Epic IC - New York City Freeplay

[Michale CS]

New York City. Home to millions of people, and probably the highest per capita ratio of metahumans to humans in the world, though no tally has been made (though it has been tried).
In the "edited" merged world history...
It survived "The Incident", an alien invasion thrwarted by a joint effort of the JLA and the Avengers, where Loki and Brainiac made a deal with a combined force of Chitauri invaders and the Adaptoids to take over the planet, starting in New York City, but a plan hatched by the combined ingenuity of Tony Stark and Ted Kord defeated the invaders.
It survived Harlem being torn up by the fight between the Hulk and the Abomination.
It survived Inferno, the invasion of Starro, and so much more.

But that was up to its heroes. It needs them.

It needs you.
​

This is an Invite Only RP - But the invite is this... Join Epic Crossover!

 

[Nomad-22]

The Big Apple they call this city, well at least whoever came up with the nickname was right about the size. While New York City boasted numerous superheroes and vigilantes within its reach, there those in the shadows who lived and fought, without any recognition from the outside world, other than being deemed as noting more than just another urban myth.

Various criminals and bystanders however had over the years caught glimpses and shapes of these beings at night. Fewer knew the truth, that it is four mutated man-sized turtles that fight in the art of ninjutsu.

Currently, one of them, wearing his red bandana mask, was on another of his many solo patrols, running and jumping across rooftops in the Lower East Side. Tonight he was on the warpath, hunting for specific targets.

"They're gonna pay for what happen."

Raphael muttered angrily to himself leaping across one apartment to the next. Finally a few minutes later he stopped at the edge, looking down below at a sleazy small nightclub. What made it stand out to the Sai wielding mutant was that the joint is owned by the Purple Dragons gang and the hideout of one their new rising enforcers, Jay Lennox. Raphael climbed down and landed on top of the club, he can already hear the loud music booming inside.

Good, will catch the bastards by surprise.

Raphael approached the glass window in the middle of the roof. Looking through it, he can see a large room with dim lights on the walls. In the center was the dance floor, filled with several so-called Dragons and their ink, while the rest were getting themselves drunk.

These lights provided both a pro and a con to him. One they won't be able to see him clearly, yet it harder for him to pin-point where Lennox was. Narrowing his eyes, Raph spotted the green haired punk going wild with dance moves at the floor, with his men and women cheering him on all around.

With a snarl of contempt, Raph watched on. Four nights ago, that puke and his merry band burned down a noddle shop and beat Mr. Murakami who was blind to a bloody pulp, because he couldn't pay their protection racket.

Murakami is one of the few human friends, he and his brothers have. While he was struggling for life in the hospital, these punks were out celebrating because some judge dropped the charges on Lennox's group due to 'insufficient evidence'. No doubt he had been paid off by the Purple Dragon leader Han.

Well since the authorities won't do justice to old Murakami, Raphael will take vengeance instead. Of course, he didn't tell Master Splinter, Leo, Donnie, nor Mikey of what he intended, they would only get in the way. Without further hesitation Raph stepped back before crashing through the glass, breaking it in an million pieces as he descended into the nightclub.

The gangsters were caught off guard and Raph came down upon two of them, breaking his fall and their shoulders at once. Horrified, Lennox froze, giving the turtle a chance to stab his right Sai into the head punk's neck and pulled the blade out. Swiftly, Raph followed up by throwing smoke pellets at his feet that enveloped the room into a white cloud shortly after impact.

Thugs screamed and cursed, as chaos reign on the dance floor, and the mutant ninja smiled, arming himself with the second Sai and killed two Dragons with them in an matter of seconds. Oh he was just getting started, tonight...

 

[OrlandoBloomers]

Hell's Kitchen scrapped and Midtown talked; Harlem, though, Harlem sang.

And nowhere moreso than in Harlem's Paradise tonight. Yes, out there on the streets of Manhattan awaited brutal violence, vigilante justice and gangland crime, but the Paradise was a place you came to forget all that. To indulge in fine beverages, fine company and finer musical performances so exclusive you'd be talking about them for weeks, guaranteed. If, of course, you were lucky enough to get in. The neon-tinged sign attracted nightlife of all kinds looking to get drunk or get lucky, and to do it inside one of the most premiere clubs east of the Hudson.

And if you weren't permitted entry, well, you could at least hear the bass thumping outside. Inside housed a venue considerably larger than the nightclub currently being dismantled by a rampant turtle down on the Lower East Side. The expansive dancefloor, stage and cocktail area was overlooked by a grand balcony adjacent to the club's VIP-only upper level, where the food chain's apexes could sit back and enjoy their evening in leisure. And in this club, in this neighborhood, there was only one man at the top of that ladder.

There was no apex predator deadlier than a cottonmouth in its domain.

And they do drive-bys like up and down the thighs
And there's car chase, going on at the waist
Keep a vest on my chest
I'm sitting in my room, as I'm looking out the face
Somethin' to write about
I still got some damage from fightin' the White House...

He stood at the balcony railing like the moon overlooking a mountain peak, the room's atmospheric lighting shifting between darkened blues, greens and reds that cast him in a sinister glow from the right angle as he watched the live music performance. To the people who knew him and the various people under his employ, mostly he seemed to just be taking it all in tonight; Like he did yesterday. Like he did every night.

The beatific sneer on his face said he was enjoying it. The subordinate standing a short distance behind him, on the other hand, seemed more apprehensive, a nervous curve to his lips that showed trepidation at the sort of reaction his words might draw from his employer. His hand grasped a phone away from his face, opposite palm covering the receiver.

"Mister Stokes? He's for real pissed. His boy's sayin' he won't pay."

To the thug's surprise, the response was more optimistic than he had expected. Cornell Stokes turned away from the balcony, looked at his employee over one shoulder garbed in a well-tailored suit, and... laughed, a condescending baring of teeth that rattled out over the music. He walked over with a confident saunter, looking away and briefly wetting his lips with a flick of the tongue as he clapped his man on the forearm.

"He'll pay."

He beckoned for the phone and brought it to his ear, letting his voice carry through to the other end of the line.

