhere clever, I'm gonna feel really stupid, walking around here and talking to myself." 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' Hellboy would likely feel as though he was being watched the entire time that he proceeded on into the tunnels. These weren't the subway tunnels themselves, these are side tunnels for maintenance workers with offshoot passages that go out onto the railroad lines themselves with periodical archways here and there. The tunnels are fairly well lit, but not bright by any means and as he talks he can hear quiet noises off in the direction of the tracks to his right. But after he says those words about the classic Magician, a 'presence' sweeps behind him, soon to be followed by her voice, its a rich voice, one that is sultry in tone and flavored with a thick non-American accent. "I attended one of his escape artist events." She says to Hellboy's back. "He was born only a handful of miles away from the very same place I was born." Selene's eyes are a pale blue, almost white. She stares up at him from a few feet away. "Its a small world." She softly adds then, her stare is intense, like she's studying everything about him all at once. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     She could see the tightness of his ponytail, in fact it somewhat resembled a topknot. The big, powerful form turned around slowly, his yellow eyes again regarding her. If there was any fear or nervousness in that face, it wasn't showing. Then again, with a face like that, any kind of 'emotion' was somewhat hard to pick up. His features were almost impassive, carved into stone, the bottom rows of his teeth visible almost at all times.     "Y'know, later in Houdini's life, they took him driving in one of those old timey cars, and when they were done showing him around and showing off, he turns to leave, then looks around and says 'Hey, how do you get out of this thing?'"     Was it a joke? An anecdote? Whatever it was, it hung in the air awkwardly, Moments of empty air before the big man looked around and nodded to himself. Yeah, that was his ice-breaker. Really nice, huh?     "I never got the chance to say thank you the other day, that old broad was really getting to be a nuisance, I figure eventually she woulda got tired of eating ghosts, and start movin' on to 'real' people any day now. I know you were just there by circumstance, but you helped prevent something bad from happening." 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' When the big man turns around to look down at her and tells his joke, which is funny, the response he gets out of her is a slight tilt of her head while she does continue to just stare at him, as though the joke confused her? But she only leaves the tilt there for a second before she gently shakes her head and glances away, she turns and starts to walk for the archway on the right that leads into the subway tunnels, but she stops, peers out into the tunnel and then looks back over her shoulder at him. A second later and a train roars past the opening, causing her long black leather jacket to get whipped back by the air pressure rushing into where they both are... the train is gone in under a minute though and Selene turns to face him fully again. "I'm happy to help." She says finally in response. "It was a filthy thing, it got what it had coming to it. Surprised as I was to see it, and..." She looks him up and down then as she takes a step toward him again. "Yourself... I'm still happy that its gone on to another life, far away, now." 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     "Yeah, turned out she came over from Eastern Europe, a long time ago. She'd been living on Ellis Island all this time, but when that stopped being a buffet, she hitched a tourist boat over for one of the main islands. I'm glad you were there, it was good having someone watch my tail, who knew what they're doing for a change."     She notes surprise at seeing him, and he understands that, he tends to make for an unusual sight most of the time. These days the blow is softened by Mutants bublicly being out and proud, but that wasn't the case once upon a time. He still remembers all the struggles to keep him out of the tabloids, all of the screaming matches with his division heads when the witnesses were more than zero...he was happy that wasn't the case anymore.     "You were running from something, and I think we ran into some of those guys during the fight...are you in some sort of trouble, with werewolves? I don't even know who you are...but are you in danger?" 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' Selene hasn't seen anything like Hellboy in a long while, she'd run into things similar to him before but they generally weren't as chatty as him, or as... domesticated? Is that the right word? Its definitely why she tilted her head at his words, the surprise of how he talked compared to what he looked like. That was an unusual thing for her, for the world that she lives in beneath that of the 'shining world' above. Selene isn't apart of the same world that the rest of the modern society above dwelled within, she may linger on its fringes, but never is immersed within it. "If I'm not danger, then I'm likely doing my job poorly." She replies to him then as she takes a step off to the side of the archway and then leans back against the wall of the tunnel that they occupy, with her right foot coming up to rest on the wall behind her while her knee then juts out in front of her. She looks over at him, keeps her eyes on his face. "My name is Selene." She finally tells him. "I've come to New York to eradicate a collective of Lycans who've come here to recruit from the pool of mutant and meta-human populations that are thick within this region. Its a long standing... war, but unlikely one most have ever witnessed before. Sadly, for this area, its finally spilled onto the shores of north America." 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Wow. He just got a lot of information. A war with werewolves, a longstanding conflict, the black leather, with the predatory look to her eyes and the way she was so at home in the darkness...not to mention her being around when Houdini was born(So she said, anyway.). When she stepped backward, he stepped forward. He wasn't entering her personal space, he wasn't trying to close the distance...he was just trying to maintain the space they had. When he spoke, he was still putting the pieces together.     "You say werewolves are trying to, what, make more soldiers for themselves? So they can take on your clan? There's a gang war going on between vamps and wolves, going on right beneath our noses, and nobody's noticed? Selene, this is a lot to take in at once." 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' Selene doesn't look up at first, not until he starts to speak and then she does look up at his interesting looking face. She gives him a faint expression of 'tell me about it' but the expression fades rather quickly as she glances to her left, his right, back down the way they'd both come from originally... back out toward the station. "Yes well." She starts, her gaze sweeping back over and up at him. "Its been here for the better part of a year and a half now, and I've been called in to work with it, to stop it." She glances him over again, her eyes linger on his SHIELD badge and she tips her slim pointed chin at it, then looks back up at him with her icey eyes. "You're with them then?" She asks. "The 'world police' as they like to act. Is this an official interaction?" She seems as though she might be on the border of being defensive now with this subject. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Hellboy looked down at the badge on his belt, to the matching SHIELD logo across the front of his shirt, knowing that to a secret shadow soldier fighting an unsanctioned war on foreign soil, Selene might be a bit nervous about someone in a position of authority, like himself. So he decided to play it cool.     "Oh yeah. Well, no, well it's complicated. Well I'm an Agent, but it's kind of complicated. I don't really deal with much spandex and super crime, I'm just here to make sure people don't get eaten or otherwise victimized. You know the big ugly we took down? That's pretty much what I do 24/7. Started in '52, and I guess you could say I've gotten pretty good at it since then. Get shot a lot, y'know, it is what it is."     But he takes a step toward her as he speaks, and raises both of his hands in a show of non-aggression. As his massive right hand moved around, the soft grating of stone on stone could be faintly heard. A train whizzed by, like a bullet. Then it passed, and they were in silence again.     "But I'm not here to book you, or anything like that. In fact if you say that these guys wanna kidnap people, then I wanna help you prevent that from happening. My priority is just to keep people safe, from the things that go bump in the night." 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' Selene's eyes remain on him as he speaks, they're on his face at first but then they move to that huge hand of his, the one that looks like a battering ram. She then glides her eyes back up his arm and rest them upon his own. "I started in '83." She tells him, her voice soft as silk. "1383." Which wasn't entirely true, she's actually immortally stuck at the age of 19, for thats when she was turned into a Vampire by her lord Viktor and thats when she began her service to him and later to the Death Dealers that she now commands. "We have similar goals then." She tells him. "Though mine are not so broad in my targets, and are far more focused on... revenge, for the deeds that these lycans paid to my people centuries ago." She stands upright then from her lean and places her foot back onto the ground, continuing to stare up at him since he's considerably taller than she is. "The lycans are murderous monsters, and thogh I may fall into a category some would label the same... my people have evolved beyond feeding off of innocents." She raises her left hand up and moves it inside of her black leather jacket toward her left hip, a second later and she's pulling out a small black bag that she lets unfold in the palm of her hand, it displays vials made out of silver and glass, inside the glass? Blood. "Its synthetic. We produce it ourselves. We're striving to no longer be a threat to humanity, mutnats, or otherwise. Just the lycans." 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     The big man stepped closer, clacking with those hooves. He'd stop if she showed she was uncomfortable, but if she wasn't, then he'd keep walking until he was within touching distance. He held out his left hand, even as he glanced down at the vial.     "May I?"     If she handed it over, he'd examine it, give it a once over, even heft it in his hand as he seemed to give a satisfied nod.     "Not a bad idea. You know I might have met a few of your cousins in the past, but usually they aren't civil enough to have a conversation, much less invent synthetic blood. If this is all true as you say, then maybe we can work together, in a way that benefits us both. Is there a way I can contact you, or maybe it's better if we meet up at one of your hunting grounds, and we figure out what the Dog Pound is plotting?" 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' Selene doesn't seem remotely intimidated by the big guy coming up close to take the vials from her, she's been around too long to be intimidated by much of anything. She doesn't even fear the cold embrace of death at this point in her life, not that she wants to have whats left of her life ended by any means, but she... doesn't fear it. She lets him investigate the vials to determine his own take on them and validate her words. When he seems satisfied with it they're closed up and slipped back away inside of her jacket. She then pulls out her phone. "I'd be happy to have assistance from someone who seems to be experienced as you are." And that much is true. Selene needed contacts in this region, she lacked them. She was used to Europe, not to the streets of North America. She shakes her head gently at his words as she brings up her phone's number and turns it to show it to him, holding it in a similar way in the palm of her hand as she had the vials of faux blood. "The vampires from this region are moronic, at best. They're crude, untrained, slovenly and worth nothing but the early ends that they inevitably earn themselves. The vampire hunters in this country are better trained, smarter and more plentiful. Its a wonder there are any of 'my kind' left in this place." Her words are continued to be soft, but she clearly has an edge on those opinions of American vampires. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Instantly, Hellboy was jotting down the number in a physical notebook, pen striking across paper at almost the speed of sound. Thankfully the sound barrier wasn't broken down here, as there were glass vials of blood that they needed to be considerate of. Notebook and pen pocketed, the son of a Demon and a witch held up one of her vials, handing it back to her gently with his smaller left hand('smaller', but it was still massive compared to her slender more nimble form.), as he spoke with that rolling, smooth voice of his.     "Well, I'm sure you could teach them a thing or two, whip 'em into shape. Maybe teach 'em to clean up their creepy mansions a little, at least."     Ok, he was rambling, and it was time to stop. Hellboy looked backward, and started making his way back toward civilization.     "I'm glad I ran into you again, Selene. I've got a good feeling about this!"     And with that, he was gone. And he needed to lay down, again. 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' At first Selene took the vial back from him and she finally showed the faintest hint of a smirk at something he said. As he turns to leave though she glances down to the vial and then turns back to him. "Hey." She steps over at him and offers it back. "Take it." She tells him then. "Run tests on it, your 'SHIELD' can do that, I'm certain of it. They should have this, they should distribute it to other... vampires. It could help them be less of a danger to you in the future." She nods her head softly once at her own words to the big red man. "Most will refuse it, some won't though. Some are desperate to find a way to ease what they're going through... this can help you." She was given away a secret serum that her own coven were responsible for creating, its possible she could get into a lot of trouble for that, but then again, Selene did what she believed was 'right' and she didn't care what others felt about her actions. Its why she'd rose to the top of the Death Dealers, but its also why she continuously enrages her leadership as well. "Good luck out there." She tells him then, and turns go in the opposite direction. 
}}

5492/Tournament: Raphael vs Razorfist

2018-10-04T17:49:57Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/10/04 |Location=Kairos Isle |Synopsis=Knife vs sai, monster vs freak. There can be, only one! |Thanks=Derek Khanata rules! |Cast of Characters..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/10/04
|Location=Kairos Isle
|Synopsis=Knife vs sai, monster vs freak. There can be, only one!
|Thanks=Derek Khanata rules!
|Cast of Characters=316, 1604
|Tinyplot=Tourney
|Tinyplot2=Tournament
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     This island was kinda nice. The sway of the trees, the gentle ocean breeze, the feeling of sand between his two toes. Yeah, Raphael had never been much of a beach guy, but a place like this might just convince him. As he waited for his opponent to show up, he merely paced around the dunes while watching the waves roll in and roll away, every so often bouncing and throwing mock kicks and punches into the air. He adjusted his mask, and felt the weight of his sais in their hilts.     He was ready. He was so ready to do this. 

:'''{{#var:1604|Derek Khanata (1604)}} has posed:''' It's sunny today on the Greek Island of Kairos, though hundreds of feet below our contestants, the Aegean Sea is crashing dramatically along the rocky shore. A simple black sand circle, some twenty yards across, has been marked off by a ring of stones. Surrounding this circle are several encampments of various martial arts academies, each with their own pavillion tent, flags of origin snapping in the wind, announcing their allegiance. From one such pavillion tent two young women, each ready to try out as extras in a Kardashian spin-off in blocky black sunglasses, gold-plated, and chunky, faux-designer handbags. They each pull back a tent door, and from within steps out a monster. Six and a half feet tall, built like a linebacker or a heavyweight and already oiled for action, the man behind the black leather hood snarls and stretches his neck as he approaches the circle, his two assistants close behind. 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     Raph had to admit, this guy looked like serious business. For his part, Raphael was dressed simply, in his red mask, and with tight wrappings around his hands, wrists, feet and ankles. To help keep his hands and feet straight when he throws punches, to make sure they're the most effective they can be. Along with the elbow and kneepads, around his waist was a curious addition: A pair of red Muay Thai shorts, with white 'sai' patterns across each leg. It was around the waistband of these shorts that his sais were kept, just waiting to be used. For his part, Raphael glared out with white eyes masking his rage(and nervousness), and he threw a few introductory kicks as he danced toward the big man. Not even close to making contact, there was still about twelve feet between them. But as sand flew up from each kick, it would certainly make them look impressive, to anyone looking on.     "Awright, pal, took ya long enough, though I guess that little bondage number is more complicated than a pair of shorts. You ready ta be knocked down by one of the absolute best, huh?!"     He stood ready, in a guarded, defensive kickboxing stance...though the more he looked at this guy...the more he realized that he might need the sais for this one. 

:'''{{#var:1604|Derek Khanata (1604)}} has posed:''' Razor-Fist steps to the edge of the circle opposite of Raphael as his assistants busy themselves unfolding a picnic blanket beneath a gnarled oak nearby, removing from their oversized handbags what looks like the making of a full meal. As the final arrangements were made by the island's staff before the bout, the giant paces along the edge of the circle, chin lowered, gaze locked onto Raphael. Oddly, his hands seem to be covered in some of black leather casing, extending up to mid-forearms. "I look forward to it, little creature. But first--I dine." The picnic is set--a wooden block, and a hunk of dark, raw red meat is presented neatly on a tamati mat, uncut. Razor-Fist sits easily, and his assistants begin busying themselves with unclasping the leather sheaths mouted around his forearms. He speaks loudly, projecting his voice to be heard by the turtle, "If you are ninja, you certainly must have a familiarity with sashimi. The greatest sushi chefs spend years laboring to master the art of the perfect cut; I am one such master. Dine with me, and judge for yourself!" 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     Raphael was pacing back and forth, looking for the trick, for the trap. He wanted to just go on and pummel this guy already, but it looked like there was more at play here...a demonstration? A picnic?     "Whaddawe, yoga bears?"     Despite his incredulous voice, he came over, and though he was wary, he hunkered down on his haunches, kneeling down with his 'shell' rigid and straight. Whoever taught him, taught him well.     He was increasingly wary of the things on the man's arms, and was wondering what they were. He figured, maybe this guy was just that good a kickboxer, he didn't even need his arms? He doubted it, though. He took one of the meats and, staring at his opponent the entire time, tenderly started eating one. Nibbling. If it was poisoned, he wanted as little of it in his system as possible. But he couldn't just say 'I think this is poisoned', because that wasn't honorable or whatever. He hated games like these. 

:'''{{#var:1604|Derek Khanata (1604)}} has posed:''' "You honor me by sitting at my table. Please, allow my assistants to pour a cup of sake; it will warm your belly before the match." The tanned brunette, the brim of her sun hat flapping in the breeze, sets out a pair of simple clay cups and pours from a wine bottle. Razor-Fist nods to her and she raises the cup to his lips. He sips, and nods again. Moments later, the second assistant has unlatched the leather sheathes, and she swimgs them open--revealing glittering, razor-edged blades replacing his hands and lower forearms, reinforced by a metal guard set in the stump, each approximately a foot and a half in length. The leather sheathes are lined in a red velvet, and the giant lets out a sigh of relief as they are removed, allowing him to move more freely. "Please observe--my technique is flawless." The cut of crimson flesh, its origin not easily identifiable, is laid on the tatami mat next to several prepared mounds of rice. Razor-Fist easily maneuvers the meat between the flat and the tips of his blades. He cuts smoothly, with a careful eyes, dividing the meat into several thin slices, which he layers atop the rice and sets upon Raphael's prepared square clay dish. The meat is delectible, and Razor-Fist enjoys his portion with relish, being hand-fed by one of the assistants, who has a knowing smirk hidden behind her chunky glasses. "We are enjoying an uncommon dish today, little creature! It is a specialty; served as a type of natural restorative. Perhaps you're familiar with it?" 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     He had the meat, chewing it slowly as he looked around at things more closely. The taste of this, it certainly wasn't beef. He eyed the blades that were now exposed in the light, that were probably being washed and cleaned after his cutting of meat. He eyed the smirking women, looked down at the cup of liquor down on the table, and thought about where he was.     As he chewed, the meat started to lose its flavor, as Raph quickly lost what little appetite he had. When one of the ladies gave him a smirk, he gave one right back, and spat that meat right at her. Moments later he'd lean over that table in a flash, and throw out a hard, fast snapping punch right at the man's crooked, leather hooded face.     "Yeah, I think we had enough picnic time, Slapchop. You got da bill for dis?" 

:'''{{#var:1604|Derek Khanata (1604)}} has posed:''' The assistant recoils in horror as a thick glob of half-chewed flesh lands on her cream-colored suitjacket. Razor-Fist laughs, a loud, brash, full-bellied roar suitable for the villain of a late '80s anime. When the blow comes, he is caught unawares by the jab, which lands soldily on his nose, leaving a smattering of blood on his upper lip. The giant recovers quickly, rising to his feet nimbly into a wrestlers' crouch. He grins malevolently, arms splayed wide, assessing his opponent. "It was not to your taste, beast? Perhaps a cousin of yours--or a former lover?" "I'll deliver--and collect--the butcher's bill in the arena. I only fear that you will prove too gamey." 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     Raphael watched with his eyes, not moving his head or neck the entire time Razor-Fist was doing his whole song and dance. When he finally stood, it was after a few moments have passed, and he slowly walked away from the table to a more suitable, 'clear' fighting area. Gulls cried in the distance, and the sun was hanging over them in that early morning environment. Raphael was perfectly calm as he took the sais from his sheaths, spinning and twirling them in his hands. Amazing that, for only having two fingers and a thumb, that he was able to wield these weapons so expertly.     "Ok. Let's do this." 

:'''{{#var:1604|Derek Khanata (1604)}} has posed:''' Razor-Fist strides confidently into the circle, stones crushing under his heavy bootheel. Chin upturned, smirking haughtily at the diminutive mutant, he replies, "Indeed." A referee, swaddled in black cloth, silently motions that the round is about to begin. Razor-Fist adopts a wide-legged crouch, blades crossed in front of him, his corded muscles tensing as he prepared for the signal to begin. 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     And begins, the round does. Raphael began to circle around carefully and cautiously, until the very second he didn't. Having shorter weapons than Razor-fist, he had to get in close where that length wouldn't be such a problem, and where he could work without fear of easy counter-attacks and ripostes. Immediately he brought those sais up in a series of attacks, but really those were made obvious so that Razor would have no choice but to parry, deflect or dodge out of the way. Raphael's real intent came in the way of his leg swinging low, trying to sweep Razor-Fist's feet right out from under him. Just a test, to see just how capable ths guy really was. 

:'''{{#var:1604|Derek Khanata (1604)}} has posed:''' Razor-Fist matches Raphael pace for pace, and when the flurry of feints come, he's ready for them. Steel clashes once, twice, the larger opponent pressed but not yet concerned, swatting away the blows as they come. Raphael strikes out with a probing kick; Razor-Fist buckles momentarily, but recovers, stepping back several feet to regain traction. His breathing is tense, but not yet labored. Before Raphael can redouble his attack, Razor-Fist goes on the offensive, charging forward with a series of wide, bold swings, forcing his smaller opponent to retreat while maneuvering so as to entrap the mutant along the circle's edge. 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     "Y'know, it's funny, I was all ready ta show the world that I could fight unarmed as well as with weapons, an' then you come along."     A slash across Raphael's bicep and thigh has the turtle dancing backwards with a sneer of pain, red crimson trickling down green, scaled skin. He's backing up until he feels his feet right on the edge of that circle, and sees Razor charging in again. He knew this guy was big, and he knew this guy was strong, but Raphael was a turtle. Unable to do crunches or any abdominal muscles, for him and his brothers it was arms and legs all day. So when Razor next charged in, Raphael's intention was to side-step him at the last minute, hooking his ankle across the psycho's booted feet, while his right hand comes down in a clubbing blow aimed for the back of the man's head, the blunt hilt of his sai aimed right for his skull. That would give him something to think about, and if this worked, he'd go sailing right past the edge as well!     "Well, there's always next fight, I suppose. Unless the next guy has hooks for knees or knives fer eyes or somethin'." 

:'''{{#var:1604|Derek Khanata (1604)}} has posed:''' With a spurt of crimson as his probing slash connects, Razor-Fist surges forward, a finishing thrust against a pinned opponent--only to have the more agile turtle slip from his grasp. Realizing his error, Razor-Fist swings wildly in his defense, only intercepting the blow by sheer luck. He reels back from the edge, swiping desperately as he works to regain his balance as the turtle moves in for the kill. Only the call of the gong saves him, his upper lip soaked in sweat.. The assistants rush forward with a towel and water bottle, blotting his neck as he greedily slurps at the plastic straw. When, several moments later, they return to their starting positions, Razor-Fist still seems brash, confident. As they await the referee's mark, he nods to his opponent, "You are quite skilled, for a beast." 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     "Yeah, you should meet my brother. He's a real party animal."     For his part, when the gong rang he returned to the starting position in the center of the circle, and merely crouched down to wait. He didn't have assistants, he didn't have water, he didn't bandage his wounds. He just let them sting and bleed slowly, even as he slowed his breathing. Again, not once did he take his eyes off of the bladed warrior, and once the round was started, all he did was quickly hop back up to his feet. Idly he stretched out his legs, stalking around the bigger, leatherclad figure. This time his posture appeared to be more outright defensive, as he waited to see what happened. 

:'''{{#var:1604|Derek Khanata (1604)}} has posed:''' Razor-Fist doesn't waste the opportunity--he methodically begins putting on the pressure, seeking weakness with a series of feints designed to keep the turtle retreating, wear him out. The two warriors circled once, twice, until-- Raphael's sai skids down Razor-Fist's blade, locking against the guard. The giant smiles through gritted teeth as he turns his wrist, attempting to force the mutant's weapon from his grip. 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     Sais were actually designed with this in mind, and Raphael's mastery of these tools was impressive. Every time a killing or even a set-up stroke was thrown out, it was like the turtle had the answer to it. Of course, Razor-Fist was smart enough to know what he was up against, and Raphael' left weapon was stuck in a guard against two lethal weapons. The ninja grit his teeth, his eyes narrowed in anger under that red mask of his, and feeling his grip weaken, he decided to part with the tool. Though, the way he suddenly twisted the weapon and spun it, the bladed one might or might not have a moment of trouble bringing his weapons out from the guard, particularly if he could get the blades to 'bite' against the metal of his sai.     It would only be one moment, possibly less, before the man was free of his predicament, but that was all the time Raphael needed to run at the villain and leap up. His arms, legs and head all tucked into his shell as it flipped, the hard back of it aiming right for the man's face or skull. Regardless of the impact the ninja would flip and land on his feet, leaving the safety of his home after that hard attempted knockout shot.     "Having fun yet, Edward Scissorhands?!" 

:'''{{#var:1604|Derek Khanata (1604)}} has posed:''' It only requires a moment to strike--and the blow is clean. Razor-Fist, attention drawn to the spinning sai as it sails off the cliff into the surf below, glinting madly in the morning sun, staggers under the weight of the unexpected attack, defenseless against such an exotic technique. The colossus crashes to the ground, landing hard on his backside. He exclaims an audible, "oof!", face contorted, the wind knocked from him. And the turtle is on him before he can fully recover; his guard's up, but Razor-Fist can't seem to regain the momentum. He's breathing hard now, eyes bloodshot. The mutant closes, and the double amputee throws a powerful kick at his opponent's midsection, hoping to catch him off-guard, buy himself a moment to regain his wits. 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     He leapt up to drive down a punch into the prone man's face, but his eagerness to end the fight got the better of him. In his aggression he didn't see the boots until they were against his midsection, and he was being thrown backwards hard on his shell. Good thing was he rolled to his feet immediately. Bad news, he rolled to his feet outside of the circle. Instantly, the fight was stopped, and Raphael was directed to the center, where he 'patiently' waited for Razor to get back up. Well ok, maybe he was rocking on the balls of his feet, and swaying like an impatient boxer between rounds. And maybe this was all just so he could block the pain of his injuries out of his mind. His bandanna mask was swaying in the breeze, coming down across one shoulder as he tossed his one sai back and forth.     "Yer gonna go get that back fer me, after the fight. You think I just got a closet of sais back home, like Mr. Ninja Monopoly or something?" 

:'''{{#var:1604|Derek Khanata (1604)}} has posed:''' The larger man groans heavily as he stands, stiff, shoulders heaving. Razors takes the precious moments afforded to him to gasp deeply, steadying himself. He's looking worn, but not out, and rolls his neck from shoulder-to-shoulder, "Your constant patter is like the waves crashing against the coast--all sound and fury, signifying nothing. You will shatter against my final onslaught." When the referee motions, Razor-Fist steps carefully, patiently circling. His left 'hand' is pointed outwards and down, to ward against attack, while his right was arched at the elbow and raised above his brow, poised to strike. 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     When Razor-Fist spoke, suddenly Raphael would spin and pivot, throwing that sai and letting it hurl blade over handle right for the face of Razor-Fist. The good news was, this was slow and obvious enough that it would never tag a master like the armless assassin. Whether he ducked, dodged, or parried it with those incredible blades of his, it was never going to connect. And even if it did? It wasn't going to connect blade-first.     The bad news was that Raphael was charging in behind it, side-stepping and shuffling towards the larger man at the speed of light, this 'side-kick' was taught in karate, kickboxing, Tae Kwon Do and everywhere else, and was an extremely simple and basic technique. It also had a great deal of power behind it, that heel and the hardened sole of Raphael's leathery foot, aiming for the chin, or soft underjaw of the villain. If Spider-Man were here, he as a former wrestler might recognize it as a 'super kick', which would get super results if it super landed right here! 

:'''{{#var:1604|Derek Khanata (1604)}} has posed:''' PTANG! Razor-Fist deflects the sai with ease, the weapon flying into the trunk of the oak which shades the twin assistants, branches convulsing noisily. "You fool! Don't you know that Razor-Fist is never disarmed? Now--" The larger combatant never gets the chance to finish the thought. He's already stepping forward, eager to press the advantage, to strike the killing blow before the high-flying mutant gets the better of him once and for all--and he walks right into it. That heel connects with his chin and Razor-Fists spins, stunned, barely able to raise a blade to his defense. 

:'''{{#var:316|Raphael (316)}} has posed:'''     "Yeah, buddy? Well why don't you go do a handstand!"     His leg is lowered, inwardly in the back of his mind he is exceedingly grateful that he didn't get crazed or nicked along an artery. The man is spun around and Raph had an opportunity to land a death-blow. Feeling the blood along his arms and legs he was tempted, already his handwraps had a sickening crimson color, darker and more 'wet' than his mask or his shorts. He rose his hand up, ready to club down in a chopping motion...but he wasn't going to do that. Splinter raised him better than that.     Instead, that hand came down against both of Razor's 'stumps', the closest to wrists he could get, while his other hand reached down to grasp along the guy's tailbone. Then he launched the guy, using a combination of judo, wrestling and just freakish turtle strength to hurl the man head over heels at that same tree. Where his sai sat plunged? he was aiming both of the man's swordknivehandthings to plunge right below. Wouldn't exactly be a 'knockout' shot, but he figured that would definitely count as a ring-out.     That done, he'd fall backward on his shell, looking up at the sky as he breathed heavily, his skin perspiring in a light sheen of...sweat. Yeah, the Ooze that turned them into more than Turtles, it kind of messed with the whole 'cold-blooded reptile' thing. Truth be told he had no idea what he'd classify as these days, but he definitely knew that he'd classify as tired.     "Razor-Fist. Shredder. What is it with bad guys and cutlery?"     The sky didn't answer. 
}}

5455/Death And Destruction

2018-10-01T01:29:47Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/09/27 |Location=Knowhere |Synopsis=A Destroyer meets One Bad Bastiche. And the marketplace will never be the same again! |Cast of Characters=1..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/09/27
|Location=Knowhere
|Synopsis=A Destroyer meets One Bad Bastiche. And the marketplace will never be the same again!
|Cast of Characters=1575, 1742, 1670, 111
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1575|Drax (1575)}} has posed:''' Drax didn't have any real business in the market. Things didn't matter much to Drax. But he liked the atmosphere. Diversity, sound, noise, bother - other people could keep their peace and quiet. He liked things a bit noisy. A good reminder that you were still alive. And space was so quiet. So dead. He'd tasted enough death in his life. And inflicted his share. The green-skinned behemoth gets a wide berth from the other shoppers, bare chested and with daggers thrust through the loop of belt at his waist. He has a reputation, of course. The Destroyer, they call him. Rumor is it that he used to be even worse than he is now. This is the mellow version. He doesn't seem very mellow. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Around the center of the marketplace, there was a loud commotion that had species of all types gathering around to see what was happening.     What was happening, was the Main Man was cleaning house. All around him were dejected and demotivated various aliens, some more insectoid while others were many tendrilled, and one that looked like he'd be as big as a mountain if he wasn't slunched over and standing on all fours, with a sloped brow and tusks jutting upward, covered in plaque and saliva. Each 'contestent' had been hurling knives, darts, and any other dangerous edged weapon they could get their hands on, at a number of targets that had been set up, big thick pieces of dead plywood and similar materials, with painted 'targets' to help with accuracy.     Out of all of them, it seemed Lobo himself stood tall, clearly the victor out of every chump. He was dressed in black leather pants and black leather vest, twirling a rather large, rather sharp and rather dangerous looking machete between his fingers, giving a snort as he looked between everyone else.     "Ya buncha pansies, guess the Main Man wins rounds one an' two...which means all ya dweebs better cough up. 'Course I could always take some'a yer arms an' legs, as collateral?"     They all paid. Immediately. 

:'''{{#var:1575|Drax (1575)}} has posed:''' Drax cocks his head at the spectacle and just casually walks into the grouping, shoving a few of the lesser contestants aside. He walks up and looks at the boards closely, then looks back over his shoulder. "What would you do with arms and legs? Do you make things out of them? They would start to stink very quickly. You look like you stink, too." he says. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Drax the Destroyer just walked up to Lobo the Czarnian Hate Machine, and directly insulted him. That was everyone's cue to go about their business, and make as wide a berth as possible. Several shops immediately closed for business, the owners looking up at the brewing storm and deciding that wasn't worth it, not at all.     For his part, Lobo looks down at the approaching, green-skinned Drax and just gives a dangerous, humorless smile. The sort that bares his teeth, like a chimpanzee about to strike. His incisors big and sharp, a growl similar to a lion's but deeper in pitch made its way from the Czarnian's throat, and his own blood-red eyes were glaring hatred right at Drax's. Lobo was taller, and might have had a few extra pounds on the war machine. But he knew that didn't matter. He knew that, pound for pound, they were more even than not.     So Lobo just gave a chuckle, raised his arms in mock surrender, and stepped aside.     "Well y'know...does this stink?!"     'This' being the sudden uppercut he threw, the Czarnian's big, powerful fist aimed right for the throat and chin of Drax. If this connected, this would be one of those "big boy" blows, meant to send the Guardian's Greatest Weapon flying through the air...andp robably landing on a few shop stalls in the process. 

:'''{{#var:1575|Drax (1575)}} has posed:''' Drax does, indeed, go flying from the blow, sent end over end until he crashes headfirst into a pile of Skrull morphmelons. Drax slowly pulls himself up out of the messy pile, wiping the gooey innards of a gourd from his face. And then he puts his head down and charges, full on, Rhino style, his chin tucked and his shoulder braced for a spear. He's a big boy in his own right, and known enough around the market that some of the locals start to scatter as the conflict breaks out. You can tell Drax isn't too pissed off yet, because he hasn't gotten out his knives. "You did not give me long enough to smell, fool!" 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     For his part, The Main Man stood there with his arms outstretched, black-painted fingernails glistening in the solar-lamps that were provided for everyone's health, between the designated reasonable galactahours. His vest was open to reveal his bare musculature, it was clear that Lobo was a big strong guy. It was also clear that he didn't go to many gym sessions, seemingly to rely mainly on his genetic gifts to get ahead in life. It was this big midsection that Drax's shoulder collided with, causing and 'OOOMPH!' to leave the Last Czarnian's lips. There was now a big of spittle and drool across the Destroyer's shoulder and back...but his elbow was also coming down, aiming right for the back of Drax's skull and neck, repeatedly and rapidly.     "Yeah? Well smell this, fragface!" 

:'''{{#var:1575|Drax (1575)}} has posed:''' Drax feels the impacts hitting him roughly along the neck and shoulders. He feels like a bag of cement. Not wet cement, just the regular kind. Only in a bag. Which is kind of weird, but, then, so is Drax. He grits his teeth as the blows rattle his skull and tries to bring his arms together to wrap around Lobo in a bear hug, attempting to lift the man up and off of his feet and see how crushing his ribcage goes. His red eyes gleam a bit and he gives something resembling a grin. "I am! Very sweaty! Cigars! Cabbage for some reason!" he says, sniffing. 

