12953/Avengers take a peek into what hell has to offer

Avengers take a peek into what hell has to offer
Date of Scene:	03 April 2021
Location:	Flatlands, Brooklyn
Synopsis:	Tony and Drake go from business room to beatdown, featuring the mysterious Spawn!
Cast of Characters:	Spawn, Iron Man, Slipstream

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Spawn has posed:
    S.T.A.R. Labs was on the cutting edge of technology, but right now they were on the cutting edge of danger. A perfectly mundane(but potentially exciting) meeting with the legendary Tony Stark was turning into a horror show as a group of scientists were huddled with each other on the floor, their wrists ziptied along with a frightened secretary and a few others. The perpetrators of this act were dressed peculiarly, dressed in bright green robes with a stylized and horrific looking eye in the center. Their faces hidden behind purple 'masks' that resembled a vague sort of starfish. In the center of these masks were what looked like a different eye to the one on their robes. Each one carried either a revolver or a shotgun, with all of them having a knife or a machete tucked under their shoulder in some sort of a sheath.

    "You're all purveyors of perversion, but the Eyes From Beyond see your filth, they see down to the you that you try to hide."

Iron Man has posed:
    While the cultists were coming in a back door and storming up the stairs, the group from Stark-Fujikawa was in the building's entry while Tony Stark took a reminder briefing from a handful of aides as to why he was at STAR Labs in the first place. He's dressed in a custom designer suit, pinstriped, whose sleeves are long enough to cover the silver snap-on bracelets around each wrist and the oversized comm device that resembles a wristwatch on the left. While those same cultists were hustling through offices and hallways to take the conference room, Stark and company were riding in the elevator.

    So, by the time Tony Stark arrives at the conference room door with Drake Winters and a couple of assistants wearing red neckties instead of shirts, he's just in time to hear the condemnation from the cultist leaders. "Oh, boy," he mutters. He adds, "Don't get shot," to his entourage as a whole and steps forward to block the others from entering. "JARVIS, clamshell, fast."

Slipstream has posed:
As the doors swish open, Drake is standing slightly behind Tony in a blue suit with a black tie over a white button down. It's rare that gets invited along these ride-alongs, but this was a good opportunity to learn the 'business' side of the Avengers. He has mostly kept quiet to himself as most of the legal jargon went over his head. At the sound of the cultists making their way up the stairs, he lets out a slight 'huh' in his throat.

Stepping forward and through the doors while Tony prepares his armor, he gives a twist to the ring on his left hand as it shimmers. He takes to the air due to his Legionnaire flight ring that attunes itself to his DNA. He can also now speak any language! "I'll stall." He says simply, then blurs forward in a blink of speed based light, coming out of his 'vortex' at the front of the stairs with a hard kick to the chest of the first person that pops their head up. It's like being hit by a car as an ebb of 'sonic' pressure buffers forward.

BOOM. The shockwave from impact ripples through the crowd, hopefully hard enough to stall them for Tony to make his move.

Spawn has posed:
    Drake is already making waves, a boot to the 'eye' of one cultist's robes sends him flying backward and yelping from the sheer impact. Him being dropped causes every other robed lunatic to look up and tense, and while a few turned their guns on him and fired, one panicked loon takes his snubnose revolver and points it to the back of the secretary's skull. He cries out into the world,

    "No, no, no fighting, that is not what this day calls for. You are all too blinded by our so-called marvels, none of you see the big picture!"

    In the conference room, a rather big man in robes looks down at Tony Stark, giving a wry smile that looks sinister, what with the starfish hiding most of his face. He pulls from his belt a long, serrated knife. Something that looks like it was meant to gut a fish.

    "The golden calf with the beautiful face and eyes of brown deceit. You are responsible for so much of this, so much sickness."

    As he walks closer toward Tony, he wouldn't notice the long metal chain drop down from the ceiling, nor would he even notice the flickering lights up above. No, this cultist wouldn't notice much of anything, until that same chain wrapped around his knife-wielding wrist and twisted it violently. It cut into skin and muscle at the same time as the snapping of bone could be heard, and his scream of absolute terror only stopped when the tall figure in the red cape dropped down behind him. With a voice that sounded like a marble rolling across a stone grave, the figure spoke even as his eyes flashed a glowing green.

    "Welcome to Hell, fatboy."

