Marvel Uprising I: Dark Reign

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Fel of the Eternal Forest, May 24, 2010.

  1. It was midnight and raining in New York City, and he was alone in an alley. Looking through his one good eye, he struck a match, a call sign of sorts. He had contacted some people. Some people the government was looking for. It had to be short range he knew, because the government was looking for him, too.

    Nick Fury used to be an agent for the government, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Top Cop, so to speak. It didn't matter now... Not after Latveria. He had hidden all across America, taken great lengths to not get caught... Hill and Stark had even helped him. Now, there was Norman Osborn. The Green Goblin, running a new operation named H.A.M.M.E.R.

    Now was his time to act.
     
  2. A dark figure sat on the edge of a church rooftop, listening to the silence of a bell which had failed to toll for the midnight hour. Earlier the same dark figure had disconnected the necessary equipment shortly after the ringing for eleven o' clock had ended. Part of it wanted to get to spend some time at the House of God to think about recent events. Without making the bell inactive, the time capable of being spent here would be reduced to less than an hour unless extreme pain was desired for some reason. During the daytime the bell couldn't be disabled so casually since people would notice and they would certainly notice IT as well.

    IT was the black humanoid shape sitting atop the church in the rain without moving from a rather melancholy looking pose. Only the whole figure was not just black. . . there were touches of orange here and there on the strange creature. The eyes were an especially eerie orange while their shape was akin to Spider-Man's yet still. . . alien. IT somewhat resembled a black and orange variant on the Symbiote costume that Spider-Man had worn for years.

    Until the mouth opened.

    Orange teeth glistened along with a long red tongue it somewhat resembled a gruesome reverse Jack-O-Lantern. Now IT no longer bore a resemblance to anything most people would consider a heroic image. Rather. . . IT looked just plain demonic with how those touches of orange gave it this air of having emerged from hellish magma to enter this world. Yet in truth. . . IT had been born right here in New York.

    Now it was a few minutes after midnight, but if IT had wanted to be on time for anything. . . IT wouldn't have disabled that church bell. One that had run just like clockwork for many years. Time passed idly by until enough of it had slipped away for the figure to actually seem to care. When IT moved from the melancholy pose the mouth closed, leaving no trace of the frightening maw as though it never existed.

    Standing up, IT suddenly started to run along the wet rooftop without showing a single problem in keeping a good footing on the slippery surface. As IT reached the edge, a superhuman leap was made before a long strand of a substance familiar to New Yorkers shot out and attached to the side of a building nearby.

    Web fluid.

    IT disconnected from the strand shortly thereafter and proceeded to run along the building sideways as if it were just going down the sidewalk. Next came another leap to the next building. For some reason IT did not feel like slinging itself around on webs through the city. But IT demonstrated no regard toward restraint from showing the ability to do acrobatic flips. Ones which competed with gold medal gymnasts from any country. Even Kenyans.

    When necessary, of course.

    Landing on a rooftop near Fury, IT seemed to transform from what most could have called a monster into a handsome young man wearing all black clothing. The dark-haired youth looked up at the raining sky for a few moments before his clothing suddenly changed. From the collar of his coat a hood suddenly formed as to keep his head dry. Jumping from the rooftop all the way to the ground, he landed about twenty feet from the former head of S.H.I.E.L.D. and just stood there silently.

    Someone had managed to track him down enough to contact him earlier. . . someone who knew who HE was, had an idea about what IT was. . . and acted like someone who knew what THEY had become.

    ". . . . . . . ."
     
  3. Good times were hard to come by for anyone with abilities that wouldn't necessarily do well on a resume. Stanley faced these kinds of problems daily, ever since the Registration Act was re-enacted. He was truly thankful that DNA scans weren't made mandatory yet. That meant he had time to do something...something else. For awhile, Stanley had no idea what that something was, until anonymously contacted...

    The details of the one-sided conversation are irrelevant. Good guys just didn't have any options. From how Stanley saw it, this guy had some guts and wanted to get rid of the bad to bring back the good. In Stan's book, that's the best it could possibly get! If only he didn't have to keep his identity a secret.

    "Ya tell 'im I don' appreseeate that kend ah' talk tah on' ah' me boys, capice?"