:'''{{#var:1670|Adam Warlock (1670)}} has posed:''' Adam thought it was gonna be a quiet day. He thought he was just gonna be able to buy some rations for the Milano and go back on his merry way to his meditations. But he knows something is wrong when he senses the energies of both Drax and Lobo starting to...well, get out of hand. Thus, Adam sighs, purchasing the rations and opening a portal for them to drop into the Milano. and now, he approaches the location Drax and Lobo were duking it out. He wears his black and red robes, his crimson red eyes peeking through as he tries to see them. "Oh no." Adam mutters softly as he leans lightly against his staff. He looked around. What did they break... 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Two guys past the 100 ton level of strength, two mean, vicious brawlers who didn't mind to get a lot to give a little, and neither guy was wanting to give ground to the other. As Lobo's boots dug into the ground, and as Drax pushed along that same ground to gain leverage, every movement or flexing of muscle caused little aftershocks to shake and quake the man-made floors and constructed buildings, and even caused some of the old 'bones' of this entire foundation to tremor, just a little. Somewhere, the Collector was probably regretting not buying space-earthquake insurance.     When Drax changed tact, Lobo felt himself hoisted along the waist, and lifted up into the air as the former human squeezed with powerful, Hurculean arms. He'd no doubt feel the satisfaction of several ribs slowly breaking, and feeling the Czarnian's inards slowly start to give, as if he were squeezing a tube of toothpaste from the middle. Lobo hacked up blood, coming down along his own chest, and probably nailing Drax as well...but when he looked down with those blood-red eyes of his, he seemed to have a rather wolfish grin on his face...he was enjoying this.     "Nah, that's just my cologne, Sepulchur Fer Men. Every piece of tail from here ta Warworld is guaranteed ta love it!"     While he was talking, he was flexing his own muscles, and Drax might feel that tube of toothpaste...filling back up? Resisting against his grasp? In any case, the Bounty Hunter had a perfect angle to grab the back of Drax's bald head with his left hand, to try and hold that target steady for the hail of meteor punches that were showering down at his cheek, jaw, nose and general face. Again, and again, and again and again.     "C'mon, Bastiche, fight me!" 

:'''{{#var:1575|Drax (1575)}} has posed:''' Drax takes something of a vicious battering along the face, his lip swelling up and his eyes watering as his nose starts to bleed from the assault. Where Lobo is feral and smiling, Drax is grim-faced and stoic. He's not really that into the emotions things, except for rage, but he's not really mad. Not yet. He shifts his arms from where they grip Lobo, grabbing him by the belt and then hefting him up and powerbombing him down on the back of his neck...five or ten times, each impact rattling the marketplace with seismic force as Drax gives a throaty howl of satisfaction at the crunching impacts. "I am already fighting you! I thought this was obvious! You are not the most observant animal!" 

:'''{{#var:111|Star-Lord (111)}} has posed:'''     A marketplace brawl where Drax is bring goaded into a fight where the Guardians get a good portion of their supplies from? That has Star-Lord coming out to deal with it. Already the Jet Boots can be heard as he flies down a corridor and into the main market area. His helmet is already on as he moves to hover a few dozen meters away, "If I may have your attention!" The helmet distortion is obvious, but his voice is clear, "please shuffle out of the marketplace the way I just came so the two trigger happy brawlers tearing up the room don't get a chance to add you to their collateral damage! Thank you!" As he finishes speaking, Star-Lord hovers his way over to be above the two. "Oh, it's you." Star-Lord gives with a resigned tone as he sees Lobo, "we just paid a bunch of the merchants around here for some repair materials. Can you not wreck everything?" The hovering man asks, plaintively. 

:'''{{#var:1670|Adam Warlock (1670)}} has posed:''' Adam was just working his way through the crowd as the marketplace brawl likely gained some attention. The resident cosmic wizard of the Guardians was just kinda trying to slide his way through. "Excuse me. Excuse me. Oh, so sorry, excuse me. Gotta...yeah, oh, uhm, excuse me." just bumping by people before his eyes see Star-Lord overhead. Good!...or bad. Peter could be dropping bets. Either way, Adam eventually emerges from the crowd, lowering his hood. "Star-Lord." Adam might be the only Guardian who actually calls him that normally. Either way, Adam stands casually, waiting to see if he needs to interfere. Giving a small sigh tagged with a brotherly look to Lobo. The Main Man knows that he might be in trouble. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     "Well in cas-" SMASH "ya haven" CRASH "Ah Feetal's gizz-" KRAKA-TOW!     Drax was absolutely manhandling and brutalizing Lobo at the minute, the Destroyer able to use that superior, absolutely incredible upper-body strength to send Lobo through the ground more, and more, and more and more. By now mostly everyone has evacuated, leaving only the die-hard few who are going to watch this fight come hell or high-water. Lobo had seen Quill around a few times, but save for their lone interaction a long time ago, they hadn't really talked. But the Czarnian hell-raiser knew that this pink-skinned little creature was supposedly in charge of these guys...which meant if he had some way of keeping a hulking idiot like the guy pummeling him in check? That meant there had to be an ace up his sleeve. To the conniving and ever-plotting Lobo, that made 'Star-Lord' a dangerous man. And a very interesting one as a result.     He had to get this oaf off of him, however. So the next time he was hoisted up, he quickly grabbed a weapon from the back of his belt, cocking back both hammers, and waiting. The next seismic impact smashed him right into more rubble, the nearby illegal Shia'ar contraband table collapsing in on itself finally. But that meant Lobo was on the ground, his aim as steady as it could get. He aimed between his legs, both barrels of that scatterblaster pressed almost against Drax's face.     Click. Click. Boom.     Of course, Lobo wasn't sure if that would do more than singe Drax's nose-hairs off, so he'd take the momentary distraction to bring his legs to his chest, knees-first...and launch both booted feet at the Destroyer's groin, in a mule kick that aimed to send the man flying and away from that present conflict.     With that, Lobo could finally sit up, wipe the blood from his nose and mouth, and look up at the crowd.     "Hey, Adam. What's goin' on, bastiche?" 

:'''{{#var:1575|Drax (1575)}} has posed:''' Drax does, indeed, get blasted and launched, the weapon discharging in his face and coating him with a layer of soot almost like a cartoon rabbit. He finds himself flung in the air, cradling his groin as he somersaults a few times and crashes through the roof of a cantina nearby. There's a shattering sound of glass inside and a few multicultural swears. There's another shaking rumble as Drax stomps in frustration and, of course, pain in his cosmic cubes. There's a ruckus and then, finally, Drax slowly emerges, dragging a rowdy bystander out by his face tentacles and preparing to use him as a flail against Lobo. "MY GENITALIA ARE INFLAMED!" he cries. 

:'''{{#var:111|Star-Lord (111)}} has posed:'''     "Drax, buddy! You want to have a spar against Lobo? Fine, but don't bring the locals into it man. We already have enough to worry about with the Nova Corps." Star-Lord chides Drax. Yes, the leader of the Guardians just tried to reign in The Destroyer. A moment later, and he looks in Adams direction, giving a two fingered salute to the magician, "Hey Warlock, what's shakin'?" Looks like Peter is here more to keep the situation from getting out of control more than stopping it. 

:'''{{#var:1670|Adam Warlock (1670)}} has posed:''' Adam seems to sight lightly to Lobo. "Well, not too great a deal. Though I am worried about the locals you brought into your personal matters. We have discussed this, Lobo." Adam, as innocent and naive as he is, can still be the moral center if he needs to be. Then Drax emerges. "Oh my..." Though he does smile happily to Star-Lord. "I do not know what is shaking. The ground?" Adam was another literal member of the crew, but he does smile. "I am well. Yourself?" 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Lobo didn't rise to his feet right away, instead adjusting his nose, feeling the cartiledge groan and crackle, and feeling the pain fade in his back as hairline fractures along the vertabrae fused and then healed back like nothing had ever happened. Satisfied that he could move his legs again after the brutalizing he just took, the Main Man finally hopped to his feet, though it seemed he was still in a crater, somewhat looking up at the two other Guardians who were looking down.     "That boy ain't right in the head, but he's tough as hell." He was mainly rambling aloud, partly to the two above him, partly to himself even as he suddenly leapt up like a tiger escaping a zoo enclosure. Now he was able to stand to his full height, now he was able to look down at the two other Guardians. He flashed Peter a brief, if menacing, smile, before looking over to regard Adam.     "Well hey, technically they wuzn't involved. 'Sides, D-Boy over there wuz askin' fer it, I know when someone wants ta throw down with tha best!"     He chuckled as he played himself up as usual, but when he heard the screaming proclamation from the Destroyer, still nursing his nether regions, Lobo's smile turned into a sneer. Slowly he put his now empty scatterblaster away, hearing it 'click' in its hover-holster before slowly unlooping that thick chain from around his arm...that hook was now hanging down, before he also started twirling it, letting it swing and sing through the air menacingly, as he started walking slowly toward Drax. He was in no rush, however, which meant other parties had more than enough time in the world to try and stop this from going on any further. But in the meantime, the Main Man could still talk a little trash.     "Uh-oh, claybrain, didja say enflamed? Afraid there's only one cure fer that...gonna hafta hold ya down, an' amputate." 

:'''{{#var:1575|Drax (1575)}} has posed:''' Drax looks down at the bystander in his hand at the reprimand regarding innocent bystanders. He casually throws the squidface back over his shoulder, through the second floor window of the tavern. A feminine scream can be heard from inside. "Oops." Drax starts to stalk ahead slowly, resting his hands on the pommels of his daggers, "You couldn't lift it to cut it!" he says boldly, "Also they are...very tender...oh..." he says, stopping mid-stride and bending over, gripping his knees. "There is water in my eyes. The stinging is presistent. Like I have a sack full of stinging dragon-wasps. The big ones. Oooo...I am going to sit down," he says, grabbing the cart of a nearby fish merchant and climbing up, settling himself in the briny, chilled pile for sale. "HEY, THAT'S MY...uh...no...no charge, big guy. Enjou yourself," the merchant says, having second thoughts when Drax turns his eyes on him mid-protest. 

:'''{{#var:111|Star-Lord (111)}} has posed:'''     When the bystander gets tossed through a window, Star-Lord watches the trajectory. His hands go to one hip holstered element gun, gripping the trigger... but he isn't quite fast enough to catch them. When the scream is heard, Star-Lord just sighs, "Well, least he isn't dead." Star-Lord confirms, before he looks back to Adam, "The usual, though I'm really hoping we don't have to start getting our supplies from Kandor, at this rate." Star-Lord... only half jokes, as he casually flies over between Drax and Lobo, and lands between the two. He hasn't drawn his element guns yet at least. "I know a great junkyard on the other side of the skull. Lots of room, lots of no people around to kill in your rampages. Let's say we head over there so the good, kind merchants don't stop doing business with us?" The 'request' is more directed towards Drax, but who knows, Lobo might want to shop here too? 

:'''{{#var:1670|Adam Warlock (1670)}} has posed:''' Adam seems to frown softly as Lobo and Drax still seem like they are raring to go. Though his attention remains on Lobo. "You didn't see people running for the hills, as it were?" he reaches out to touch Lobo's shoulder, as it to try and get him to hang on for a second. "I would listen to Star-Lord. He has a good head for these kinds of things." A smile on his face before he moves to open a portal with his cosmic magic, giving the brawlers a gateway to walk through if they wish to continue. "Might I suggest we walk through?" 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Lobo had closed a bit of distance, close enough to stop swinging his hook and chain and start holding it like a whip, letting it drag along the ground. But now, the situation had changed somewhat. Drax was on the ground, nursing his bouncing betties. Adam was playing good cop like he always was, trying to transport them somewhere else. Peter was inbetween the action, willing to get between an irresistable force and an immovable object...another point of interest for the Czarnian. He looked between everyone with a raised brow, and for a moment he merely stood there, arms flexing every so often with indecision.     Then he whistled, two fingers in his mouth as a shrill harsh noise echoed throughout the marketplace. Instantly that bike of his was racing through the center, radio playing something god-awful as Lobo used the opportunity to immediately take a seat, kicking his feet back up on the handlebars as he started slowly gathering that chain of his, coiling it casually.     "Well, we could do that, but it looks like ya boy there has had enough fer one day. An' if we kept goin', I'd feel awful guilty about havin' the Guardian's beloved bruiser as a new rug fer my apartment. So tell ya what, there's a place a few nanokilometers that way, where ya can get seven shots for a credit. Why don't we get wasted, an' see if some space-hookers can't nurse ol' flatnuts there back ta health?" 

:'''{{#var:1575|Drax (1575)}} has posed:''' Drax furrows his brow, "Nursing would make them more flat. You would want to inflate them. But they are still around. Just sore," he says. He pushes himself back up to his feet, wincing just a little bit. "Alchol has a numbing effect. Quill, how are the prostitutes here? You must have had a few," he says. He seems to have totally forgotten whatever beef he had with Lobo, looking almost placid as he wrings a bit of fish juice out of his trousers. He stares at Adam for a moment, realizing at last that there's someone else there. "I don't know you. Make me your friend by buying me hookers and beer." 

:'''{{#var:111|Star-Lord (111)}} has posed:'''     "I haven't been to the brothels here for a while, but there's a house that way-" Star-Lord points down a tunnel to his left, "-that has someone called the Eye of Glory. She's one of the best times I've hard on this rock." Then, Star-Lord is looking to Adam, "I'm pretty sure you can manage from here." Star-Lord taps the control implant behind his ear, and the helmet' fades' away, back into the implant. His handsome half-human face has an honest, giant smile to it, "Good luck with him!" And off he goes flying back down the tunnel leading to the Milano's docking bay. 

:'''{{#var:1670|Adam Warlock (1670)}} has posed:''' Adam seems to sigh very softly, looking at Drax. "I am beginning to think I might be invisible. Though, I do hear you have mastered such a skill." he smiles, before he shakes his head. "I apologize. I have no money." He really does look sorry when he gives Drax the bad news before his eyes turn to Lobo. "That seems acceptable, Lobo." he smiles to the fellow and he seems to start walking that way. "Come, my friends." 
}}

5441/Ghost Stories

2018-09-26T04:29:28Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/09/26 |Location=Manhattan Subway Station |Synopsis=America has a lot of stories to tell. Also the Death Dealer rules. |Cast of Characters=204,..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/09/26
|Location=Manhattan Subway Station
|Synopsis=America has a lot of stories to tell. Also the Death Dealer rules.
|Cast of Characters=204, 106, 1849, 761
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     It was late night, and a normal person, maybe they'd be in bed by now. Of course, New York was anything but normal, this was where the freaks and the geeks and the millionaires all clashed, all fought for supremacy in the same way they always have. Even back when this city was still being built, it was where chaos came to catch its breath from the orderly progress of the world.     Hellboy was down in the veins of this city, down in the subway tunnels. Though tired, he pressed on. He figured he'd always be a little tired, this line of work, meant any regular hours were a pipe dream. Ahead of him were what felt like miles of light bluish white forms, spectral bodies of haggard men who would always be more tired than him. Their helmets atop their heads with flashing otherworldly lights, their pickaxes slung over their shoulders. These men were still working and always would, even as the foreman talked his ear off, the way he always had. The way he always would, probably.     Except tonight, Eddie was complaining about something new. Something that had Hellboy curious. 

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''     Located partially on a bench with absolutely nobody near him for some reason, is the masked and leather-suited mercenary. One foot is raised on the bench, a bag near his heel. He's being given a wide moat for his castle: nobody's coming into the splash zone, and in fact, people are vacating as soon as they spot him. Being extremely armed is one reason. The other is his current activity. Or maybe it's the GHOST PARADE.     Deadpool is currently humming the theme from M*A*S*H* while he wraps duct tape around one thigh with one hand, the other trying to pull the lower leg of his suit up to match the upper side of the thigh. The suit is soaked in blood, but isn't dripping at this point. He probably has a puddle of it in that boot, though. The duct tape makes a loud 'shhhhhhhk!' noise as he works with it.     "Can you shine that light over here more? Left. More. Thank-a-you," Deadpool requests of passing spirits, adjusting position to allow more spiritual light to shine on his little project. 

:'''{{#var:1849|Ekaterina Vespucci (1849)}} has posed:''' Ekaterina Vespucci comes onto the scene looking at her phone with a bag filled with cardboared cylinders that conmtain her students work from the Art History course she teaches at the local community college. The short little girl appears to be completely locked in her own world playing Pokemon Go. She has not noticed Deadpool or the ghosts. Until she sits down for a short break next to the aforementioned merc with a mouth. She looks up with her bright cornflower blue eyes and eeps. They grow to comedic anime size given they are already huge. "Whaaaat?" she says. Then she looks at Deadpool does a double take and jumps up from the bench next to him. "Oh err sorry didn't see you there." 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Beside Wade, A towering, lumbering beast of a ghost of a mountain of a man is slowly, methodically driving that pickaxe of his into what seemed to be empty space around the bench. Every impact caused dust and debris to fall and litter the Merc with a Mouth...except it seemed to go through him and Kat as well. Debris could be of the spectral ghost variety? It seemed like it could. as the man worked, he was grumbling and muttering under his breath.     "I dunno, Frankie, I donts gots a good feelin' abouts this gig."     Beside him, a much smaller spectral man was leaned against empty space, his own pickaxe over on the ground, as he drank from a flask of phantom hooch.     "Ahh don't worry, we're gonna be coasting on easy street, just you -whaaaagh!"     It seemed that whatever this big, goonish brute of a man was mining into, they weren't prepared for whatever managed to splat them into flat pancakes, a horrible mess of gore spreading across the ground...a horrible mess of spectral see-through gore that seemed to fade as the same two walked up to the same empty space, to have the same conversation and have the same accident. This seemed to be happening, on loop, for the past half hour at least.     For his part, Hellboy was busy looking down a far away tunnel, his yellow eyes narrowing as he lit a cigarette in his mouth. It seemed he was waiting for something, although the sound of humming, and the sound of a girl's voice alerted him that he wasn't alone down here. Quickly the big red man sauntered up to the ledge, hopping up and swaying up to the assassin and lovely sweet peach of a girl in the process.     "Whoah, hey, wait a minute guys. Listen, subway's closed for a bit, something is comin' down that tunnel, and whatever it is, ain't gonna be good. You sure you wanna hang around?"     Of course, given the attire of the guy with swords, that might have been a silly question. But Hellboy, being the SHIELD agent here, had to at least pretend to be a responsible adult here. 

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''     "Well, welcome to Ghostly Groundhog Day, over here." Deadpool welcomes Ekaterina. "You know, there's images when you start up Pokemon GO about watching where you're walking," Deadpool mentions, sucking in a breath against his mask over his mouth. "I ignore them too, I'm a grown a-dult, I can walk how I want. BUT, I liked the one with the giant Gyarados Loch Ness fish rearing up to eat the kid," the merc shares cheerfully, while pulling out another long streamer of duct tape and continuing to patch the big rip on the side of his thigh by wrapping it around the leather snugly. But since Ekat is there, it's done with some deliberately long sensual motions of palms on his leg to SMOOTH the duct tape, before he just dumps the extra duct tape into the bag by his foot. He saw her screen!     "FUCK, there's a Pikachu here? Wait wait wait," Deadpool says quickly, patting down his pouches for his phone. A package of tic tacs, some earphones, some neon yellow post-its, two condoms, four skittles, a dented batarang, eight bullet casings later, and he has his phone, and is navigating to the Pokemon GO app. "I'm collecting them. They have fun hats."     Hellboy's interruption gets a thumbs up from Deadpool. "All cool. Just catching our Pikachus," Deadpool calls back. A pause. "Pikachu? Chus? Is that singular? Do you know?" He queries to the blue-eyed girl. 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' From down one of the tunnels leading into this abandoned subway station comes the sight of single headlight... but these tunnels were supposed to be empty! What could that possibly be... Soon though, the headlight grows bright and brighter and the sudden presence of a high pitched motorcycle's engine can be heard as the bike races its way into the tunnel the veers off to the side as it hits an access ramp and launches itself up onto the platform! The motorcycle's headlight swirls around, casting long shadows through the station, as its rider whips the bike around in a 180-degree turn, with the tire's squealing on the concrete she kills the engine... her head spins around to look back the way she'd come... she stares down the tunnel with bright sky-blue eyes and her dark black hair whipping around her face. She looks as though she'd just run from an army of people trying to attack her, but yet, nothing was behind her. The woman in black just sits there, straddling the seat of her motorcycle... and she releases a slow exhale. 

:'''{{#var:1849|Ekaterina Vespucci (1849)}} has posed:''' The one person who looks truly out of place in this party is Ekaterina. She resembles a college freshman with no weapons and wearing winter gear that makes it hard to get a bead on the curvy frame she hides underneath. She is staring at the ghosts when Hellboy talks to the all. She starts again seeing the big demon but doesn't reply to him yet. "How do I get myself into these places?" she asks herself. "Oh that's right Ekaterina you were playing Pokemon Go and not looking where you were going." She looks at Deadpool, "A pikachu? Well then the ghosts can wait..." she returns to her phone aiming where Deadpool was looking. Then Selene makes her grand entrance and Ekaterina disappears reappearing bout ten feet away and then falling over. Teleporting apparently. "Che cazzo!" she curses in Italian. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     He wasn't sure about Pallet Town over there in the hoodie, but the Gunslingin' Spider-Man he figured was able to make his own decisions regarding danger, and how much he wanted to expose to himself. For his part, the red man had his oversized revolver in his oversized right hand, open so that he could slowly, patiently load four specific bullets into each massive chamber. Most people might not be able to tell Hellboy's facial expressions apart, given that so many of them involve a grimset mouth with a serious case of underbite, and a pair of yellow glowing eyes. But Big Red was nervous, about whatever was coming through that tunnel. He saw a flashing light...and heard a noisy engine?     That wasn't right.     His eyes narrowed, the gun was locked back into place, and firmly in his left hand as every so often the little spectral form of 'Frankie' passed right through his lower half on his way to slack off and die again. The bike sped forward, both cycle and rider passing through scores of nonplussed long-dead New York workers, the overhead lights flickering(Why were the lights on in an abandoned subway tunnel? They should have been long, long dead a long, long time ago.), and the big man stood fast, ready and waiting.     Then the rider does a skateboard trick. With a motorcycle. And lands right there on that platform with them, the slender black trenchcoat-wearing form facing away from them, her hair blowing in the breeze and Hellboy's usual slack-jawed expression was even more slack and even more jaw. His smoke fell from his lip, and the ghost foreman was just as impressed.     "I uhh...I uhhh uhhh...Evening ma'm, my name is uhh...hi."     He was talking to nobody, this was ridiculous. But down in the tunnel Selene was racing down, the sounds of howls and snarls were getting nearer. The Death Dealer had been chased by a gang of snarling, furred engines of destruction. So why was it that, just when the sounds of them were getting their loudest, and they were getting their closest...why did they sound like screaming, yelping, dying dogs helpless at the pound?     And why was that tunnel suddenly pitch black, those lights finally exploding into nothingness? Followed by every light here in this larger station. One.     By.     One. Pitch darkness. With only the sounds of four people breathing. 

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''     Deadpool pauses as Ekaterina selectively listens to him. And then nods. That's actually pretty normal. He was catching his Pikachu, when the new arrival makes her appearance. He stops what he's doing, carefully puts his phone into one of his belt pockets, the glittery rainbow unicorn on the back of the case flashing in the supernatural glow of the 'dying' ghosts, and then slow applauds for Selene. It isn't sarcastic, but heartfelt, with some genuine head shaking. Loud claps.     Could this situation get much weirder? Maybe he has a head injury he's not aware of. He picks up the bag off the bench, pulling the strap over his shoulder comfortably. Ekaterina's sudden teleport gets a stare. Yeah, head injury seems probable. It happens.     Then everything is nearly black. "I've seen this movie," Deadpool comments. "Somebody has to go turn the power on, alone and heroic in the darkness, maybe get semi-mauled to show how severe it all is. I guess that can be me today. Be riiiiight baaaack," Deadpool says in a haunting voice, before tapping on something at belt level and disappearing; his light goes out as he teleports. 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' Selene's got her motorcycle aimed right back down the tunnel that she'd roared out of upon it. But she quickly spins her head around to look over her shoulder at the motley crew of people... and Hellboy, behind her. She stares at each one of them before lingering the gaze on the clapping Deadpool. But its the sound of them, the wolves in the tunnel, that make her snap her eyes back in their direction. Her pale blues go forward again and the woman in black dismounts her bike, tossing her leg over the two wheeled rocket causing her jacket to flare out behind her as she reaches for a pair of guns that are strapped to her thighs. "They're coming." Selene says to the group as she moves to stand behind a pillar for cover. "You should all consider leaving." Her voice is sultry and smokey, laced with a European flavored accent. She raises her twin guns up to her shoulders, pointing their barrels toward the sky, pressing her back to the pillar's hard surface. Then she pauses, and hears the wolven screeches... she peers around the pillar, somewhat surprised by that. 

:'''{{#var:1849|Ekaterina Vespucci (1849)}} has posed:''' "Wha-" Kat says looking around from her prone position. "Um can I not be here?" she asks in her sweet little voice blue eyes going from Hellboy to Selene. She really was a fish out of water. No guns no swords. She fishes through her bag and finds a tiny can of mace. That will help her defend herself right? 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     It was faint, at first, but the sounds of something...trickling, could be heard. From Selene's vantage behind the pillar, looking out over where the bright beam of her motorcyle light still shone, sudden rapid movement could be seen, something massive, and furry blurring suddenly. Then, a sound immediately near them...the sound of something crackling, or peeling? And a voice, high-pitched, belonging to something ancient, sounding like it came from a crone who was here before the first trees were seeds. It was laughing to itself, singing some old, dead tongue in a singsong voice.     Ekaterina and Selene both had superior nocturnal vision, indicating that the DM should be better prepared if he wants to do horror next time. This meant that they'd be able to see the ancient, wizened female thing, sat a few feet from the group, with the facedown, ripped apart remains of a former proud Lycan at her feet. Her limbs were scrawny and almost stick thin, her fingers longer than branches in the wind. In her left hand was...a head? It was difficult to make out, but it appeared to be a spectral, see-through, phantom head...of one of the miners? It was screaming, soundlessly, as the old crone brought that head up to her mouth. Her ancient teeth tore through flesh that wasn't there, and somehow, the red mess and white bone in her mouth didn't match the see-through exterior. In her right were some guts, presumably what used to belond to the Lycan.     Hellboy, for his part, was turning around to aim his gun at the shape of the ancient thing, but it was like he was underwater, and the thing was stood and whirring around before he could get a bead on her. Before she was singing, but now she was screaming, deafening threats in an old tongue, threats that echoed off the walls of the abandoned concrete all around them.     "Yeah...kid, I was telling you to get outta here. But if you try and walk away now, that hag's gonna grab ya. I suggest you stay put." 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' Selene looks over in time to see the grusome sight of the lycans remains that the 'Hag' is devouring and tossing aside. She lets a quick and sharp suck of breath in between her lips and then slips back around behind her cover. "Curse this wretched city." The Vampire Death Dealer says then, her pale fingers re-clasping the handles of her guns. At Hellboy, her pale blue eyes look now. "You." She says at him, noting his overall shape and size and combat readiness. "Is this something you've fought before?" She asks him, her eyes then darting to Kat, but she believes her to just be a girl in the wrong place at the wrong time, like she had been hundreds of years ago. If it can interact and harm the Lycans, then it can be killed.. at least as far as the Vampire is concerned. So either way she's on the knife's edge of being about to spin around and unload her guns, unless otherwise told something to stop her. 

:'''{{#var:1849|Ekaterina Vespucci (1849)}} has posed:''' Kat looks at the Hag and then at Hellboy, "Um what if I do this?" Kat doesn't really have to move. But she can teleport just as she did before challenging Selene's notion that she is just an ordinary girl. So Kat does the 'this' that she was talking about she is suddenly behind Hellboy such that he is between her and the Hag. When in doubt hide behind the strongest person available. She had learned this early as a small weak girl. She looks at Selene who was this person? And back to Hellboy what was this person? Some kind of demon. In 1200 years she'd seen some strange things but this was taking the cake. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     "Fight this thing? I didn't even know something like this was down here...must be new, musta wandered in from someplace else."     All the while they were talking, the lights were flickering on and off again, while all around them the sound of...singing, was getting louder and louder. It sounded like some sort of lullaby, something to comfort a crying baby, if not for the violence and desperation to the voice, and the rising volume and intensity. Soon the song was being screamed at them, from a voice that did not seem to breathe, much at all. Hellboy, tired of being so reliant on flickering lights, had an idea. Soon a match was struck against the side of his stone right wrist, and the entire oversized right hand was now awash in bright yellow and orange flame, illuminating the area around them. The big man glared around, tail twitching nervously, waiting for the stringy-haired, horrible thing to strike.     Except, it seemed they were looking at the wrong thing. As Hellboy got closer toward Selene, his cloven hoof nudged into the arm of a dead wolf. A dead wolf who suddenly, violently sprang up to his feet, and backhanded the big-red half-Demon into a nearby pillar, in fact the one Selene was toward. It cracked and part of it crumbled from the impact, Hellboy hitting it face first and being a little dazed. That Lycan was now up and swiping violently at both Ekaterina and Selene. This time, however, the thing was not attacking like a hunter, like a hated enemy of the Death Dealer. No, this time with its intestines falling out and blood oozing to the ground, it seemed it was fighting like a wild animal, trying to stay alive by any means necessary. there was fear in those wild, animalistic eyes, is snout reared back in a teeth-baring snarl as it screamed at them both. Claws slashing wildly. 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' The teleportation ability displayed by Kat made Selene definitely realize that she wasn't just a girl in the wrong place at the wrong, not exactly anyway, at least she was one who had some measure of powers. All the same, she wasn't necessarily an ally to the Death Dealer either. Her eyes go to Hellboy as he lights his arm ablaze and she watches the monstrous demonic man. "Right." She replies about the Hag. "Then I suggest we--" and then Hellboy is sent FLYING, TOWARD HER no less. Quickly the nimble woman in black ducks beneath the sailing red-skinned Hellish-boy and narrowly dodges him as he slams into the pillar she'd been using as cover. Now she comes up toward the disemboweled Lycan... her guns raise and she starts to fire, silver-nitrate laced bullets that splatter first into its chest, but the wound it holds... she aims higher now, but has to avoid its attacks first, so she's ducking and tumbling once more! 

:'''{{#var:1849|Ekaterina Vespucci (1849)}} has posed:''' Kat is no fighter and when the Lycan starts swinging she is easily winged by one of it's claws. Blood spurts and she shrieks in pain teleporting away yet again to next to behind Selene. She has dropped her tiuny can of mace (not that it would have done her any good). Kat clutches her wounded arm and cowers behind the fighters. Reduced to the defensive. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     Hellboy was dazed, but he's been through this dance before. He pulled himself out of that mushed pillar, shaking his head as dust and speckls fly all around, spinning around and walking through the occasional spectre. His gun scattered and hitting a wall somewhere, meant that HB only had one weapon...and he used it. While Selene was opening fresh holes in the raging wolfman, Hellboy walked up and used the old fashioned approach: Grabbing copious amounts of chest fur with his smaller left hand, and throwing a series of hard, brutal overhand rights to the snout and head area of the beast. The fire added to the impact somewhat, but really, it was the sheer force of an ancient artifact that turned the Lycan into a non-moving chalk-mark on the ground once more.     "Bad dog! Play dead! Down, get down!"     The whole while the creepy singing was still prevalent all around them, and as Hellboy glared down at the wolfecorpse before kneeling down to check on the scared wounded girl, Selene with her sensitive ears might hear the leathery sound of...somthing beating against itself. Wings? Was that the sound? She might feel a horrific pair of fingers on her shoulders, uncut and ripped nails sharp as razorblades. She might feel the hot breath and the beginnings of a tongue before the Hag tried to bite down, exactly on the back of the vampire's neck, in a classic bit of irony. Should Selene turn around to deal with this, she'd have a clear shot of the tall, scrawny, pot-bellied creature, but she was moving FAST. And it appeared she was airborne, able to move much more quickly than one would think an old timer like her could. 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' Selene's hands come up quickly as Hellboy moves in to physically dispose of the undead Lycan with the use of his pure brute strength... she was quite strong herself, but she didn't have the bulk that he possesses so she just lets him make his go... and she admires the power of it. Her eyes then dart over to Kat and she notes that the young girl was injured, it doesn't look life threatening then. As Hellboy moves to assist the Teleporter, Selene starts to look around and listen to the singing music... But the touches to her shoulder and then to her neck, it causes the pale skinned Vampire in black to spin around and raise her right gun up... her eyes focus down sight and she pulls back on the trigger two quick times. She's extraordinarily fast, for an undead herself. 

:'''{{#var:1849|Ekaterina Vespucci (1849)}} has posed:''' She was injured a second or so ago but despite the deepth of the wound that either fighter might have seen on Kat and the spurt of blood she has regenerated or so it would seem. She is completely without injury. She looks up at Selene and the Hag. Suddenly she teleports jumping onto the Hags back to try and distract her if she keeps fighting the Vampire. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     For his part, Hellboy was nowhere near as fast, as either of the three women currently on the board. He was still rising to his feet and turning around when Selene was emptying her magazines at the darting, floating Hag who seemed to be singing even louder as a way of taunting the vampire, wriggling her fingers and pantomiming the breaking of bones and the sucking of marrow. In fact, that was a particular favorite of hers that she often seemed to come back to, 'marrow' and the obtaining of in increasingly gruesome ways.     Her dodging ended, though, when in a display of all-out bravery Kat appeared on the Hag's back. This meant that she was between the woman's two shoulder-blades that had both opened up, with Kat being right there to see the slime and ooze pouring down from the gaping openings, the actual shoulderbones raising up so that a series of fleshy, mucus-covered wings could flap in place. Reminiscent of cockroaches, in fact.     The Hag was screeching in immediate panic, and Kat might be able to see her arms lifted in the air...and the elbows 'popping' backwards as the hands were now upside down, and the fingers lunging for her eyes. Fortunately, that meant she was no longer getting out of the way of Selene, who was lighting the creature up with lead. She wasn't falling, but she was bleeding, and screeching, and hovering in place while getting lower and lower to the ground... 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' Selene's gunfire paused when she saw Kat land on the creature's back, she didn't want to hit the girl because though she didn't know her... she believed her not to be an enemy. So instead, Selene backsteps a few paces before she looks quickly back toward Hellboy. "If it bleeds, we can kill it." She tells him, hinting that she's watched a movie or two in her day. Her left hand sdnaps up and she offers Hellboy a long silver spike that she pulled out of the thigh holster strapped around her leather clad thigh. "Here." She says to the big guy. "Its struggling, get in close and stab it in the eye with this!" Then, the Vampire looks back to where the Hag is descending, she sees its grotesque shapeshifting... which is nothing new to the Vampire, she's seen plenty of visually horrific and similar things in her time... no she just draws her second handgun again and lines up for another shot to try to damage those wings to keep the Hag from going airborne! On one hand, this is definitely not what she came out here for tonight, but on another, this Hag had done her favor with those Lycans--but this Hag was clearly no ally! 