Iron Man has posed:
    As the blade-wielding cultist approached him, Tony Stark had stiffened into a martial-arts stance with both hands up and open, ready to deflect or evade. Then the chain drops out of nowhere to loop the cultist's wrist, then that caped monster with the fang-like face and the swirling river of blood for a cape drops into reality. "Jaaaaaarvis!" Stark mutters in alarm. "Faster would be better!" He maintains his stance, blocking the conference room door in hopes that he can give his entourage a chance to escape - even though Drake is already on the assault.
    The pinstripe-suited CEO darts his eyes from Spawn to the rest of the cultists, waiting to see who's coming at him first, or next, without any clue who's who.

Slipstream has posed:
As he blurs forward in quick blue sparks through the air, fueled by his flight ring, Drake is able to 'shunt' at the speed of light with incredible control and precision. As the man pulls a gun to the back of the secretary's skull he comes out of his vortex for a half-second before he blinks out again, taking the man with him. "Hang-Tight-Don't-Puke-On-Me!" He says rapidly as he slides the man down the hall as he lets him go. Hopefully he won't get a burn along his belly.

"Tony!" He calls out as he hears him shout for Jarvis. He looks prepared to dive back in to back him up, but the sight of Spawn oozing from above gives him pause, long enough to take a punch across the jaw as he stumbles back, clutching his face. "Ow! Fucking A man.. that's a bitch shot."

He gives another quick blink forward to uppercut his attacker and send him sprawling, then starts moving swiftly towards Mister Stark. Whoever that guy with the chains and cape is, he looks far more dangerous than the cultists. Budget Cloak and Batman squished together?

Spawn has posed:
    His cape swirling all around him, dressed in that inky black 'leather' suit, Spawn turned his head just ever so slightly so that he could look over at the most famous rich boy not named 'Bruce'. It shouldn't have been possible with that mask and those solid green eyes, but somehow against all odds he was able to roll his eyes even as he continued to hold that cultist.

    "I'd been wondering why these decided to act today of all days, but now it makes sense. Of course they'd congregate around the 'former' Merchant of Death'. Traded your bombs for a suit of armor, does that make a difference when you look in the mirror?"

    Suddenly the Hellspawn grabs the large-bodied cultist around the shoulders, his chains unwrapping from around the man simply so he could lift the man up overhead, and hurl him through that beautiful window, to let him fly downstairs toward where the 'action' is. It was dramatic and an extremely violent way to treat someone that was already subdued, but the way the man landed on top of a smaller, cagey cultist that had been taking aim at Drake, maybe there was a method to the caped creature's madness.

    "If they're taking hostages, it's going to be a bloodbath. These jackasses aren't going to be making any ransom demands, as much as they're trying to appease their imaginary friends."

    As if on cue, Spawn's cape furls around his right arm, and when it pulls backward he is holding an M16 that definitely wasn't anywhere on his person before. After checking the magazine and looking down the sights, the Hellspawn looks at the two of them.

    It seemed he was very ready to deal with the problem, although ready in a very specific sort of way.

Iron Man has posed:
    A well-elocuted British voice pipes up from under the left cuff of Stark's pinstriped sleeve. It enunciates: "In three," calmly and clearly.

    Stark abruptly sidesteps a wide pace from Drake and stands upright and relaxed. "Save it, Christmas Future," the little billionaire intones grimly. His timing was just off. There's a long pause. He even starts to lift his left arm as if to check his watch before a red streak smashes through an unbroken window, slows just enough to look more like an oversized warhead than a streak, clamshells open at the rear and slams Tony Stark backward into a wall. It's the Iron Man alright, or a version of it, doubled-over at the waist as if punched in the gut with head and legs hanging limply out of the concrete.

    There's just another beat before the eyes and a circle in the chest light up in blue. When he finishes the statement it's with the electronic distortion of the suit's PA system. "Scrooge wins this one." He shrugs his shoulders and the wall crumbles around him, then lurches forward to land on his feet on the carpet.

Slipstream has posed:
As he blurs in front of The Spawn, 'Slipstream' comes out of his vortex, his body simmering with blue contrails. He puts his fists upwards, eyes widening at the sight of the large demonic creature. ".. Mister Stark, I don't think I can take this guy." He side murmurs over to Tony. He ducks his head as the large man goes flying over, followed by the sound of shattering glass.