"Inform Mr. Sionis we know what he's about. He wants my line of product without having to deal with the crazies runnin' Gotham, he buys direct from me and I deliver. Our arrangement's been good. Nobody brings the hardware I bring. High-grade, military co-opted experimental shit, only guaranteed protection there is against pests. Like those bats, like to come through his window."

Cottonmouth's smile, having remained in full bloom up to now, gradually faded into a scowl.

"Remind him that goin' into business for myself against my former supplier wasn't no insignificant health risk. My prices still undercut Diamondback's, every time, which means I'll up the cost to within a motherfuckin' dime of his and all my buyers are gonna thank me for it. You dig?"

He listened to the response and seemed satisfied by it, whatever henchman he was talking to having obviously not been expecting anyone other than another goon on the line. That alone was daunting enough.

"Our arrangement stands. If Sionis has anything further to discuss, tell him to put his own damn self in a car and drag his ass to Manhattan, talk to me face-to-face like men do. And tell him leave that spooky shit Halloween costume o'his in its display case. A white boy in a black mask's a good way to get smoked in Harlem."

He hung up and dropped the phone back into his subordinate's hand, taking a moment to grip him lightly by the jacket and lean into his ear with a quiet message.

"Bring something I tell you to handle back to me too many times and I'll bust your damn mouth."

Cornell sniffed, patted the thug on the shoulder again and leaned back out, straightening his own suit jacket with one hand and checking his watch on the other.

"You got the night off to think on that. Bring the jeep round for me in the morning." He walked past the dumbfounded-but-attentive thug and to his private booth, sinking into a chair and reclining backwards as a waitress brought a cocktail to the table.

"S'about time I check if cousin Mariah's got those hand-me-downs ready."​

 

[Ringmaster]

The Big Apple they call this city, well at least whoever came up with the nickname was right about the size. While New York City boasted numerous superheroes and vigilantes within its reach, there those in the shadows who lived and fought, without any recognition from the outside world, other than being deemed as noting more than just another urban myth.

Various criminals and bystanders however had over the years caught glimpses and shapes of these beings at night. Fewer knew the truth, that it is four mutated man-sized turtles that fight in the art of ninjutsu.

Currently, one of them, wearing his red bandana mask, was on another of his many solo patrols, running and jumping across rooftops in the Lower East Side. Tonight he was on the warpath, hunting for specific targets.

"They're gonna pay for what happen."

Raphael muttered angrily to himself leaping across one apartment to the next. Finally a few minutes later he stopped at the edge, looking down below at a sleazy small nightclub. What made it stand out to the Sai wielding mutant was that the joint is owned by the Purple Dragons gang and the hideout of one their new rising enforcers, Jay Lennox. Raphael climbed down and landed on top of the club, he can already hear the loud music booming inside.

Good, will catch the bastards by surprise.

Raphael approached the glass window in the middle of the roof. Looking through it, he can see a large room with dim lights on the walls. In the center was the dance floor, filled with several so-called Dragons and their ink, while the rest were getting themselves drunk.

These lights provided both a pro and a con to him. One they won't be able to see him clearly, yet it harder for him to pin-point where Lennox was. Narrowing his eyes, Raph spotted the green haired punk going wild with dance moves at the floor, with his men and women cheering him on all around.

With a snarl of contempt, Raph watched on. Four nights ago, that puke and his merry band burned down a noddle shop and beat Mr. Murakami who was blind to a bloody pulp, because he couldn't pay their protection racket.

Murakami is one of the few human friends, he and his brothers have. While he was struggling for life in the hospital, these punks were out celebrating because some judge dropped the charges on Lennox's group due to 'insufficient evidence', no doubt paid off by the Purple Dragon leader Han.

Well since the authorities won't do justice to old Murakami, Raphael will take vengeance instead. Of course, he didn't tell Master Splinter, Leo, Donnie, nor Mikey of what he intended, they would only get in the way. Without further hesitation Raph stepped before crashing through the glass, breaking it in an million pieces as he descended to the nightclub.

The gangsters were off guard and Raph came down upon two of them, breaking his fall and their shoulders at once. Horrified, Lennox froze, giving the turtle a chance to stab his right Sai into punk's neck and pulled the blade out. Swiftly, Raph followed up by throwing smoke pellets at his feet that enveloped the room into a white cloud shortly after impact.

Thugs screamed and cursed, as chaos reign on the dance floor, and the mutant ninja smiled, arming himself with the second Sai and killed two Dragons with them in an matter of seconds. Oh he was just getting started, tonight...

Where do you hide a ninja? All in black or red, in the open like some kabuki theater actor? Amusing as it was to consider the idea, the Foot Clan had recognized early on the power of a symbol and what it invoked. It was a trademark as carefully chosen and collected within the mysticism of tradition and power, ranging all the way from the Feudal days of Japan and its Shogunate. It was all an act, a carefully honed display of theatricality to inspire what the Clan most wanted.

Fear.

To see the emblem of the Foot was to know death was near. To see it marked on a street corner told those in the know just who controlled the streets. And while they had to constantly clash against the Hand, the costumed heroes and various rivals from Wilson Fisk, Cottonmouth and more? Forever and always, to the Foot Clan their nemesis would be in the form of a meddling group of figures in particular.

And they would not let these freaks run amok, not while their Master was away in Gotham on business.

A bellow echoed out through the smoke cloud, the only warning as the ground rumbled and gang members scattered to all sides.

They knew what was coming, like an iceberg from the smoke with the force of a charging locomotive and enough dull rage reminiscent of the creature the mutant had taken upon him.

"WE WAS HAVING A NICE PARTY HERE!"

@Nomad-22​

 

[C.T.]

Well since the authorities won't do justice to old Murakami, Raphael will take vengeance instead. Of course, he didn't tell Master Splinter, Leo, Donnie, nor Mikey of what he intended, they would only get in the way. Without further hesitation Raph stepped back before crashing through the glass, breaking it in an million pieces as he descended into the nightclub.