:'''{{#var:1849|Ekaterina Vespucci (1849)}} has posed:''' From its resting place on the ground a few feet away the small can of mace rockets right into Kat's outstretched hand. She does not bother to move away from the Hag's eye gouging hands for the moment but changes position enough to spray a nuge amount of mace in the Hags eyes before dropping to the ground and rolling away. Kat hurts her shoulder when she lands and then teleports back to the relative safety of being behind Hellboy and Selene. "What the hell is that thing?" the teleporting telekinetic girl asks. 

:'''{{#var:204|Hellboy (204)}} has posed:'''     The pike was in his hand, and he looked at the vampire, giving a nod. He was used to being the ugliest one in the room(Hags and Eldritch horrors notwithstanding), but Selene took it to a level of it being almost awkward for the big man. Instead he just looked forward, and dashed forward on clacking cloven hooves upon the stone floor. The room illuminated by the glow of his burning stone hand, super-heating that pike even as he leapt through the air, and as Kat dropped off just in time? HB's downward stab jabbed right through the creature's nose, through her eye-socked and down into her neck. The thing suddenly stopped moving and was still, gasping in a quick intake of breath as as her arms and hands were splayed out, fingers grasping at nothing. For his part, HB just adjusted his trenchcoat, took aim...and launched an uppercut right into the creature's chin. She flew up like a bottlerocket on the 4th of july, soaring up until she smacked into the ceiling of this ancient, underground structure. She seemed to 'stick' there as the other end of the pike hit the stone and was driven further into the creature. Red looked up for a few long moments, and when it was clear she wasn't coming back down, the lights to this creepy placed flickered on again, and the ghosts resumed their endless work. The half-Demon looked around satisfied, clacking up to Selene and the kid as he looked between them.     "Hey, kid, you alright? That was a brave thing you did. I want you to know you should be proud of yourself."     He looked back toward Selene, and was silent for a few moments, before coughing, and nodding.     "Yeah uhh...thanks, you know uhh I, well, I'm...have to find my gun. Bye."     With that smooth introduction taken care of, Hellboy swooped his oversized pistol from where it clattered, and making his way back to SHIELD, for a plate-ful of pancakes and a long, long cold shower.     Damn. 

:'''{{#var:761|Selene (761)}} has posed:''' The silver spike was handed over, the sight of the large red skinned demonic man slaying the monster was witnessed, but by the time it was settled and he spun around to confer with them again, Selene was back on her motorcycle, leaning over it with a leg on either side. "That." She says toward Kat. "Was the creature lurking in the dark that we've all been warned about our entire lives." She glances around then, back to Hellboy. "Nicely done." She tells him before she starts her bike up with a whine of its engine, then revs said engine two quick times... her pale blue eyes stare at the two of them once more and she nods one time to them before she squeezes the throttle and launches off of the abandoned station's walkway. Her motorcycle darts back onto the track and goes back the direction it'd come, with the headlight growing dimmer down the tunnel's turn. And somewhere out there in the dark, Deadpool finally got the lights in the terminal back on. 

:'''{{#var:1849|Ekaterina Vespucci (1849)}} has posed:''' Kat watches the fight with her large eyes wide in wonder. When it is over she breathes a sigh of relief. She smiles sweetly and nods at Hellboy as he compliments her (for once) brave actions. When Selene speaks to her about the mystical nature of the creature she replies mischeviously, "Well it can't be anywhere near as bad as my own family then so I am relieved." As everyone exits Kat is still for a moment asking herself, "Okay what the hell just happened." Apparently not learning her lesson she goes back to playing Pokemon Go. 
}}

5422/Rhino's Tantrum: Take One!

2018-09-24T19:34:33Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/09/23 |Location=Long Island Shipping Yard |Synopsis=Take One is all it took. Rhino versus his worst nightmares. Lots of punching. |Thanks=She-..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/09/23
|Location=Long Island Shipping Yard
|Synopsis=Take One is all it took. Rhino versus his worst nightmares. Lots of punching.
|Thanks=She-Hulk
|Cast of Characters=108, 1490, 1626, 212, 53, 1857
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:108|She-Hulk (108)}} has posed:''' Rhino is trying very hard to get the attention of everyone he hates. First the Law Offices of Jennifer Walters was ransacked, then he decided to randomly attack the police. It's been hours at this point and the heroes of NYC are not paying him enough attention. THIS. WILL. NOT. DO! Rhino roars as his own thoughts piss him off more, "I MAKE YOU HEAR ME!" It isn't long before he is dual wielding two patrol cars WITH officers inside them and is charging a shipping yard in Queens. He throws the cars at the main gate, obliterating the security checkpoint, and then charges in as news helicopters begin to arrive to record. She-Hulk is JUST about to find out about her office being ransacked at the very moment that Rhino has begun his next rampage. She is carrying a few bags of clothing and it has just stopped raining. She holds all of the bags momentarily in one arm as she reaches for her phone as it rings to some random pop song ring tone. It's one of her paralegals. And the news is bad. She-Hulk crushes the bags in her arm, crushes her phone, and everything falls into a giant puddle.. ruined. Looking down at yet another net loss of money, she blames it all on Rhino, and gets angry. Really angry, "I keep telling them not to make me ANGRY!" She is in Gotham and it's going to take some time to get back to New York City, but her rage makes her stronger than she is even normally, and she launches herself nearly seven hundred feet into the air, moving as fast she can, the normally happy, snarky Jennifer Walters temporarily replaced by a very angry one! 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     A woman brutally slain, with a sign around her neck calling her a 'witch'. A man who'd revelled in it, setting himself on fire, with a promise that more were going to follow. Al had looked into the eyes of those flames, and what he'd seen disturbed him. Mainly, it disturbed him because it reminded him of what he'd lost. Standing on the top of an old darkened building, the masked man could see the whole skyline, but instead he was focused on the ring in his fingers, a simple gold band. He read the words engraved on them, over and over.     "Wanda...I've escaped the fires of Hell, only to find another here on earth. I've lost you. Forever."     In the depths of his longing, he saw distant impacts way off in the distance, and moments later heard the loud, thundrous, echoing sounds of impacts and metal crashing against itself...and he felt ever so slightly, the miniature shocks along the soles of his boots. His eyes narrowed, putting the ring away, and picking up some tools. He leapt from the top of that building, but instead of a red leathery cape falling around him, a pair of red, leathery bat-wings swooped and carried him upward. He was soaring toward Long Island as fast as he could go. Which meant whoever was acting a fool was in for a world of pain. Very, very shortly. 

:'''{{#var:1626|Doreen Green (1626)}} has posed:''' Squirrel Girl is on the case! The case of sparkling water that she was carrying back to her apartment when all the hubbub and nonsense breaks out. She's not that close, but she doesn't have to be that close to hear the racket that Rhino's making. He's gotta be breaking some noise ordinances. Not to mention, y'know, property damage and threats of bodily harm and... She stashes her water on the fire escape outside her apartment building, hoping beyond hope that nobody will swipe it and then she takes to the rooftop, takinga moment to free her tail from its confines, sighing with relief as she starts to leap from rooftop to rooftop. Monkey Joe, her best squirrel companion, scurries out of her pocket and climbs on her shoulder like a pirate's parrot. "Prepare to face squirrel justice!" she cries. 

:'''{{#var:212|Superboy (212)}} has posed:''' For once Superboy was neither 'patrolling' nor partying. No, he was in a cafe talking with college mates about studying and schedules and what teachers are best. As if he was a real college student. Hard to imagine this kind of thing two years ago. Unfortunately Conner hears the police sirens from several blocks away. He has not really seen what is going on, but it sounds pretty bad. He makes a lame excuse to his college friends and sneaks off the Starbucks. A few seconds later he is flying towards the... disaster area. Super-powered fight? No - rampaging super-villain. It was his second bet, really. He speeds forward to try to intercept the charging Rhino before he hits someone crunchy. 

:'''{{#var:53|Elycia Kreiger (53)}} has posed:'''     Elycia happens to be AT the secutiry checkpoint and looking to try and get through so she can get to her car. "ugh....come -ON- I just want to get back to my car so I can go home, okay? Is that so hard?" The patrol officer almost sounds bored at this point. "Sorry ma'am, but we've got someone on the loose in the city and we're trying to keep people...." *BOOM* And one car blasts through the gate and Elycia BARELY manages to drop to the ground before the car smacks her and drags her with it. She stands up as the security guard is now completely under the table he has and is just shaking. "You'll forgive me if I'd rather get to safety." She says as she runs through the gate, and only partly towards Rhino. "That....must be the lunatic they're looking for. Hopefully they're not headed for the Roadster..." 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' Johnny was driving on his motorcycle, as per the usual. Just his own form of extremely subtle patrol before those eyes end up finding the Rhino on the loose. Dual wielding patrol cars! Honestly, not the weirdest thing he's seen since fighting the Hulk. Can he get a break at some point?! The effective answer is no. So when the Rhino tries to charge at that news crew? Johnny transforms into the Ghost Rider, his skin and muscles burning away to reveal a bare skeleton, wreathed in Hellfire flame. The motorcycle turning demonic in appearance...the Hellcycle! driving straight forward like a raging inferno, the Rider draws taht bladed silver chain and tries to wrap it around Rhino's horn, trying to forcefully veer him off of his destructive path. 

:'''{{#var:108|She-Hulk (108)}} has posed:''' Rhino was indeed about to jump up and grab one of the helicopters when his ruckus finally has the desired effect. He's too slow to react to the chain careening towards his horn, and it does wrap around his horn. Rhino laughs, "Little American cowboy is all I get?! I will use your head as a shot glass!!" Rhino yanks his head back, powerful neck muscles far more than sufficient to take Johnny into the air, and try to throw him off with the chain towards one of the helicopters. "You have only endangered the weaklings you are trying to protect!! All will pay for cowboy's mistake!" 

:'''{{#var:212|Superboy (212)}} has posed:''' Now wearing a 'super' uniform consisting in jeans, a black T-shirt with a big red S on the chest Superboy arrives just in time to see Rhino trying to destroy the news helicopters. Whoa, that is an angry and bloody one. "Hey, Rhino-man," he yells, trying to draw the attention of the big Russian. "How about you let the reporters do they job?" He flies to try to pry the villain's hand off the flying vehicle, even if it means getting punched along the way. "What is your problem anyway? Couldn't find a bank to rob today?" 

:'''{{#var:1626|Doreen Green (1626)}} has posed:''' Doreen Green lands on the edge of a rooftop and is about to leap into the fray when..uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, oh boy, it's that Ghost Rider guy again. "He always gets there first! Man, I need a motorcycle!" She quickly scurries down a drainpipe and starts trying to get any civilians out of the way, hefting a fragment of police car off of a downed officer, "Hello, sir, sorry, Squirrel Girl here, I know I'm kind of unofficial and everything, but uhhhhhhhhhhhhh I think you guys better leave this to us caped crusader types." Monkey Joe chirps in agreement while looking nervously at Rhino over her shoulder. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     Like a bat out of hell, Spawn was streaking through the sky and came in so fast and hot that he was a blur of red, white and black across the front windshield of that helicopter. He hit the ground hard but rolled to his feet, inbetween the action of the skeletal rider...and the man in the rhino costume.     Spawn's glowing green eyes narrowed and he opened that flowing red cape to reveal what he'd been holding in his hands: An AK-47. While a Kryptonian demigod tried to intervene and the Nutcracking Squirrel Girl arrived on the scene, the tall former soldier took aim and fired a three-round volley, right at the face of the angry Russian. It was almost fitting, in a way. He doubted this would do much damage, but he wondered if it would sting at all. Or at least be a nuisance. He liked the idea so much that he fired again.     "I've been wanting to hurt someone for a while. Your sorry ass will do just fine." 

:'''{{#var:53|Elycia Kreiger (53)}} has posed:'''     Elycia runs behind a building and....makes a face. "Great. I'll be lucky to get out of here, but those reporters will be lucky to get out of here at all." She peeks out and tilts her head at all of the people trying to get Rhino to stop throwing things at the helicoptors....it's then she gets an idea, and touches one of her earrings. "Luna..." She whispers, and gets a bwip in her ear as a response. "Luna, you already know where I am, but I'm safe. others are not. Lets give this guy more targets in the news choppers." She waits a few seconds and she hears a 'COnfirmed, ELycia...." "Light up my night, Luna." Only a few seconds later....three more news helicoptors appear above the fray.....and as loud as they are, they're pretty distracting. Distracting enough to get Rhino's attention away from ground civilians.... 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' Honestly, Ghost Rider probably could have thought this through a little better. Yanked by Rhino's mighty neck muscles, The Rider is plucked //right// off of his bike! and instead of going for a ride? He sets his feet RIGHT next to a very sturdy looking wall, pulling with about 40 tons of solid force as Johnny hands over control to Zarathos. They need raw strength to help take this guy down. "fall..." the Spirit of Vengeance speaks in it's ungodly, demonic voice. Trying to rangle this beast down. 

:'''{{#var:108|She-Hulk (108)}} has posed:''' Rhino tries to keep yanking Ghost Rider towards the helicopter as MORE choppers start flying in. Spawn's bullets make a metallic sound as they impact his helmet, making Rhino even more angry, "INSECT!" Superboy also draws his attention. Rhino will now try to wield Ghost Rider as a chained weapon to strike at the arriving choppers and Superboy as he spins around, possibly overestimating himself in an attempt to also barrel into Spawn. 

:'''{{#var:1626|Doreen Green (1626)}} has posed:''' Doreen Green just watches the carnage unleashed with Monkey Joe sitting on her shoulder. She's pretty fearless and would be the first to leap into the fray, but HOLY GUACAMOLE that was a lot of havoc being wreaked over there. THere are machine guns, flaming motorcycles, flying super-teens, police cars burning, news helicopters flying overhead. "Oh my god, this is AMAZING!" Doreen shouts, throwing up a fist and rooting on the heroes in the fight. 

:'''{{#var:212|Superboy (212)}} has posed:''' Superboy ducks to avoid the Ghost Rider's chain, and possibly the flaming hero himself. The new helicopters make him hesitate a second. They came up from nowhere! Too many targets for the crazy Rhino-man. "Alright, stop!" He yells, aiming a punch towards the villain armored head. Not pulling much his strength, obviously that guy must be as strong as himself, or close! Whatever the result from the punch, he is going to fly up, and see if he can convince the crew of the helicopters to stay away. 

:'''{{#var:53|Elycia Kreiger (53)}} has posed:'''     The helicoptor that Ghost Rider was thrown at flickers and.....disappears as he flies through it. This brings ELycia running up near Squirrel girl, if she's not that close to the carnage. "Squirrel girl? We need a bigger distraction so we can get the civilians out of here." She then smiles. "Just...please keep secrets." She says as she watches GHost Rider.....and touches an earring. "Luna....one of the people trying to stop this guy was just thrown out of the area. Catch him would you? And bring him back." "Acknowledged Ma'am." Is the reply in her ear.... *VROOM* Suddenly, a car nearby and pulls out of it's parking space. With surprising acceleration, even for it's supposed look of a Lamborghini Diablo, it zooms by Rhino and moves to let Ghost Rider land on it's roof. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     As predicted, the AK was less than effective, but it was only a tool in this regard, not an actual weapon. Spawn slung it over his shoulder as he dashed over the looping flaming chain, and faster than a scurrying cockroach, he darted between the legs of the angry, lashing out powerhouse. Two of Spawn's own chains lashed at each angle and kneecap, the razor-sharp, powerful bladed weapons trying to clamp and dig in, if they weren't able to tear into the suit. Using some dirty tactics, Spawn wanted to see if he could trip the big man up, make him take a little tumble face-first into the ground. Clearly, a frontal assault wasn't going to do much unless he upped the power. He had no problem with frying the idiot in the suit, but with this many people around, one of them might get hurt from the ensuing chaos. He wasn't about to let that happen. 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' Honestly? today could probably be a bit better day. But, as Johnny is whipped around like a ragdoll, he's eventually thrown straight through the air aiming for one of those helicopters! Except he lands on a car, compliments of Elycia. A growl exits the demon's mouth as it fully becomes Zarathos-controlled. "I will have vengeance." and thus, he PULLS himself with 100 tons of force to try and give one hell of a punch right for Rhino's jaw! Problem is, Rhino's a pretty big guy...could be an equal but opposite reaction kind of thing. Well...dunno till ya try! 

:'''{{#var:108|She-Hulk (108)}} has posed:''' Rhino laughs at Ghost Rider, "Cowboy should have learned how to land when he decided to FLY!" His joy is short lived as the helicopter vanishes. He finishes his spinning motion as Spawn and Superboy attack him at the same time. Superboy's punch sends him off the ground a bit, but before he can fall on his rear end, Ghost Rider PUMMELS into him with seemingly incalcuble force, sending him flying into the air with Spawn's chains around his legs. If Spawn doesn't let go he will also go flying with Rhino! At the moment the behemoth of a man in tech armor is careering towards a nearby office building. The good news? Everyone has gone home for the day. Bad news? The executive manager's office is where the impact will be and Rhino's velocity will send him right through it and onwards out the other end of the building, resulting in a big mess for the janitors in the morning! Rhino screams with rage as his pride is wounded, although he's not realy feeling a ton of pain yet beyond some bruises, "It will take more than THAT to stop me! PUNYYYY!" His voice trails off as he gets further away. 

:'''{{#var:1626|Doreen Green (1626)}} has posed:''' Doreen Green gives Elycia a wink of approval, "Secrets? Why, my lips are sealed. I mean, outside of the teeth, but that's not really my fault, that's like a power and some people actually find it very attractive and OH CRAP LOOKOUT!" she shouts, breaking into a sprint for the building, "You guys really need to watch where you're punching! We're not all burning skull people out here! HUMANS ARE SQUISHY THINGS!" she shouts. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     Spawn absolutely did not let go. In fact, creepily the tall Hellspawn crawled around to the front of the flying gray-armored powerhouse, his thick red leathery cape quickly wrapping completely around the Rhino's helmeted head, even as his chains left the man's legs to try and wrap tightly around his neck. Al wanted to check if the man's fancy suit let him fight without air in his lungs, and hopefully a world of darkness would be difficult for the man to navigate. As the wreckingball form of the villain started smashing through buildings, Spawn took the abuse along with him and in fact started using the Necroplasma within him, causing the gauntlet on his right fist to get bigger, and spikier, and even more unwieldy and over the top, adding strength and punching power that the Hellspawn hadn't had before. With every impact through every weak office wall, floor and ceiling, Al started throwing rabbit punch after rabbit punch into the covered face of Rhino.     "This is the start of your Hell. Pay attention!" 

:'''{{#var:53|Elycia Kreiger (53)}} has posed:'''     "I think they're more worried about stopping him than how much damage they do." Elycia says to Squirrel Girl before she taps her erring again. "Luna, pick me up. we need to follow this jerk." She says before she runs to the corner to see where he flew. "You know anything about this guy? And why he has a horn on his head? he looks stupid." She says as the car pulls up next to her. "Get in." She says getting into the driver's seat of the car....and once Doreen gets into the car...they take off after Rhino....and the carnage after him. "This is going to be a mess." 

:'''{{#var:212|Superboy (212)}} has posed:''' Superboy was not hitting too hard because... "What the... that is just what I was trying to avoid, flame-head!" And it is luckily, it seems no one was injured. No one else, that is. The helicopters were some kind of hologram? Nice, but who did that? The half-Kryptonian young man takes a few seconds to make sure no one is hurt or needing help in the immediate area, and if that is the case he flies after the crazy villain. "We gotta stop him before he kills someone. Or someone else," he adds to no one in particular. 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' After the Rider amde his shot, The Spirit of Vengeance stood up straight after the Impact and just...started walking. cracking it's neck as it wraps it's chain right back around itself. Hellfire starts to ignite in the Ghost Rider's hands...which it will use to toss Hellfire fireballs at Rhino! soften him up maybe? Either way, one of the heavy hitters was gunning for Rhino. 

:'''{{#var:108|She-Hulk (108)}} has posed:''' Rhino is repeatedly beaten by Spawn as he flies through the building and out the other end. If Squirrel Girl, Elysia, and Superboy can catch the soaring pair in time, they might be able to stop them from flying into an empty construction site where another tall building is -supposed- to be almost finished! Rhino tanks the hits, more bruises no doubt. But when he manages to get his bearings, he starts to swing his arms at Spawn in return, metallic fists with pointy bits designed to HURT a lot! The fire balls do indeed hit because Rhino can't dodge! The flames heat will burn him, which hurts but still isn't devastatingly damaging yet, however the pain will make him roar again, taking out all of his anger on Spawn.. which probably won't be fun for him. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     He actually had a good thing going, dodging Rhino's fist every time, darting around and counterpunching with that massive right gauntlet, letting the big man wear himself out. Spawn was faster, had greater reaction time, and had been a trained Marine and CIA Agent. There was no way this overgrown animal cracker was going even come close to touching him.     And then a ball of Hellfire exploded across his back, and the back of his head.     "HraaaAAAAGH-"     His sudden scream was cut short by a gray fist the size of his body, smashing into his face. Again, and again, and again, to the point that by the time they landed? Whether caught by the rest, or whether they made impact with the nearby construction site? Spawn would collapse to the ground with a heavy 'thud', that right gauntlet instantly shrinking down to normal, his AK long ago lost in the rubble of that office building. He was getting back up though, picking himself off the ground and shaking his head woozily. His eyes glowed brighter, and his hands suddenly were aflame in green Necroplasmic energy.     "Ok. Let's play."     He said to nobody in particular, still wobbling like a boxer in the 12th round. But he wasn't fallen just yet. 

:'''{{#var:212|Superboy (212)}} has posed:''' The funny thing is Superboy used to be a bit of a nerd at following the super-heroes- Not as bad as Tim or Bart, but still... well, pretty bad. He can't recognize anyone here except Squirrel Girl. Who is flame-head? And the other guy with chains? It was easier in Metropolis, to be honest. Still, a bad guy is a bad guy and Spawn (whose name Conner does not know) is not winning the fist-fight despite his clearly superior skills. "Take a break, I'll go a couple rounds with Mr. Hornhead," he offers, flying in and aiming another punch to the villains face. 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' The Ghost Rider kept tossing those fireballs at Rhino, perhaps looking to superheat that armor to make it hurt! But alas, once the Ghost Rider gets close, it clenches it's fist tightly as it lunges to try and unleash upon Rhino with a flurry of heavy strikes!! Hey, if punching him once didn't work, lets try pummeling. Though, if one looks closely...the Ghost Rider might be enjoying this. 

:'''{{#var:53|Elycia Kreiger (53)}} has posed:'''     Elycia and her car are following the carnage brought about by the trio of pain, as she calls them. She lets out Squirrel girl to help out the civilians.....and she doesn't really get any info. "Blast." She says as she has Luna find news files on this particular person. "Rhino. A lot of strength but not very smart. Sounds like typical David vs Goliath stuff." ELycia says as she veers around a couple of streets over...... 

:'''{{#var:108|She-Hulk (108)}} has posed:''' Rhino's velocity devastates the construction site as his massive form shatters metal, wood, construction equipment, and more! The workers are not going to be happy. The flames cause Rhino's suit to heat up quite a bit but he's resistant to high heat as much as anything else, however he screams in pain nevertheless. He lands on an expensive looking Ferrari which is completely totalled, parts of the car clanging off as he stands up, only to find Ghost Rider and Superboy's fists colliding with his head from two directions. Although Superboy is trying not to cause collateral damage, Ghost Rider doesn't seem to care! Superboy's punches definitely hurt but Ghost Rider's punches are careless! Rhino continues to tank the hits, once again trying to focus, and is eventually throwing his own punches at Ghost Rider as he can. Superboy, at least in his mind, is not as much of a threat yet. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     When his voice came out to answer the Cloned Young Man of Steel, his voice had a level of caustic anger to it, on top of that powerful deep inflection.     "You don't tell me what to do, boy."     He was feeling a bit weaker, he'd been using a bit of energy this fight. But the Necroplasma hadn't nearly burnt out yet, he still had enough to move as fast as any athlete. As Ghost Rider and Superboy rushed up to deal damage upfront, Al had another idea.     Soon, through a series of flips, he aimed to land on the Rhino's massive shoulders, and instantly his cape would wrap around the face and visor of the Rhino, wrapping and clinging until it was completely air-tight. Maybe He couldn't do much physical damage to the rampaging beast, but he imagined that being unable to see(and being unable to breathe in oxygen) might have a negative impact. Additionally, every single chain Spawn had snaked downard, only to spring up between the powerhouse's legs...every single razor-sharp bladed end aiming for the Rhino's groin. He might not be able to cut through the suit. But he doubted this would feel good at all, on any level. 

:'''{{#var:108|She-Hulk (108)}} has posed:''' She-Hulk is LIVID as each sprinting leap brings her closer and closer to Long Island. At last she can hear and see the fight taking place, "Yeeeeeeesss!!" She-Hulk laughs, maybe enjoying this a bit too much! She literally LANDS on Rhino, interrupting Ghost Rider's barrage of hits a bit in order to unleash her own. There are two, maybe THREE heavy hitters ganging up on him. Spawn's tactic will definitely deprive him of air, but She-Hulk isn't going to let everyone else get her share of the "cake" just because she was late! With every punch she takes out her anger on Rhino, "I TOLD you not.. to MAKE.. me ANGRY! THIS is for my office!" She hits Rhino as HARD as she can with that punch, but not to where he will go into the sky. Instead he falls to the ground as Ghost Rider's pummels add to hers, "THIS is for my CLOTHES DAMNIT! Do you HAVE.. ANY.. IDEA.. HOW.. MUCH.. THOSE.. SHOES.. COOOOOST!!!" It's easy to tell that Jennifer is not her normal self, several more punches colliding with Rhino as she vents, "AND.. MY... PHOOOOONE!" She keeps punching him over.. and over.. and over.. he will definitely be weakening now with Ghost Rider's added hits, and the lack of oxygen. Should Superboy continue punching as well, Rhino will weaken only that much faster. 

:'''{{#var:212|Superboy (212)}} has posed:''' It is pretty bad when Superboy is the careful one. Ghost Rider recklessness and Rhino's craziness are going to end with a demolished building, but at least there is no one around to get hurt. So Conner rushes ahead, and flies over the villain, to try to keep him within the construction site area. Then Spawn returns and goes to grab him. "Hey, that is a good idea," comments the young man, reaching to grab one of the Rhino's arms and try to pull him down to the ground. Also so he can't grab Spawn's cape to pull free. The She-Hulk lands on Rhino and really... it doesn't matter much. No, he doesn't join the beating up. At this point it seems just a bunch of angry people venting on another angry guy. Conner is not particularly angry, he steps back, ready to get involved if it looks they could kill the big guy. 

:'''{{#var:53|Elycia Kreiger (53)}} has posed:'''     ELycia whistles as she spots the green BOMB that just hit Rhino. "Wow. RHino made one heck of an enemy." She then takes a deep breath. "Luna, I think we don't want to be recognized here." "Yes Ma'am. Changing car configuration." Luna replies. "Lets.....also have Starr make her debut here." "Yes Ma'am."     The car blinks a couple of times before it changes to a rather unique blue corvette. She keeps her distance, but her own look changes as well. She's definitely camera presentable......as Starr. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     Now, it seemed the numbers were finally on their side. Spawn had the wherewithall to leave Rhino's back before the big beast fell backward like a crashing meteor, the cape still wrapped tightly around the big oaf's head, which also meant that Rhino probably had no idea where the hits were coming from. The Hellspawn looked around, noting Ghost Rider there, and only for the briefest of moments did he look over at the flaming skull, before suddenly pulling his cape free of the bruiser. Instead, Spawn places both hands across either side of Rhino's head(the two sides least likely to be pummeled by She-Hulk's fists), and they each started glowing with green energy. Instantly Spawn shared one singular memory with the Russian hooligan...the memory of flames, the memory of of his screaming, the memory of his pain and his anguish, the memory of Hell, engulfing him completely. By itself, it would be a disturbing sight, but it would soon be further amplified... 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' Ghost Rider was beating on Rhino with Superboy before ANGRY she-hulk showed up! Well, that's definitely not good! But Ghost Rider is more than happy to triple-team it up on Rhino, looking more like a group beatdown than an actual fight. But as Spawn starts to use his psionics on Rhino? it gives Ghost Rider time to use a trick of his own. The Rider tries to put a knee on Rhino's throat and look into his eyes! "Look into my eyes!" for a Penance Stare! 

:'''{{#var:108|She-Hulk (108)}} has posed:''' Rhino screams and gasps as he is helplessly beaten down by the two heavy hitting heroes! They are each stronger than he is, and now their combined might is preventing him from being able to retaliate. Yes indeed the goliath mobster is starting to think that MAYBE he shouldn't have thrown police cars at a shipyard.. But it's too late to back out now. She-Hulk relentlessly continues to beat Rhino's head into the pavement as HARD as she can. She's beyond her normal strength now, the anger making her stronger, and stronger, even as she fights the urge to completely let her vision go red. But Jennifer remains in control as the blows keep raining, "YOU.. LIKE.. ME.. ANGRY?! DIDN'T.. THINK.. SOOO!!" She-Hulk can feel bones starting to crack as Rhino's armor dents. Blood begins to splatter. When Rhino thought it couldn't get any worse, gasping to breathe as he endures the most painful beatdown he's had in a long time, he suddenly feels himself.. somewhere else? No.. it can't be.. "Dead? IN HELL?!! NOOOOOOOO!!!" He feels nothing but despair and agony now.. there is not escape for him.. in this moment Rhino has completely lost the will to even try to win. He is broken. 

:'''{{#var:53|Elycia Kreiger (53)}} has posed:'''     It's now that Starr walks up to She-hulk, as she starts to see bleeding....and places a gentle hand on She-hulk's shoulder. "I'm pretty sure he's defeated....She-hulk, am I right?" Should She-hulk look, she'll find the pink haired woman standing close....with a very gentle voice and touch. "I don't think he's any sort of danger to anyone right now." She then looks at Ghost Rider and Spawn. "You two also did well....even with the damage done. But I do imagine you don't want to remain here." She then looks to She-hulk. "annnnd...I think you want to be more presentable...if you'll allow me." She says as she reaches for one of her earrings. If She-hulk lets her, She-hulk will get a hologram business suit while the press is out of sight. However, it's under the promise that she keeps secrets. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     After a moment, the Hellspawn stood, satisfied that Rhino wasn't going anywhere. Now at ease and breathing somewhat heavily(why did he breathe? He didn't need air.), the masked man looked up at the news cameras, even as his cape now draped around him in a way that hid everything but his mask from view. The collars of his cape were sticking straight up in their best Dracula impression, and soon he was looking back at both Ghost Rider, and She-Hulk. When he spoke, it was with that low tone he always used, dry, gravelly, vaguely threatening even when he wasn't. Except in this case, perhaps he was.     "Next time you set me on fire, ghostboy, I'm gonna have something for yo' ass."     To Jen, he turned fully.     "It's a good thing you got here when you did. We were going to have to resort for desperate measures to keep this endangered species on the ground. Where'd you learn to punch?" 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' The Rider rises to his feet after the Penance Stare, and he attacks no more. Before he looks to She-Hulk, stopping her if she tries to strike another blow. "Enough. He is beaten." Vengeance is vengeance...but that's overkill. His eyes then shift to Spawn as he makes his threat. "Bring whatever you like. It will be your entrails I will wear like a christmas scarf." The Ghost Rider doesn't back down from Spawn //at all//. Rough alliance at best. Before he glances to Elycia. "What did you have in find?" and it's at that moment, that the Ghost Rider reverts back into Johnny Blaze. Flesh and muscle regrowing over that pale skull as if the transformation never happened in the first place. 

:'''{{#var:108|She-Hulk (108)}} has posed:''' She-Hulk has indeed stopped, staring at Ghost Rider, "Don't tell me what to do.. you aren't my sugar daddy and don't have the looks to even try!" She glances up at Starr.. "I.. I'm okay.." She is breathing hard, shaking with anger. She stands up, hair a completely mess now. Rhino is in a silent shock, eyes wide, face a pulpy wreck, "My office.. my shoes.. nope not feeling bad about you.. not one bit.." 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     Spawn wasn't there the next time anyone looked. Using a bit more of his energy, he cloaked into the environment and made his way through the concrete jungle, back home. 

:'''{{#var:53|Elycia Kreiger (53)}} has posed:'''     "Lets not kill him, Okay?" Starr says to She-hulk before she looks to Spawn and CHost Rider. "Ease with the threats, okay? Let's not start another battle here." She says as clothes form on She-hulk, though she doesn't feel them. "There...you're more presentable. At least for now. We'll worry about the more formal shopping later, She-hulk. okay?" She seems pretty calm about all of this... 

:'''{{#var:108|She-Hulk (108)}} has posed:''' Police and FBI special units arrive soon after to take the incapacitated Rhino away in a special containment hold. This isn't their first rodeo with him and other supervillains so as unnerving as it is for some of the officers, the more experienced among them instill confidence as they fearlessly go about business as usual. She-Hulk looks at Starr, "Thanks for the clothes.. I just.. need to calm down.. fight's over.. yep over.. don't think about the shoes. Let's see.. how does Bruce calm down? Yep.." She starts taking deep breaths.. 
}}

5421/Last Rites

2018-09-23T23:40:44Z

TheMainMan: This alley is afraid of us. We have seen its true face.

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/09/23
|Location=Rat Alley
|Synopsis=A dead girl in an alley, three dark figures convene to figure out why.