    That was Andrew; one of the older guys. Having been a part of the Yancy Street Family for awhile now, everyone has a protective feel for everybody else. Explains why they call it more of a "family" than a "gang". Personally, Stanley liked that kind of feeling; to know he could go back to them and still be welcome, with no discrimination whatsoever. Must've learned their lesson after the way they treated Uncle Ben.

    Stanley gave Andrew a reassuring smile, "I'll tell them, Andy. Don't worry about it! He's a good guy, remember?"

    "I wouldn't say that, considerin' 'ee mention'd yer 'condishun'," frowning, Andrew looked doubtingly at Stanley's positivity on the situation. For all the kid knew, it may be a method for uncovering powered individuals.

    "Come on! Can't you be at least a little not skeptical?" Stanley's expression changed from chipper to mildly annoyed, "I trust him, even though I barely know him. Andy, he's all we have! What else can I do, wait for them to find me?"

    Andy just shrugged, "Whatev' yah want, screwball." Patting the costumed teen on the head, he chuckled, "Jus' give 'em a good kickin'."

    "One kick from all of us!" Stanley lifted his arm slightly, balling up his fist in a symbol of comradeship to Andrew, "Gotta go, I'll almost be late!" With that, he darted out of his house and into the alley behind the row of townhouses. The rain changed directions raucously as The Sonic Boom rocketed onto the nearest rooftop.

    His footsteps were muffled somewhat by the pattering rain, but he assured his stealth by kicking up a wind current to go whistling through his area of influence. Quickening his pace with some extra wind, The Sonic Boom made his way expeditiously across New York in the direction he needed to go.

    Trees rustled and shutters creaked as he passed, his measures of attempted stealth even failing to simple everyday items. Thinking little-to-nothing of it, The Sonic Boom arrived at his destination, landing with a small whoosh of air to silence his fall. "Erm..." looking at himself and the other two that happened to be there - both wearing black - he suddenly felt really foolish, "Nice trench coat!"
     
  4. The young man in black with the hood obscuring his face from immediate view had a frown form when Stanley showed up in the alleyway. Just what was going on here? Could it be a trap? Even though Trevor did not back away or move as if he were going to flee it somewhat crossed his mind. What with the Registration Act and other organizations out there. . . showing up for whatever this meeting was required a great risk on his part. Police were likely looking for him since the deaths of his parents were still a mystery to all but himself, the Symbiote, and Scott Washington.

    Or did the man with the eye patch know what had happened somehow?

    Regardless of this, the strangest thing going on in his mind was the fact that the suit. . . the Symbiote had sensed Stanley coming after a certain proximity. Perhaps it was all the noise he created, causing the Symbiote to innately wish to protect itself from possibly damaging sonic attacks. Or was it some semblance of Spider-Sense still leftover from from the hero which the Venom Symbiote had first bonded with for so many years. . .

    "You didn't say anyone else was going to show up. What's going on here? I want to know who you are and who he is right now."

    His voice was completely human sounding and actually gave away how young he was to a certain point. But if the costume became utilized there would be no telling what he would sound like. If anything it would likely change his voice in an indirectly helpful way of disguising his identity if no one witnessed the change. Violent urges were lightly stirring within the mind of his Symbiote from sheer survival instinct after feeding off of the uneasiness and mistrust coming from Trevor. Right now anything could happen given their combined unpredictability if he was given the wrong answer.
     
  5. Col. Fury eyed Contrition and the Sonic Boom.

    "No voices outside, please. " Was all he said, before looking up at the raining sky. Eyes, ears, everywhere. he motioned as well.

    I've met better... but I've met worse, too.
     
  6. When Catherine had first signed up for her assignment, it seemed fun, easy, and a excellent way to make some extra money while helping out Mr. Stark. They had put in some crazy martial arts skills in there, along with the actually important data, in case she needed to defend herself. There was the implication that, were anyone to find her out, she should silence them as quickly as possible to prevent more people from discovering just where all that data had gone. Of course most wouldn't be able to get at it-but it was pretty clear that she would not benefit from added attention.

    She was wearing a dark grey raincoat, and the only one who seemed to have bothered with an umbrella. Also the only woman, and one of the oldest...this was interesting, apparently they had all been invited by the same mysterious person. Catherine gave a slight wave with a gloved hand to show her presence, but didn't bother with any introductions. They'd speak soon enough.
     