The gangsters were off guard and Raph came down upon two of them, breaking his fall and their shoulders at once. Horrified, Lennox froze, giving the turtle a chance to stab his right Sai into punk's neck and pulled the blade out. Swiftly, Raph followed up by throwing smoke pellets at his feet that enveloped the room into a white cloud shortly after impact.

Thugs screamed and cursed, as chaos reign on the dance floor, and the mutant ninja smiled, arming himself with the second Sai and killed two Dragons with them in an matter of seconds. Oh he was just getting started, tonight...

A bellow echoed out through the smoke cloud, the only warning as the ground rumbled and gang members scattered to all sides.

They knew what was coming, like an iceberg from the smoke with the force of a charging locomotive and enough dull rage reminiscent of the creature the mutant had taken upon him.

"WE WAS HAVING A NICE PARTY HERE!" ​

"A larger than normal talking turtle and a rampaging rhino mutant...or alien? Inhuman? Something. Eso funciona. This has to be like...a cuatro on the weirdness scale." It was good she happened to be in the neighborhood as well, also on a little patrolling. Just close enough to pick up on the shattering of glass and the screams that followed, swinging on down and following behind the turtle's rough entrance. Speaking of which...one of the first things she attempted upon catching up was wrap up the turtle in some quick webbing before he could kill anyone else, hopefully. Good guy or bad guy, getting slaughtered out in the open like that was just insane. At the same time...

"Whoa whoa whoa easy there, it still can be!" She directed over at the thundering big guy. "No need to make this any more sangriento than it already has been, yeah? Not that I'd object to beating on some stubborn punk who needs a lesson." She added that last in a quiet murmur.

@Ringmaster @Nomad-22​

 

[Michale CS]

"You got the night off to think on that. Bring the jeep round for me in the morning." He walked past the dumbfounded-but-attentive thug and to his private booth, sinking into a chair and reclining backwards as a waitress brought a cocktail to the table.

"S'about time I check if cousin Mariah's got those hand-me-downs ready."​

An accountant walks into a bar... Sounds like a bad joke. Especially one of the whitest men you'd ever see walking into Harlem's Paradise like he owned the place. How'd he get in, do you ask? Well, sir. He's on the list. You see, he works for Mariah Dillard, so when the bouncer up front went to turn him away, he placed a phone call and put it on speaker. "Since when does one of my personal assistants get turned away at Harlem's Paradise? You best be letting Mister Tockman in and lead him straight to Cornell before I call Cornell my-self and make him come down there, do you understand?" That, as you can imagine, was a very short phone call. So, hurdle passed. Tockman gave the bouncer a glare, and actually poked the man in the shoulder. "You made me waste 14.5 seconds, sir. I will not forget this." There should have been no reason this man who looked like he would be more at home in a Boardroom than a VIP room should have had the slightest bit of effect with those words. But somehow, the bouncer actually flinched. White dude was crazy. You know the type. See em on the news all the time.

He made his way up to the VIP area where Cornell spent most of his time at the Paradise. "Ah, there he is, the man himself." He breezed past goons who tried to impose, dodging them as if he knew exactly where they were going to move and when, effortlessly. "So dreadfully sorry that I'm late. I was held up by your... security if that's what you choose to call it. William Tockman. I'm a personal assistant to your cousin, Mariah Dillard? She sent me here to apprise you of the current situation." He gestured to a seat across from Cottonmouth. "May I?" He sat without even waiting for permission to do so, adjusting his glasses and setting his briefcase on his lap. "Perhaps we should start with any questions you might have, Mister Stokes."

@OrlandoBloomers

 

[OrlandoBloomers]

An accountant walks into a bar... Sounds like a bad joke. Especially one of the whitest men you'd ever see walking into Harlem's Paradise like he owned the place. How'd he get in, do you ask? Well, sir. He's on the list. You see, he works for Mariah Dillard, so when the bouncer up front went to turn him away, he placed a phone call and put it on speaker. "Since when does one of my personal assistants get turned away at Harlem's Paradise? You best be letting Mister Tockman in and lead him straight to Cornell before I call Cornell my-self and make him come down there, do you understand?" That, as you can imagine, was a very short phone call. So, hurdle passed. Tockman gave the bouncer a glare, and actually poked the man in the shoulder. "You made me waste 14.5 seconds, sir. I will not forget this." There should have been no reason this man who looked like he would be more at home in a Boardroom than a VIP room should have had the slightest bit of effect with those words. But somehow, the bouncer actually flinched. White dude was crazy. You know the type. See em on the news all the time.

He made his way up to the VIP area where Cornell spent most of his time at the Paradise. "Ah, there he is, the man himself." He breezed past goons who tried to impose, dodging them as if he knew exactly where they were going to move and when, effortlessly. "So dreadfully sorry that I'm late. I was held up by your... security if that's what you choose to call it. William Tockman. I'm a personal assistant to your cousin, Mariah Dillard? She sent me here to apprise you of the current situation." He gestured to a seat across from Cottonmouth. "May I?" He sat without even waiting for permission to do so, adjusting his glasses and setting his briefcase on his lap. "Perhaps we should start with any questions you might have, Mister Stokes."

@Orlando Bloomers

A moment passed with no reply, Cornell sparing a long sidewards glare at one of the men who were supposed to be his bodyguards for their inefficiency. It didn't take someone named Tockman to see there'd be words exchanged on a later occasion, once business here was concluded. Then he looked back over at the man sitting across from him, splayed his arms out undauntedly, and... There was the laugh again.

Something about it seemed hollow, some innate air of masculinity giving it the vibe of a patronizing dog flashing its teeth. Making sure it was clear who was in control of this situation.

"Okay. I got one. Mariah's a woman grown, how come I don't see her here givin' me the lowdown? Hell, I'd have expected Shades, even. But you? No offense, Stephen Colbert, you don't exactly fit in."

He sniffed, leaned back and made a dismissive gesture towards one of his attendants standing around nearby before he steepled his fingers. "Send up another drink for our guest. Maybe, put a call in to Starbucks and see if they serve lattes at this hour if nothing on our selection appeals to the man." A low snigger ran through the gaggle of his people hovering around, one of them giving an expectant look towards Tockman for a drinks order.