(Warning, some graphic descriptions. And some very cool ones.)
|Cast of Characters=1946, 1490, 1857
|Tinyplot=At The Stake
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1946|Rorschach (1946)}} has posed:''' Her name was Regina, but a lot of them called her Old Reg. She wasn't that old, but she had some grey in her hair and she'd been there so damn long, she seemed like a part of the alley itself. Reg had been one of the maternal figures of Rat Alley, making sure the runaways got fed, keeping the worst of the pimps at bay. She did Tarot readings. They said she was a bit psychic. Some people even said she was a witch. She sure looked like one, sometimes, when she presides over a flaming barrel with the smoke spilling up around and the firelight flashing on her eyes. Now she was dead, gutted and hung. And they gathered here, in an old abandoned subway alley, and remembered her. They couldn't have her body, the city took that, so they'd bury her things. A long procession of homeless, lost, vagrant and mad, shuffling and stinking down an unused tunnel. And amongst them, a man in a mask, squirming ink spilling over white latex, hands in his pockets as he listens and he watches and he learns the rhythms of the woman's world. Rorschach. The better he knows her, the better he can find her killer. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     From the ceiling of that old alley, a figure dropped. A pool of leathery red as the figure made a soft 'thud' upon impact that the other frail, broken people didn't seem to react to, at least not very strongly. Oh, some of them got wide eyes, some of the squirrelier ones backed up a few, but it seemed most of them knew not to be afraid of the tall figure in black and white. He looked over them with green glowing eyes and spoke in a powerful deep voice.     "Regina. Where is she?"     A moment of silence, before the bolder one of them spoke, a heavyset man with a mustache and mostly balding hair.     "Ah geez...Al, she's gone. Someone...S-someone..."     The sentence couldn't be completed, and the tall masked figure seemed to narrow its eyes at this news. In confusion he scanned out over the surroundings...and saw something out of place. Something in a trenchcoat, and Wanda saying "I do" at the altar. Wait. No, that wasn't it. But it was enough for the figure to approach, almost rapidly.     "You're a new face around these parts, creepy. I don't like seeing new faces in my territory." 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' At that moment, another individual joined to witness the result of this catastrophe. His hands placed into his leather jacket pockets. "What happened here?" Then Johnny sees Regina, his eyes closed...out of sorrow and to hide the hellish flame that now colored his eyes from his rage. Though Johnny also notices Spawn as he descends from the shadow...but his eyes also notice Rorschach as the indivuals speak. "He ain't the only new face." Johnny approached Spawn, who may be able to tell It's the Ghost Rider. But Clearly Johnny is attempting to provide strong reason to NOT start something at the moment. But he does look to Regina. "Someone's gonna pay." He mutters lightly to himself. 

:'''{{#var:1946|Rorschach (1946)}} has posed:''' Rorschach doesn't flinch from the presence of the Spawn or the Spirit of Vengeance, although he can feel them. They're hot, hell-touched, just as he is cold and dead and empty. His eyes cannot be seen. Perhaps he has no eyes. His hat is pulled down but as he lifts it up, his 'face' becomes more visible, the scrawl of unyielding chaos etching itself over the surface of his face. "Territorial. Comes from pissing," he says in his rasping, hitching voice. "Don't know you either. Looking for answers. Why? Who? How is easy. Sharp knife, slicing up. Belly to throat, open wide, like a cut fish prepped for market. One stroke. Cruel and ragged. Not clean." To Johnny's words, he nods, "Someone always does. One way or another." 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     It appeared egos were clashing, and as Spawn stared down the smaller masked man, it appeared Rorschach wasn't budging. Standing this close his cape was warping and flapping, even as the chains around his body were writhing and rattling loudly, clearly this wasn't just a typical fashion statement. Spawn clearly wasn't the nicest of customers, but he was listening to the vigilante's words, and recognition was dawning. But before that sun could fully rise, the fires of Hell just ignited.     He'd seen Johnny around a few times, but the eruption of flame and the appearance of the skull made Spawn react violently. His cape opened up, the edges of it turning sharp and weaponized. From beneath the cape four chains reared up like cobras, ready to strike. In the dead man's right hand, an uzi was aimed right for the Ghost Rider's skull. His chains practically hissed at another Demonic presence...clearly these two had history, even if Al had never seen this before in his life.     A few moments of silence...then the ape relaxed, and the chains started wrapping themselves around Spawn's torso. The uzi was the last to go...but eventually it too, was lowered. (And through this all the rest of the bums decided to get their funeral procession moving a lot faster. They didn't wanna be caught in the crossfire for any of this.)     "That's new...I know where Regina slept. If we're looking for answers, we can start there." 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' Blaze looks at Rorschach with //almost// a smile. "Heh, we're gonna be great friends." There's an astronomical hint of sarcasm in his voice, but there could be a genuine hint of honesty as well. "Vengeance always finds a way." His eyes shift then to Spawn as the fellow hellspawn seems to get rather...active and alert. He doesn't seem even partially alerted, even if the Spirit within appears to be a little bit more on the alerted side. A small smile appears on his face. It's a mix of reminiscience...and caution. "Seems after all this time...we meet again." the voice is different. Darker, Demonic. But Johnny seems relatively aware of what Spawn is. Before he looks between Spawn and Rorshach. "Then lets get hunting." 

:'''{{#var:1946|Rorschach (1946)}} has posed:''' Spawn's manifestation only puts Rorschach a little on edge. He's not much afraid of anything not because he's so brave but because he doesn't have anything to lose. His misery could only be assuaged by death. And pain is an old, old friend. "Show me," he says to Spawn. An old hobo has gotten up on a cardboard box and started to read from the Bible. A few of the others jeer him for it, "Regina didn't believe in none o' that hooey!" a sixteen year old girl with a shaved head yowls. "You can stick your God up your ass!" 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     The journey is a relatively quiet one, though as the teen on the sidelines makes her bold statement, Spawn started reflecting, somberly. He hadn't believed himself, once. Seeing his mother fall for scammer after scammer as long as they wore a cross around their neck, it soured his opinion of the entire concept of religion. Ironically he only started having second thoughts when he'd been overseas, putting bullets in the heads of America's enemies.     Then it had all gone dark, and he couldn't remember anything but the pain of Hellfire, and the screaming of his own soul.     He almost passed right by the main alley, but thankfully, stumbling across a rolling glass bottle helped bring him back to the hear and now. Angrily launching the bottle with his foot(it was going to fly across gotham, and probably ruin a store owner's window insurance rates), Spawn shook his head, and gestured across an empty cardboard shantytown with his long, pointed fingers.     "This was hers. She preferred sleeping under the stars, when it wasn't raining too much." 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' Johnny Blaze looks to Rorschach and apparently...guess they are working together on this. Yay. Well, this should be fun. Then fo course, he looks to Spawn which almost automatically puts him at great unease. Though of course, as he walks by, hands still in his pockets, is wright when the woman starts to scream at a hobo. Johnny pauses. Before he looks to Spawn and Rorschach in a 'just a moment' kind of way. He turns right around until he is right in the face of the shaved woman who was jeering at a hobo for reading his Bible. "If I were you, I'd get to readin' the good word too." his eyes flare with hellfire. "Leave him alone. First and only warning. God ain't gonna be the one giving you a guided tour of hell." Johnny then turns around. He knew as well as anyone that Hell and Heaven were real. Believing it didn't matter. Eventually, he reunites with his 'partners' and he sighs. "Sorry about that." he looked to the place Spawn pointed out, and he sighs, but says nothing. 

:'''{{#var:1946|Rorschach (1946)}} has posed:''' Rorschach grunts at Johnny's actions. It sounds vaguely approving but it's rather hard to tell. His face certainly doesn't give anything away. When he's shown Regina's things, Rorschach kneels to inspect them. She had a bag with the usual possessions - cans of food, mostly Vienna sausages. Jars of peach baby food. A half-empty bottle of rum. A spare dress or two, soiled as the rest, but at least she could switch out. He finds a wooden box, ornate and surprisingly clean for something of her belongings. He draws it out and lays it down, flipping the latch and drawing it open. Within, there is a set of Tarot cards, a chalice, a dagger and a pentacle on an amulet. "Witch,' Rorschach says simply, confirming the sign around her neck, if not the spelling. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     While Rorschach was pawing around her things, he might notice a singular chain snaking up and wrapping around one of the jars of babyfood, retracting and ending up in Spawn's barely-human hand. The glowing green of his eyes dimmed somewhat, even as he untwisted the cap, and dipped his thumb inside the contents. Wanda had wanted children, it had been the source of so many of their arguments near the end. He figured he'd have all the time in the world, and now? Now she had a beautiful daughter with Al's best friend. And he was here, surrounded by filth and garbage, part of a world of costumed madness.     Abruptly the babyfood was tossed aside, shattering on the ground with a loud crash. Instead Spawn looked down at the trenchcoat-wearing man.     "Out of all of us, you're the one who was able to examine the body. Was she pregnant?" 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' Johnny was already looking around. This....had a few different kinds of weird in it that Johnny was more or less used to by now. Johnny's about to say something before Rorschach says it for him. Witch indeed. Johnny gives an approving nod when he also sees that sign around her neck. "Or a sorceress. But my money is on the former considering the 'double, double, toil and trouble' kinds of artifacts she seems to possess." "No wonder people knew she didn't believe in God." Johnny mostly mutters to himself before he just takes a sigh. He glances to Spawn at the strange question, but doesn't reply. Was this an act of a demon she may or may not have made a deal with? Or did she simply be at the wrong place at the wrong time? 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     At Ghost Rider's words, Spawn looked over and gave him a look. It shouldn't have been possible with that thick leather mask, but somehow he was able to raise a brow even as he spoke with an incredulous voice. "That's a hell of a conclusion. I had tarot cards when I was a teenager. That didn't make my ass a warlock." 

:'''{{#var:1946|Rorschach (1946)}} has posed:''' Rorschach didn't look back over his shoulder as he spoke, "Baby food is cheap calories. You can get it a quarter a jar some places. Easy eatin' if you got bad teeth and can't afford a dentist," he says. "No, she was not pregnant. Her womb had long since dried." As they're looking, they hear footsteps and can turn and see the approach of the hobo who'd been holding the Bible. He seemed to be sweating profusely. He's damp, at least, his shirt soaked to him, dripping footprints behind him "I heard what you said to the slut over there, sir. It...I was proud to have you stand up for something Godly. You should know that some of the company you keep is far, far from holy," he says, with a shiver. "I had to pray for Regina's soul. But I fear it was lost, long lost. She got what she deserved and now she burns. We deserve no less," he says. Rorschach twitches behind his mask, makes a sniffing noise and says, "Gasoline." Just as the homeless preacher suddenly goes up in flames. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     For his part, Spawn was unmoved by the priest's words, simply regarding the man coldly. In life he'd seen and heard a lot worse, usually from his bosses. Erupting in flames, well, that was something else entirely.     Al recognized the smell as soon as Rorschach said it, and the glow of the flames danced along the reflective white surface of his mask, his metal chains and metal belt buckle gleaming in the light. He was paralyzed for a moment, seeing the flames lap and dance upward, hearing the crackling, and the screaming. It brought up memories, that he'd rather not deal with.     He snapped out of it quickly, though, and instantly his cape leapt upward, wrapping around the man and taking him to the ground in almost a wrestling-type maneuver. There in fact was a steady 'oof' from the man inside the red leather burrito. The cape rolled the man back and forth as quickly as possible, trying to put him out quickly.     "Who dares attack my people? I'll send them to Hell for this!" 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' Johnny seems to look to Spawn as he comments on Tarot Cards. "No, that's an interest in the occult." he tells Spawn pretty casually before the homeless man arrives to thank him for his words. Though..calling someone else a slut, even if it was true, was practically a sin in and of itself. 'love your neighbor as yourself'. Gospel of Mark, right? What? Johnny owns a Bible. After fighting a war in Heaven...kinda hard not to have one. But, he simply nods. "No soul is ever lost. Not until the final judgement." But then he smells the gasoline. "Shit." and he lights on fire! Johnny watches the man erupt in flames, before Spawn reacts and so does Johnny, who attempts to use his own pyrokinetic powers to try and force the flames to die out, working in cohesion with Spawn with alert on his face. 

:'''{{#var:1946|Rorschach (1946)}} has posed:''' The man wrapped in Spawn's cloak is snuffed out, but not before plenty of damage is done. When the cape peels away, as the Rider draws away the remainder of the flame, the man's face is crusted with burns. His head had been soaked the worst of all, taking the most intense of the heat. He opens his eyes and they seem to have almost melted running down his cheeks like gelatinous tears and leaving the sockets empty and raw in their wake. "A NEW PLAGUE IS COMING! A NEW PLAGUE IS COMING! GLORY IN THE HIGHEST! HALLELUJIAH! ELIJAH WALKS!" he blubbers, before losing consciousness again from the pain and probably sinking rapidly toward death. Rorschach watches it all and slowly adjusts his gloves. As he does, something flaps against his ankle. He reaches down and finds a pamphlet with block letters on the front. SUFFER NOT A WYTCH YE THOU I WALK THE VALLEY IS SHADOWS AND DEATH FEAR ALL EVIL 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' Johnny simply watches as this man suffers his burns. Only so much you can do when it's a full-blown gasoline explosion on a person. But, he listens to the words of the homeless man as he shouts something like he's a fire & brimstone preacher. Until he passes out, anyway. Johnny simply sighs, before he approaches and perhaps picks up the man's bible (or what's left of it) to see if it's a Christian Bible or a modified, Satanic, or a cursed one. "Deeper than we realized." Johnny simply mutters to himself. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     Spawn watched this happen, his cape pulling away even as his eyes narrowed. He dropped to a knee beside the man's charred and ruined head, staring down for a few long moments.     "So he kills Reg, then sets himself on fire?"     He sounded dissatisfied by this result, by the ending to this story, and so his right thumb reached down, pressing against the front of the man's skull. Spawn's eyes glowed a brighter green, and soon the dead man's eyes, mouth and nose all glowed in a similar fashion. Being dead his memories were fading from his brain rather quick, but Spawn opened them wide and rummaged through anyway. Perhaps something would flash through, perhaps he'd see something that made some kind of sense.     It lasted only a few moments, before the hand was pulled away, and the man became a corpse again. By now, more bums were coming toward the action, unafraid of Spawn, and while somewhat wary of the man in the inkblot mask, they seemed to trust someone who Spawn was letting "in", so to speak. The same went for the man in the leather jacket, though if he'd been visiting Regina before, he'd probably built up a rep of his own. 

:'''{{#var:1946|Rorschach (1946)}} has posed:''' Rorschach kneels down and takes a closer look at what's left of the man. He absorbs the death, considers it as a piece in the puzzle. A part of the pattern. "He didn't kill her. He knew who did," Rorschach says. "He's just a messenger. He's telling us she's not the first. He's telling us she won't be the last." He crumpled up the pamphlet and shoved it in his pocket, "I'll find more. Then I'll find you," he says to the other two. "Be ready." He walks off slowly down the alley and lets the pieces swim in his mind. His gifts work that way, almost on autopilot, the patterns emerging in the bleeding wake of his subconscious. He's already tuned out the world for the tapestry within. And he's begun tugging at the threads. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:'''     He'd learned a little, but it was more mysteries, and more questions. In frustration, he stood even as his right hand grabbed the priest's collar, lifting him upright. He'd have to dispose of the body later, he didn't want any cops to have any reasons to come down this way. He turned, glared at Johnny, then turned toward the darkness himself.     "Feel free to let yourself out anytime." 

:'''{{#var:1857|Johnny Blaze (1857)}} has posed:''' Johnny kneels down to inspect further evidence, only sighing as he cracked his neck. Zarathos was getting restless. So was Johnny. Vengeance was coming. But, Johnny simply stood up slowly. He could grab something to use black magic on later, or find someone who could, but...that probably wasn't necessary. the woman was already dead. "So now, basically?" Johnny quips as he turns heel. What a dark world they live in. A world of madness. 
}}

5395/Skittering Dinner

2018-09-20T11:44:10Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/09/18 |Location=A bar in Knowhere |Synopsis=Tough guys in a tough place. Only the toughest of bounty hunters invited! |Cast of Characters=1742..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/09/18
|Location=A bar in Knowhere
|Synopsis=Tough guys in a tough place. Only the toughest of bounty hunters invited!
|Cast of Characters=1742, 1808, 155, 30
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:''' The Main Man had a big appetite, which is why he was sat with his back to the wall, keeping one eye on the action out in the bar proper even as he stabbed down wit his miniature trident. Scurrying along the metal bowl were screeching skittering things, eight-legged and numerous, they were crawling over one another in a desperate attempt to avoid death by mastication. No such luck, as one by one, they eventually fell. Lobo nodded as he ate, numerous weapons scattered on the table. "Been quiet lately, you notice that? I don't like when things ain't lively, usually a sign that somethin' bad is about ta happen, an' that I ain't the one startin' the bad thing about ta happen. Yer little ship of weirdos been noticing anythin' strange lately? Anythin' outta place, not where it should be?" 

:'''{{#var:1808|Kup (1808)}} has posed:''' Kup took only a hundredth part of the space treasure from the ship that Power Girl gave him an escape from but most of it was to donate to the library to donate to pay for damages and the generator for cybertron. But money could stilp be useful for most and could make all kinds of "friends." Card games were great for gossip so Kup came in to the bar with an ear for interesting things and full intent to tell some stories. 

:'''{{#var:155|Rocket (155)}} has posed:''' Rocket sits at the same table with Lobo. He is conspicuously not eating out of that bowl. in fact his own appetizer is something that might approach Earth styled Buffalo wings slathered in some sauce. The raccoon is skillfully gnawing upon one at the moment when the question is posed toward him. "Wha?" he mumbles mouth half full. Then he swallows and licks his chops with his pink tongue. "Our ship ain't DAT ******in' little. And we ain't DAT *******in' weird - wait. Nevermind. ya. we're totally that ***in' weird. But naw... ain' heard spit 'bout anything. Quill's off.. doin' who knows what.. or who. Prolly some galactic dance off party some place. Drax? Last I heard he was huntin' down some former enemy in the deep sectors. Groot's got family **** ta deal with. I think." Sitting back Rocket takes a swig of his drink. "But yeah. somethin's gotta be happenin' that ain't ****in' good.." Then Kup enters and Rocket's eyes start to gleam. "Holy ****in' Mother Martha of ******** the ****ist **** of the first *****! You see dat thing?" He jabs a paw toward Kup. "Looks like a walkin' gold mine..." the ideas and credits are rolling in his head already. 

:'''{{#var:30|Bjorn (30)}} has posed:''' Following in behind Kup, not paying the giant mechanation much mind was Vorn! he gives the robotic entity a polite nod before heading furthere in There was a bar, and there was food. That is ALL he needed to know. And who does he see Lobo...talking with a Raccoon, ? Well that not something you see every day! But screw it. He order himself a plate of megapillbug. Comes out curled and one knock on it shell and it unfurls revealing juicy legs and meaty guts. Heaven! Vorn plops onto a nearby stool as he munches hungrily. 

:'''{{#var:1808|Kup (1808)}} has posed:''' Kup spots a card game and is about to join it with enough bling to buy the freaking BAR around him amd heads towards it. He nods in return to Vorn. Having never been to earth he doesnt know a racoon from a schmeep but Lobo he knows. He smiles, "Czarnian. I see you survived your experience with...your bounty 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:''' Dozens upon dozens of eight-legged baby creatures popped and exploded as Lobo's yellow teeth turned them into a fine paste, the super powerful venom in each infant arachnid enough to kill a terran. Or in Lobo's case, provide a spicy kick that made his tongue and his jaw go a little numb. As Rocket spoke he thought about the other crew members, briefly and idly wondering how difficult it would be to snap Drax's neck, or if Groot even bled blood. For the Czarnian, carnage, chaos and destruction was nearly all he thought about, it was what he lived and breathed every day. Even here in this relaxed setting, even with his hair down and his mustache starting to grow a bit thicker from too many days of peace, flashes of pain danced before his eyes. "Yeah, I see him. Met him before, fought some alien. It sucked." He spoke matter of factly, missing many of the new arrivals as really, he'd just been focused on his food and on immediate danger. "Tellin' ya, somethin' ain't right. Starts makin' the Main Man a little paranoid, an' when I get paranoid, folks start gettin' dead. Ya seriously ain't got no contracts? Nothin' at all, big time or small?" He hushed up immediately when the big robot approached, turning his head slightly to regard the Cyberman with blood-red eyes. "Ain't easy ta kill, Tinman. Why, didja expect otherwise?" 

:'''{{#var:155|Rocket (155)}} has posed:''' Rocket somehow managed to ignore Lobo's eating habits as they talked. He'd seen the same and worse many places over in the galaxy before. "Yeah. Guess yer right. No contracts. Been workin' on the Milano. Last time out Quill almost got 'er shot in half. Looked like swiss cheez fer a while there. But she's back ship-shape again." He looks up at the robodude. "Y'know... y'ever consider donatin' yerself t' science if ya ever die? 'coz I gotta better suggestion fer yah if so.." 

:'''{{#var:30|Bjorn (30)}} has posed:''' Vorn pipes up "Let me guess, as scrap?" he says not being too far from the table. He was munches on his bug, holding it in two hands. Despite his mouth being full, closer and chewing, he was able to speak clearly - and no it was not telepathic. He turns to the group "Where you even gone looking for these so called... contracts?" he wonders, looking to all three rather casually. He rubs the tendrills of his beard a moment "Cause sound like yea fellas need to be getting out of Knowhere" 

:'''{{#var:1808|Kup (1808)}} has posed:''' Kup says, "Oh no. I have met many many Czarnians before. I fought woth a company in the Battle of the Silver Spear, against them at the Onyx Destiny and they simply mugged everyone (but me) in the 12th Battle of Omnicron 6. I have donated myself to science 19 times. Why I remember the time I was on the inside of the Star Vampire's dark alchemy lab. Wow, let me tell you that was a hairy situation." 

:'''{{#var:1808|Kup (1808)}} has posed:''' Kup says, "Contracts? I know all the best places in the galaxy for contracts. Plenty of places right here in Knowhere even when the going is thin. The collector, Marlyboxi, or the sewer system. People always forget that AI need jobs too." 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:''' The Main Man's eyes narrowed, for a few reasons. His eyes narrowed at Kup's "recounting" of meeting Czarnians, clearly a lie. That ticked the bounty hunter's murder sense up a few ticks, but seeing as this was a robot, his bloodlust quickly ran back down to a healthy medium again. No point ripping apart a machine, right? Then he heard Vorn's voice, finally saw the man for the first time, and immediately he snarled, a bestial roar coming from his diaphram. Instantly as he bared his incisors, he stood and in one solid motion, grabbed the metal chair he was sitting in so that he could fire it forth with terrible velocity and speed, aiming right for the older bearded man. "Ain't you know it ain't polite ta eavesdrop? Scrapheap here is one thing, ain't no computer with common sense I ever met. But you? Inexcusable!" He was light on weapons at the moment, but he had more than enough to deal with the situation at present. Plus, his own two hands could do absolute wonders with a throat and a skull. 

:'''{{#var:155|Rocket (155)}} has posed:''' Rocket was about to take a drink when the guy at the bar joined into the conversation. He paused, mug close to his muzzle as Lobo gots postal. A snicker from the raccoon at the notion it is rude to butt in on conversations. Rocket would never say anything if he lived by that philosophy. But this wasn't about him. Not mostly. That dig about being unable to find contracts? That rubbed his fur the wrong way. He hadn't even considered, yet, the old timey roboty thing standing in front of the table. "Jus' 'cause I don't GOTTA contract don' ****in' mean I can't FIND a *********in' contract. It means I ain't lookin'. Rocket Raccoon's a dependable bounty hunter. I always come through in the end!" Then he snickers again at some private thought, right about the time that Lobo seems prepared to chuck the chair like a all out cage match. 

:'''{{#var:30|Bjorn (30)}} has posed:''' Welp! Their ain't no dodging THAT one! The chair caves in the orcish beings face, impales his chest, and knocks him over with a loud crashing thud! And he still speaks normally "...was that...really, nessary?" He stand back up and begins prying the metal chair out, with relative ease actually, his form resumming it's typical look. "By Juthuum you are damn trigger happy." he hands the chair back rather casuallly, he was in a good mood. But there was a smirk "But guess this is one computer you thought had common sense" he waggles his brows. Was he really robotic? Well if he was, he did a might good job hiding it!     "Anyways, was more curiouse, cause been thinking of mabey taking up some bounties. mabey already got some" he shrugs "Still working out details" of what exactly he keeps quiet on. 

:'''{{#var:1808|Kup (1808)}} has posed:''' Kup says, "I see I have offended you small furry creature from Alpha Centauri," he hand him a small emerald worth an insane amount. "Here is something shiny." He looks about, "Uh oh. Normally I ive a bar fight but not in the mood to be mugged." He nods to Lobo and bows to Vorn. "Until next time. " He turns into a truck. In the bar. Bling secure l, he drives out moving towards the exit. He leaves a gold coin on the bar "For the wall." 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:''' He was already on his feet, and halfway across the bar with a machete in his hand when a few things happened. 1)The robot became a vehicle, and drove away. 2)Like he became a truck. 3) He's a truck but he drives himself? What? Needless to say with all of these things in mind, Lobo was snapped out of his current mood for just a moment, and that was enough to deter him this time. Truth be told, the groin kick hadn't offended him all that much, and he didn't feel like taking this man's scalp if he wasn't gonna get paid for it by somebody. Instead, he turned to regard the small raccoon. Machete still held and ready to be used, but it clearly wasn't going to split somebody open tonight. "Keep in touch, I gots some ideas I wanna bounce off of ya later." "An' YOU!", he said as he suddenly pointed that dull thick metal blade at the previously chair'd man. "...Stay outta trouble." And with that, Lobo was gone. 
}}

5408/Hawkworld Sucks

2018-09-20T11:42:08Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/09/20 |Location=Thanagarian Air-Space |Synopsis=A Czarnian and a Zen Whoberie walk into a Hawk Ship. The Hawk Ship says "Ow!" And then dies. |..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/09/20
|Location=Thanagarian Air-Space
|Synopsis=A Czarnian and a Zen Whoberie walk into a Hawk Ship. The Hawk Ship says "Ow!" And then dies.
|Cast of Characters=1742, 161
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Thanagarians were just about the absolute worst. Super militant, super angry, they were the second most prominent "bird person" species in the galaxy, and just like the Shi'ar, they were an absolute pest.     Here they were in one of their big magnficient war ships, shooting lasers freely at the green woman found within even as closeby guards were swinging their electro-truncheons right at her skull and face, all ordering her to surrender to their authority in their perpetually angry-sounding language. This ship was designed for a flying species, alright, with tons of verticality and many work stations that could not be reached by a grounded wingless humanoid. This was after they beamed her on board their ship, for purposes that could be known only to them. Presumably she had been a bit too close to their systems. Or perhaps they saw her face and assumed she was going to bring them misery, if they didn't bring it to her first? In any case, they clearly weren't interested in exchanging ideas and information with the last survivor of a dead race. 

:'''{{#var:161|Gamora (161)}} has posed:''' They were given one warning, one, and now a sword in one hand, and a plasma blaster in the other, Gamora isn;t playing nice. The body of a headless Thanagarian officer (melted) falls to the deck as her blade twirls and she begins cutting through them as she walks, not runs, but walks towards their hangar, leaping from place to place, and cutting down or blasting anyone who gets in her way. The trail of bodies and the line of dripping blood from her sword a clear indicator of where she has been. "And I though Terrans were paranoid, looks like my annoyance was misplaced." She says as she kicks in one of the doors leading to where she beleives the hangar of this ship will be. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     The "hawk people" are warriors, tried and true. Cunning, ruthless, tactically brilliant. Well, usually they are. Unfortunately, they've also severely under-estimated just how powerful the woman they're fighting truly is. Given her leisurely pace, the marksmans are definitely hitting their marks and lighting her up with suppressive laserfire, except the suppressive laserfire isn't suppressing like they hoped it would. The men and women who end up close enough charge in valiantly, using clubs and axes, their own rifles built for this purpose and able to double as either. It clearly didn't matter though, because blood and feathers were falling to the ground even as Gamora kicked open a new path. The door was the sort to slide open, but its mechanical function clearly didn't account for an angered, and Titan-enhanced Zen Whoberi.     This next room seemed to be much like the previous, Thanagarian architecture was cold, sharp and repetitive. In this room there seemed to be chaos much like the last, laserfire and screaming could now be heard now that Gamora tore down the sound-proof barrier. Swooping and coming in low was a large beast of a hawk man(but not actually a Hawkman), his helmet half-destroyed to show his nervous panick as blood streaked down his face. He was coming right for her...but the collision never happened. Because from up top a large, hulking albino form stomped down, turning the hawk into an explosion of red paste and flying feathers, his black boots now covered in a Jackson Pollock painting. The man was shirtless, blood covering parts of his chest, but his tattoos were easily seen, as well as the rest of him. He gave a sneer as he glared around with his crimson red eyes, black hair flying all around.     "Awright, birdbrains, ya officially got the Main Man pissed! Who wants a little, huh? 'Cause I'm fixin' ta give a lot!" 

:'''{{#var:161|Gamora (161)}} has posed:''' Gamora covers her face with her blaster arm as thanagarian guts shoot her way. "Well, someone was talented in arts and crafts." She says as a single plasma shot shoots a Thanagarian who came at Lobo, Gamora turning her head to look at the large bounty hunter. "Lobo, let me guess, beamed you here as well?" She says as she looks around, her blade cutting into another soldier who got abit to close. "Make me wish I was dealing with the kree." 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Here, in the middle of this big battle, Lobo instantly stopped what he was doing and noticed the green death-dealer who, like him, was hellbent for leather. Instantly he walked toward her in the midst of laser volleys firing in front and behind him, angling his hips and shoulders so that his abs showed in the best possible light. His right hand traveled up them to rub across his chest, unconsciously smearing hawk blood all around as he did so. If he was intending this to be seductive, the jury was out on whether it was effective at all.     "Long time no see, Gams. You still wastin' yer time, flyin' around with that skinny pink-skinned Space-Geek, or whatever his name is? Or you ready ta ditch the zero an' get some real POWER 'tween yer le-"     As if on cue, one of the more bold Thanagarian warriors dashed in, her wings too damaged for flight but that didn't stop her from swinging that truncheon of hers as hard as she could, swooping it up between the Czarnian's legs and causing a crunching sound that led to Lobo's eyes nearly bugging out of his skull, and his purple tongue hanging out of his mouth as a wordless scream left his lungs. Instantly he reached for the warrior woman's bottom jaw, and what ensued next was horrific. Similar to an atomic wedgie, but with a jawbone instead of underwear waistband. Up over her helmeted skull, which meant the awful screams were now deeply muted, as she waved her arms and staggered off somewhere. She might not die, but that wasn't a good thing right now.     For his part, Lobo was still doubled over, hands on his skull-pattered kneepads, breathing in deep.     "Whaddaya say we get outta here? I've been callin' fer my ride, but it's way out there in the vacuum, I'm thinkin' we need ta find an escape pod. Or kill everyone and sell this boat fer booze an' ladyfavors. Whaddaya say?" 

:'''{{#var:161|Gamora (161)}} has posed:''' She respect's Lobo due to his power, but his suggestion didnt sit well with her, only she was beaten to her retaliation. "Not interested." She says, and the idea of sharing an escape pod with this loud smelly space biker also doesn;t sit well with her. "They have a hangar somewhere around here, I was going to take one and go back to Knowhere." She says. Moving to one of their anti personel gatling guns that is wall mounted.. or was wall mounted as she pulls it from the wall and holds it over her shoulder before moving down a long corridor and simply wasting anyone in her way, the coppery walls turning a nice splattered shade of red as she continues to move, even getting a few thanagarian feathers stuck in the holds of her now ruined outfit. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Gamora went for more dakka, and instantly Lobo's..."respect" for the woman went up a few extra notches. As far as he was concerned, she had everything going for her. Power, strength, ruthlessness, a killer bod AND she had the rep of being the daughter of the cosmos' greatest killer? Lobo viewed Gamora as living the best possible life. As she rained down death and destruction with the help of that impossibly big turret, the Main Man watched her six, pulling down flying dodos with the Bisley, and hooking them down into Gamora's rate of fire. That is, when they got hooked, and didn't just get cut down and splattered with the hook all by itself. And his leather pants weren't doing much better than her clothes, quickly becoming a pair of short-shorts as red-hot laserdeath ripped through his flesh. His flesh was rapidly regrowing, but it was still obnoxious. His hair was going to be a mess after this, he could tell. It was while he was distracted by the concerns about his fashion, that he smelled something familiar. Instantly he grinned, and tapped one black-nailed finger on the green woman's shoulder. He gestured with his head and thumb, pointing down a side hall.     "I smell O-Zone down this way. I'll bet ya they got one of them rinkydink Hawkships down here. Ever fly one before?"     He hadn't, but to him it wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like a crash was going to be fatal for the likes of them, right? 

:'''{{#var:161|Gamora (161)}} has posed:''' Finaly, the Hangar, and of course, she runs out of ammo for her new huge gun, so, she turn;s it into a blunt object and Gamora starts to beat the Hawk people with her now depleted formerly wall mounted turret. "No, but I can manage." She says as she tosses what's left of her huge cannon at two of the Thanagarians. "I hope you can survive in the vaccum for a bit." She says as she hits a button, and the vaccum of space opens up, she, for her own effort, leaps towards one of the ships and get's in, a single person ship, and closes the canopy, starting it up. Once Lobo is clear, she then fires about six rockets into the ship, causing a chain reaction that causes it's engine core to meltdown. "I am not to be triffled with, you will learn." She says as the ship takes off and she makes sure her new ride get's clear of the ship before the rather massive explosion happens. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     For his part he was taking care of things the old fashioned way: Ripping, tearing and hooking a bloody path through hawkpeople. No, no not that kind of 'hooking'. Stop it.     The reader's perversion aside, once the hangar was clear Lobo just hung back, turning his head only slightly when the ship blew a hole through the core of the ship itself, debris showering his face, shoulder and some getting stuck in his slowly regrowing hair and beard. Maybe Gamora would notice the soft 'thunk' at the top of her solo ship as she flew out into the vacuum, maybe she'd notice the dent in the upper left corner as clearly, her hitchhiker was hanging on. She'd probably definitely notice when the albino-skinned bounty hunter and bringer of destruction hung down in front of the windshield, grinning in at her. Now dressed in the chain around his arm and a censored bar, the barefoot and blood-splattered Czarnian appeared to be blowing her a kiss with those pale white lips of hers, before bringing his hand up to his face. Holding up two fingers and darting his tongue between them, maybe he was signifying that the two of them made a great team. This only lasted a split second until his bike showed up from the distance, and then and only then did Lobo look backward and kick off back to his ride. Time didn't exist in the vacuum of space, but for Gamora it might still be a moonlit night until, thankfully, the Hog screeched to life and took its owner far, far away from here. 