Feeling his heart explode in his chest, he whirls himself around as the Iron armor seeks out their master. He takes two quick steps, then 'blurs' once more out of sight, diving out the window. His ring attunes, causing a 'boom' of speed as he dives straight downwards. "OhMyGod!" He grabs the man in freefall by the leg, then jerks himself upwards as the two swing wildly. "Holdon!"

As he blinks again, he comes crashing through the next window in a splinter of glass, rolling end over end as the man goes toppling to the ground with a heavy thunk. His face and hands are cut and bleeding, his clothing torn to shreds in pieces.

Spawn has posed:
    Spawn's eyes glow a brighter green, and suddenly his words would appear in the minds of both Drake and Tony.

    "Listen up, I can't do this very long and I won't be able to hear any responses to this. These people can't threaten any of you directly, but as long as there are 'civilians' in here, they are in tremendous danger. I'll distract these Heaven's Gate wannabes, and you can either take them out or try and get the hostages out...your choice."

    With that he was leaping through the window, his cape outstretched as he took aim with that rifle of his. To the naked untrained eye it might look reckless, firing a weapon like that with hostages around, but he only ever fired controlled bursts, and seemed to mainly focus on suppressing fire to make these cultists hide behind things, or run away down hallways. For whatever reason, it seemed that he was not going directly for the kill even when he could...perhaps he thought his present company might object, or perhaps he had his own reasons?

    In any case, the scientists in the middle had a few precious moments of safety...

Iron Man has posed:
    Iron Man should have been stunned by the psychic projection, but then again he rubs elbows with the Red Witch and probably has a VR program where, uh, nevermind. "Okay," he grunts. "You get that, Slipstream?" The red and yellow suit jets forward, doubling over to scoop up a bound scientist in each power-assisted arm, then blasts hard out yet another as-yet unbroken plate-glass window. The cost of the rescue operations will definitely outweigh the damage done by the cultists, at this point.

    Outside, Stark scans a number of nearby rooftops until he decides on the nearest one with what looks like a stairway access door. He drops off the scientists, sends a concussion warhead off in the direction of the door, and is airborne back toward the conference room again while the door-buster is still en route. The freed hostages are left to figure out how to break zipties on their own.

Slipstream has posed:
"Yup." Slipstream wheezes as he glances at his bracelet for a moment, then scrambles up to his feet. He looks to make quick work by snagging one scientist after the other to port them out of the room in quick blurs of speedy motions, fueled by his flight rings. He'll trip up a cultist or two if he has to along the way, snatch up a weapon and utilize it.

<< Slipstream to IronMan. I'll focus on the civies if you want to lay the firepower down on these idiots. >>

He'll utilize his comm system as well built into his Avenger issued watch, tucking another scientist into his arms.

Spawn has posed:
    In the end, the people in robes are for the most part delusional crazy people with no training or power to deal with the combined force currently hitting them. Between the Iron Man, the Slipstream and the Hellspawn, they were strewn about S.T.A.R. Labs mostly concussed and dazed, with quite a few that were going to need more serious medical attention.

    For his part, the man in the red cape stood menacingly, M16 hanging from his shoulder by its strap, its barrel smoking much like those green eyes. He looks at the two other men next to him, even as his chains wrap around his torso and his right bicep like a python coiling around its prey. But, the man in the cape didn't seem too bothered by this.

    "You two did alright. You ever need help in the future...look up Spawn."

    Those were his parting words before he tore out a side exit, retreating from the sound of wailing sirens.

Iron Man has posed:
    As the Hellspawn makes the best exit possible, Tony Stark is left to do the responsible thing. The thing he knows Pepper Potts will wake him up early and hung-over, to force him to do cerebral calisthenics through a fog of hangover and headache, if he doesn't do. "Slipstream," he radios, "Make sure the civilians get medical treatment. I'll deal with the cops."

Slipstream has posed:
Breathing heavily, Drake by now is sweating bullets and hearing his bracelet ping angrily at him. He gives a casual glance at it, then radios back to Tony. "I'm good here. Copy that. Over and out." He says as he taps along his communicator to summon EMS and 911 to the scene. From there, he will go about checking on the injured and teleporting bottles of water and first aid kids to any who may need it.

Look up Spawn? Is he in the Yellowpages?