@Michale CS​

 

[Nomad-22]

Where do you hide a ninja? All in black or red, in the open like some kabuki theater actor? Amusing as it was to consider the idea, the Foot Clan had recognized early on the power of a symbol and what it invoked. It was a trademark as carefully chosen and collected within the mysticism of tradition and power, ranging all the way from the Feudal days of Japan and its Shogunate. It was all an act, a carefully honed display of theatricality to inspire what the Clan most wanted.

Fear.

To see the emblem of the Foot was to know death was near. To see it marked on a street corner told those in the know just who controlled the streets. And while they had to constantly clash against the Hand, the costumed heroes and various rivals from Wilson Fisk, Cottonmouth and more? Forever and always, to the Foot Clan their nemesis would be in the form of a meddling group of figures in particular.

And they would not let these freaks run amok, not while their Master was away in Gotham on business.

A bellow echoed out through the smoke cloud, the only warning as the ground rumbled and gang members scattered to all sides.

They knew what was coming, like an iceberg from the smoke with the force of a charging locomotive and enough dull rage reminiscent of the creature the mutant had taken upon him.

"WE WAS HAVING A NICE PARTY HERE!"

@Nomad-22​

"A larger than normal talking turtle and a rampaging rhino mutant...or alien? Inhuman? Something. Eso funciona. This has to be like...a cuatro on the weirdness scale." It was good she happened to be in the neighborhood as well, also on a little patrolling. Just close enough to pick up on the shattering of glass and the screams that followed, swinging on down and following behind the turtle's rough entrance. Speaking of which...one of the first things she attempted upon catching up was wrap up the turtle in some quick webbing before he could kill anyone else, hopefully. Good guy or bad guy, getting slaughtered out in the open like that was just insane. At the same time...

"Whoa whoa whoa easy there, it still can be!" She directed over at the thundering big guy. "No need to make this any more sangriento than it already has been, yeah? Not that I'd object to beating on some stubborn punk who needs a lesson." She added that last in a quiet murmur.

@Ringmaster @Nomad-22​

Another two purple tattooed lowlifes were dead on the ground, joined by four others moaning with broken bones, courtesy of Raphael. No mercy. He thought, spin kicking a punk from behind, knocking her down backside. Just before the ninja could deliver the killing blow, he was interrupted by a thunderous bellow and felt the ground shaking, something he was all too familiar with. It's so easy to forget that the Purple Dragons were a bunch of flunkies to the Shredder like the Foot, just only a step lower.

Honestly the angry Turtle admitted he didn't consider that the street filth would have such company, but it didn't matter, he will deal with the stupid Rhino. The suddenly Raph found his hands and weapons webbed together.

Turning from Rocksteady toward the web shooter, Raph displayed a bitter sneer. Great it's another spider wanna-be, but a girl this time. What's with these Halloween rejects and their need to protect scum along with the innocent? In his eyes the former didn't deserve any of it.

"Stay out of this little girl, it dosen't concern ya."

Looking back at the raging rhinoman, Raph added in an sarcastic tone as the smoke faded more and more.

"Oh sorry Rock, I didn't know you were here. Is your mom dancing at the pole tonight? Oh wait my mistake she back at the zoo I recall."

Before he say any more insults, a fat baldish thug who served as the bartender, jumped out of his hiding place, spraying bullets with an automatic shotgun, randomly toward the trio he deemed as freaks. On instinct, Raph twist around, using his shell to block the bullets that ricochet across the room. Then the ninja turtle rush to hide behind a pool table. Soon another Dragon joined in the fray, shooting his pistol wildly, aiming for the closest targets, superhero or mutant alike.

 

[Michale CS]

A moment passed with no reply, Cornell sparing a long sidewards glare at one of the men who were supposed to be his bodyguards for their inefficiency. It didn't take someone named Tockman to see there'd be words exchanged on a later occasion, once business here was concluded. Then he looked back over at the man sitting across from him, splayed his arms out undauntedly, and... There was the laugh again.

Something about it seemed hollow, some innate air of masculinity giving it the vibe of a patronizing dog flashing its teeth. Making sure it was clear who was in control of this situation.

"Okay. I got one. Mariah's a woman grown, how come I don't see her here givin' me the lowdown? Hell, I'd have expected Shades, even. But you? No offense, Stephen Colbert, you don't exactly fit in."

He sniffed, leaned back and made a dismissive gesture towards one of his attendants standing around nearby before he steepled his fingers. "Send up another drink for our guest. Maybe, put a call in to Starbucks and see if they serve lattes at this hour if nothing on our selection appeals to the man." A low snigger ran through the gaggle of his people hovering around, one of them giving an expectant look towards Tockman for a drinks order.

@Michale CS​

"Ah. Miss Dillard said you might mention that." Tockman said casually and looked toward one of Cornell's bodyguards. "Oh concierge? I'll actually have an iced tea. The type they serve in Long Island if you follow. Mr. Stokes and I have important things to discuss, and I wouldn't want to get... Cotton-mouthed during our conversation. Shht!" Tockman waved at Stokes' man dismissively, despite any sort of death glare his turn of phrase earned him from Cornell.

"As to your question, Miss Dillard sends her regrets, but she simply doesn't have time to meet with you tonight. She is representing OsCorp at Tony Stark's charity ball. You might know the charity - Big Corporations for Small Business? But I do understand your confusion. Not everyone can grasp the amount of time and personal sacrifice it takes to run large organizations. Of course... If you'd rather speak with her personally, I'll take her the message and she will call you in the next couple of days once she's room in her busy schedule."

Meanwhile, the band was playing below...

@OrlandoBloomers

 

[Ringmaster]

"A larger than normal talking turtle and a rampaging rhino mutant...or alien? Inhuman? Something. Eso funciona. This has to be like...a cuatro on the weirdness scale." It was good she happened to be in the neighborhood as well, also on a little patrolling. Just close enough to pick up on the shattering of glass and the screams that followed, swinging on down and following behind the turtle's rough entrance. Speaking of which...one of the first things she attempted upon catching up was wrap up the turtle in some quick webbing before he could kill anyone else, hopefully. Good guy or bad guy, getting slaughtered out in the open like that was just insane. At the same time...