:'''{{#var:161|Gamora (161)}} has posed:''' Gamora is not amused, though, she knows that sound doesn;t carry in space, so instead she reaches into a side compartment to get a metal sealed canister and looks right at the nude bounty hunter, smashing the can between the palms of her hands. Not amused indeed. Turning her ship one way, and then another to throw Lobo off, she then engages the engines and heads towards the nearest jump point, a single message left behind. "Not if we were the last things in the universe, last warningm next time, I'll put your head in a jar." 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     The message was clear to Lobo: "So you're saying there's a chance!" 
}}

5270/Jokes

2018-08-30T11:01:48Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/08/30 |Location=Gotham City |Synopsis=Spawn and Batman run afoul of one another and talk killer clowns. Some members of the Joker Gang are bru..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/08/30
|Location=Gotham City
|Synopsis=Spawn and Batman run afoul of one another and talk killer clowns. Some members of the Joker Gang are brutalized.
|Cast of Characters=1490, 104
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' The sound of a horn blaring was shrill and harsh, the sort of pitch scientifically designed to get a human's attention and keep it. It kept traveling up through the harsh, disgustingly hot night sky because the van it was attached to was currently wrapped around a lamp-post, smoking and completely ruined. The driver of that van was sprawled unconscious over the steering wheel, side of his head bleeding from underneath that mask somewhere, even as the other men spilled nervously out of that vehicle from all sides. Guys in cheap jeans and hoodies, at least one wearing some light kevlar underneath the baggy clothes, all of them armed. One of them screamed out into the night sky, AK firing wildly into the night sky. "Hey, who do you think you are, crossin' us, you know who we work for?! Who are you?!" From the top of that lamp-post a shape dropped down, descending on the top of that ruined van even as he stood up to his full height, a red leathery cape billowing and rustling all around. From this light it was easy to see the black and white symmetry of the mask covering his face, and the glowing gleam of those green eyes. "I'm a concerned citizen, asshole." They all whirled around, just long enough for the edge of that impossibly wild cape to snare out, wrapping around the face and skull of one goon and squeezing even as he was lifted into the air. Screams, clear pain, and he dropped his weapon. A slow start, but things were going to heat up very quickly. 

:'''{{#var:104|Batman (104)}} has posed:'''     Tonight, is the night for concerned citizens, it seems. The pursuit had already drawn the Dark Knight's attention before it came to a sudden, screeching end here in the dirtiest and most dangerous slice of Gotham City. The Batmobile on the other side of the city ferrying an unconscious Crazy Quilt to the GCPD's Twenty-Fifth Precinct for holding. He crosses the rooftops at speed, his footfalls raising not a sound as he squints behind the eyepieces of his cowl. A flash of unnatural colour still sparking in the corners of his vision, the remnant of the night's earlier encounter. It doesn't slow him, and he is already descending towards the altercation even as the equally-enshadowed figure engages with the gunmen.     The Bat does not present himself immediately, remaining concealed in the darkness gathered about the edge of the street lamps flickering, grimy light. He watches the other combatant intensely as he watches all who enter his city. Already judging. Already weighing the pros against the cons. These thoughts running through his head like some grim, passionless computer as two arms reach out of the night to grasp another of the thugs. The man makes not a sound as he is swallowed by the darkness, the Batman clasping his hand over his mouth and applying pressure to momentarily block the flow of blood to his brain.     Even as he goes about his work, the Bat's eyes are fixated on the Newcomer. On Spawn. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' Somewhere in the darkness, a detective makes his move. For his part, The caped man atop the car doesn't seem to pay much attention, if he even notices at all. Instead, the cape 'weakly' releases the thug, to let him go flying through the air, even as Spawn himself finally hops off the top of the car to land right next to the masked lunatics. That broke them out of their trance and the weapons are aimed, automatic fire ripping through the night sky, the sounds of a wartorn hell echoing off of buildings and alleyways, reverberating through the bones of Gotham. These days it seemed such sounds were not uncommon, even as most of them seemed to hit their mark. Bullets tore through that red cape and seemed to go right through the figure, many of the bullets having enough power to carve the van behind him. But if this was killing him, he seemed to be coping with things rather well. Instantly he reached out with long, bony claw-like fingers, snatching a rifle from one of their hands so that he could flip it around and smash the wooden buttstock into the hapless goon's clown-covered nose. The goon went down, collapsing like a boneless fish even as that cape unfurled and chains shot out, ripping through a second thugs' hands, with two more chains going through the same goons' boot covered feet. Another blood-curdling scream, followed by flashes of crimson trickling down those metal weapons to pool along the ground, and it seemed that motivated a number of them to run as far away from the tall, black-clad figure as fast as they could...toward where one of their friends had just been silently taken down. For his part, the masked figure was just looking down at the one thug in his clutches, speaking with that powerful deep voice of his even as he studied the gun in his grasp. As if it were some toy that he'd confiscated from misbehaving children. "I'm tired of clowns, I'm tired of their puns and their little prophecies. You have the gift of life and you waste it on this trifling shit? You disgust me." As he spoke, there were several bullet holes in his black-clad torso, but instead of red blood, it seemed green...something was slowly dripping down, glowing just as bright as his eyes. 

:'''{{#var:104|Batman (104)}} has posed:'''     For a moment, the Dark Knight tenses up. He releases his grip on the now-unconscious thug, letting him fall bodily to the pavement. He almost moves as the bullets tear through the air, thinking to tackle the Newcomer out of the way when he seems to make no move to avoid them. But he relents, the ugly calculus in his head determining that he would never reach the man in time. All in that same split second he curses himself, another life lost. Another fool in a cape and mask misjudging Gotham's desire to tear at the throat and go for the jugular. To eviscerate all who would seek to tame it.     But as he views the scene a moment longer, realization dawns. His eyes narrow behind his cowl as he sees where the bullets have torn through something ... inhuman. Not so shocking that it gives him pause, more that it raises the ire in his blood. As the remaining gunmen flee into the dark, their cries are cut short with a pair of strangled gasps. A second later they collapse back into the pool of light cast by the street lamp, unconscious and bloodied about the face. A vicious shadow follows them, seeming to render what little warmth the light might have given colder and inhospitable.     Batman is little more than a shadow, save one with two baleful white eyes glaring through the dark at Spawn. When he speaks, his tone is stern and his voice deep: "People live here. These are their homes. Any one of these bullets could have hit a civilian. If you value life so much, you should work harder to preserve it." 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' The chains curl and flex for a moment, the ones in the gunman's hands and feet tightening enough to cause him to cry out, before they relaxed. They seemed to do this at regular intervals, even as the cloaked figure dismantled the gun in his hands. Magazine removed, bullets ejected from the barrel, until it became a pile of wood, steel and various screws on the ground. He saw the others fell, and knew from that moment on that he wasn't the only lurker out here this night. As the holes in his torso began to slowly close and the green goop began to trail back upward, he turned his head at the most likely direction that voice came from. Instantly the chains retreated from the very unhappy would-be criminal, the man hitting the ground with a 'thud' even as Spawn turned his attention completely on the shadow...and the eyes that stared out from within that shadow. "Yeah, people live here, and it seems every day freaks like these try to disrupt as many as possible. You seem to be doing a great job, keeping them in line." Every so often, a crumpled, ruined bullet casing emerged from the slowly shrinking bullet holes, pushing out of his midsection to 'clink' along the floor. Finally, when it seemed his injuries were mostly healed, the tall man began walking toward the shape. The closer he got, the more his cape seemed to move, to morph and shift. Just like the chains, it seemed to move almost independently of its owner. "I've met some of your entourage. The redhead, a few of your birds. You're not exactly the loner everyone reports you to be." 

:'''{{#var:104|Batman (104)}} has posed:'''     "If you think I'll need their help, you're mistaken."     Whatever he means, the Bat does not elaborate. As Spawn approaches him, the Dark Knight steps forward as though to meet him face to face. Instead, however, he simply brushes past him bodily. He crouches by the now-unconscious thug that Spawn dropped, planting two gloved fingers beneath his jaw - evidently checking for a pulse. He makes a show of it, a measured distraction to draw the eye. His other hand, with the stealth of a grandmaster, palms one of the discarded bullet casings and deposits it in his utility belt with a single, fluid motion.     "Alive."     The criminal stirs briefly from his daze, lifting a hand towards the Batman only to let out a yelp of shock as he drives a fist down into his face and renders him unconscious once more. He binds his hands with a non-descript black zip-tie, rolling him over onto his side. That done, he proceeds to bind up the remaining thugs.     "Where did you track them from?" he asks, pairing it with the projected route provided by the Batcomputer on his HUD. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' ...Did he just get shoulder checked? By Batman? Spawn is bigger and heavier, but the Dark Knight wins that contest, even as Spawn just turns his upper torso to watch the more famous vigilante at work. In time Al's incredulousness fades, and with a shrug of his shoulders and a shake of his head, the man is back to standing with his cape surrounding him, the sound of leathery rustling mixing with the rattling of chains every so often. This time when he speaks, however, there is...something extra added to the effect. Something about it seems a bit colder. "Some of the overachievers in this group originally came from my turf, up near Bludhaven. They were pouring gasoline on some of the locals. You can guess what step two of their master plan was going to be, before I showed up and voiced some of my concerns. They ran, met up with their buddies in the van, and I've been tailing them for a while. I finally made my move, in a place that seemed quiet enough to have reduced chances of crossfire." 

:'''{{#var:104|Batman (104)}} has posed:'''     In a show of immense magnanimity for the Dark Knight, Batman simply grunts: "Hnh. Quiet enough. Tenements are mostly abandoned. Ran a ballistics analysis. Didn't do more than shatter some windows." Was that a possible compliment at the choice of locale? Couldn't be.     "They're the Joker's men," he continues, moving to check the main unconscious behind the wheel of the van. Satisfied, he leaves him where he is but not before binding him to the wheel with another zip-tie. That done, he reaches across to open the glove compartment and rustle through the contents. As he speaks, he pulls out papers and looks at them before tucking them away somewhere within his cape: "Made a big show of threatening to attack anyone not wearing one of these masks. Just a smokescreen to cover up arms deals across the city. Explains these."     A booted foot kicks the components of the high-powered rifle that Spawn's chains previously disassembled. He then moves to the back of the van, climbing into the rear compartment without another word. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' "You're not the only one with a clown problem. Though I remember yours being a major problem for a while, now. Long before I was...doing this." He didn't want to give too much away...but really he didn't want to open up old wounds. It seemed his life was one largely defined by misery these days, he didn't need to pile on even more. Instead to distract himself, he stalked toward the wreck of that van, reaching one horrible left clawed hand in through the window to pull that mask off of the driver's face. He muttered as he studied the man's features, "Doing anything the Joker says. That's about the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. Maybe there's something else we can learn from them...though I doubt it." He reached his hand in again, this time his middle finger against the man's temple, his thumb right underneath the eyebrow, his fingers all pressed in strategic points along the man's face and skull. Moments later his hand flashed green, and the unconscious driver opened his eyes, glowing green along with his mouth that was now slack and open. Deep into the man's mind Spawn went, sifting through useless piles of phobias and fantasies, trying to find any memory relating to the Joker. Likely all he'd get would be the acceptance of a job, but it was still worth a try. 

:'''{{#var:104|Batman (104)}} has posed:'''     Batman lurks in the shadows at the back of the van, only the whites of his eyepieces visible as he watches Spawn critically. In the back of his mind, another grim algorithm is run. This man has done no excessive harm before now. Has not killed when he had the opportunity. Appears to have an interest in helping. The likelihood is that he means no harm. To that end, the Bat does not intervene when the Hellspawn proceeds to read the man's mind.     There is little within. The typical fare that is the case for so many of Gotham's thugs. Backed into a corner. Seeing no way out. An axe to grind with the world. Why not join up with the Joker, make some cash and hopefully get out before you get dead? These are not the thought processes of a sane man. Even as Spawn peruses the man's memories, Batman has run the driver through facial recognition software and pulled his record on his heads-up display.     "Daniel Christensen," Batman reads aloud, eerily confirming images which may dance before Spawn's eyes, "Thirty-five years old. Wanted for felony assault, grand theft auto, arson ... " He trails off, a laundry list not worth reciting in full, "One of the Joker's bagmen." 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' "He definitely ain't a poet.", the masked man speaks before his hand abruptly pulls away from the man's face, letting him slump into unconsciousness once more. Though he didn't know it yet, Mr. Christensen would have nightmares for the rest of his life, the feeling of a Demon from Hell rifling through his head something that a normal mind could not reconcile. Spawn, for his part, just looks at the man with little sympathy, if there is any to be had. Indeed, he sounds disgusted with what he's found, dramatically flicking his wrist in a rejection of what he's seen. "Arms deals, you said? Is the clown buying, or selling? And from who?" Even as he speaks, he hears the distant wailing of sirens. Immediately he steps out of the light, staying in the darkness. When they got closer, that's when he'd slip away. But he figured he had some time until then. 

:'''{{#var:104|Batman (104)}} has posed:'''     "Still working that out," Batman answers, turning his attention back to the contents of the van once the impromptu mind probe is done. Even if he knew about the nightmares, he would have little sympathy. Most of his own foes suffer a similar fate, although as a result of good old-fashioned psychosis rather than the machinations of Hell.     Batman pulls the top from a sealed crate sitting in the back of the van. It is almost alarmingly how easy it comes loose, suggesting a great degree of strength (or something augmenting it beneath his suit). Inside, he finds a single high-powered rifle which he examines. He looks at it for a moment, his eyepieces silently photographing and scanning it.     "This is military grade. A catch even for him." The sirens get the Bat's attention too, although he makes no show of hearing them. He takes one last hi-res photo of the filed down place where the serial number would be, logging it to be analyzed for whatever digits he can recover later. But regardless, the sirens are their cue to depart and he knows it.     "Ground rules," he says flatly, emerging from the van and turning to Spawn. It is only now that he is properly visible, the shadows seeming to peel away of their own accord to reveal the man. "No guns. No killing. No endangering civilians. Keep to them."     Even as he speaks, the Bat is stepping back out of the light to let the shadows swallow him once again. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' In the end, Spawn is left with rules as the rulemaker vanishes into the night. For his part he stays there for a while longer, only truly departing when the first squad car finally arrives on the scene. They'd see the very ends of that red cape flicker out of sight of the overhead light, vanishing into shadow and making his own way back home. There he could recharge, and when he was ready, he could tackle this problem again. 
}}

4898/Things that go bump

2018-07-15T04:58:24Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/07/11 |Location=Gotham City |Synopsis=Damian and Nightwing meet Spawn. |Thanks=Nightwing |Cast of Characters=49, 973, 1490 |pretty=yes }} {{Po..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/07/11
|Location=Gotham City
|Synopsis=Damian and Nightwing meet Spawn.
|Thanks=Nightwing
|Cast of Characters=49, 973, 1490
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:'''     The nights in Gotham are often moody dark affairs with shadows cast long by the seemingly low hanging moon just above the clouds. Ominous imagery of ill portent with the dark grotesques hanging over the sides of the tall buildings that stand sentinel over the city's skyline. But down in the grooves of the urban sprawl, in the many twisted streets that wend their way towards the river, the scenery shifts to the pedestrian with posters, advertising, grime, trash all leaving their mark.     Usually at this hour in the basin things are quiet. A few hours past midnight and the only noise is the ambient drone of distant cars or the yowl of a cat. But tonight, things are different as along dockside the Tilton Warehouse interior, there's most definitely the sounds of what might be considered a ruckus.     "So you have a pet what now?"     Nightwing's voice is sharp with incredulity even as he ducks under the wild errant punch coming from a man in a grey suit with a pair of brass knuckles. He twists smoothly to the side, spinning around and planting an elbow in between two of the man's ribs and leaves him reeling even as he turns his back to line up with Robin's and cover the youth as he gauges the situation. "Isn't that unhealthy?"     Six other men face off with the masked vigilante. Each of them with their own precise manner of dress in suitably business suits with weapons as different as they are. Brass Knuckles on the one that's reeling and holding his side. A twisting bo staff in the rough hands of another. One has a sword in his left hand. Another has a sword in his right. And then there are a pair of youthful looking twin girls who have naught at all. 

:'''{{#var:973|Damian Wayne (973)}} has posed:'''      Naturally, Robin had decided to face off against the two with swords. His own katana was drawn, and held in front of him with his hood raised.   "A cow, Bos Taurus. I found her after my last mission with the Titans." Metal on metal clang in the air as Damian carries on the conversation. "She kicked a thug in the bollocks while I was fighting the ringleader. I saw potential."   Robin stands akimbo to Nightwing, just in case he had any edicts to give to the younger hero. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' New York's most irritable(and most powerful) bum had been watching from the shadows of a nearby alleyway, on his personal tour through Gotham. He'd been gone for five years, and seeing how much things had changed even in such a short amount of time had been like an out of body experience. Some things were forever, though, and that was the amount of crime and filth that could fill a small area like this. One piece of litter stepped backward from the fight, possibly going to call their boss or do something else, but what happened instead, was that grey-suited thug stepped on snaking red fabric, and only too late did he notice the green glowing eyes from the darkness. Then his life was a mess of winding chains, and his own screaming. In the chaos amongst the two birds and the gang surrounding them, perhaps they'd notice the screaming man launching through the air, hitting a car's side window across the street face-first. The man was alive, mostly, but he certainly wasn't going to be a factor in this fight anymore. The bo-staff he had been holding previously, that was tossed from the alley a few moments later, snapped in half and clattering along the concrete ground loudly. 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:'''     The timing was perfect with the extraction of the staff-wielder, his weapon clattering and his scream breaking into life in the exact moment that the others had been charging forwards, one of the young women's KIAI loud enough to drown out his cry of agony. But the HUD in Nightwing's visor will assuredly mark the loss of one combatant from the equation if the young vigilante hadn't marked it as well.     The time for repartee was past, if only for the moment when matters were in flux. The twins leap at him, lashing out, striking, kicking as he swirls in between them, using the wild interwoven strikes between them to at least protect himself from the brass knuckles man who scowls with frustration as the women take his prey.     The bladesmen, however, focus entirely on Damian. Their blades catch the light as they try to blind Damian if only for an instant while they dart in, their own shouts joining with the others. A katana slices high while the other lashes low, seeking to force Robin back if not strike him down. 

:'''{{#var:973|Damian Wayne (973)}} has posed:'''      Damian's hud was lucky enough to shield him from being completely blinded before the twin katanas slice through the air. The younger vigilante hadn't caught sign of the other combatant leaving the scene, sadly. Damian leaps forwards, corkscrewing midair as he hurls himself in between the two blades.   "Your stances are sloppy." He taunts the two swordsmen, cocky, but Damian could back it up. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' From the shadows he watched, taking time to study the movement and training of the two in masks and costumes. They were good, not government trained but it was clear that they didn't need to be. He watched the taller, older one in blue defending himself almost flawlessly from three assailants. The two women were good but it was clear they were hunting a tiger in the jungle. The suited man was a cheap bruiser, lots of power, little finesse. The younger one was fighting with swords, a clash of steel and lots of dodging. Al wasn't familiar with the ins and outs of swordfighting, it was true that organizations like the League of Shadow still used them in this day and age. In the CIA, however, the prevailing wisdom was that lead beat steel, every time. Still, he didn't like the idea of two grown men trying to hack apart a child. That conjured up too many visuals overseas that he could never forget. So when one of the suited men brought that katana overhead for a downward swing, that's when a blur of red would dash out from the shadows, that's when the towering form of Spawn reached out a black, long-fingered hand to wrap around both wrists of the would-be swordsmen. He only had to tighten that grip ever so gently for the man to practically 'squeak'. "I've seen quite enough." The next moment Spawn pulled the man's arms down, rather abruptly. The good news, is the man's arms weren't completely broken and ruined for life, since he made sure they bent -with- the elbow, rather than against. The bad news, well, they were still KIND of broken, with a horrible snapping sound from him flexing all of his muscles against Spawn's, and losing. The man screamed out something pathetic and dropped to the ground, the sword striking Spawn's oversized right boot, before rolling along harmlessly. For his part, Al was just looking down at the mess he made, devoid of any sympathy. That meant he was distracted, right? And could be easily sneak attacked, right? Right? 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:'''     The two bladesmen scowl as they shift their stances, bracketing either side of the twisting Robin as one tries to bring his blade up and to the side, striking at the hurtling form of the teen vigilante. There's the sound of metal striking metal, the tear of fabric as Damian's counter is enough to shift one on his back foot, letting the other think he has an opening to exploit as he darts in towards what is likely a trap laid before him.     Meanwhile, Nightwing's opponents shriek again their loud battle-cry, trying to rattle the older vigilante only for him to shift out of the way of another errant kick, catching her leg as he twists to the ground and then slamming an elbow into the back of her head even as there's a short sharp /click/ as a pair of cuffs quickly bind her ankle to the back of her belt. He flips back up to his feet, ducking another series of punches by the other twin while the first sister screams in frustration at being hobbled and on the ground.     But then the dark silhouette with the long cape rears out of the shadows and takes hold of one of those bladesmen that had so recently menaced Damian. There was that gravelly voice, and then the abrupt twist and crackle of a man's limbs being contorted. A sound so ominous it causes the others to stop in mid motion, even the vigilante in blue as his arms are entwined with the other woman's, their stance holding them close with his hand having snaked across just under her throat.     But then he's the first to recover as he twists the girl to the ground and locks her arms behind her back, resting a foot upon her. The bruiser, the other swordsman... both try to turn and run even as Nightwing lifts his voice towards the man who would be known as Spawn. "Alright fella... we got this." They assuredly did. Or would have. Eventually. 

:'''{{#var:973|Damian Wayne (973)}} has posed:'''      Damian couldn't help but stop what he was doing as well. It was all sudden, so very unnatural.   It was only when the other swordsman had turned tail that Damian had quickly grabbed a set of bolas out and threw them at the swordman's ankles, hopefully to entangle and disarm the man and allow him to be restrained. Robin preferred business, Nightwing can handle the talking for now. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' The figure stood there, slowly looking around at the scene that had stopped, the goons that were running for their lives. For his part, the cape was shifting and warping with excited activity, whispers heard upon the wind as the edges whipped this way and that, especially if one were close enough to hear. The chains, for their part, were snaking about almost as if they were in a trance, but soon enough and wrapped around their owner once more. The bola'd thug fell in front of him, and Al paid him less than no notice, focused entirely on the two there in front of him. The green eyes of that mask narrowed, the white and black leather that covered his face shifting as if it, too were animated. And the tone of his voice sounded less than impressed. "This one's a little young. I've found that when one employs child soldiers, their morality tends to be a little suspect." Not even an introduction first. 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:'''     Nightwing's voice has that edge to it that Damian's heard before, the sardonic sharpness to it akin to when he was Robin himself, running around cracking wise. Only this time he's holding up his hand first and laying down what he views as his version of the law.     "I appreciate the assist, buddy." He looks at the man upon the ground with the broken limbs who thankfully passed out from the pain, but the others who are restrained are definitely ill at ease with the presence of Spawn. "But you're making all sorts of mistakes here, least of all what you perceive is going on."     That said he twists his wrist up and to the side, a small LCD screen flickering partially to life as he touches a fingertip to the display as he keys the signal to the GCPD for them to be aware of their GPS coordinates and the need for a pick up.     "Robin, secure the others."     The hobbled young woman cries softly, "Keep him away from me, this ain't right. This ain't right at all." 

:'''{{#var:973|Damian Wayne (973)}} has posed:'''      Robin raises an eyebrow to Al. It's weird, but this was less action than he saw as an assassin. "You should have seen me before I came to Gotham." He quips, slapping a pair of zip ties around the swordsman's wrist.   Damian does as asked, securing more of the gang. "Yeah, Yeah. I've heard it before." He comments, keeping his focus on restraining the criminals. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' "Mistakes? Are you not aligned with the 'Bat', part of his little spandex-crew? Is this not Gotham, where the shit like this rises to the top, and then overflows to everywhere else?" As he spoke, his left black boot(the normal, regular-sized one) nudged the girl on the ground, not exactly gentle, but also not likely to break any bones or do any extreme damage. At the soft crying, the masked man lowered his voice a few octaves, that cape fluttering like leathery wings in the darkness. "Your punk-ass just won the still-alive lottery, girl. Shut the hell up and count your blessings." As he spoke, he turned around to watch Robin work. Moments later he turned back. "I don't think I'm making any mistakes at all, here. Your boss is out here fighting a war, and in war the lines get blurred, I get that. But that doesn't mean they cease to exist." 

:'''{{#var:49|Nightwing (49)}} has posed:'''     "You. Are a charmer." Nightwing says, but he doesn't look away from Spawn either. The tone and the words might be flip, but the elder vigilante is definitely keeping himself focused on the man... the creature? Opposite him. The domino masked man tilts his head slightly to the side, irisless eyes narrowing as he looks upon the cape fluttering about the man. Definitely not normal, not mundane. There are questions here to be answered.     But then there are the blue and red lights of the distant police vehicles cutting through the streets of Gotham and heading towards the Basin. Far enough away that they still have time, but it's definitely numbered.     Grayson tilts his head the other way and frowns, then looks back at Spawn. "You have a name? If you say no, the kid gets to pick one for you." He jerks a thumb to the side, indicating Robin even as he's locking down the last of the gangsters. 

:'''{{#var:973|Damian Wayne (973)}} has posed:'''      Robin pulls the female after the hellspawn kicks her. He would be lying if he wasn't reminded of the old violence he would indulge himself in as an assassin. To cleanse the world from scum.   Once Nightwing thumbs his way, Robin puts a gloved hand to his chin. "I'm thinking...Commodore Rasmussen the Fourth. Razzie for brevity's sake." Totally sarcastic, Damian actually likes this guy, and his particular style of brutality. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' "This from the kid whose little yellow cape is a hoodie?" Al looked over at the sirens, and decided quickly. As he spoke, his chains were already flying from his body, hurtling through the air to embed themselves into the side of a building. Before he was pulled up to make his escape, he spoke. "Call me Spawn." And with that, he was gone. 
}}

4878/Suspiscion

2018-07-11T00:53:16Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/07/10 |Location=Baxter Building |Synopsis=Spawn wants answers, Torch wants his credit card. There can be only one! |Thanks=Johnny Storm |Cast..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/07/10
|Location=Baxter Building
|Synopsis=Spawn wants answers, Torch wants his credit card. There can be only one!
|Thanks=Johnny Storm
|Cast of Characters=767, 1490
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:767|Johnny Storm (767)}} has posed:''' SO! Jah Storm is chillin' downstairs chatting up security. He is having a great time, security is not. As Johnny punches Sergius on the shoulder he says: "Then I told her that I just wanted to rent the whole place. And she said, well that would be a lot of money, and I said here's my card just hold on to that, and she said OK. ANd I said, Karaoke. I want Karaoke. And she said, that would be extra and I said, You have my card mami, do it up." "So I took this chick all the way up to boston to a coffee shop that I rented to impress her, and let me tell you she was impressed," he pauses to take a sip of his mai tai and punch the dude in the shoulder again," I am sure that I will be seeing that one again. Wait..I think that lady still has my credit card?" 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' Red, white and blue. The colors of freedom. What true patriots bleed, and all that bullshit. Al bled and fought, and killed for his country like the good little soldier he'd always been. Here in July where a dash of pride was most tolerated he'd been seeing flags, big and small, everywhere he went. Kids with sparklers, older kids with firecrackers, and a few nights ago the night sky became a battleground that Al had been in a million times before. The bombs bursting in air gave way to memories, faces, events in time. He remembered huts and villages, locals with their faces twisted in terror and the rigor mortis of death, and a white skull laughing at him. When he'd finally woken from the screaming, he'd remembered other faces. And names. The Fantastic Four, America's favorite superhero family. Former astronauts, practical rockstars, with their own gleaming tower reaching high into the sky. Dropping down behind Johnny and his security, the green eyes narrowed in agitation and continued misery. "Well that was stupid of you, wasn't it? But somehow I'm not surprised." That impossibly deep, gravely voice swept through the air like a dust bowl through Kansas. He slowly rose to his full height, that cape of his whipping around haphazardly even as it wrapped around him, hiding much of that frame save for the mask and the glowing green eyes. However he was, he didn't exactly look...friendly. "We've got a few things to discuss, boy." 

:'''{{#var:767|Johnny Storm (767)}} has posed:''' "FLAME ON!" Johnny Storm gets really hot really fast as well as the security guys next to him scramble! "Who are you!?!? What do you want?" he demands whilst the flames engulf his body. "Nobody just drops in on J'storm unvited dude.!" Jah Storm literally squares up, "Was that girl like your girlfriend or something? And was the card declined and or can you help me ge that card back?" The security guys are long gone and behind the desk it is just Johnny and this guy. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' "I feel that you're not taking this seriously." The caped man looked down at the flaming man, feeling the head crackle and flick at him, even though his armor he felt it. And, he suspected, those flames would hurt. But after the eternity he'd spent, remembering the fires of Hell so vividly? He wasn't overly concerned right now. His cape swept backward, revealing that inky black leather and white suit, the spikes, the chains, and the number of pistols and heavier looking guns strapped to his body. It appeared he'd come prepared. From the metal belt buckle skull, two chains instantly shot out faster than a speeding bullet, trying to loop around Johnny's throat and squeeze as tightly as possible. Spawn wasn't sure how they'd react to the prolonged heat, but he certainly wasn't going to feel any pain. "You're going to give me all the information you have about the CIA. Every dirty little project you've done for them, everything. And you get to go on kissing babies and signing your name on cheap plastic titties. Got it?" 

:'''{{#var:767|Johnny Storm (767)}} has posed:''' The chains certainly connect and for a moment Johnny is caught he says, "She told me she was single dude! I didn't know that she was in the CIA man! Let me go... Cause honestly, if Jah Storm were to produce enough heat to remove these chains, poof this whole floor but people have begun to panic and leave out of the front door. "Dude, the CIA, they don't tell me anything dude. Let Up...let up." Johnny grabs the chains but of course he is just bideing time for people to leave, "What are you so mad about?" 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' "Don't play coy with me, Johnny, I've seen you and the rest of the four palling it up with some very important people. CIA, FBI, you've all been real chummy with the people who run the show. Well guess what." As he spoke, the chains tightened just a smidge, and if Johnny was still biding his time, then Spawn would pull him just a little bit closer. All around them people ran and the masked man ignored them, focused on the man on fire, right in front of him. Although funnily enough, in the mass stampede of panic, one woman tried running past the commotion in her high heels. Tripping over that cape, she went ass over teakettle and was in real danger of getting steamrolled and stampeded over by the others behind her. Maybe Susan's younger brother would notice it or maybe he wouldn't, but Spawn noticed this in his peripheral vision, and instantly the edge of that cape moved to shield the woman, getting her out of the immediate stampede. She of course didn't notice, instantly getting back up as soon as she could, and booking it like a bat out of hell. And that was fine with Al, as he continued to speak. "Well guess what, Uncle Sam doesn't tend to keep his promises. And I'm going to do something about that, all I need is the proper information and I can start moving in the right direction. So. One more time, before this gets ugly. Get me the information I need. NOW." This close to the aura of the Human Torch, and that mask covering Al's face started to morph and shift a little, shimmering in a way that must have been massively uncomfortable to the wearer. But Al didn't move, didn't even flinch. Clearly, he was made of tougher stuff than most. 

:'''{{#var:767|Johnny Storm (767)}} has posed:''' Johnny Storm does notice the lady and also notices the big scary dude helping her. He hmmss. "Hey, dude, I don't know what you are talking about and I also don't want this to get ugly cause, hey, I live hear, and would hate to cause some cosmetic damage and god knows what Sue would say about it so yeah....let me go and let's talk about this like the gentlemen we are. You area dude right? I mean...if you are the girls 'girlfriend' I am extra sorry." Putting both hands up in a sign of 'chill'. "Chill Dude, chill." 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' Al's annoyance was at an all-time high. "I'm NOT-" The chains tightened, and then instantly slacked and relaxed. Around Johnny's throat the chains were now glowing red-hot and perhaps starting to whiten, a surefire sign of how dangerous the younger Storm could be. The man considered the deal in front of him, and though quite wary, the strategist within him decided to use all this to his advantage. Instantly the chains lifted up and then released Johnny, to let him land back down however he liked. The chains instantly started retracting, wrapping around the man's body and torso, the sound of scalding and burning instantly heard as those red-hot chains were pressed against him. If it was causing him extreme pain, he didn't seem to react very much, aside from going a bit stiff in the back. "I'll forgive you this once when you get me what I need. If you ever touch her again...I'll take you to hell myself!" For added effect, the chains rattled loudly, and his cape violently started shifting and whipping around the Human torch, the edges threatening his space, the way his flames had been threatening Spawn's. No reason he couldn't have a little fun, right? 

:'''{{#var:767|Johnny Storm (767)}} has posed:''' Johnny Storm does not fall to the ground he is floating and having won this dude over he offers, "We should not have this conversation here dude. Why drop in on me like that man?" he whispers, "I have an image to up keep K?" Then back to full hero mode and in a much deeper voice, "Let's discuss this...on...umm..the roof. Yes! The roof." Johnny tentively points up. "And up there I will tell you everything I know. Well, what you think I know...." 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' "The roof. I see. Well, if you insist." Al Simmons had many gifts since returning from Hell. Unfortunately for Johnny and the Baxter Building, the power of flight had not been one of those in-built gifts. True, he could probably turn his cape into wings or something, but he decided to do this the old fashioned way, using a trick he'd learnt only recently. Something about the young hero bothered the older, jaded Al, and so this gave him the smallest modicum of pleasure. These days, he'd take what he could get. And so as Spawn stood at the base of that pristine, fancy-looking building, he unfurled every chain he had and readied them for only a moment. Then he climbed. As fast as he could, but it still took a few moments. And moment the bladed skull-faced head of every chain burrowed deep into the stonework(or the marblework, or whatever this very expensive building was made out of), burrowing deep to pull the heavy, heavy Al Simmons upward. Finally, after an eternity, Spawn made it to the roof, looking around at the sight. "Look at this. Men have fought and died for castles not even a fraction of this size." 

:'''{{#var:767|Johnny Storm (767)}} has posed:''' "DUUUUUHHHH dude, you could've just used the elevator," Jonny points to the lift. "You know how much they are gonna blame me for this?" he he himself lands on top of the roof. As one apporachs the roof and andriod approaches and offers a mai tai and then reminds Johnny, "Mister storm, remember, you are not to be on fire on the roof..." "Yeah, yeah..I know..leave me alone for a moment," pointing, "This guy made me do it." "So, what is it that you want dude....dudette?" 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' 'Dudette' caused the caped, masked figure to slowly turn his head, his left green glowing eye narrowing while his right widened. It was impressive how the 'brow raise' could be conveyed even through all of that heavy leather. "How are YOU the popular one?" After a moment, however, the cape relaxed and became less animated than it was moments ago, starting to resemble regular cloth instead of what it was before. The masked man watched the android for a moment or two, before turning his head to regard the man that was still on fire. "The Fantastic Four has worked with the CIA before. I want all of your files, regarding anything you've ever done for them. Officially or unofficially, in whatever capacity. I want names, dates, anything." 