  7. She watched them with vague interest, her senses dulled by the thick incense of aging oak and overly-expensive cigar smoke. For those who thought they were above humanity, they fell prey to mortal vices easily enough… After a rather droll conversation that was just as thick and cloying with unnecessarily large vocabulary and accents, her orders were given and her motivation placed in front of her in a small wooden box. Whatever lay inside was enough to elicit a reaction from the young woman.

    Having any reaction to the object was as good as dropping to her knees and kissing their boots. She hated it. Smug smirks and looks of satisfaction filled every face in the room. Of course there were those who weren’t pleased with the offer being made to the girl at all, but who were they to object? Exactly. They were just like her. A nobody. Without this oh so charitable group they would be…


    “Nothing, man. . . Just headin’ home. Gotta run an’ errand, that’s about it. What errand? Does it matter?” A pause.
    “. . . I’m gonna go get some cigarettes.” The sound of a cell clicking shut. Well, she didn't really like him all that much anyway.

    The light squeak of a bicycle brake mixed into the melody of the city, the faint rattle of the chain bringing up the main tempo as the cycle tilted slightly, the figure rounding a corner. A light hum added to whatever harmony the cyclist was hearing, the female voice delicate and gentle, calm and even, never reaching a fully audible volume. The lilting tune faded, the notes drifting into the static of the metropolis as the cyclist delved deeper and deeper into the streets and alleys.

    As the streets narrowed even further and became a bit more industrial and difficult to navigate, the cyclist’s humming was interrupted by a cough…then another…followed once again by a more severe brother. Without breaking stride, the cyclist reached to their hip, deft fingers sliding open the zipper of the small pouch that hung there. A small object was withdrawn and raised up. The cyclist’s mouth closed around one part of it, a small curve to her full lips. There was a whisper of an exhale followed by a deep hiss and a breath.

    Another sound followed, one that was slightly unnatural and misplaced. It sounded as though a brood of pigeons had taken flight, their pinions all straining for the same goal. A few of the resting fowl were actually disturbed from their roosts in the nooks and crannies above, their shadowed forms fluttering into the night.

    The sound of the bicycle resumed, as did the light humming, although the tune was a bit more cheerful now.

    After a few more moments, the brake’s squeaked as the cycle was brought to a halt. The sound of the city was a bit more distant. The wind was stronger, the air thinner.

    A chain rattled as a faithful steed was put to rest. A hand patted the chrome handlebars, a few gentle whispers offering comfort that their caretaker would return soon. A tarp was fastened down as the steed was tucked in for the night.

    There was another flutter.

    Light sneakers tapped against the cement of a rooftop. She heard something below. Voices. Guess they were already gathering…Good thing she didn’t believe in being fashionably late…

    As she leaned forward to make her entrance, she paused, a chill creeping over her a moment later. The image of a serpent leering over its prey flickered in her mind as she turned to look over her shoulder. Nothing was there, of course. With a roll of her eyes she dropped over the edge of the building, landing in a light crouch before her legs brought her right back up again.

    “Oofta.”

    She raised her head, cocking a brow at the rather motley crew in front of her. The young woman opened her mouth to say something but paused. It looked like this wasn’t a moment for even inside voices. She grimaced. ’Eesh.’

    Well, if she couldn’t talk, she’d at least LOOK. From what she could see there was…

    Raincoat Lady (she seemed kind of uptight). Eye-patch Man (looked like he needed some chill pills). Trench-coat Dude (he just gave her the plain chills) and…someone she could tell had the potential to be annoying. She GUESSED it couldn’t get any worse…but that would have just been silly. It’d probably get worse real quick.

    She guessed that if she had to have a nickname too, she’d be…Cyclist Girl. Or even better. It could be superhero-like:

    THE COURIER.

    DELIVERING. . .HER OWN BRAND OF JUSTICE.
     
  8. Thomas wasn't wearing any of his usual attire due to the rain. His armor would have made him to conspicuous, and his t-shirt and jeans were ill suited for rain.
    Instead he wore jeans and t-shirt with a light jacket over and carried an umbrella. He also had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder with his armor in it.

    'You never know when you're going to have to fight these days' he thought to himself as he turned into the alley where he was meeting Nick Fury. It had been very odd to have met the man, especially in light of recent events, but it was a good thing, in that he might have already been caught otherwise.