"Whoa whoa whoa easy there, it still can be!" She directed over at the thundering big guy. "No need to make this any more sangriento than it already has been, yeah? Not that I'd object to beating on some stubborn punk who needs a lesson." She added that last in a quiet murmur.

@Ringmaster @Nomad-22​

Another two purple tattooed lowlifes were dead on the ground, joined by four others moaning with broken bones, courtesy of Raphael. No mercy. He thought, spin kicking a punk from behind, knocking her down backside. Just before the ninja could deliver the killing blow, he was interrupted by a thunderous bellow and felt the ground shaking, something he was all too familiar with. It's so easy to forget that the Purple Dragons were a bunch of flunkies to the Shredder like the Foot, just only a step lower.

Honestly the angry Turtle admitted he didn't consider that the street filth would have such company, but it didn't matter, he will deal with the stupid Rhino. The suddenly Raph found his hands and weapons webbed together.

Turning from Rocksteady toward the web shooter, Raph displayed a bitter sneer. Great it's another spider wanna-be, but a girl this time. What's with these Halloween rejects and their need to protect scum along with the innocent? In his eyes the former didn't deserve any of it.

"Stay out of this little girl, it dosen't concern ya."

Looking back at the raging rhinoman, Raph added in an sarcastic tone as the smoke faded more and more.

"Oh sorry Rock, I didn't know you were here. Is your mom dancing at the pole tonight? Oh wait my mistake she back at the zoo I recall."

Before he say any more insults, a fat baldish thug who served as the bartender, jumped out of his hiding place, spraying bullets with an automatic shotgun, randomly toward the trio he deemed as freaks. On instinct, Raph twist around, using his shell to the bullets that ricochet across the room. Then the ninja turtle rush to hide behind a pool table. Soon another Dragon joined in the fray, shooting his pistol wildly, aiming for the closest targets, superhero or mutant alike.

The smarter thugs had long since vanished out into New York Cities streets. Leaving only those affected, or those with more brawn than brain. Such as Rocksteady. His presence among the Purple Dragons without his usual partner had been just that- Coincidence. It was a party after all that had been crashed. Though the Turtles here was like waving a red flag in front of a bull, with all the destruction inherent with Bulls and China Shops.

Except perhaps with rhinos. Which was why, when the gunfire stung Rocksteady and Raphael's words echoed, Rocksteady roared and turned his sights towards him, ignoring the Spider-Woman.

"I'M GOING TO PULVERIZE YA!"

And picking up another pool table, he threw the entire thing towards Raph's hiding place as it smashed down.

Right before charging with intent to smash whatever was behind it as a followup.

@Nomad-22 @C.T.​

 

[C.T.]

"Stay out of this little girl, it dosen't concern ya."

"Pfft, shows what you know! Like 91% of my job is dealing with stuff like this, tortuga--" Her spider-sense kicked in, forewarning her mere seconds before the chubby bartender started taking potshots at them all...followed soon by another stupid gangster. Anya moved, ducking and weaving through the wild gunfire with practiced ease. Once they both needed to reload, her hands snapped up. One tendril of web for each of them, intent on yoinking them right into a quick kick to the skull for a knockout.

That taken care of, she turned--​

Except perhaps with rhinos. Which was why, when the gunfire stung Rocksteady and Raphael's words echoed, Rocksteady roared and turned his sights towards him, ignoring the Spider-Woman.

"I'M GOING TO PULVERIZE YA!"

And picking up another pool table, he threw the entire thing towards Raph's hiding place as it smashed down.

Right before charging with intent to smash whatever was behind it as a followup.​

"...Realmente? Seriously? Nobody can say I didn't try to resolve this peacefully, at least." Anya remarked with a wry smirk. With a quick dash forwards to build up some momentum, she leaped up to land on Rocksteady's back. A quick few thwips of webbing launched out for the face...and Anya pulled back on them as hard as she could to try and rein in the rampaging beast before he could smash anything else.

@Nomad-22 @Ringmaster​

 

[OrlandoBloomers]

"Ah. Miss Dillard said you might mention that." Tockman said casually and looked toward one of Cornell's bodyguards. "Oh concierge? I'll actually have an iced tea. The type they serve in Long Island if you follow. Mr. Stokes and I have important things to discuss, and I wouldn't want to get... Cotton-mouthed during our conversation. Shht!" Tockman waved at Stokes' man dismissively, despite any sort of death glare his turn of phrase earned him from Cornell.

"As to your question, Miss Dillard sends her regrets, but she simply doesn't have time to meet with you tonight. She is representing OsCorp at Tony Stark's charity ball. You might know the charity - Big Corporations for Small Business? But I do understand your confusion. Not everyone can grasp the amount of time and personal sacrifice it takes to run large organizations. Of course... If you'd rather speak with her personally, I'll take her the message and she will call you in the next couple of days once she's room in her busy schedule."

Meanwhile, the band was playing below...

@Orlando Bloomers

The shift in the room was indeed palpable as soon as the bold personal assistant uttered the word "Cottonmouthed", the crew member tasked with fetching his drink giving an uncomfortable look over Cornell's direction before shuffling off. For his part, the man himself simply tapped his ringed fingers off the rim of his knuckles, sniffed once, and took his gaze away from the live music to stare back over at Tockman, eyes subtly wider and more piercing than any expression he'd worn prior. There were no words spoken for several seconds after the other man finished, up until Cottonmouth broke the impasse and held up one finger to start off, tailored sleeve slipping down his wrist slightly to reveal the edges of an expensive watch.

"First thing. Anyone Mariah sends up in my club learns that there ain't a damn person who goes by Cottonmouth in Harlem. The owner and proprietor of this establishment, where you are currently being graced with fine music and complimentary drinking, is Mister, Stokes. You pass that memo along from me, and next time this erroneous mistake is made we stop the civility bullshit and start testing exactly how much a personal assistant is worth to Mariah next to a cousin whose generous financial support bought up half the goddamn majority share, in that large. Organization. Which I, of course, as you so bravely put it, am unable to grasp."