:'''{{#var:767|Johnny Storm (767)}} has posed:''' Johnny Storm drops the flames from his face and says, "What do you mean that I am the popular one?!?!? Huh?!?!" "What does -that- mean?!?!" The last question being lost in the 'insult'. "My sis is cool and Reed is the dumbest smart man you'll ever meet an the Thing is.....the....the....Thing! Of course I am the superstar!" Johnny is pretty annoyed at the moment. "And dude, I don't even know who you are AND Reed is the guy that has all that info and stuff and if you take that back, I might tell him that you want that information!" Johnny crosses his arms like a little kid, stamps his foot and hummphs. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' Al was quickly approaching his last nerve, and the calm he managed to find was quickly lost again. With a growling snarl, the man raised his right arm to his chest. Beneath that massive red gauntlet a green glow could be seen, a sudden wave of cold air hitting that roof as a massive sphere of energy was shot out. The android who was near the roof entrance, was quickly engulfed in a torrent of Necroplasma, a material that could very quickly reduce it, and anything around it, to a pile of jiggling green goop on the floor. Instantly Spawn was approaching Johnny as his cape flexed around like a hand eager to throttle the insect it was about to catch. When Al next spoke, his voice was booming and echoing, the anger almost palpable. "First you agree to help me, then you waste my time and now that I'm up here you wanna give me the runaround?! You are dangerously close to an asswhipping, but I'm gonna try and be the bigger man and save your life. You need Reed's permission? Fine. Jesus was on the cross for three days, that should be more than enough time for you to run off and get what I need from him. If I come all the way back here, and I find you here with a handful of excuses, I'm raising hell. You don't want that to happen. You've officially been warned." As he spoke, he was slowly walking, to the edge of that building. As he looked down, that cape started to warp and shift around him, until he now had a pair of red leathery wings on his back, more batlike than birdlike. Before he leapt, he turned around to look at Johnny. "Tell Reed that Spawn's been here." And with that, he leapt. And with that, he was leaving. 
}}

4812/Class Reunion

2018-07-05T10:10:22Z

TheMainMan: A soldier meets a soldier. They fight.

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/07/05
|Location=Gotham City, Bludhaven
|Synopsis=A Bat meets a Hellspawn. They discover what a small world it is.
|Cast of Characters=1490, 193
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' The nights were hot and humid, the kind of weather that made your clothes stick and cling to your skin even while the moon granted little reprieve from the sun. Along the cracks and corners of the walls and buildings, rats fought with cockroaches and future-roadkill for whatever crumb of food they could find. In the skies, gods sought help from kings and billionaires, even as across the globe, the earth's most powerful protectors fought the tyranny of would-be conquerors...and space mushrooms. But down here, nobody paid attention to the unwashed and unseen, the broken down lost boys who survived in a city that failed them. Some time ago, a 'figure' came to them in Bludhaven, acting as their protectors. Two days ago, some shaved idiots thought it would be good fun to kick one of them in the head for a while. Tonight...He found out about it. He stood across from them now, a towering figure a red cape that seemed to shift and claw at the walls like tendrils. The biggest one of them was on the ground, his face broken but judging by the terror still in his eyes, it appeared the pain wasn't going to register for a while. All of them were backing up, though many were ducking into their hideout to grab their weapons. That didn't seem to bother the figure who just watched them behind glowing green eyes. And when he spoke, the natural sounds of Gotham at night seemed to halt. The world itself seemed to listen to each and every word. "You were in Rat Alley. Tell me why, and maybe I let you live long enough to become Bubba's bitch upstate. Maybe I don't take your -fucking- head off right here, right now. Your choice, boys." 

:'''{{#var:193|Kate Kane (193)}} has posed:''' Stillness is far from eternal. Shortly after the caped far-from-crusader has finished talking, there's the sounds of fervent discussion, the noise of weapons moving, and the occasional heavy thud from within the hideout. After thirty seconds of the bristling, rustling promise of combat incoming, of backup for the man who is currently upon the ground, and of those with any common sense fleeing, there's nothing but... Silence. Silence broken by the sound of breath sucked through a ruined face, and then the sounds of quiet, desperate pleading from inside. It ends with another wet thud, and one of the skinheads slides across the ground, catching on the entrance to the hideout, unconscious again. And in the doorway, black and red. But far from the Bat himself, the flowing red hair, the bright red lipstick, the figure and the bustierre a dead giveaway. There's a smirk upon her lips, even as she spies the rotting corpse that may be a man - Looking very much like a creature dragged out of his grave by way of hell. Her voice rich, confident, and just a touch of sultry as she orates. "I was hoping there was more than just a cluster of skinheads here." Her own cape, black outside, red inside, flares out to the side, as her palm catches the collapsible rifle strapped to her thigh. It responds to her grip, assembling to it's full width, as she instructs. "On your knees, hand behind your head, and although I do not know what the fuck those chains are I'm happier if they're not moving." To Spawn, that is. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' Though the mask he wore didn't betray things like emotion, the way those glowing green eyelets seemed to -narrow- at the order gave a hint toward his feelings on the matter. After a moment he seemed to notice the symbol on her chest, because when he next spoke it was a tone of exasperation. "Bats and birds. Gotham's been losing its damn mind while I've been away." For a moment, the towering figure looked down at the big musclebound thug, who was now backed away into the far corner of the dingy warehouse. Trapped like a rat. That suited Al just fine. He turned back to regard the redhead again, this time the cape unfurling back behind his shoulders, to show that striking black and white armor, with red and spikes pronouncing the look every so often. This certainly wasn't the Lone Ranger. "Tell your boss he's been doing a real lousy job cleaning up Gotham. As far as I see it, if he wants to play king of the hill, then fine. This is his hill. Tell him to keep his shit from rolling down into -my- alley." With that, two chains suddenly shot out like cobras ready to strike...except they weren't aimed for her, they were aimed for the doorframe above her. They sunk into the material, and ripped away, meaning that all the old construction that weak rotting frame was holding up? That was now Kate's immediate problem to deal with. 

:'''{{#var:193|Kate Kane (193)}} has posed:''' "I'm a free agent." Batwoman's reply comes, just before the chains begin to fly - And that rifle is raised, a short burst of assault rifle fire slamming into the chains that are heading in her direction, completely unable to stop it. The barrel turns, finding Spawn in the iron sights, and another three round burst slams into his shoulder as the doorframe is ripped away from the fragile shack that she's standing in. Her hand leaves the foregrip, pointing at the ceiling of the warehouse instead. A gentle click, and the grappling hook erupts from her wrist, embedding itself in the roof and pulling her into it almost immediately. Elegant, she twists as she's drawn up, long, flowing locks hanging down as she aims her rifle one-handed at Spawn, her other pulling hard on the zipline to keep her 'upright' despite being upside down. "That was your warning shot." She states for the villain, with that damnable calm that the Bat Family seem to posses, even when standing upside down on the ceiling of a dilapidated warehouse. "Stand down and surrender immediately." 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' Immediately a three-burt ripped through the Hellspawn's right shoulder, staggering the form backward even as he grunted from the impact and the damage. Tellingly, though, he didn't scream out or clutch himself in pain, the way someone might normally react(Well, most would probably collapse to the floor). Instantly streaks of glowing green material was splattered across the walls and the floor, some splattering against the freaked out thug's face. For his part, Spawn was busy looking down at the wounds, bringing up his left hand to gently check the injury, black-clad fingers long with the nails in particular being more...pronounced than necessary. From Kate's upside down vantage point(especially if she was using a scope of any kind), she might be able to notice those bullet holes already starting to close and shrink, the green glowing blood that was dripping down was actually starting to travel back upward, and when the masked man looked upward, he was nodding his head even as he spoke. "You're pretty good." And that's when the Hellspawn became a red, white and black blur of movement. While he would never be a speedster, and while he might not match the acrobatic prowess of a Nightcrawler or a Spider-Man, he could move in ways that would baffle the normal, untrained human eye. With a couple of parkour-like maneuvers the man was leaping off the far wall, even while his cape rapidly shifted to make his center mass as difficult to find as possible. And before long he was hurtling up toward her, pivoting his body even as that collossal, oversized right boot was aiming for the Batwoman in a heavy looking roundhouse kick. That boot was as heavy as it looked, adding extra weight to the impact of this attack. Combined with that, the massive amount of spikes acted less like 'weapons' and acted more like the ridges along a mace, making sure every impact 'bit' in as much as possible. "Now show me more!" 

:'''{{#var:193|Kate Kane (193)}} has posed:''' Kate's mask allows her to notice the little details, but the swiftness with which this villain moves is more than she can handle with a firearm. Not that she's not going to try though, the barrel erupting in two more staccato bursts that tear up the ground beneath Spawn's feet as he makes it's way towards her. Once he's launched, she releases the grappling hook, pushing herself away from the roof and stowing her rifle, collapsing as it is slapped against her thigh. She hits the ground with the grace of a dancer, allowing her suit to absorb the impact and her body to distribute it slowly. The fall isn't without ground shock, but it's hardly unsurvivable when dressed like this. Reaching behind her, she withdraws a foot long metal pole, and with a firm twist, it shoots outwards to eight feet of hardened steel composite. It's smacked against the ground firmly, and she comments, "You have to be faster than that to catch me. Much, much faster." Teasing, as she lays in wait for him to make his next round. Because juse like the Bat, there's always a suprise awaiting. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' She landed gracefully, whereas he hit the cold, dusty concrete with a sickening 'thud'. He rose back to his feet like nothing happened, as if he didn't just take an impact that caused the ground underneath to spiderweb ever so faintly. In fact he only stopped once to turn and roll his neck, letting the bones crackle and pop loudly. And then it was back to the business at hand. Which was circling around the redhead slowly, that cape shifting and swirling around him, the edges getting closer toward her before pulling back. Was he doing that? Was he controlling his cape? If he was, the method of communication didn't seem to be clear. As he circled, he spoke, that impossibly deep voice containing as much amusement as it did anger. Whoever he was beneath the mask, it was clear he had issues. But then, didn't they all? "The way you move...the way you handle your weapon. You've served, haven't you?" Behind those words, he struck suddenly. The second he saw an opening he'd lunge forward, throwing a one-two combo at her face, shots that were easy to see and easy to deal with(though she might note the sheer -power- behind every attack.). Along with that one-two, a chain would swoop low, aiming to loop around her ankles, to try and sweep the girl off her feet. It was time to test her situational awareness, see if it was as good as her reflexes and her physicality. 

:'''{{#var:193|Kate Kane (193)}} has posed:''' "Where heroes are made." Batwoman responds with confidence, slowly drawing the tip of her staff behind her and aligning it with her arm, her guard slow as she waits for the monster of the man, studying him, his cape, the way it moves, the way he sounds. "I could say the same about yourself. Whatever happened to you has made you lazy though. Sloppy guard, and with all that power you're pulling back far too much, I can see you coming a mile awa-" Her staff is drawn up in an instant, her weight onto her back foot at the first strike, driving it against his fist and then levering herself out of the way of the second punch with it. The thin staff is reversed a moment later, and stabbed /hard/ into the concrete as the chain swoops at her, the lean muscle in her arms pulling her up as much as she leaps up and onto her staff, the needle threaded through the links to hold it in place, and the Vigilante pushed off the head into a backflip that carries her away from the undead man. Staff abandoned, her fingers remove three small, black balls from her utility belt, spinning them in the palm of her gloved hand as she looks at him. "What's your story then? Uncle Sam wanted to make you better, part of their 'be all you can be' program? Some CO with his head full of pride ordered your platoon into a chemical weaons plant?" Her voice strangely... Calm. Believable. Relateable. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' "Little girl, you don't know the half of it." He almost didn't notice the staff-stab at first, until he attempted to move one chain-tendril only to discover it was pinned in place. The staff had enough bend and enough give to resist even Al's newfound strength, causing him to look down curiously. If he exerted enough force, he knew he could shatter this weapon. But something about his opponent made him hesitant. Her attitude, her familiarity. No, instead the Hellspawn reached down, pulled the staff from the ground(and from his chains) with a sharp tug...and suddenly threw that weapon, letting it twirl through the air like a cheerleader's baton. Not at Kate, but at the final remaining thug, he'd been attempting to flee at that exact moment. It struck him across the side of the face and head and the man slumped, a bit worse for wear. "Stay where you are, fatboy. We still have to have that little talk about your jurisdiction." With the goon now an unconscious wreck on the floor, the man could focus his attention more toward the woman in black and red. As he spoke, the cape eemed to shrink somewhat in size and stature until it more resembled something like regular, nonliving fabric, ragged around the edges and much less hostile than it once was. The chains, following suit, wrapped around his body in strategic places, hanging off of him as if they were merely a bold fashion statement and not a set of living weapons. "You don't wanna know where I've been, trust me. I came here to send a message to these knuckleheads that they're not invited to Bludhaven anymore, they can stay here with the clowns and bats. As for you, you've got good intentions as far as I can tell. But if you ever draw on me again, I'll have something for yo' ass. I ain't here to rob banks or play pattycake in Arkham, none of that shit. You got that, She-Bat?" 

:'''{{#var:193|Kate Kane (193)}} has posed:''' Batwoman is on high alert as her staff is handled, prepared to snatch it out of the air when it's hurled at her - But it's not happening at all, instead, the criminal that she could only assume might work for him is struck and put down. Unfortunately it doesn't do much to convince her they're on the same side, despite what the speech might contain. "Would be I could let that happen. All I know about you is that you're ex-military, and you're not human. At least, not any more. Which makes you one bad day away from causing a lot of harm to people who don't deserve it." Those balls are still worked between agile fingers, "As long as that's all I know, you'll always be treated like a threat. You don't like it, you don't need to be here. It's not like I need the help." Straight backed and proud, Kate keeps her eyes on the target, and the chains he has wrapped around him. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' The Hellspawn's eyes narrow once more, a flash of energy spiking as the masked woman laid down a challenge and a threat. Al Simmons always had pride and an ego, and his recent trip through Hell didn't change those two facts. He wanted to keep going, he wanted to show her exactly who he was and show her exactly she she should shut her mouth...but he wasn't here for that. So, the cape flaring and once more wrapping around him, the Hellspawn slowly stalked away, toward that destroyed exit. Instinctually chains shot out, wrapping around the thug when Spawn got close, dragging the idiot along the ground behind him. Al couldn't resist. He had to send a message. And so, looking at the red-haired vigilante, he brought up his right hand. The wrist mostly covered in that thick red leather gauntlet, the black-gloved fingers were soon lit up in sickly glowing green energy, what looked like a violently shaking sphere now barely-contained by the soldier. "If I was a threat to you?" Al pivoted, throwing that blast out blindly and causing that stuff to splat against the far thick concrete wall. The foundations of this building were powerful, even in its old dilapidated state a construction crew would need two or three days in order to tear this place down. In moments, that goop was steaming, and there was a gaping hole shining through to the outside. "You wouldn't have to wonder. Don't test me. Stay out of my alleys. Leave my people alone." If there was no action taken against him, the Hellspawn would take his leave. And when he finally got back to Bludhaven, he'd finally allow himself to feel woozy from the display of power. 

:'''{{#var:193|Kate Kane (193)}} has posed:''' Kate watches as the man begins to make his exit, and then displays another show of what she already knows. He's in no way human, and that's something that doesn't help her trust him, so she's far from off guard when her hurls a ball of glowing green goop at her, and it slams into the concrete wall and burns a hole through it. She's assessed it though, and found it no threat to her, her eyes remaining locked on him as he retreats. "I don't fear you." She states simply. And once he has departed, she speaks again, to herself. "Oracle, did you get that?" Her attention turns to the burning goop, kneeling down to begin to analyse it. "Crossreference all known KIA and MIA military personnel with approximate dimensions of MetaHuman 3. Flag for chemical exposure or potential chemical exposure." Batwoman moves to detective smoothly. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' The next night was little better than the first. That thug had run all the way from Rat Alley back to Gotham shirtless, shoeless and looking like the devil had got 'em. And he wasn't that far off. For his part, Al was sat in the farthest, darkest corner of that alley, watching over a circle of huddled masses all attempting to eat, or sleep, or just writhe in their various miseries. Here in the shadows, it was difficult to see the inky-black armor, and the cape had taken on an almost muted dark red hue to help with the subtle camouflage. With glowing green eyes surveying all, he sat back, thought and wondered. Could he ever go back to her, in this condition? He just didn't know what to do. 

:'''{{#var:193|Kate Kane (193)}} has posed:''' "Oracle, anything on the radio?" Their outfits might nearly match, in a weird way, this villain and heroine pair. Although one is human, and the other far from it. Beneath her helmet, the earpiece speaks back to her. "Nothing yet. The computer has four three-by-five hits on your enquiry by the way. Outputting them to your hud now." A sigh from Kate, perched on the edge of a rooftop, slowly drumming her fingers along the raised lip of the apartment. "I'm going to clear my head, Oracle. Keep monitoring." A light jump takes her to the building on the other side, balanced on the window ledge, and then she makes her way down, story by story, with fast, well timed jumps to take her down to the ground level, and down into the alleyway amoungst the filth and unfortunates in the city. Some are immediately uncomfortable at the presence of the vigilante, especially as she bears down upon a sleeping woman with that telltale click of her stepped heel. Leaning down, there's a rustle, as she draws up the newspapers up a little higher on the sleeping homeless woman, sighing before she begins to walk deeper into the alleyway. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' The woman was sneaky, but it seemed down here she was making her presence known. Instantly, Al's face was once more covered by that 'mask', the cape growing more restless as he rose from his corner and grabbed a little equalizer, just in case. Spawn also decided to make some noise in the form of him slamming a full magazine of ammunition into an M16, letting the machine make as much noise as it wanted as he turned off the safety and made sure it would go full auto. If he wanted it to. For now, however, he just wanted to aim it at her general direction, more of a warning than anything else even as those green eyes narrowed sternly. "You don't look very homeless. Why don't you step away from the woman?" 

:'''{{#var:193|Kate Kane (193)}} has posed:''' The noise of a gun being loaded is beyond familiar, and another telltale note that she's quite aware of what a firearm sounds like. Her head turns, but her body responds in a much more lax manner, red lips breaking into a smile. "I had expected to find you here." A glance at the gun, "M16. So, you went through basic before Uncle Sam adapted the M4." Her hand moves slowly, smoothly down to her thigh, resting upon the magnetic, collapsible rifle that she carries with her. "Perhaps that should be a sign. Homeless people only." Straightening, but not drawing just yet. "We could fight again if you'd like. That's up to you. I'm more interested in finding out if you're a threat to the city. Right now I'm unconvinced. So, do you want to lower your weapon? Or do you want to see just how much you /can/ regenerate?" Ego. Ah. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' By now, the noises and talking have convinced the bums still in that alley to amscray, to scurry off like rats escaping a waterlogged basement. For his part, Spawn held the aim for a few moments, before pulling the gun up and instantly putting on the safety, while that weapon was slung over his shoulder. This close up, even in the darkness it was possible to notice that suit shifting every so often, almost as if it were breathing. Was it, or was it merely moving with its owner? "I have one of those, too. I just like to know what I'm using is reliable." Soon he was once again circling around her, moving as he spoke and it was clear that something about this place made him feel secure. Secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't be attacked...or secure in the knowledge that if he was, it wouldn't matter. "So what do I do to convince you? Do we team up? Solve riddles, beat up a villain before he builds his doomsday device? I don't jump through Bat-hoops on command, girl." 

:'''{{#var:193|Kate Kane (193)}} has posed:''' "You'd think with that green goop, an assault rifle would be superfluous anyway." Kate stands her ground, the circling only followed with her head, standing at her full height. Stoic. Godlike. She thinks. "And at your size, well, I'm suprised to see you bothering with ballistic weaponry. Let me explain, I have a total of four MIA or KIA servicemen matching your dimensions in recent times. Two heroes, one traitor, one black ops." The woman tilts her head a little bit, "Two of these I could trust are here to serve their country. Might be I don't agree with their methods, and clearly you aren't human any more. But two of these are apparent threats to the city, and with the powers that you have..." A pause, timed for perfect execution of drama. "You pose a bigger threat to the city than help. Quite aside from the fact that I work alone." Aside from Oracle, at least. "And the more time I spend around you, the more I think that you're wearing that mask for a reason." Kate, on the other hand, has a great reason. She's a human. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' "You walk your lily-white ass into MY territory and start talking about what a threat I am to 'your' city? That little rifle of yours ain't exactly street legal, is it?" The ground they were standing on gave the faintest, gentlest of vibrations, aftershocks from the triple threat down at the Van Courtland Golf Course. There, gods were doing their damndest to smash each other to bits, and the damage between them would probably be out of this world. But that was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, the Hellspawn was focused the caped crusader...ess. As he spoke, that cape was almost violent, the edges of it getting close enough to the woman to flick at her boots every so often. The rustling of the material was getting louder, mixed with the rattling of chains. "Yeah, no shit I'm wearing this for a reason. You know, there weren't many gingers at West Point. The sun tended to boil them alive. Especially when they're that fine shade of LeStat-White like you." 

:'''{{#var:193|Kate Kane (193)}} has posed:''' "As legal as yours." Batwoman responds to the challenge - And it's true that what might be happening elsewhere is pretty far out of her league. But this was her problem, for now, and she finally submits to take a step away, once she's decided that the cape is getting closer than she'd like it to be. "Who said I went to West Point?" Kate responds with a calm that doesn't at all translate to fear, perfect control over her emotional state, turning to face Spawn smoothly, her cape flicking out to briefly cover her right hand side - And with the whisper of well lubricated metal, her rifle extends, her hand having caught it in her movement. It's not pointed at him. Not yet. "Which would make you Lt Simmons." Searching that mask for a response to her suggestions, "Former Marine turned spook. Missing in Action on assignment, believed to be dead. Graduated from West Point." 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' At this point, the rifle was slung over his shoulder, laying across his back. It had mainly been for show earlier, inherently Al knew that his other tools would be more useful against someone like this. Plus, guns had a habit of being of the lethal variety. This woman kept saying she was independent, but she still wore the symbol. An attack on her would still be an attack on the entire clan. And Al didn't want that kind of a war, with people who seemed to be trying to help. Then she namedropped him, and his eyes narrowed. Instantly he might seem to grow 'taller' as he walked toward her, the cape casting gargantuan shadows across the alley walls, chains zipping along almost haphazardly. Nothing was hitting her, but right now, anything easily could. When Al spoke, his voice carried. "You think you're the only one here with powers of deduction? You see me ripping off your mask, telling every creep in Gotham about the story of a promising cadet, who had everything going for her? Who ended up getting kicked out because she couldn't resist going elbow-deep in her roommate? You're wearing the mask for a reason, and I understand that. Your family would have a lot to lose if you ever lost it, and I respect that. Make sure you take that understanding and respect into account, before you go around saying names again." With all that, with all that fire and anger, the cape and chains became a little less aggressive. And when he spoke again, there was just a little less wrath in his words. "It's good to see you again." 

:'''{{#var:193|Kate Kane (193)}} has posed:''' Well, it's hardly as if Batman has a licensing deal. Most of the Bat Family are free agents. And yet even as the man approaches her, dwarfing her in size, she doesn't react in fear or even show a change of emotion, holding herself in firm check as her own life story is broken down infront of her. "She wouldn't be the first to make mistakes in the name of love. And she wouldn't be the first to be wrong about what love was." Her tone firm, composed, and just a touch defiant. "And she exists outside of the mask. Outside of her duty. There's stakes, humanity, a /person/." "I needed to know you weren't going to be a problem down the line. That one day we'd be be opposite sides of the field, because I couldn't live with the decision to let you be, if that cost innocent people their lives." Her weapon still held, but not levelled. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' He looked down at his gloved fingers, and for a moment he felt the fire again, the searing of flesh. For the briefest of moments he could almost remember his killer, the person who sent him to Hell. Then the moment faded, and Spawn was back in the real world, his cape shifting to wrap around him, the chains following suit. "You'll never know that about anyone, and it's smart to be afraid of me." The man turned his back on the vigilante, two chains snaking from his cape, to reach up and slowly wrap themselves around the top of a building ledge. They seemed to go on forever, and as they slowly pulled him up, he looked around and regarded the woman one last time. "But I'm not going to come after you or yours. I have no intention of adding a bodycount to the side of angels. Now get out of my alley." And with that he was gone, presumably to brood or do whatever it was he did. It seemed brooding as a popular pastime for those in capes... 

:'''{{#var:193|Kate Kane (193)}} has posed:''' Batwoman shakes her head. "If there's one thing you should know about me, is that fear is a part of my life that I've left behind. But for now... You don't pose an immediate danger." She admits, her rifle collapsing as it's stowed again. Much as she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of listening to his request, she begins to walk out of the alleyway, zipping up to the roof again a few moments later. "Oracle. Any updates?" 
}}

4738/Walking Over My Grave

2018-06-25T02:00:18Z

TheMainMan: Created page with "{{Log Header |Date of Scene=2018/06/24 |Location=Sunnydale |Synopsis=Spawn searches for a ring, finds a Slayer. |Cast of Characters=1490, 328 |pretty=yes }} {{Poses |Poses=:''..."

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/06/24
|Location=Sunnydale
|Synopsis=Spawn searches for a ring, finds a Slayer.
|Cast of Characters=1490, 328
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' The memories came to him slowly, as they come to all Hellspawn. The feeling of his broken bones, the feeling of his body going into shock as the flames ate at his skin and the heat and smoke turned his lungs into useless meat. Even now he could feel their wheezing, even now days later he 'felt' his life in brief images, flashes of time and taste and touch. Was this a nightmare? Was he in Hell, was this how they made you pay for your crimes? After days of rotting in the alley, huddled in his corner of misery while the denizens gave him a wide berth, he remembered a name. Wanda. He knew his own, but something in his brain didn't attach it to anything, it was like he just existed in a vacuum before. But now...but now... But now, the darkened, shrouded form was digging through the mud, ignoring the rain pouring down over him. He had enough of his mind to understand that a seven foot man in a Dracula cape might draw unwanted attention, so now he was just a bum, just a wino in a filthy dark coat, stray gray hair matting to his face as the thunder crackled overhead, and the fog rolled through the cemetary. He kept digging until the shovel hit something real. Until he hit paydirt. Until he was ripping open the top-half of the door...and looking down at his covered, hooded body. Dark suit almost pristine save for the maggots, and on the figure's finger...was a ring. The sight was...a little much to take in. "No, no, it can't be! It's not you...jesus, it's not you." 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:'''     Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night. That was a believed motto for a certain group but it should be the one for the Slayer. She has to be out here every night, no matter the weather, slogging around and looking for monsters.     And she didn't get paid.     What a crock of shi--     A faint wince touches her features as her early warning system goes off. It is a general achy pain that is centered in her stomach. That warning system has saved her butt more than once so Buffy doesn't ignore it now.     She's dressed in black tonight, along with a lovely leather coat that helps protect her from some of the elements. There is a baseball cap on her head but it really doesn't do any good with the pouring rain. Her messenger bag is slung crosswise over her torso, and she slips a hand into it to draw out a wooden stake. Cemetaries were usually their domain so that was her first weapon choice due to location.     Creeping silently through the fog, she saw what looked like an open grave with a pile of muddy dirt nearby. The voice was coming from inside, down in the hole. She crept to the edge and peeked over, to see a hobo apparently desecrating a corpse.     "Okay, first--Gross! Second, of course it isn't you since you aren't in the box. And third, Super gross! Get out of there!" 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' The had removed the white gauze and covering from the corpse's face, and was despairing at the charred, lifeless corpse staring back with black sockets(eyes didn't tend to last long when burned alive), and was looking down with his hands going through his 'hair' even as he was breathing deeper with the wheezing getting louder and louder with each painful intake of oxygen. So much so that he almost didn't hear the girl at first, so lost in his own world was he. After a moment, however, he glanced up, and even though his green eyes seemed normal at first, the astute might notice that they were...a little too visible through this nighttime fog and thunder and rain, the color bright and vivid even in these conditions. Abruptly the homeless figure reached down and seemed to take something from the corpse in the coffin, a snapping of bone confirming it. Although strangely for a grave robber, he was taking time to reclose the coffin, almost delicately. "This doesn't concern you, little girl. Why don't you go home and stop playing in graveyards. Have a little respect for the dead." His voice was deep and powerful, but it seemed to be almost slightly muffled, as if it were traveling through cloth somehow. 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:'''     Grave robbing. This was just ridiculous. Like she didn't have enough weirdness in her life to deal with and now here was a bum thinking to make some cash off some dead guy. It wasn't really the best way to make money but who knew what went through the brains of some people. Maybe he was on something. Or drunk. Anything other than him making this as a conscious life choice.     "I have plenty of respect for the dead," Buffy retorts as she remains where she was, a bit confused when he took the time to actually close the coffin lid. It was almost--reverent? No, she was giving too much credit there.     "It's the undead that I have no respect for. They have this nasty habit of crawling out of their graves and killing people." She grips the stake a little tighter as she watches him atop the box in the grave. "And you are setting off all my warning bells but you aren't acting like a vampire. So let's simplify things. What the hell are you and how do I kill you?" 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' After closing the casket tight, the shovel he used was thrown into the air, arcing through the night sky to stick into the dirt a few feet away like it was a javelin. With this done the figure leapt out of the hole, standing on firm ground across from the Slayer, where his shabby clothing and rough appearance was even more easily seen. The figure looked down at the stake in her hand, then looked up at her eyes while his started growing even brighter. A brief streak of anger flared across his face, and with his teeth flashing in a snarl, the figure reached out to try and grab the stake from her hand. He was big, he was strong, he was fast. But he wasn't a Slayer. And especially in this form, he wasn't much to write home about. "A vampire, what? Give me that shit before you hurt yourself." 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:'''     There are a lot of things that should not be done. Spitting into the wind. Tugging on Superman's cape. Among that list should be Taking a stake from a Slayer.     Buffy reacts negatively. To the extreme. As he reaches for the stake, she is already shifting her weight onto her back foot, angling her body to give him less of a target. She brings that stake up and around, slapping him on the back of the hand with it while she brings up a leg, chambers it tight and fires, extending it sharp and fast aimed for the center of his chest to try and knock him back and down.     "Hey Mr. McGrabby Hands! That is not yours." He's not a vampire. So time for plan B. The stake disappears to be replaced with a dagger, the blade coated in silver. That gives her the strength of steel by the mystical properties of silver weapons. She's learned those are a pretty handy combination over the years.     She doesn't wait for another chance. As soon as she has that distance from the kick pushing him back, she flings the dagger end over end. It is aimed at the center of his chest! 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' It should come as no surprise to anyone that the Slayer was the chosen one for a reason. But Al had yet to learn that lesson, when the dainty foot is driven into his sternum hard enough to launch him backward like he'd got kicked by a horse. He smashed hard into a big stone cross over a particularly fancy grave, the impact was so hard that the stonework cracked visibly. The wino slumped, shaking his head, when a silver blade sunk deep, deep into his chest. Instantly the figure roared in pain, his voice taking on a deep, otherworldly nature as his hands curled into fists. The silver burns, just slightly, but enough to cause the house of cards to fall apart, and instantly the muted colors and mottled gray hair of the 'bum' changed into a humanoid shape of red fabric that was violently unfurling. The dagger was thrown aside, and now the true shape of Al stood tall, almost ridiculously taller than he'd been previously, more muscular with that cape that seemed to go on forever as it rustled and moved almost on its own accord. From the form's chest green goop seemed to be dripping down that black leather costume, though the hole it was coming from was getting gradually smaller and smaller. "Threw a knife at me, are you out of your goddamn mind?!" Instantly as the figure narrowed its glowing green eyes chains shot out, some obvious ones trying to stab through her neck and face. That was the bait, to set up the sneaky loop that was aiming for her ankle, trying to sweep her feet right out from under her, the way she'd done to him previously. What was good for the goose, and all that. 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:'''     "Okay, that just got weird," Buffy mutters as he grows and grows, becoming a monster instead of a human. Her mind runs through everything Giles has taught her and comes up with absolutely nothing about what is standing in front of her. This is a type of demon she hasn't seen.     If she looks back someday, she'll realize she attacked first. Of course, when dealing with demons, that is often the proper response. Yet, it has backfired a few times on her, when beings turned out not to be evil. Thankfully, today is not someday so she feels confident in her actions.     The chains come flying her direction and she quickly dodges to the side then performs a perfect handspring backwards, to avoid a second one.     Only to get caught by the ankle just before she lands, getting her feet yanked out and landing hard on her backside. "Don't take it personal. I throw knives at lots of things. Vampires, demons, monsters that go bump in the night." Even as she babbles, her hand has gone into that messenger bag again and drawn out another knife.     She likes to be prepared.     She flips back to her hands then up to her feet, coming to a ready position with that dagger in her hand. "As for being out of my mind, I wasn't the one robbing a grave, buddy!" 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' Buffy was rolling backward, but the figure was readily approaching with impressive speed, and the confidence of someone who wasn't afraid of pain or death. In movement he was a blur of red, of chains and spikes, with the black form of his armored body visible every once and a while. That mask of his was an alluring target with the whites around the eyes and the glowing green orbs in the darkness, but this was intentional bait to go for the difficult moving target, even as the rest of him was protected by metal and near-sentient leathery cloth. After a few feints Al threw out a hard snapping backfist, with that oversized spiked red gauntlet aiming to ring her bell. "Well it's a good thing dead men have you looking out for them, isn't it?" 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:'''     A normal person would be backing away from the frightening figure coming after her. Buffy isn't normal. Not even close. She stands her ground, just letting him close to within fighting range.     That is where she works the best. "Actually, I prefer to protec the living. I'm pretty sure that you don't count as one of those though."     With each feint, she shifts her stand or weight to the side, just basically avoiding anything that comes her way. As the red spiked gauntlet is swung, she quickly ducks under and steps /into/ his space, bringing up her own right hand and going for a shot to his ribs with that dagger. Even with the armor, her strength should be enough to at least hurt a bit. And it'll let her know if she can get through that stuff or if she needs to change things up a bit.     "Give back what you stole and I'll kill you fast and easy, okay?" Seems reasonable. 