    Thomas eyed the group lazily as he approached, not saying anything. He knew the rules, Nick had told him a few weeks back. So he simply slung his duffel bag off of his shoulder onto the ground in front of him and sat down on it.
     
  9. Belle

    "Okay..." she nodded slowly and shrugged "We will just have to wait until then."
     
  10. Not quite understanding Fury's motions, Stanley almost made it a point to argue, but instantly fell silent when one, two, no, three, more individuals arrived. He smiled warmly and waved to them all, mouthing a greeting then returning to looking miserable in the rain.

    Am I the only one in a costume, he crossed his arms for a moment, then put his knuckles on his hips, realizing he was gathering a pool of water in it, I couldn't look cooler! They HAVE to be impressed.

    Stanley decided to puff out his chest and widen his stance to shoulder-width, producing the staple super-pose. In his mind, he couldn't look cooler. To the others, he's probably made the impression of annoying.

    Could we go inside soon, he said in his head, childishly hoping Fury would hear him, I can't feel the bottoms of my feet..
     
  11. Col. Fury said nothing still. He looked at Stanley and shook his head, disapproving of his need to make himself look like a big man.

    He motioned down the alley, put three fingers up, and then pointed down. "For those of you who cannot understand sign language, even crude sign language, three blocks down there is a subway system. It is abandoned. Go there."

    Then he motioned something that he thought would be obvious. The roof, his gun five minutes. H.A.M.M.E.R. Any questions? Absolutely nothing he had done was with a flourish. He knew they had been surrounded, though nobody else had, and that the H.A.M.M.E.R. operatives were in stealth.

    "Move. On." He whispered.
     
  12. The young woman continued to glance around at the ragtag crew until an odd sound caught her attention. She turned to see Eye-patch Man motioning around. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she watched him attempt to bring in an airplane or direct them elsewhere. Or either he was trying to ease the mood through an impromptu game of charades! Goody, she loved charades!

    The young woman’s brow furrowed as she watched Eye-patch intently.

    ” "For those of you who cannot understand sign language, even crude sign language, three blocks down there is a subway system. It is abandoned. Go there."”

    . . .

    Well so much for having some FUN.

    Shoving her hands into the pockets of her loose jacket, the girl started forward. She wasn’t sure about the other people but she was fairly certain she could make it without any major problems…not to mention she was probably the least suspicious looking out of them all.

    Probably.

    Up until this point it was a bit hard to hide the excitement and adrenaline that coursed through her veins. Not impossibly hard, but more in the vein that she was really needing an outlet right about now. No doubt she would be getting one soon.

    Her lithe form stepped into the deep shadow that extended from the alley into the street. The contours of her shadow were lost the next moment as she rounded the corner, almost as though she had melted into the darkness. There was a sound that resembled a flutter of cloth or some sort of dense material, but it was obvious up to this point that she wasn’t carrying or wearing anything of the sort, since her outfit was somewhat tight-fitting in the first place. At any rate, she was gone and moving in route to their next rendezvous point.
     
  13. Not exactly a warm welcome...

    Catherine walked towards where the man had gestured. He looked like Nick Fury, so there was about a fifty percent chance of him actually being Nick Fury out to help her, and a fifty percent chance that he was actually an alien clone or something. It looked like everyone else who had shown up was similarly in the dark as to what was actually going on. So at least there were a few other people to help out should anything go horribly wrong.

    Seeing the girl walking down the street next to her, Catherine moved closer to her, so that the umbrella would cover them both.
     
  14. Did he play Baseball?

    That's one of the few sports Stanley actually played! Unfortunately, since he didn't really pay attention to the Running Coach, most of the gestures were lost to him immediately. Thankfully, the grizzled veteran explained himself curtly, and motioned for them to get going. Phew, a relieved Stanley thought, and here I was thinking I'd have to ask more questions. He looked observingly at the Colonel and tried to hide a dejected expression, Doesn't look like the type of guy that appreciates questions..

    Without thinking much more on it, Stanley made the conscious decision to take a wider route. He could only assume the "eyes and ears" Fury referred to were already there. It made sense to move in a less predictable manner to try and keep their efforts diverse. Well, he thought it made sense...Stanley didn't really know, but the effort should count, right?

    ...Right?