By the end of that spiel his tone was so ice-cold it rivaled the blood of his serpentine namesake, but after a further moment of intense glaring he reverted back to his more normal demeanor, cracking that hollow smile again and leaning forward to take his drink.

"'Least you got the balls to stand up for yourself, comin' up here. I can say with all due gravity now that I'm dealing with a man, not the punk bitch I pegged you for. So. Give me the biz; Apprise me."

He gestured openly with his hands, settling back into his seat once more with the same self-assuaged air.

"What's Mariah got in the pipeline for Harlem? The, "New Renaissance"? Hell, she was all about this shit six months ago; now I can hardly even get a damn word from her own mouth. And what about the pest disposal gear I requisitioned? She still good for it?"

He seemed more intense in a different way, now, the questions he asked obviously ones that weighed heavily on his mind. His was an intricate operation with every bit as much a stake in Mariah's dealings as hers had in his, and it was clear he didn't plan on being left in the dark for too long.

@Michale CS​

 

[Ringmaster]

Harlem despite its relatively recent run-in with Hulk and that abomination, as well as the alien incident remained strong with a tenacity the most recent figure driving up could admire. Such was the mindset of survivors, of those who had learned from the lash and from hatred to become stronger for it, answering to none but themselves. It was a lesson in power she would take to heart as her driver respectfully opened the door for her and she stepped out.

Sleek nylon emphasized her muscular legs, combined with a business suit skirt and suit that while not as obvious as some who came, nevertheless hinted at in ways that were more tantalizing then simply showing them on display. Her hair was tied up in a bun, held in place with two decorative chopsticks and displayed a lovely face, Japanese in origin and completely at her ease. Subtle strength hung around her aura like she was made for it and with complete confidence, she headed for the front of the line and without a word, displayed a card.

The bouncer glanced at it, startled before opening the way for her to enter as the woman said idly.

"No rush."

Within, as the next number began to play she breathed deep and headed to the bar to get herself a drink while she waited on the man above. This was his domain after all. A good guest was patient and to be frank, there were worse places to be if you had to wait.

And the music vibrated her soul in a way to make her smile, small as it was.

Upstairs, the card would be passed down to a new minion as he cleared his throat and tried to not interrupt.

"Er, Mr. Stokes? Apologies sir, but there's someone here to see you once you're done. She says no rush."

And sliding over the card, he stepped back.

Business Card

@OrlandoBloomers @Michale CS​

 

[Michale CS]

The shift in the room was indeed palpable as soon as the bold personal assistant uttered the word "Cottonmouthed", the crew member tasked with fetching his drink giving an uncomfortable look over Cornell's direction before shuffling off. For his part, the man himself simply tapped his ringed fingers off the rim of his knuckles, sniffed once, and took his gaze away from the live music to stare back over at Tockman, eyes subtly wider and more piercing than any expression he'd worn prior. There were no words spoken for several seconds after the other man finished, up until Cottonmouth broke the impasse and held up one finger to start off, tailored sleeve slipping down his wrist slightly to reveal the edges of an expensive watch.

"First thing. Anyone Mariah sends up in my club learns that there ain't a damn person who goes by Cottonmouth in Harlem. The owner and proprietor of this establishment, where you are currently being graced with fine music and complimentary drinking, is Mister, Stokes. You pass that memo along from me, and next time this erroneous mistake is made we stop the civility bullshit and start testing exactly how much a personal assistant is worth to Mariah next to a cousin whose generous financial support bought up half the goddamn majority share, in that large. Organization. Which I, of course, as you so bravely put it, am unable to grasp."

By the end of that spiel his tone was so ice-cold it rivaled the blood of his serpentine namesake, but after a further moment of intense glaring he reverted back to his more normal demeanor, cracking that hollow smile again and leaning forward to take his drink.

"'Least you got the balls to stand up for yourself, comin' up here. I can say with all due gravity now that I'm dealing with a man, not the punk bitch I pegged you for. So. Give me the biz; Apprise me."

He gestured openly with his hands, settling back into his seat once more with the same self-assuaged air.

"What's Mariah got in the pipeline for Harlem? The, "New Renaissance"? Hell, she was all about this shit six months ago; now I can hardly even get a damn word from her own mouth. And what about the pest disposal gear I requisitioned? She still good for it?"

He seemed more intense in a different way, now, the questions he asked obviously ones that weighed heavily on his mind. His was an intricate operation with every bit as much a stake in Mariah's dealings as hers had in his, and it was clear he didn't plan on being left in the dark for too long.

@Michale CS​

Tockman lowered his head slightly, and smiled. "Poor choice of phrase, I'm afraid. It shan't happen again."

"I'm fully aware of the source of Miss Dillard's financing. I am, after all, her accountant. Though I do thank you for reminding me. I'm sure you're used to dealing with lesser minds, and such guidance is simply necessary. I applaud your patience."

The drink arrived then and he took a healthy drought of it. "I see you only stock the highest quality spirits, Mr. Stokes. But, on to business. Oh, tell your concerned friends that you surround yourself with to relax, as I'm about to draw a gun."

Then, faster than Cornell could even see, there was a pistol, plated in gold it seemed, in Tockman's hand, and pointed at the bodyguard who had let the accountant past him earlier. He reversed the grip and handed it, grip first, to Cornell.

"What you hold in your hand, Mister Stokes is the MIDAS. There are submachine gun and soon, assault rifle versions of it as well. I won't bore you with all the science but MIDAS stands for Multiple Ignition Directed Aperture System. You see, unlike the Judas ammunition, standard ammunition will work just fine with MIDAS."

Tockman opened up the briefcase to remove a tablet PC.

He queued up a video, and played it. A test dummy was sitting in an armored car. The scene pans to a man holding a pistol that looked a lot like the one Cornell was now holding.

The man walked around a cinderblock wall, lifted the weapon and fired.