:'''{{#var:1490|Spawn (1490)}} has posed:''' He had training, but this was the Slayer, of all people. Al still didn't understand that, but he learned a lesson when she stepped inside his guard so easily, taking advantage of his distracted emotional state to stick that dagger right between his ribs, sticking it right past that inky leather suit as easily as one might carve into a burnt steak. When she pulled it back she might notice the green "blood", glowing as brightly as his eyes did, and sizzling against that pure blade as a violent reaction. For his part, the figure wasn't exactly "devastated", although he did step backward and look down at the injury. The tone of voice, when he finally did speak, suggested that he was perhaps less than amused. "Alright, you know what, I'm done playing citizens arrest with you. See you at the next bake sale." As he spoke he reached over, grabbing that same oversized stone cross, ripping it from the soft earth and hurling it through the air at the blonde perky Slayer. With this as a big distraction(a distraction that could clobber the hell out of her if she wasn't on top of things!), he took this opportunity to...turn around and book it in the other direction toward the street proper. And he was FAST. 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:'''     Upon him stepping back, she was already moving to the side and out of reach again. Buffy stood with both fists up, that blade still in hand but covered with some sort of green goo that was apparently his version of blood.     He still stood. And he was pissed off. Time for escalation. She cursed herself for not bringing her hand axe but it didn't fit in the bag so well and she'd thought comfort. Silly Slayer.     There was a moment as her mouth opened, smart comment prepared. It disappeared as a giant stone cross flew at her head!     She dropped, trying to get out of the way, but it clipped her shoulder and spun her around. She landed hard, prone. By the time she sat up, the figure was far in the distances, having disappeared into the fog. "Dammit!"     She rose to her feet, brushing off dirt and debris then walked over to the grave that started all this trouble. The name was noted and she realize she needed to figure out what was stolen. Where was Xander when she needed someone to do the dirty work? Ew. 
}}

4512/Moondance

2018-05-28T19:27:03Z

TheMainMan: A meeting between night owls.

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/05/25
|Location=Sunnydale
|Synopsis=Another weirdo hits the suburbs.
|Cast of Characters=1768, 328
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' Sometimes, time slipped away from Marc. Ever since he'd gotten home from Egypt, ever since he'd dedicated his life to this cause, his grip on his own mental state had been...tenuous, at best. What was he doing here, when did he get here? Where was here? These are questions that the Fist of Khonshu did not know the answer to, but he found himself here all the same. Currently he was stood under a street light, that bright silver cape and hood of his reflecting the light even as it looked like in his gauntleted hands were two silvery metal club-like weapons. He was stood in a ready stance even as around him, three ragged, beaten and bloody(but still very ready) evil-looking men were slowly approaching. By the shapes of their faces, their yellow eyes and the fangs in their mouths, it was obvious who they were, to anyone experienced. Clearly the man in silver and white had been thrashing them quite a bit, but it didn't appear to be working. Though to hear him speak, he didn't seem to be discouraged by this. "Hey you wanna take another ride on the pain train, grab a ticket and get in line. Makes no difference to me." 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:''' When things were going insane in Sunndale, Buffy had found that routine helped her to cope with the insanity. Currently, things were a little off in town. More off than normal so very off was probably a better way to put it. Magic was acting strange. Her sister had been turned into a fairy. Her Watcher was AWOL, having run off back to England without bothering to tell her ahead of time and leaving one of his buddies in charge of the crew. And graduation was coming up quickly and she just wasn't sure she was ready to go adulting and stuff at college. Was it adulting if it was college? It was away from home so maybe it was adulting-light? She was walking down the block on her way to the next cemetary when she spotted the figure in white. It was kind of hard to miss him. He sort of glowed in that outfit under a streetlight that way. What was more important, she saw what he was dealing with. She didn't even have to see them. She could feel that pain in her stomach that always let her know when bad things were near. Her hand went into her messenger bag where she wrapped her hand around the stake, drawing it back out and holding it at her side. She needed to get them to leave the man alone so she did what she did so well. She ran her mouth. "Y'know, if you are going to welcome someone to town, you should give them a gift or something. I like to go with something useful. Like, this! Catch!" She tossed the stake she was holding toward Moon Knight as she drew another and charged into the fray. 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' Whoever he was, he had moves. When one vampire leapt at his side, the figure wheeled around almost on a dime, swinging his left arm out violently with that truncheon and soon that vampire was crumpled on the ground, covering his mouth with both clawed hands even as bits of fang and teeth were pouring out on to the sidewalk. He turned at the girl walking toward him, and when she threw something overhead, he tossed his other truncheon toward her underhanded(it bouncing off the sidewalk to fling toward her) so that he could reach up and grab the...sharpened wooden stick. He looked down at it for a few seconds before looking up suddenly, the situation clicking. The other two vampires still standing were looking around at this sudden intrusion, and after glancing at each other briefly? One seemed to charge toward her, his ripped black funeral suit still covered in sludge, dirt and a few worms and maggots that were still trying to cling to the sleeves and the shirt collar. It seemed he didn't get the memo about who lived in this neighborhood, even as he started throwing a collection of wild swipes and haymakers at the lovely blonde girl who did this for a living. Minus the paying wage part. 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:''' As the truncheon richocheted, Buffy caught it out of the air. Stake in one, truncheon in the other, she ducked under the swing by the vampire. "Ew! Couldn't you at least have stopped for a change of clothes before you came out here attacking people? It's what the conscienscious vamps do." She swung the truncheon, slicing through the sleeve of an arm as she ducked another blow then spun around for a side kick into the midriff of the monster. He staggered back even as he swung again. She blocked then stepped in, under his reach, bringing up that stake. "Silly me. You don't have a concsience anymore." She brought the stake back into the center of his chest. He poofed into ash, the light breeze carrying bits of it away. "Don't have a body anymore either." She looked to see how the stranger was faring with his dance partner. 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' For his part he seemed to have already dispatched one, dust swirling around the battlefield even as he had the last one by the shirt collar. The other truncheon was scattered along the sidewalk somewhere as the knight of the moon launched knee after knee after knee into the midsection and ribcage of the undead would-be attacker, it was clear that whoever the man in the cape was, he was well-trained and capable in a fight...but he also had a reckless wild streak to him, for him this fight seemed to be personal, despite him having just met these creatures seconds ago. Finally when the creature was unable to defend himself, then and only then did the hooded masked man push him backward, stabbing forward with that stake almost in a sort of palm-strike aimed right for the heart. Soon flesh and muscle and bone were all shifting into dust, and were all falling across the ground in a scattering effect. Soon the man was stood there, breathing a bit heavily as that cape was pulled backward to show the rest of the outfit, and that crescent moon across his chest. The figure was stood looking up at the night sky, at the real moon. It was clear when he spoke, though, that he was speaking to Buffy. "Vampires. So those are real, huh? You know I thought I'd be more surprised by this." 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:''' "You'd think, right?" Buffy agrees as she glances around the area. The pain has eased up so she's sure there are no more around but she'd learned that her early warning system didn't always do what it should. Nothing better than her own senses to tell her if the danger was past. Only when she was sure it was clear did she look back at the guy, tucking her stake back into her messenger bag. "Vampires, demons, werewolves--although I have friends who match two of those three so they aren't all bad--all of them do exist though." The way he fought, she's not sure he isn't part demon. He's good with combat but he also was a lot more brutal than he needed to be. Like it was personal. Which makes her personal radar go off, saying that something isn't quite right about him. "And it seems they love Sunnydale and Bludhaven." Thanks to the Hellmouth. She doesn't mention that part. People don't really need to know that sort of thing if they don't want to run screaming for the hills. Not that he looks like he'd go screaming. "First, are you okay? Second, what brings you to Sunnydale cause you aren't a local? And third, who are you? Moon Man? Moonbeam? Moonwalker?" 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' "...Huh. 'Sunnydale'? Is that where I am? You'd think things like these wouldn't want to associate with a name like that. Names hold power, you know." He was looking up at the moon a long time, but finally when she got closer he seemed to snap out of it, shaking his head as he finally regarded her. If she was close enough she'd probably see the mask just behind the hood, and those glowing silver 'eyes' staring out unblinkingly. This close up it was probablly also easy to see the utility belt, the quality of the suit itself, and the various holes along the chest and thighs, where it was possible to see dark fabric...and occasional patches of skin, here and there. There was a man under the suit, though that still didn't fully translate to 'human'. He certainly didn't behave like a normal standard schlub when he regarded her with a tilting of his head. As he spoke, his hand reached out...not for hers, but merely for his weapon that she was holding. If there was no resistance, he'd slowly, slowly pull it away from her. "The Moon Knight. I was the chosen. I am the only one." The tone of his voice was utterly serious as he met her gaze, his voice finally steady in a way that it wasn't before now. Clearly, this was something he believed strongly in. But moments later it was gone, as he started walking away toward the truncheon still over on the ground. "Werewolves and demons, I'm glad I know about these now, thank you. You move like a bad motherfucker, who taught you?" 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:''' "The chosen, huh? A lot of that going around these days," Buffy mutters, half under her breath. "But be careful. You go thinking you're the only one then another one shows up with the same abilities and skills but a worse attitude and a moral compass that is completely broken, trying to hone in on your city instead of going away somewhere more fitting for their personality type like Vegas. Or Gotham." Okay, that was a bit more information than he probably ever wanted to get. It also didn't answer a thing while at the same time revealing a whole lot. When he reached for it, she opened her hand so he could take the weapon easily. "Oh, picked up stuff here and there. A couple of self defense classes down at the Y." Yeah, like that's going to fool anyone. She gives a shrug. "One of those chosen one things. Protect the world from the vampires and monsters. Inherent a whole boatload of skills that can't really be used to get a real job or anything. And the bonus is getting to wander around town at night while trying to keep my grades up." She considers him a moment. "Moon Knight. Goes with the White knight look thing you got going on there." She waves a hand at his choice of attire. "You didn't even know where you were? Sunnydale, We're a suburb of Bludhaven. I'm guessing you don't know how you got here either?" 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' Both weapons grabbed, the Moon Knight immediately twirled them in a practiced combination, done more out of muscle memory and reflex than anything else. Satisfied that the air in front of him was indeed dead now, the weapons were placed behind him and clicked into the back of his belt before reaching for a side pouch. Inside was what looked like a walkie talkie, olive green as he pulled it out and clicked a few buttons and pulls up the wire up top. It seemed he was waiting on something, but in the meantime, he responded. "I didn't think they taught monster killing at the Y. Maybe I should go after this." The walkie suddenly squeaked out a high-pitched voice, distorted by mechanical interference. Was that because of the poor quality of the devices, or was that intentional to mask the voice? "I got your locale, boss. Picking up." This seemed to satisfy the masked man, because he grunted in response, starting to put the device away as he continued. What, you need money? Some guys hafta get their asses broken down by Uncle Sam to get the skills you got, an' they don't make half of what you could make in the private sector. Bodyguard, security, private merc, hell. Sky's the limit." "Nah, I'm in New York, that's where the mission is. But if I'm here, then I was supposed to be here...was probably supposed to get my eyes opened to stuff like this. These perverts walking around under the moon hiding from Ra, thinking they're safe. I'm glad you're out here, showin' em that they ain't." 

:'''{{#var:328|Buffy Summers (328)}} has posed:''' "Ra?" Buffy echoes. "Doesn't ring a bell. Course, I suck at mythology. Well, I know some Greek these days." Had to do with a whole debacle with certain gods visiting a while back. She figured she might better read up on the topic at the time. Now Ra might be added to her list. "I dunno about the perverts. I mean, I know about them. I know they exist, not like personally. But not my usual types to be hunting for. If it breathes fire, sucks blood or lives off the essence of others? That's usually what I go after." She considers what he mentioned about job sources but shrugs, giving a twisted smile. "Can't say I can do that. This is all hush hush super secret squirrel stuff. I'm just supposed to be a normal kid in high school, not the Chosen One. Well for my niche. You are the Chosen One for your niche, I'm guessing. So I can't go playing bodyguard cause that would give it away. And I can't really go too far from Sunnydale although I hope to go to school in New York. My bestie and I are looking for a place there that we can afford." Way more information than he needed. "Anyway! I should get back to patrolling and you should get back to...whatever it is you are doing." 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' Funny as she speaks, the sound of helicopter blades whirring could be heard overhead. Whatever was in the sky was hard to see against the darkness of shadow, but anyone looking up and looking hard enough would be able to see the black helicopter getting closer. As a rope ladder was rolled down right beside the man in white and silver, he spoke up louder as he grabbed a hold of it. "No, they're perverts. Perverting the way things are supposed to be. You ever wonder why the crazies come out at night? The lunatics and the monsters, you ever wonder why they feel safe in crawling out of the trash when the sun goes down? Because nobody's been doing my job. Have a good night, whoever you are. Keep it safe from your end, and I'll do the same." And with that, he was gone. 
}}

Lobo

2018-05-22T07:16:42Z

TheMainMan:

{{CharacterNew
|NameOnMUSH=Lobo
|Color=#333
|TextColor=#c1c1c1
|Char_id=1742
|Img=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/86/be/52/86be527e4385d9705bb399a44d87b932--lobo-marvel-comic-superheroes.jpg
|FullName=One Who Devours Your Entrails And Thoroughly Enjoys It
|Gender=Male
|Species=Czarnian
|Theme=DC
|Chartype=FC
|Active=Active
|Occupation=Bounty Hunter, Assassin To Royalty, Space-Dolphin Activist
|Citizenship=Blessed Child of Czarnia
|Residence=Spacer
|Education=The Czarnian Public Education System
|Quote="I've seen things you wouldn't believe. The burning solar fires of a dead god's eyes, asteroid showers off the dead moon of Thanagar. And I rode past all of that to find ya, 'cuz yer old broad paid me a lotta good money to make sure you bleed to death. Hope yer affairs are all in order, pal!"
|PAge=42
|AAge=42
|DOB=30 April 1984
|Height=226 cm
|Weight=195 kg
|Hair=Black
|Eyes=Red
|Actor=Lemmy Kilmister
|Song="Desperado" by Alice Cooper
|Profile=Ruthless killer and relentless bounty hunter. If you got the credits, he'll take the job, and he will not stop until it's done. There are rumors about him, about what he's done to his own people, about his evil being "prophesisized" since the day he was born. So is any of that true? Or have those rumors been spread for a reason?
|Description=His favorite color is black, it's easy to tell. His skin is a shocking albino white, a mottled grey in some lighting and almost a corpse-like blue in others, but most of the time, it's the same shade of white as flour. Around his eyes are jagged black markings, possibly tattoos, or cultural markings? In any case the jagged shapes of them add a constant 'menace' to his gaze, which isn't helped by his eyes being blood red, so bright that they aren't actually hard to see in the dark. His face is fascinatingly ugly, his nose obviously broken and rebroken, given that it's crooked in places, with lines of age and wear and tear evident across his cheeks and forehead. His hair is jet black and long, rolling down messily over his shoulders, and across his upper lip is a thick mustache that meets his sideburns in a most righteous pair of handlebars. His teeth, when visible, are a bright healthy shade of yellow. And his canines are sharp enough to draw blood, like any good carnivore. His body is one built for power, well past the seven foot range and weighing only a few hundred less than your average Asgardian, his body is muscled without them being super defined and pronounced, it's clear that the Main Man gets his ability from genetic gifts and luck rather than any kind of dedicated serious 'training'. His arms, chest, back and stomach are all adorned with numerous tattoos and his fingernails, coming out in short sharp points, are painted a glossy shade of black. It seems to be a theme with him, because black leather is mostly what's touching his body at the moment. Fingerless black gloves, glossy black pants, with black biker boots made of some tough, durable spacer material. Across his knees he wears a pair of star-decorated dark-blue kneepads, the right with a bit of dark red something stained across it. Across his waist is a low-slung gunfighter's belt with a number of weapons hanging loosely and dangerously, the belt buckle that of a shining metal skull, highly detailed and intricate. Adorning his torso is some cheap black cloth shirt, of some obscure intergalactic slamdance band, one of the many that start up only to fade into obscurity, in the vacuum of space. Over that shirt he wears a black leather jacket, studded and frayed at the ends, clearly an article of clothing that's been through a lot. The left sleeve comes all the way down to his wrist, but the right seems to have been ripped off some time ago, leaving his right arm bare and free to act. Across the back of it there looks like some sort of logo used to be pressed on, though clearly it's been removed at some point. Finally wrapped across his right arm, from the elbow all the way down to his hand, looks to be a length of thick metal chain, ending in a rather brutal looking hook, sharp and wicked, stained at the tip with a similar red stain as the kneepad. Clearly he's put this contraption to good use in the past.
|History=Once upon a time, there was a world known as Czarnia, and it was as close to a utopia as mortals could get. Its lands were a lush paradise of beautiful gardens, forests and jungles, of endless waves of beautiful water crashing upon beautiful beaches, and the towers looked like they were built out of the sky and clouds themselves. The people who lived on this planet were said to be perfect. Tall, pale, genetically engineered adonises, their culture was one of planet-wide peace and celebration, of wine and ambrosia eaten on the tallest of mountains, of philosophical contemplation, and sometimes weeks-long lovemaking orgies whilst harps were played continuously. This much is undeniable fact.

This was all true up to a few dozen years ago, when truckers and traders all came back from the once-beloved planet with the same stories: That it was empty, that it was a dead planet, that there was nothing left but a droning buzz deep under the soil, a horrible sound that caused any visitors to quickly flee the planet for their own safety and sanity. It was around this same time that a new player entered the world of bounty hunting and mercenaries: A giant albino of a man with blood-red eyes and a fierce savagery, a man who was absolutely lethal when crossed. A man who sounded out words when he read a contract out loud, but that last part wasn't talked about as much.

As his prowess and reputation grew, stories about his past began to circulate. Rumors that his birth was seen as an omen of foreboding on his planet, rumors that he was the last Czarnian, rumors that he killed and maimed his fellow people until he one day murdered them all...for his school science project. Given the story of genetically engineered scorpion wasps, and given that Lobo himself has never shown this kind of ability before or since, these claims are...dubious. But still, what Czarnian is alive to dispute any of it?

There are other claims, that Lobo is an unkillable immortal who ripped and tore his way out of Heaven and Hell, and was reincarnated as a woman and then a squirrel before coming back as himself, but this story is completely ludicrous, and about several different types of impossible. Not that anyone's willing to say that to the Main Man's face.
|Personality=He's a simple kind of man. But he ain't easy to understand. Actually, that's a fib, he's pretty easy to understand. Lobo derives pleasure from various things: Murder, mayhem, murder while he's causing mayhem. He is not highly considerate of the feelings of others, and things such as charity and fair play just serve to make him mad. Will he cheat at cards or take what doesn't belong to him? Absolutely, of course. Will he fight or attack anyone he wants to at the drop of a hat? Obviously, why wouldn't he? Lobo really loves money, strippers, guns and various other implements of pain, as well as the thrill of a good fight. Whether he's punching someone in the face or -being- punched in the face, it's all the same to the Main Man. But that's all on his own time. If he's been hired to do a job, that's when it's time to focus up and get serious. It is here that the 'good' aspects of Lobo(If they can be called 'good' aspects) shine. Lobo will never give up on a job, and will perform it to the best of his abilities, always. One hundred percent or he'll die trying...and if his preposterous claims are true, then not even that will be much of a deterrent!
|Abilities='''CZARNIAN MIGHT''' Lobo is strong enough to lift almost 100 tons, his body is physically dense and tough enough to withstand blunt trauma like a punch from an Asgardian without dying or even almost dying(he'd probably get floored, but would quickly get back up), and his legs are powerful enough for him to leap at least a story and a half. Lobo is built to be a one-man wrecking ball, and he's pretty damn good at it. '''DEEP SPACE TRACKING''' It's not exactly clear where this comes from, whether it's a result of some cybernetic implant, a freakish mutant sense of smell or some supernatural gift, but Lobo is able to 'track' people, even through the vacuum of space. It should be impossible, but he can tell what planets someone has been to, he can tell exactly what path they took to get to where they're going, he can even tell if a quarry has switched ships at some point along the way. Strangely enough, this 'ability' gets weaker the closer he is to a target, meaning it's possible to actually lose him in a crowded bar or a city or a jungle(or wherever else), though if you run away far enough, the chase just begins anew. '''MISERY SENSE''' The longer Lobo fights with someone, something in his brain or his senses or his instincts alerts him to a victim's weak points, where to hit them to do the most damage or the most pain. This helps him get a dirty edge in any brawl, making him even more deadly and dangerous to his prey. NOTE: This does not mean he instantly knows a target's weakness. If he was fighting Superman, he wouldn't suddenly 'realize' that kryptonite was the key, if he was fighting Dracula, he wouldn't suddenly know that garlic and sunlight were his allies. This applies purely to physical vulnerabilities and limitations. You know, he can "sense" if his opponent has a bum leg, or is blind on his left side, or if he injured his ribs in a previous fight. '''REGEN''' Short for 'regeneration'. Lobo is able to heal from some pretty tremendous forms of damage. Of course the usual things like getting shot/stabbed/poisoned/electrocuted and various other things he can heal from quickly, but he's also he can also recover from severe brain trauma and losing most of his body mass. He can't recover from a loss of oxygen and getting burned tends to cause his healing factor to take longer to work, but it will eventually. Oh and it goes without saying, that diseases or viruses gained from traveling to new alien environments, those don't tend to last against his superior immune system. '''SEEING RED''' Lobo's eyes do more than just look cool, they allow him to see in a fashion that's almost like infrared. He can see perfectly in the dark and he can see heat and forms of light that aren't visible to the normal person. Which is a pretty nifty talent for flying in space.
|Skills='''CONTRACT READING''' Lobo doesn't understand many things, but he understands "contract-ese", he knows where to look for the small print, he knows how to read between the lines, and he knows when and when not to sign on that dotted line. '''FIGHTING''' Lobo isn't any kind of karate master, nor has he had any sort of elite commando training, but with his gifts he really doesn't need to be. He knows how to get ahead in a bar fight, and his sucker punch and uppercut is second to none. He's equally as dangerous with a weapon in his hand, whether that's a knife or a laser blaster, as well. '''SPRAY'N'PRAY''' Lobo isn't much of a marksman at all, he'll never be much of a sniper or even a rifleman. But he's comfortable enough with guns and gun-like weaponry(even more space-age blasters and phasers) to use them moderately well. He tends to prefer up-close firearms, though. Pistols, shotguns, automatics, these work best for the Main Man.
|Resources='''BELT''' Lobo's belt buckle does more than just look cool, it's actually equipped with a relatively cheap universal translator, preset with a few hundred different alien dialects, and even having the capability to 'learn' languages the more it is exposed to them. Pretty useful for an intergalactic bounty hunter who barely got a 'D' in Czarnian. '''GENERAL ARSENAL''' At the time of this writing, Lobo has the following: One machete, one hunting knife, three 'combat knives', eight weighted throwing knives, one illegally sawn-off scatterblaster, one 'rippergun'(Essentially some sort of alien Uzi equivalent), with each firearm having a small amount of ammo. He tends to acquire and then throw away weapons as he goes, aside from his signature hook. '''HOOK AND CHAIN''' Nicknamed 'The Bisley', this wicked device is Lobo's signature weapon. Constructed from super durable metals that can withstand the kind of force that the Main Man exerts, this very dense weapon is capable of tearing through the equivalent of steel. '''SHADES''' These sunglasses do more than make Lobo look totally wicked, they allow him to exist in super bright climates without shielding his eyes in pain, and they allow him to see in a more "conventional" sense, at the cost of shielding the fancy things he could normally see without them. '''TAMARANEAN DEATH SAUCE''' Lobo, in his limited knowledge, believes he has the last three bottles of this stuff ever made. The kind of stuff that will scald your taste buds right off, literally, there aren't many who can withstand even a drop of this on their food. Lobo can't imagine life without it. '''THE HOG''' Illegally modified, this is Lobo's preferred mode of transportation. Originally designed only for on-planet use, this bike can reach speeds that can put even some small spacecraft to shame, it has been kitted out with a small personal atmosphere, allowing one to survive the cold vacuum of space without dying from lack of oxygen. Note that it does little to offset the extreme cold or lack of comfort, Lobo just endures those things with his incredible ruggedness.
|Weaknesses='''HONORBOUND''' Lobo doesn't have many codes to live by, which suits him just fine. But he does have one steadfast rule: If he accepts a job or agrees to a contract, he must complete it, and will not let himself rest or slack off until the job is done, even if sometimes he really wants to rest and slack off. He cannot be bribed or tempted with a better offer, he cannot be reasoned with or 'convinced' to give up. He must, MUST, do the job he agreed to, no ifs, ands, buts or butts. '''INFRARED''' Lobo's superior vision comes with a small number of disabilities attached: One, he has a lot of difficulty seeing certain colors, given that everything looks red to him. Two: He has a hard time seeing something that's not moving at all, so someone savvy enough could potentially hide from him in this manner. Three: Seeing that his eyes are designed for hunting in the darkness, super bright lights, especially ones that suddenly flare up that he's not ready for, could cause him a lot of pain. '''REGEN COMA''' Lobo can take an absurd amount of punishment and come back for more. Which is good because, in his line of work and due to his personality, he tends to take a lot of punishment. But if his healing factor is pushed to a certain point, if he is forced to constantly regrow body parts and mend his bones with no downtime between injuries, he risks going into a miniature 'coma' while his body repairs all damage to itself. As you might imagine, this is not a good state for him to find himself in, if he's not in some sort of safehouse or a trusted environment.
}}

4468/Stone Cold Crazy

2018-05-19T07:12:52Z

TheMainMan: Things get tense in the hangar bay of Knowhere. Someone gets disarmed.

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/05/17
|Location=Knowhere
|Synopsis=Peter Quill has done what he does best: Piss off some rude, crude dudes with attitude. But have these hardened criminals made the wrong choice, when they choose to accost the dangerous Star-Lord and his Guardians of the Galaxy, in addition to the Last Czarnian?
|Thanks=Peter Quill
|Cast of Characters=111, 161, 1670, 1742
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:111|Peter Quill (111)}} has posed:''' //...Rainy afternoon I gotta blow a typhoon. And I'm playing on my slide trombone. Anymore anymore canno take it anymore. Gotta get away from this stone cold floor. Crazy sstone cold crazy you know...// Loudly the music BLARES from a boombox that sits on the hangar floor. Rental space paid for the Milano can sit peaceful enough. Enough until that day when Peter Quill finds himself being thrust against the port wing, held in the air by an angry group of exiled Badoon pirates. Ugly, green skinned, tall and as foul tempered as they look. The one holding up the 'human' captain of the Milano different from his pals in the presence of cybernetics all throughout his body and the sheer size of him. He is big, a Hulk style of bulky. The other two not so impressive, blasters in hands and what appear to be thongs. Not much else for armaments or gear in the least. Who neds it, right? Right. "Hey fellas." Quill says with a startled chuckle. "Turn that off." The tallest skinny one demands. It's slightly shorter companion kicks the radio sending it skittering and clattering in to a nearby cargo net. "Oh come on. That was an insult to Freddie Mercury and John Deacon. One does not just 'kick' anything playing Queen... " "Human, you shorted us on the run through Doxxal. Three thousand units." 

:'''{{#var:161|Gamora (161)}} has posed:''' Gamora is returning from the station interior when she can see the hulking things approaching Quill and his 'booming box'. Her hands come up to the hem of her black hood and she pulls it up more snugly over her head as she moves through the crowds. When the radio is kicked and sent skittering across the tarmac, Gamora steps over to it. Her tall black leather boots halt beside the thing as it lays on its backside with its big round speakers pointed upward... The hooded woman crouches down beside the device and she glides her green middle two fingers over the series of tiny rectangular buttons until she finds the OFF one, and depresses it. Her eyes look out from beneath her hood toward Peter and his Friends then, while remaing crouched beside the radio. 

:'''{{#var:1670|Adam Warlock (1670)}} has posed:''' Adam Warlock was exploring Knowhere in an attempt to learn more about the life forms that dwell there, as per his usual favorite activity. His staff in hand and his black and red wizard robes worn, hood up, not unlike Gamora, Adam's red eyes eventually find Peter being harassed by the other life forms who just so happen to be present. With a sadness being drawn on Warlock's face, he starts to approach in that direction. That poor jukebox. In no small part to Star-Lord, Adam had become a bit of a fan of this strange band known as 'Queen'. He had not quite heard music like it and it had grown favor with the Avatar of Life. Though as he comes up to the group, he doesn't look upset, merely curious as to why these beings are here. "Are you unharmed, Peter Quill?" he first asks to the resident Captain of the Milano. Gamora gets a small smile and a relative nod before his attention shifts finally to the men who appear to only be here to cause trouble. "May I ask your business here, gentlemen? Perhaps you are here to make a deal?" always the pacifist... 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Peter was not the only one here with a taste in tunes. But while the Star-Lord played distant once-hits from a blue paradise yet discovered, the albino-skinned man was playing something a bit more...closer to home. As that modified crotch-rocket pulled into the hangar bay with engines that sounded like Hell screaming, even when the engine was killed there was still the sound of thirteen drums being played at breakneck speeds, while the sound of something out of any world was screeching some alien lyrics, presumably something about drinking blood and defiling corpses in various sexual manners. The typical affair.     For his part, the Main Man just sat there, cigar lit, the top of his head covered by a stiff black leather hat, broad-brimmed though the sides were pinned up in a stylistic manner. He was dressed like usual spacer trash, but on the backseat next to him was something that looked like a massive praying mantis, something rapidly changing colors from green to purple to bright blue, even as it attempted to undo the chains that were wrapping it up tightly. Though the thing looked dangerous and horrific, the rider was nonplussed. It seemed his attention was more toward the scene happening a few feet from him, and was interesting for him to hold back for the moment. He wanted to see what was going to happen, his gleaming red eyes focused on the scene with a kind of eagerness. 

:'''{{#var:111|Peter Quill (111)}} has posed:''' Peter lets out a grunt sound as he lifts higher in the air. Oyxgen flow cut off brief but enough he manages to go a shade darker, "Watch it big fella." He slaps the cyborg-aliens wrist. His head twisting enough to look at Gamora, attention passes over Adam. "I'm okay, man. What about her though, is she all right?" "We have not touched the women." Tall and green spokesman says. "That one is a man I think commander." The shorter one with the blaster says about Adam. "They all look the same." The leader defends himself. "No no not /her/ and I wasn't talking to you jack wipes." The incoming sound of Lobo's roaring screeching machine and musical tastes has them all watching the Czarnian, even the big cyborg-thug turns its head curious at the racket. "It sounds like two Charns mating." One of the Badoons whispers. 

:'''{{#var:161|Gamora (161)}} has posed:''' Gamora rises up with the boombox held in her right hand down against her thigh, holding it by its handle. She eyes Warlock approaching to assist Quill, then she can't help but look over at the arrival of that man she beat to the job run for that strange android thing, so he gets a light smirk. Gamora starts to walk toward the Milano's open boarding ramp then, passing by the thugs who've come to collect their money, her black cloak gently waves around her shoulders and torso as she moves. Her eyes glance over to Peter and Warlock and she mutters to Peter. "Pay them, so they'll leave." She says before stepping up on the boarding ramp. 

:'''{{#var:1670|Adam Warlock (1670)}} has posed:''' The golden skinned mage goes silent as the Main Man, Lobo, arrives and seems content at watching the event. Though Adam looks to Peter as he exclaims that he's well and perfectly fine, Adam shifts his attention to the gentlemen in front of him. "So it would seem. Though, to answer the question of one of your crewmen, I am genetically male." Apparently Adam just still misses certain things in conversation. Like questions not meant to be answered. Though he looks slightly confused as Gamora eyes him. Hopefully he hasn't done anything to earn the ire of the most dangerous woman in the galaxy. Here's hoping... Adam does smile lightly to Peter. "I too think the fastest way to resolve the situation is to simply give them what they wish. Certainly, if they wish to cause more trouble, we will ask them politely to cease such actions." Eyes move to the situational-enemy crew. "Is that acceptable?" Then to Lobo! "...I have never seen a Czarnian before." he smiles softly to the Main Man, and approaches him to likely ask a load of questions. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     By this time Lobo's killed the music as well, and was perfectly content with leaning back(ignoring the skittering complaining insectoid he was leaning against) to watch the action from the perfect distance, he even had a can of something to drink along with something suspiciously sandwich-shaped wrapped in hot tinfoil in his hands.     But that was before his eyes met Gamora's, and instant recognition hit him. The situation changed in a split second, and the refreshments were put down. As he was stepping off his ride and heading towards the scene of the action, he was approached by the golden haired, golden skinned perfect man. Far from annoyed, Lobo's face opened up in a warm, happy expression. His left hand clasped the man's shoulder, even as his right went in for a handshake.     "Hey there, scrot, bet the chickees and boy toys fall all over you, huh? Hey I'll be right with ya."     In his line of work, it was important to not immediately insult and murder everyone you met at first glance. Lobo often broke his rule whenever it struck him, but it was still an important one. Right now he was approaching the scene, stepping right up to the social engagement with a swat to the green cyborg alien's ass. The male's, not Gamora's. This was an important distinction.     "Hey there Clydes, what seems ta be the sitch, here?" 

:'''{{#var:111|Peter Quill (111)}} has posed:''' "Yeah lets just pay every jerk who shows up wanting to shove a blaster in my face." Quill squirms in the grip of that unbending cyborg hand trap. "I don't even remember these guys being there for the Droxxal run." "I told you it's a male." The short one says in a patronizing tone towards it's leader. "Shut up, Kroz." The leader says and looks over at Lobo from Adam. "Back off, this is between us and Star-Worm." "HEY It is Star-Lord, cmon." Quill says loudly, glaring and confused at all the back and forth looks. No help from Gamora, no help from Strange. /Pay them.../ There is a sudden growl noise out of the cyborg as it's backside is swatted. It's head turning again, slackening it's grip on Peter enough the man drops with a lift of his arms, shimmying out of his jacket to land in a crouch. "Hi-yah!" He shouts and straight shots the big cyborg in the lap. Only to release a loud "OWCH!" As the thunk is louder than his initial cry out. His hand snapping back to wave in the air, actually sucking his knuckles now. "That does it. Kill him Brokk. The rest of you stand back. " Kroz and the Leader whip around and aim blasters at Lobo and Adam. Assuming the big cyborg is about to deal with Peter Quill who is crawling underneath the Milano, "GUYS... situation out here.... " His voice goes through the crew channel. 

:'''{{#var:161|Gamora (161)}} has posed:''' Gamora has gone all the way up into the Milano by the time the shennigans are breaking out and she's set the radio down onto the table that is covered with food containers left behind by the ravenous man-children that she shares this ship with. With a heavy sigh, Gamora moves to a fridge-box and she pulls out a bottle of dark red alcoholic greatness. She can hear the call from Quill over the crew-comm that things are boiling up outside and, well, Gamora just snaps the cap on the ice cold refreshment and tilts her head back to tip the bottle's long neck's brim against her lips and take a nice... long... drink. Fighting going on, always, she loved it, and hated it. Gamora's hood falls off her head while she takes that long swig, then she lowers the bottle down to a counter in front of her and sighs while she turns around back to the ship's exist, and brandishes a very long sword out from beneath her cloak, its pointed tip aiming off to the right as she stalks back outside... 