    Little occurred to Stanley concisely. Still, he kept moving to prevent his doubts or rare negative impulses from slowing his ability to react. If there's one thing I've learned from Yancy, determination glowed from Stanley's features, that would be to keep your eye on the thing that matters.

    Hugging the sides of every building he ran with, Stanley looked about further ahead, Is that it? He did see a poorly boarded -up subway entrance, the caution tape already ripped off or fading from vibrant yellow, I think so.. Keeping close to the buildings for as long as possible to restrict the range of detection, he purposely passed the entrance to the station. Going a block further than necessary, he looped his way back around and then entered the station.

    Should Stanley be alone, he waited. Should someone be present, he'd smile warmly and wave again, trying to at least keep the forboding air from completely consuming him.

    I hope this all turns out...
     
  15. As everyone filtered away, the outlaw known as Nick Fury pulled his gun. It wasn't exactly covert in any sense of the word, but these guys knew who he was and were after him - they had to go, quite like the status quo they destroyed.

    He popped a warning shot (silenced of course) towards the roof that the H.A.M.M.E.R. goons were sitting on. Although he could no longer tell whether or not they were there, as they had used stealth as soon as they touched ground, he assumed at least one was still around. A thud, as an agent hit ground. Good thing for him that if he would have survived the bullet he probably would have survived the fall as well. These weren't high-rises by any means, a small part of town that hadn't been rebuilt to accommodate the 2.5+ million people of King county.
     
  16. Demi

    I have to stop myself from countering. If that's the case, then boy were they gonna hate my actions' guts. Seriously, how many people have I mortally wounded and blackmailed...meh. I lost count a few years ago. But yeah, I just let that slide. Besides, I'd be a fucking asshole to say anything and erase the look on Helen's face. I'll let her be happy.

    I watch in amusement as she comes back with an actual armful of books. "Well shit, sure you don't need more?" I tease with a low chuckle. I take a few books to help with the load as she passes by and follow her upstairs. "So, uh...I'll just drop these at your place and...um, head out then?" I say tentatively. I know that she only invited me to her room the first time around cuz she felt guilty and wanted to make sure I feel better. I'm practically back to my old self now, so there isn't really a reason for me to be there. It sucks to think about though...
     
  17. John

    He went into a Russian accent. "Indeed it was, comrade."
     
  18. A few moments passed into Stanley's waiting inside the abandoned subway station. He casually played with a rock at his feet, trying not to be noisy or the least bit attention-grabbing. Still, he was convinced he'd be one of the last people to reach the subway, considering the route he took. On the contrary, he guessed...

    Still, at the very edge of his hearing, Stanley caught a sound akin to shifting flesh. He couldn't help but shudder and stick out his tongue like he tasted the thing he just heard. Turning his body while he shook away his grossed-out feeling, Stanley saw the same hooded guy from before. The first one besides Fury at the meeting place, actually...

    Did that sound come from him? Stanley didn't dwell on the thought long, as his rising uneasiness was made apparent in both his body-language and expression, I hope not..Still, I think I'll finally introduce myself.. With that, The Sonic Boom extended a hand, body-language and expression changing to that of friendliness, "Great to meetcha! They call me the Sonic Boom - heh, they being me, of course! What do you call yourself?" Stanley almost lost his tongue in the tirade of sentences that were about to follow, Your real name isn't really necessarily, as you should probably know. Gotta keep your identity a secret! What's the point of all that anyway? I mean, you should be entitled to some of the glory. Or maybe because its to protect your friends and loved ones...Still, your name should go somewhere...!

    Inwardly, Sonic Boom slapped himself, The last thing I need is to become Social Sally with these guys...We're here to restore what's right, not chit-chat.
     
  19. Helen

    "I-I know h-how to stitch." I confirm with a hesitant nod. "I-I have n-never c-closed a wound before." I admit nervously, but am glad that I now have some information to assist in trying to help Demi. As long as I can sterilize a needle, I can stitch her back up. As long as I don't get sick first, because I know the sight of wounds and blood make me nauseous. "I-I think I-I can do it." I confirm to myself slowly then turn back to her

    "W-we k-k-know t-they w-want t-to a-abduct u-us. I-I don't know why." I clear my throat anxiously. I do not want to think that there are any more kidnappers around. What if there was one stronger than that man? I start to feel panic build up in the back of my throat.
     
  20. (*crying over the last line*)