The bullet blasted through the wall, through the bulletproof glass of the armored car, through the dummy and out the second layer of bulletproof glass.

"I'd advise against discharging that firearm in here, unless you really despise your neighbors. The muzzle velocity of a MIDAS round fired from a pistol is approximately thirty five hundred feet per second, and due to the Vibranium rifling, the range is just shy of eight thousand feet. The rifles will of course far outshine that."

He closed the suitcase and smiled again. "Production funding is being secured as we speak, but a limited run of pistols and submachine guns are already being machined. You should have a sample case by the end of the week. Please, keep the prototype as your own."

He leaned forward and whispered, "You might have a word with your friends here. They're far too slow to protect you from a truly competent threat."

Tockman picked up the drink, drained it and set the glass to spinning on the table, but it wobbled right back to being upright.

"Have a good night Mister Stokes."

Down below, another singer was being announced.

"In her first appearance here at Harlem's Paradise, up from Jersey way, put your hands together for miss Lizzy Berg!"

Tockman, if not prevented, would take his leave then.

@OrlandoBloomers @Ringmaster

 

[Nomad-22]

The smarter thugs had long since vanished out into New York Cities streets. Leaving only those affected, or those with more brawn than brain. Such as Rocksteady. His presence among the Purple Dragons without his usual partner had been just that- Coincidence. It was a party after all that had been crashed. Though the Turtles here was like waving a red flag in front of a bull, with all the destruction inherent with Bulls and China Shops.

Except perhaps with rhinos. Which was why, when the gunfire stung Rocksteady and Raphael's words echoed, Rocksteady roared and turned his sights towards him, ignoring the Spider-Woman.

"I'M GOING TO PULVERIZE YA!"

And picking up another pool table, he threw the entire thing towards Raph's hiding place as it smashed down.

Right before charging with intent to smash whatever was behind it as a followup.

@Nomad-22 @C.T.​

"Pfft, shows what you know! Like 91% of my job is dealing with stuff like this, tortuga--" Her spider-sense kicked in, forewarning her mere seconds before the chubby bartender started taking potshots at them all...followed soon by another stupid gangster. Anya moved, ducking and weaving through the wild gunfire with practiced ease. Once they both needed to reload, her hands snapped up. One tendril of web for each of them, intent on yoinking them right into a quick kick to the skull for a knockout.

That taken care of, she turned--​

"...Realmente? Seriously? Nobody can say I didn't try to resolve this peacefully, at least." Anya remarked with a wry smirk. With a quick dash forwards to build up some momentum, she leaped up to land on Rocksteady's back. A quick few thwips of webbing launched out for the face...and Anya pulled back on them as hard as she could to try and rein in the rampaging beast before he could smash anything else.

@Nomad-22 @Ringmaster​

Oh...crap

Those were the words Raph was thinking when rhino boy threw the other pool table at the one he was taking cover at. He dashed out of the way when the two table were smashed into chunks and splinters of wood. Man he forgot how crazy and strong Rocksteady is, especially when tag teaming with his piggy partner Bebop.

The situation was even more infuriating that Raphael still couldn't break up his webbed hands and weapons, all thanks to miss law and order in the spider outfit. He swore under his breath when Rock began to charge only to be saved by the very same Spider-Girl, whom he blamed for this trouble moments before.


Gritting his teeth, Raph pulled harder and freed his hands, breaking the webbing apart. Pleased, the reptile-like ninja considered quickly what to do next while both of his problems were occupied with each other. He could very well use the distraction and make a getaway, he had sent a strong enough message to the Purple Dragons already. Yet the so-called superhero, annoying as she is, saved his shell from Rock whether she meant to or not.

I hate owing favors to strangers.

He reminded himself and put up his sais on the belt with a frustrated groan. Snatching two pairs of fallen pool balls in each three fingered hand, Raph aimed and threw the first metal batch with a pitch that a baseball player would be proud of. The balls stuck the raging two-legged Rhino in the groin area, followed swiftly by the next two in the same area.

Not giving his foe, a chance for respite, Raphael ran forward and jumped with both feet in front, kicking Rocksteady square in the gut with full momentum.

 

[Ringmaster]

"...Realmente? Seriously? Nobody can say I didn't try to resolve this peacefully, at least." Anya remarked with a wry smirk. With a quick dash forwards to build up some momentum, she leaped up to land on Rocksteady's back. A quick few thwips of webbing launched out for the face...and Anya pulled back on them as hard as she could to try and rein in the rampaging beast before he could smash anything else.

Oh...crap

Those were the words Raph was thinking when rhino boy threw the other pool table at the one he was taking cover at. He dashed out of the way when the two table were smashed into chunks and splinters of wood. Man he forgot how crazy and strong Rocksteady is, especially when tag teaming with his piggy partner Bebop.

The situation was even more infuriating that Raphael still couldn't break his webbed up hands and weapons, all thanks to miss law and order in the spider outfit. He swore under his breath when Rock began to charge only to be saved by the very same Spider-Girl, whom he blamed for this trouble moments before.


Gritting his teeth, Raph pulled harder and freed his hands, breaking the webbing apart. Pleased with the reptile-like ninja considered quickly what to do next while both of his problems were occupied with each other. He could very well use the distraction and make a getaway, he had sent a strong enough message to the Purple Dragons already. Yet the so-called superhero, annoying as she is, saved his shell from Rock whether she meant to or not.

I hate owing favors to strangers.

He reminded himself and put up his sais on the belt with a frustrated groan. Snatching two pairs of fallen pool balls in each three fingered hand, Raph aimed and threw the first metal batch with a pitch that a baseball player would be proud of. The balls stuck the raging two-legged Rhino in the groin area, followed swiftly by the next two in the same area.

Not giving his foe, a chance for respite, Raphael ran forward and jumped with both feet in front, kicking Rocksteady square in the gut with full momentum.

Both follow up moves managed to do two things. One was Rocksteady suddenly halted in his charge as he waved his arms for balance to try to prevent himself from crashing.