:'''{{#var:1670|Adam Warlock (1670)}} has posed:''' Adam is more than happy to shake Lobo's hand. Truly, his species was of great fascination. However, as it seems that tensions are literally cutting the air, Adam sighs as it appears that he will have to overload Lobo with a million questions later. Peter's cry for help is easily he catalyst for that particular decision. Lowering his hood to reveal his golden skin and hair, those piercing red eyes taking on a rare form of intimidating expression as he leaves his staff aside, instead taking a combative stance where purple magic circles appear around his hands, his fingers performing multiple gestures as he readies a spell. "We do not wish to combat you. We ask only that you cease hostilities and return home, for I fear this will not end well for you." Adam really didn't like to fight unless it was necessary. Sadly...it's necessary. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     Lobo had no problems with anyone here, and he was looking on the situation with a grin on his face...until the blasters were clicked and aimed at him. Instantly the smile dropped, and he looked between the green-skins, to Adam, to where Quill was a moment ago...there was a deep growl clicking along the back of his throat, and as he spat out that cigar stub at the feet of the leader(possibly unintentionally hitting Quill in the process), he bared his healthy yellow teeth, including the fang-like incisors. Idly he glanced over at the golden man and snorted loudly before speaking.     "Well, yer right about one o' those things, Sunboy."     Instantly he swung around, reaching his right hand out and trying to grasp at the elbow of the big brooding cyborg. If this worked then with strength that could reduce a building to rubble, he squeezed as hard as he could. He wanted to hear the cracking of bones and feel the hot spray of blood, but if he heard electronics and metal warping and ruining, well he wouldn't complain. Beggers can't be choosers, and these guys would certainly be begging in short order! 

:'''{{#var:111|Peter Quill (111)}} has posed:''' Gamora makes it to the ramp opening just in time to watch Lobo crushing the cyborg that was manhandling Peter, it's limbs spazzing out, bending and twisting to show inner cable and wiring while ejecting fluids that are a mixture of purple blood and black tech-ichor. It's silent scream inside of its heavy helmet not so quiet as it apparently causes feedback in the ears of it's tall green and shorter green companions. The blasters trained on Adam and Lobo go off, the tall one shooting at Adam, the shoter one at Lobo who is now occupied in maiming their bruiser. "Skreetanks, he just ripped Brokks arms off!" "Gamora, when is the last time anyone scrubbed down here?" She won't see Peter but she'll hear him underneath the Milano. The man is lifting one hand up, a quad laser in it and being aimed at the one about to shoot Adam. "Hope your three thousand was worth it!" He shouts at the Badoons. 

:'''{{#var:161|Gamora (161)}} has posed:''' Gamora appears at the mouth of the Milano's entrance with a sword in one hand and her own side-arm space pistol in the other. She scans her eyes around at the madness going on out here and then glances down to her left side where Peter is hiding beneath his ship. "Rocket urinates under there, you do realize this?" She tells the man as she raises her own blaster up and aims at the same creton that he just fired and and she fires too. Their blaster discharges hitting the Space Ruffian at roughly the same time! Gamora starts down the ramp then and extends her sword. "Why must all of you be so weak?!" She shouts at their foes. "In brain and brawn, you're all pathetic!" 

:'''{{#var:1670|Adam Warlock (1670)}} has posed:''' Adam watches as Lobo practically tears the cybernetic arm off of the boss of their enemies. Well...not -exactly- How Adam would have done it, but...It's effective? Guess so. Though he now learns a bit of rather uncomfortable information when Gamora teases Quill with regards to where Rocket performs his biological functions. Well, when nature calls. Adam then looks back to their foes, specifically at the man about to shoot him before apparently Gamora and Quill have him covered. Adam's magic turns then to the weapons of their foes, a mere gesture is made in an attempt to make their initial guns seem to literally tturn to sand and melt from their hands. Because Adam no like. "This is your final warning. Cease. Or be forced to leave." 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     It was going down, and immediately Lobo got opened up by an automatic three-burst volley of laserbeam. Two ripping through his shoulder in two different places, while a third scraped across the entire left half of his face in a way that looked quite horrific, with the yellow skull being visible beneath a few torn and burnt bits of red muscle and meat, charred black flesh over that muscle with smoke rising into the air. The fact that he wasn't reacting like a man who just got his face blown off was concerning all on its own. The fact that even now that skull was being covered by pink and red sinew that seemed to be regrowing and wrapping around like a weed across a tree, was almost a sickening sight. The same thing was happening with the holes in his shoulder, the see-through gaps closing rapidly.     Lobo was looking down at these injuries, his left eye loosely moving around in the socket of his skull that was slowly growing muscles and eyelids, and looked back up to regard the thugs, who were now holding a little souvenir from the beach. The look on his face was the look of someone who wasn't impressed.     "Do any of you clowns know how rare this shirt is, how many geeks I had ta kill my way through ta' get ahold of it? These guys ain't tourin' no more on account'a them bein' onna planet that got Galacticked. So here's what I'm gonna do fer ya:"     As he spoke, he instantly chucked that cybernetic arm aside, letting it drift through the air to possibly land at Gamora's feet. This was so he could lash out, and do the same thing to poor Brockie's other good arm, right at the same point. Crunch, blood, oil and all.     "That's count one of a ten second warning, ta get the hell outta here. An' that's only 'cuz it wouldn't be sporting, on account of my good friend Sandy over here!" 

:'''{{#var:111|Peter Quill (111)}} has posed:''' "That dirty little... " Quill breaks in to profanities without even looking at his shots landing point. Scrambling free from his hidey-hole to come up next to Gamora on the ramp. Adam's magic turning the blasters in to fragments after their initial burst. A burst that missed one and the other that tore through Lobo, making him look like the whitest standing piece of cheese Quill has ever seen, then hes... not so 'holy' any longer. "You're seeing this, right?" He asks the green assassin to his left. Brokk is on his knees, head down, unlikely still alive unless Badoons had the same gift or something near to it that Lobo has, the shorter green man is on his face also, laid out after being gunned down by Gamora and Star-Lord. The taller, leaderly green Badoon is turning slow, gaping at the quick dispatch of his companions. "I... you know what, Star-Worm, you keep it. We Badoons of the Blue Rig Pirate Confederacy are a generous sort. We uh... we'll look at is a downpayment of good faith in all of our future endeavours, what do you say?" He raises his palms up in to the air, a universal sign of surrender. Casually Quill lifts one elbow up and drops it on to the sturdy shoulder of Gamora, "What do you say? Are we merciful heroic Guardians of the Galaxy or fearsome never to be messsed with badass Guardians of the Galaxy?" "They did kick our boombox and wrinkled up my favorite jacket." "You... you screwed us out of a payoff and killed two of my friends. I think we're even." The green Badoon commanders voice becoming whiny sounding, he looks nervously from Adam to Lobo, both who stand closer to him than the blade armed Gamora or the cocky Earthling. 

:'''{{#var:161|Gamora (161)}} has posed:''' Gamora's eyes quickly did scan over the others. She knew that Warlock was on their side, obviously, but Lobo was a bit of a wildcard... And when Quill arrives beside her (bringing the scent of Raccoon urine with him) Gamora softly nods her head at his question of whether or not she was 'seeing this'. "I am." Gams replies to the Captain of the Milano. Its not as though she hasn't seen things like it before, hell her own healing power worked similarly. Gamora's eyes sweep back over to the leader of the Thugz and she eyes him as he puts his hands up and pleads his case. As soon as the big fella says 'we're even', Gamora's blaster pistol goes off again and discharges another searing ball of burning plasma at the man's knee. "Now we're even. Tell others who ask for money from us, to shoot themselves first. And save us ammo." Gamora's eyes glance back over to Lobo then. 

:'''{{#var:1670|Adam Warlock (1670)}} has posed:''' With the situation seemingly well resolved, Adam summons his staff to his hand with a mere extension of his hand. Now leaning on said staff like a really tall walking stick, when it becomes clear that the enemies wish to retreat, Adam smiles kindly and with a circular motion of his finger, opens a magic portal behind their enemies which leads to the bar. "We thank you. Now, may I suggest a drink to go and calm yourselves? Though, kindly spread the word. We have no desire to have any trouble." He does smell Raccoon urine that -definitely- is on Quill and Adam turns his head to look at their noblest of captains. "Peter Quill, if I may, I would advise a shower in your very near future. Unfortunately, your spill into the underside of the ship has caused you to carry some of it's scent." Just a friendly suggestion! Though he does look to Gamora. "My thanks. I do not enjoy violence." he says in approval of her sparing their enemies, not that she needed it. A look back to Lobo after the fact. "Truly, your ability to heal is astounding. Can all Czarnian's do that?" he asks with an almost childish curiosity to know the unknown. He was the Avatar of Life. Which means he loves -all- life. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     "Yeah they could, once upon a time. Shame for those suckers that it didn't save 'em on account'a their brutal, untimely demise."     With another snort, Lobo looked backward at his ride and, feeling like he couldn't be bothered to walk that distance, put two fingers into his mouth and gave a shrill, painfully loud whistle. Instantly the bike roared back to life with the music once again blaring, and hovered along the walkway to meet its owner. This made it all the easier for the ghostly white bounty hunter to grab the mantis-creature in the back, and sling the still-screeching still complaining creature over his shoulder. He also grabbed his sandwich off the dashboard. Looking at everyone present, he gestured to the insectoid as he spoke.     "Ten-eyes here has been skippin' his court-mandated child support payments, you can tell 'cuz he ain't missin' any of his wings or legs. Ya'd be surprised how much of this job involves runnin' down deadbeat dads, though not all of 'em are what's fer dinner. Should be a helluva show, haw haw!"     Looking around, he glanced toward Peter.     "Ya fight pretty well for a small, pink, weak smelly alien creature, though I never did catch yer name...?" 

:'''{{#var:111|Peter Quill (111)}} has posed:''' "After I shower I'm going to replace all of Rocket's shampoo with that super Nair crap we found back in Sector Five." Despite his annoyance there is a chuckle from Quill, he is amused at the image in his head of Rocket entirely hairless, looking like some neborn pisssed off Opossum. His elbow drops though as he sniffs himself, "God, seriously." The marveling at Lobo's regen a little more afforded due to the speed, full on healing in steroids as opposed to similar special healy durable race types hes scene. "AFTER I shower." He rephrases loudly towards Adam, though the man is spared a grin, despite the undertone of rude from Quill he is grateful they are all present. "Man, felt nice to have the odds on our side for once." The Badoon flinches at the blaster shot and splays his hands out and his head down in a sort of bow to Gamora, "You're right, we are even. I see this now. I will deliver this message to the ressst of my crew. " Lobos incoming rocketcycle has the would be green bully leaping back, away from it and quickly walking away, a brisk stiff legged pace that refuses to show his pride is injured, though hes very tight puckered right now and sucking in all the anger hes just developed. Peter laughs and shakes his head until hearing Lobo, "I... hey, man! I can't tell if youre complimenting me or not right now so I am going to give it a pass. Props for the save and... cool ride. And the name, the name is Star-Lord. You probably heard of me." Thats polite enough for Quill as he kneels down and picks up his jacket, glad it doesn't smell like the rest of him right now. 

:'''{{#var:161|Gamora (161)}} has posed:''' Gamora's gun is slipped back into the holster on her left thigh while the sword in her right hand is twirled once at her side and then slipped back up into the sheath beneath her cape on her back. Her eyes remain on the Thug Leader until he makes his departure and then she releases a light sigh... And glances to her shoulder where Peter and put his arm. She sniffs two quick times before her eyes look up to Quill and then she rolls his eyes at the Nairs comment. "That would just escalate things, and make it worse... He'd start urinating in your room... then you'd die him Pink... then, yes, no. Don't." Her eyes go to Adam then and she nods once to him. "Thank you for the backup, Warlock. It is greatly appreciated." She shows a faint smile then before she nods once to Lobo. "You as well, for your part." And with that said, Gamora glances once more to Peter and then turns to go up into the Milano again. She never was much for conversation. 

:'''{{#var:1670|Adam Warlock (1670)}} has posed:''' Adam smiles at Lobo. "Fascinating! Very, very few species have such a powerful healing ability such as yours. I am saddened that the Czarnians are now a rare people...but they are certainly a wonder to behold. One of these days, I would like to speak with you about them. So much I could learn." he smiles big and wide! His eyes shift then to Peter Quill at his words, worried he will do things -before- he showers, only to be put at great ease when he says the AFTER part louder. Peter just earned a very warm smile from Adam. His eyes then shift to the Badoon gang as they retreat into that bar through the portal that Adam had made, and with the snap of his fingers the portal closes. A light sigh. "Here I was hoping for a day where we might be left untroubled. Oh well." Eyes shift lightly to Lobo as he speaks of the poor insectoid that he holds on his back. "Ah, I see. Their people are..perhaps, a little too serious about their marriage laws. I hear tell that if a Male is even spotted in the vicinity with another female, even if nothing had happened, it's primed for severe punishment." Alien cultures are strange, in certain places. Nonetheless, Adam had a very educational (not in that way Quill) visit to that insectoids planet. Kind people. Very strict. At Gamora's thanks and smile for his assistance, Adam simply bows his head lightly. "It was my pleasure. Besides, I cannot let my friends face adversity alone." Loyal, this one. Though he moves up to the Milano's ramp but doesn't go up it quite yet, content to speak with his Fellow Guardians and Lobo. 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     "They was nothin' but a buncha geeks, Clyde, but if ya catch me an' I ain't on the clock, whatever you want."     Lobo wasn't typically this nice, but when you had a man who could turn guns into sand, manners couldn't hurt. Not that the Main Man wouldn't snap Warlock's neck like a twig if he had to(Or at least he would try to), but there was no reason to start that fight just yet. Instead he glanced up toward Gamora, answering her, Warlock and the Star-Lord all in one serving.     "Yeah, they'd probably burn a buncha bras if any existed there. Speakin' of, don't think I've forgotten ya, green-bean. Ya know when most folk snap up a contract I wuz lookin' at, I end up feedin 'em their own entrails for the week leadin' up to their death..."     As he spoke, his left hand was resting on the handle of one of the many guns in his belt, the double-barrel loud one, that could turn faces into cheeseburger. After a moment of tension, he gave a grin and those hands came up in a shrug.     "But lucky you, that thing had trap written' all over it, so I decided ta give it a pass. Looks like everythin's comin' up aces fer you, sweetheart, got my fingers crossed that luck holds fer ya. And Star-Lord, eh? Y'know...I think I'll remember that name. This yer ship? Sounds like ya got a fine crew, even if one of 'em don't just piss out in space like the rest'a us do. Think I might be responsible fer that new ring around Xandor 12!"     This was punctuated with another loud guffaw, booming throughout the entire busy district, now that people were no longer hiding. Also, by now his face was almost back to normal, and interesting the black markings around his eye were growing back as well, apparently that wasn't paint, but rather a genetic pattern built into his skin. The side of his head was bald and now his bushy handlebar mustache was only half of what it used to be, though curiously, if one were to look close enough? Facial hair seemed to be growing, though mainly as stubble for now. Well that was nifty! 

:'''{{#var:111|Peter Quill (111)}} has posed:''' "Oh come on." Peter says with a mixture of laugh and serious. She is right though and he knows it. "Fine, he is cleaning this and we need to talk to him about not doing that. We don't want to get /that/ reputation, the smelly ship of all damn things." "Life is all about troubles, thats part of the fun, man." Quill says at Adam, "Brings us together or something..." He pauses long enough to watch Gamora walk off then looks back at the other two, "Friends, yeah." "You uh, you might not be so bad yourself, hoss. Whats he talking about with the trap, Gamora?" Not that he expects an answer. "Finest crew you'll find. Most days." He chuckles, then lets out a "Phew. Okay, dibs on the shower." He yells in to the Milano. "Out of my way and Rocket best stay away from me for the rest of the night or no promises! None.' No hesitation in his run and leap up the ramp, past Gamora. Yeah, no lingering for anymor"Oh come on." Peter says with a mixture of laugh and serious. She is right though and he knows it. "Fine, he is cleaning this and we need to talk to him about not doing that. We don't want to get /that/ reputation, the smelly ship of all damn things." "Life is all about troubles, thats part of the fun, man." Quill says at Adam, "Brings us together or something..." He pauses long enough to watch Gamora walk off then looks back at the other two, "Friends, yeah." "You uh, you might not be so bad yourself, hoss. Whats he talking about with the trap, Gamora?" Not that he expects an answer. "Finest crew you'll find. Most days." He chuckles, then lets out a "Phew. Okay, dibs on the shower." He yells in to the Milano. "Out of my way and Rocket best stay away from me for the rest of the night or no promises! None." 

:'''{{#var:161|Gamora (161)}} has posed:''' Gamora pauses at the entrance to the ship and she turns to glance back at Lobo, while Adam is likely passing her by or stopping as well. She shifts her gaze over to Peter then and she nods once to him. "A job. I took initiated and investigated it. There's a derelict ship, it belongs to a people I am not very familar with... they're dangerous. The kinds of danger that we don't want any part of. I saved the last crew member who was aboard the ship from some kind of cybernetic creature that was loose aboard it." She glances out toward the streams of people moving through the hangar toward the interior of the station. "The Crewman claimed that more of those creatures were going to be released here, at this location. I came back, investigated... and have yet to find anything." Once more her eyes go to Lobo and she shakes her head. "It wasn't a trap. It was just a salvage job I want no part of." 

:'''{{#var:1670|Adam Warlock (1670)}} has posed:''' "Nothing wrong with a people group being rather intelligent, my friend." he pats Lobo lightly on the shoulder before Adam makes his way up the ramp. Though as Peter apparently starts to storm up the ramp to be the first person to hit the showers (thank god), Adam is more than happy to move out of his way. Though....Gamora's revelation of what she was doing does cause Adam to look a little concerned. "Dangerous robotic species? Was it a Coluan? They are known to be a more peaceful people, seeking only knowledge...minus some." though he wasn't going to namedrop a particularly powerful villain in the universe that just so happened to be Coluan, it was something to worry about. "Do you require assistance, Gamora? I'd be happy to join you if I can be of any help." Though he does look to Peter. "Even if Rocket comes across your path, for reasons that Gamora has already stated, I would advise against it, lest a...how would you call it? Prank war? begins." 

:'''{{#var:1742|Lobo (1742)}} has posed:'''     For his part, Lobo was left alone with a quarry. Watching the group wander off, the Main Man waited a few moments. When relatively alone, then and only then did he tap a button on that impressive skull belt of his. A few holographic pictures came up, and wouldn't you know it, faces of some of the people he'd just met appeared. Underneath their photos, big ominous red alien letters, and next to those letters, were numbers. Very, very big numbers. With a wolfish grin he glanced back at the insectoid on his back, still desperate for any possible way to escape.     "Well, lookie that. Looks like I gots me some jobs I can take in a while. But first, you gotta few hungry mouths ta feed, dontcha, daddy longlegs?"     The chirping buzzing sound the creature made could be translated as thus:     "Gulp." 
}}

4461/Hi Tech Theft

2018-05-19T07:04:33Z

TheMainMan: Moon Knight versus street gangs...and also ninjas.

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2018/05/16
|Location=New York City
|Synopsis=Strange things are a-Foot with the gangs of the city. New York's resident schizophrenic vigilante interrogates some thugs, and quickly finds himself in hot water.
|Thanks=Shredder
|Cast of Characters=1233, 1768
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1233|Shredder (1233)}} has posed:'''     Stark Industries Research Center. Well, one of them. There have been a number of thefts from technology facilities recently. A common theme is that the Purple Dragons have always been in the area at the time. Today, the Purple Dragons are in this area. It's not inside their territory. Four of them are walking down the street, not at the research center, but at a deli nearby. What are they up to? 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' When night fell and the moon rose, its guardian knight answered the call. He wasn't necessarily protecting the interests of Tony Stark, one of the richest most powerful men on the planet. No, he was more interested in protecting innocent people from whatever these scumbags were trying to steal from him. It didn't take much detective work to figure out that the Dragons were involved somehow, and it didn't take much waiting before the waiting paid off, and he saw them appear like clockwork. He cut through the night sky, a blur of white and silver descending from a rooftop and gaining speed and momentum. He was hurtling toward the group like a bullet, and only at the very last moment of impact did he spread his arms and let that silver cape of his slow his momentum. Just enough that he wouldn't outright kill the sucker he was aiming for, the big bald one. Moon Knight's knee was aiming right for the side of this sucker's face, and that would be all the warning they got before he landed, ready. That hood hid the blank white mask beneath, so that it looked like glaring glowing silver pupilless eyes were peaking out from a veil of shadow. "Y'know, knights slay dragons. This is a bad night to be a piece of shit, it looks like." 

:'''{{#var:1233|Shredder (1233)}} has posed:'''     The thug takes the blow completely by surprise. He is out cold before he even knows what happened. The other three reflexively jump back and away from the caped intruder. "Whoa!" one says, "Who you think you are, princess?" one with a long beard asks. "You just come attackin' folks for nothin'?" He produces a switchblade. "Picked the wrong crowd to fuck with, amigo." The second, a guy with a distinct mohawk, reaches in his pocket and pulls out a set of brass knockers, while the third doesn't actually produce anything, but he cuts off the first. He seems a little cleaner cut, short hair, and is most decidedly the one who stands off in the best poise.     "You think you are a hero? Or some street thug who wants to be tough?" A thick brooklyn accent comes from the unarmed thug's voice. 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' The figure clad in white didn't seem to move much as the gang got ready, and with that cape draped over his shoulders covering his arms and hands, it was hard to see what all he was doing. Strangely enough he seemed to be swaying a little, left to right even as he looked on at the thugs and stayed silent...at least he did at first. Suddenly his head shot to his right to consider an empty street. "SHUT UP!" The barking anger came from nowhere, and seemed to be aimed where he was looking, even though, again, it seemed to be completely empty. While he was still looking on at nothing, his right hand suddenly emerged from that cape, flicking his wrist and chucking three silver, flat, sharp crescent moons, all aimed at the mohawked man, namely his face. They were low penetration, but they were deadly enough to cause a lot of pain. "I know what I'm doing so just shut up, shut up!" 

:'''{{#var:1233|Shredder (1233)}} has posed:'''     The mohawk thugh recoils, catching two of the three in his face, the third cutting part of his hair off. "Ow!" he cries out. The bearded guy dives forward at the same moment as Moon Knight attacks, his switchblade stabbing at the silver vigilante.     "Hey psycho," the third exclaims, reaching behind himself to pull a pair of nunchaku out from the back of his pants, previously hidden under his shirt. "He was the only one that didn't say anything to you." He gives a quick twirl of the instrument, enough to show he knows how to use them. 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' Switchblade moved in, and the man in white and silver acted immediately. The knife was thrust forward, and Moon Knight deflected with a karate-style block. With those metal gauntlets he was not at much risk of being cut. And with the goon being that close, it was no trouble at all for Moon Knight to put a hand around the thug's throat even as he used his hips to bring that thug up and down on the back of his neck and skull. When wrestling and judo collided. That only left nunchucks. The hooded knight looked up at the last remaining fighter, walking forward slowly as he reached in the back of his belt, bringing out a similar weapon, though his was made out of a silver metal, and both 'chuck's looked to be longer as if they were made to be different weapons entirely. And as he waited for the man to make his move, Moon Knight started twirling them in his hand idly. "Someone wants to play the Headache Game. Alright kiddo let's do it." 

:'''{{#var:1233|Shredder (1233)}} has posed:'''     The nunchaku thug sneers as his friend is knocked out, "You think you're big? You just come beat up folks mindin' their own business?" he asks, swinging the nunchucks tightly around at Moon Knight's knee and snapping them back. "And people peg us as the bad guys, you're a piece of work, you know that? Come on, PJ, let's see what you really got." 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' Moon Knight is walking forward when that hard wooden impact explodes across the side of his knee. It buckles momentarily and the man in white and silver goes down. Or at least appears to, because he's rolling as soon as he lands and comes up to his feet immediately after. He's continuing to walk around and circle around the thug as if they weren't attacking, as if they were still sizing each other up. "Sweetheart, I hope you had a good time at the dance. 'Cause you're about to get fucked harder than a prom queen." Immediately he lunged forward, those nunchucks being swung overhead almost like they were more of a flail than a graceful speed and finesse weapon. That cudgel on a chain was aimed for the thug's wrist holding his own weapon, and this powerful overhead attack was obvious. That's because it was a trap. If the thug backed away or sidestepped, Moon Knight was already pivoting, spinning to throw a massive kick right to the man's stomach and midsection. 

:'''{{#var:1233|Shredder (1233)}} has posed:'''     The thug takes the bait, blocking high and opening his midsection, the kick knocks him back, landing on the first friend of his who was knocked out at the beginning. He rolls off, and scrambles back to his feet. "Yeah, you a fancy show off, huh?" he asks. He bounces back into fighting range, spinning low for a foot sweep and following it with a punch forward, high or low depending on whether he successfully sweeps, but it's aimed for the face. 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' The thug rolled back, but by the time he got to his feet, the rules of engagement already changed. Now what were formerly a pair of nunchucks were now snapped together, a solid staff made for delivering pain and granting the advantage of reach and distance. The thug was charging in again with some clever quip, but the Champion of Knushu was tired of playing nice. Blitzing forward to meet the last man standing head-on, Moon Knight threw out a wild flurry, a combination of staff strikes aimed at the man's legs, arms, head, at his ribs, at anything. Somewhere in the midst of this the thug's fist indeed connected with the masked man's face, causing him to stagger backwards... But was he supposed to be leaping in the air like that? Pivoting around the masked man was aiming a big-time swooping headkick, right for the side of the man's face or neck. With those hard, metallic shinguards and kickpads of his, it would only add to the devastating impact. If it connected. 

:'''{{#var:1233|Shredder (1233)}} has posed:'''     Moon Knight's blow land true, and he loses his nunchucks, stumbling back and landing flat on his back. He's bruised, bloody, and he only narrowly blocks the knee from connecting with his face. Well, he stops it from directly connecting with his face. His hands are driven into his chin and he lands flat on his back, groaning.     The thug with half a mohawk holds his face. "You," he whimpers angrily. "You are just a bully. You think you are some kind of justice fighter? You just drop out of no where, don't like our clothes, or who knows what, so you beat the hell out of us? You know who we are? We're the Purple Dragons, dick. You know why I'm in them? Because of guys like you who think they can just do what they want." He is retreating in his steps as he talks, clearly only interested in yapping rather than fighting. 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' When Nunchucks fell, the whiteclad champion stalked forward ominously with that bostaff in two hands, almost like it were a sword or a baseball bat. His upper body was leaned forward, and his steps were long and measured. When he got close enough he exploded again in violence, bringing that metal staff down recklessly and almost blindly, aiming it for general mass and flesh again and again, at least three horrific blows, some of which hit enough of the ground to cause that familiar metallic echo. With every swing he could be heard under that mask, perhaps even through grit teeth. "grrrgh...grAAARRRGH!" He was finished and breathing heavy, his white and silver gauntlets covered in red crimson, some even across the crescent moon of his chest. He was looking up at the night time sky, almost transfixed as he stood over the very beaten(and technically still alive) former nunchucks thug, his head tilting this way and that as if listening to something no one else could hear. But then Mohawk spoke, and instantly the Moon Knight was wheeling around, violently spinning toward the source of the sound. It seemed he forgot where he was for a moment, because when he finally realized that it was the man with the shuriken in his face, he instantly slumped, shaking his head and covering his white masked face with his left hand. Gruesome enough, when he finally pulled it away that white mask now had streaks of red almost like crude tiger stripes. But Mohawk now had the masked man's attention, because he started walking toward the thug, taking measured breaths as he spoke. "Yeah you're right I'm a bully, you're goddamn right. And you know what a dragon is, boy? It's a snake, it's a goddamn snake in the goddamn grass. You're nothing but garbage like me, and I'm gonna treat you like garbage if you don't start talking and telling me everything I wanna know about Star Labs, and Stark Industries, and all the other places you've been ripping off. You're gonna talk or you're gonna make your mother cry every single day she has to look at what you made me do. So start talking. NOW!" As he got closer, he was unfastening that bo-staff in the middle, annd pretty soon he was now holding two long metal sticks that looked like they hurt. Every so often he'd swing and hit one on the ground, letting the impact echo violently off the concrete sidewalk, to let this kid understand: No help was coming. There was no rescue on its way. 

:'''{{#var:1233|Shredder (1233)}} has posed:'''     "Oh shit, Eric? Did you kill him? You you bastard, he couldn't hurt you!" He looks torn between checking to see if his friend is alive, and running for his life. "You're a psycho. You're a frickin' psycho man!" He makes his choice, and it is to run like hell. Knees fly up and he cries out. "Heeeelp! His voice echoes against the compassionless concrete and brick walls. "Heeeelp!" He takes off in full sprint of desperation. 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' "No one can hurt me." He spoke idly as the man got up to run away, and it seemed like the psycho wasn't giving chase, because if the thug were to look behind him he wouldn't see anyone there. That's because Moon Knight was taking a different route, the skies. After a quick grapnel-boost into the night sky, the form of this grim ivory-clad bonebreaker was hurtling through the night sky, cape outstretched to look like a mix between a halo and angel wings, even though the figure descending was anything but merciful. Closer, and closer, and closer he got! 

:'''{{#var:1233|Shredder (1233)}} has posed:'''     Just as it seems that no one is going to answer the thug's call for help, a kunai streaked past Moon Knight's face. It's a miss, but only so narrowly. The mohawk man trips, his lanky figure sprawling on the ground as he covers his head with warding hands. The kunai clatters across the concrete harmlessly, but it's thrower...well, it's very dark. 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' The kunai streaked past and instantly Moon Knight stopped gliding, dropping out of the sky and landing on the street with a soft roll. He looked around, here or there, looking down at his own blood-covered gloves and looking once more for anyone who could have thrown anything. When he didn't see anyone, he returned to a somewhat 'normal' stance, composed with his cape draped over his shoulders and obscuring his hand movements. In this way he stalked toward the prone final thug, speaking as if nothing happened. But his guard was definitely up. "So what's it gonna be, sweetheart? What are you gonna tell me? And just how surgically replaced do you want your kneecaps to be? I'm feeling generous tonight." 

:'''{{#var:1233|Shredder (1233)}} has posed:'''     As Moon Knight turns back to the thug, two black forms leap down from the roof top, landing silently behind him. They waste little time, but one thrusts a kunai at the rear of his ribs while the other makes a grab for the cape while delivering a kick to the back of the knee. It's not a fair type of move, something that clearly a dirty ninja would do. 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' When the two blackclad forms descended, the figure in white seemed to throw something, far off into the street, but that didn't seem to matter because the two made their move. At the last second the Champion of Knushu spun around, each hand grabbing the stabbing ninja's wrists. This protected the hooded vigilante from fatal injury, but he was still sent to one knee and grunted as his cape was grabbed, causing it to grow tight around his neck. And the man grappling him might find that he was going to his back very easily, was the ninja just that strong? Or, was the Moon Knight just laying down so that when his boomerang came back, he wasn't a target for it? Heavy and weighted specifically to break bones, that spinning metal device was hurtling through the air loudly, as it was aiming for either of the two and coming in fast and hard! 

:'''{{#var:1233|Shredder (1233)}} has posed:'''     The boomerang strikes the ninja holding the cape in the head, knocking him to the ground while the second ducks low beneath it, given that his wrists are snagged. He delivers a powerful downward kick at the sternum of Moon Knight's chest, his position giving him a distinct power edge in his force. 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' At the sickening echoing impact that sent the other ninja hurtling away, the masked man gave a weak laugh even on the ground, even as his hood pulled back from this action to reveal that white mask covering his entire head. He was shaking his head, even as the ninja's boot smashed him right in the crescent moon above the man's sternum. His outfit was very lightly armored, but it didn't do much against big blunt impacts like that. He rocked backward from the impact, but even with the leverage advantage of the ninja, this awkward close proximity to each other, and his wrists being compromised, meant that the blow wasn't as devastating as it could have been. Thankfully for Moon Knight, he didn't feel any bones crack, and he probably wouldn't need surgery. He also kept laughing, speaking as he did so. "Well that's a concussion for Little Timmy over there. But you? You got a different problem on your hands. Literally!" From his vantage point on the ground, when the ninja put his foot down from that sternum kick(or was it more like a stomp from this position?), the vigilante pivoted his body around so that his legs quickly wrapped around that limb, and he attempted to angle it so that he hooked his knee over the man's wrists as well, curling up into a little ball as he attempted to use all of his strength, and all of his training to try and wrench the ninja's two hands. If he heard cracking, it would be music to his ears. But he wouldn't stop wrenching. 

:'''{{#var:1233|Shredder (1233)}} has posed:'''     The ninja strains against the legs as Moon Knight pulls on him, and takes advantage of the one opening that he has, and that is a kick to the head. Given his angle, it isn't the strongest kick, but then again, it's still a kick to the head. 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' From that vantage point, that close up, there weren't all that many options. The ninja kicked down and the only way for Moon Knight to avoid it was to let go of the wrist hold so that he could pull his knees up to his chest. That way, as he craned his neck to avoid that blow, he could push suddenly outward. Now his legs that were already up and around were attempting to shove that ninja as far back as was humanly possible. And given that Moon Knight was a former wrestler and heavyweight boxer, there was quite a bit of power in his frame to show off. If he had an opening he would finally roll to a kneeling position, and slowly step up to a vertical base while rolling his neck to consider his options. "Alright, buddy. I'm done playing games." 

:'''{{#var:1233|Shredder (1233)}} has posed:'''     The thug had run for his life while the ninjas fought, the ninja still standing takes the break in contact to roll to his ally's side, who looks somewhat disoriented, but trying to recover.     "Good," the ninja says, glaring through the slit in his mask. "Thank you for your assistance." It may seem an odd thing to say, but he doesn't give time to ask for an explanation. His fingers slip into his belt, and he flings a couple of smoke pellets at the ground. They explode into smoke, and when it clears... both ninjas are gone. The only thing remaining behind is the kunai which had been thrown earlier. 

:'''{{#var:1768|Moon Knight (1768)}} has posed:''' For a few moments, the man in white stood tall while the street was empty, void of combatants. A moment passes, two moments, and suddenly the man is falling to his knees, clutching his midsection in pain and shaking his head. Three, four more moments, then he's pushing back up to his feet, and limping toward the nearest building. Minutes later he's in the air, in the back of a jet black helicopter, Frenchie taking them home. His cape removed and draped over his lap, his mask was off and in his hands. He looked down at it in darkness as he finally felt the pain of the night rushing to meet him. He still didn't get any answers. He would, though. He'd learn what he wanted to know if he had to tear every damn gang in this city apart. 
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