The other was that it exposed him for both blows from the Turtle as his eyes rolled up and he fell with a resounding crash. Outside, the sounds of sirens echoed out as the NYPD began to arrive.

"I hate yous. I really, really do."

Grunted Rocksteady through his haze of pain.

@Nomad-22 @C.T.​

 

[C.T.]

Both follow up moves managed to do two things. One was Rocksteady suddenly halted in his charge as he waved his arms for balance to try to prevent himself from crashing.

The other was that it exposed him for both blows from the Turtle as his eyes rolled up and he fell with a resounding crash. Outside, the sounds of sirens echoed out as the NYPD began to arrive.

"I hate yous. I really, really do."

Grunted Rocksteady through his haze of pain.​

"That's one!" She hopped down off his back, dusting off her hands...and then firing off a few webs to keep the big guy in place. Just in case. "Now..." she swiveled to the turtle. "What's your problem, huh?"

@Nomad-22 @Ringmaster​

 

[Nomad-22]

Both follow up moves managed to do two things. One was Rocksteady suddenly halted in his charge as he waved his arms for balance to try to prevent himself from crashing.

The other was that it exposed him for both blows from the Turtle as his eyes rolled up and he fell with a resounding crash. Outside, the sounds of sirens echoed out as the NYPD began to arrive.

"I hate yous. I really, really do."

Grunted Rocksteady through his haze of pain.

@Nomad-22 @C.T.​

"That's one!" She hopped down off his back, dusting off her hands...and then firing off a few webs to keep the big guy in place. Just in case. "Now..." she swiveled to the turtle. "What's your problem, huh?"

@Nomad-22 @Ringmaster​

"Love ya too big guy, tell Shredder I said hi."

Raphael repiled cheekily to the collapsed Rhino mutant. He looked on with a further smile as Rocksteady was now trapped in webs by the superhero, it was nice to see it stick someone else for a change. That expression, however change back into a scowl when Spider-Girl turned her attention to him. Her tone reminded him too much of his brother Leo, when he is in one of those self-righteous episodes. The last thing Raph wanted to do is explain himself to the likes of her, who play at heroics.

As far as the ninja was concerned he done noting wrong and won't apologize for his actions, the tattooed clowns had it coming. Even if he was in the mood to argue, Raph knew he had wore out his stay, the cops will be here in any minute. Instead the reptilian said in an bitter voice, eyes blazed with fury.

"Look up a Mister Murakami, a patient at NYC Health Bellevue, courtesy of these animals you so nobly try to protect."

Finished speaking Raph threw another smoke pellet, covering his fast exit out the back way of the club. He ran outside into an alleyway, just as the police were about to enter into the club from the front. Within an minute, he found a manhole nearby and jumped down, disappearing within the sewers. One thing was for certain to Raphael, these superhero types can't be ignored.

Well Master Splinter once said a true ninja adapts to the situation. Raph thought long and hard about it as he made the jounrey back home, while making sure he wasn't being followed at the same time. He was done for tonight.

 

[C.T.]

"Look up a Mister Murakami, a patient at NYC Health Bellevue, courtesy of these animals you so nobly try to protect."

Finished speaking Raph threw another smoke pellet, covering his fast exit out the back way of the club. He ran outside into an alleyway, just as the police were about to enter into the club from the front. Within an minute, he found an manhole nearby and jumped down, disappearing within the sewers. One thing was for certain to Raphael, these hero types can't be ignored.

"...Freaking ninjas. It's never a goodbye or a farewell or a catch you later or anything like that. No, it's always the smoke pellets. Gotta cover our tracks yadda yadda yadda. Like, I mean, come on muchacho. You're a human sized talking turtle, how much are you expecting to blend in and be inconspicuous. Could have at least said see you later or even see you never. At least it'd be something. And calling them animals...I mean, yeah they are scumbags but ever checked the mirror lately turtle dude? You're an animal too. Basic rights..." She continued grumbling to herself amidst web--swinging. Despite that....her attention was piqued by the mention of a Mister Murakami. Bellevue, huh?

She stopped on a higher rooftop, gaze drifting vaguely in the direction Bellevue would be. Pulling out her phone briefly, she rapidfire tapped something out before setting off again, singing one of her favorite songs.

♫ "I'm standing on my own
But now I'm not alone
Avengers Assemble!" ♫

♫ "Always we will fight as oneeeeeeee..."​

 

[Gands]

I watch goings on tonight from a rooftop. A man sized turtle with a very good working knowledge of martial arts. A woman, with excellent coordination and ... webs. A relatively intelligent... well more so than his animal namesake I think, Rhino.

I make notes on my small tablet for now.

I am trying to find my place in New York. I've only been here a couple of months. Damned Hydra got me let go from Shield for some trumped up cause and even Director or now former director Fury couldn't get my job back. He does send me money now and again for his new information business. Information on free agents and supers in New York.

There seem to be a lot of small fry in the nasty parts, good and bad.

Back out on the street now, I stop three attempted muggings, one on myself... moron.. Usually I lock them mentally, strip them of weapons and sometimes pants. Weapons I leave at a drop location twice a week for an unknown contact through Fury.

I'm not sure why I'm still loyal to the old guy. But for a spy, he has loyalty to me, least as much as I'd expect for a spy. Had an unpleasant visit from Black Widow once, turned out she wanted some special information on someone.

I wish the damned office business would pick up some. Then I wouldn't have to do this stuff for Fury .

Mom has helped. She still doesn't understand why I didn't stay in Israel. Too much in the way of intense emotions there. I'm can read and detect emotions, but I can get overwhelmed with a lot of intensity in a small area.

Finally I'm home. A nice... well... it's a bit small... Condo in the Bronx. I'm lucky in some ways, if I keep my armor simple and without emblems, it just looks like motorcycle armor. I always stop a couple of times and use my power to check my surroundings surreptitiously by separating my perception and use it to scout around me for possible people following me. It's a bad idea to do this while driving by the way kids.

Sometimes I wonder if Batgirl has any issues with people following her... Hell, I don't even like to publicize my hero codename.... Psylock. Good advice from Fury, who never liked working out in the open.