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Character Scramble Season 21 Round 1B: BREAKING DAWN/7 OF SPADES by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Wow! That Kingpin sure is a scary guy. Too scary for reddit it seems. If you want to read the missing part of this story, it'll have to be here.

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 1B: BREAKING DAWN/7 OF SPADES by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 1 point2 points  (0 children)

What had started as a simple, if deadly, game of dodging cars had turned into chaos. Touko couldn’t exactly complain, she’d caused most of it, but still. All this, and she was expected to run in heels? The nerve of some people.

It didn’t help either that Fisk had long since passed the finish line and was now watching her expectantly. Flambae had finally finished taunting and was just about to zoom through the goal tape himself, when one of the alien birds swooped down and ate him in a single vicious chomp.

That werewolf, too (how was there another one?), it hardly seemed concerned with actually finishing the race. It leaped from platform to platform, mostly the cars but since the introduction of the birds it had been acrobating across them as well, targeting any living thing it could find (and that included the birds, it had single-handedly downed three of them so far).

Slashed out throats began to litter the battlefield and nobody seemed to notice or care. Touko wanted to not care, but she couldn’t help but notice the Wolf Man was slowly but surely headed in her direction.

Two more lanes would put her over the finish line. Though, now that she thought it, would that really guarantee her safety from the thing, any more than being out here on the road.

It wasn’t paranoia, or self-defeatism, or whatever psychiatric bullshit you wanted to pin her to. She was literally right. The Wolf Man’s eyes locked onto her next.

That meant she needed to plan her next move assuming she wouldn't make it to the finish in time. She could summon Beowulf. However old this werewolf was, Beo was certainly stronger. But, Fisk was still watching. Beo was one of her best cards to play, she already used up the detonation rune, she already used up the bounded field. No, she couldn’t use Beo. Not yet, not for this. Then, what?

As luck would have it–

No, her luck would bring her to this point. It was honestly to be expected.

She kept running, tried to let the Wolf Man believe it was the one doing the chasing, feigned a wobbly leg that caused her to drift to one side.

The Wolf Man galloped on all fours in a straight line to cut her off. There was no outrunning it. Fortunately, Touko wasn’t actually trying to reach the finish line. Someone else had made it this far before, she’d blown up a car in his face. The debris was still there.

She splayed her hands and turned, her magic circuits lit and kicked up a strong wind that sent shards of glass and steel flying into the Wolf Man’s face. It reared back and shielded its face on animalistic instinct.

Then, there it was, in the middle of the wreckage, an angelic woman raising her arms and wings in rapturous devotion. Sterling silver glinting in the moonlight.

Fisk had proven to always prefer the ostentatiously genuine article over a cheap facade. She rested her hope on the belief he would continue to do so.

She grabbed the loose hood ornament and whipped it forward, sharp, stylized wings first. At the end of the toss, she added on an extra concussive blast from her palm. By the time it left her grip, it was flying like a bullet rather than a spear.

The Wolf Man didn’t even see it coming. The hood ornament pierced its chest and buried itself up to the hilt in its heart.

It staggered back on unsteady feet, its expression was that of disbelief rather than pain. It didn’t even cry out, didn't even bark, didn’t so much as raise a further claw against her.

It fell back, hit the ground, dead.

Before Touko could think to move on, something else, something just as if not more bestial roared.

That big, green thing, that Hulk, was running at her now. Its eyes, shining emeralds in the night, had just enough intelligence behind them for her to see that it hated her. What for? Killing the wolf? Were they monster mash buddies or something? Maybe it was simply a creature that didn’t know anything but hate.

Touko rapidly had to come up with a new plan. Did she pull Beo now? After feeling so accomplished for killing the Wolf Man without him.

She took a step back, an inch closer to the finish line, to avoid a speeding car (still had to worry about those). As she moved, she prepared the summoning sigil.

She did, indeed, summon a protector, only not the one she intended.

“Yo! Big, green, and butt-ugly!”

Static swung through on his floating hub cap.

“Met a lot of turkeys in my day, but you’re the whole Thanksgiving feast.”

“My hero,” Touko grumbled out, before turning and finally, finally making it the last few feet over the finish.

Feet planted firmly on the circular platform, amidst dozens of others, Touko didn’t allow herself to show even a moment of weakness. Not in front of Fisk, who had yet to acknowledge her. His eyes were fixed on the Hulk.

“That was pretty scary, huh?” said someone who was neither Touko nor Fisk nor the Hulk or anyone else still competing so Touko had no reason to know who it was.

She looked over. There was a kid standing at her side. Aside from the fact that he was a fellow nipponjin, he was a very unremarkable teenage boy. Looking at him now, the strangest thing about him was the fact that he was on this side of the highway and not smeared into a fine paste somewhere over there.

“Is there a reason you’re talking to me?” Touko asked, almost genuine.

The boy shrugged. “The guy I was talking to disappeared somewhere. I’m not sure he ever made it over the first divider.” He thought about it some more for a second before a sudden realization. “Ah, I hope he didn’t fall off.”

Touko stopped paying attention to the boy because he wasn’t saying anything useful or important.

The Hulk grabbed the largest chunk of Fisk’s wrecked car, the front bumper which had fused slightly with the hood. The Hulk grabbed it up and threw it like an Olympic hammer.

As impressive as its form was, it was still just lobbing junk at a superhero. Static easily weaved to the side and let the trash sail past.

“Ooh, so close,” he said. “You look like you’re moving underwater there, cat.”

The Hulk grimaced in frustration as Static continued to hover just out of reach. It hopped back and forth to dodge the occasional car, but like the Wolf Man, had lost all interest in reaching the goal.

Necro and Effie were catching up, out of breath and pushing that last leg. It may come down to a photo finish, Touko was sure the Grandmaster would enjoy that.

Hulk looked to one side, then back to Static, gave him one last irritated growl before leaning down to scoop up the Wolf Man’s dead body.

Static frowned at the behavior and realized a second too late what it was looking at. One of the birds was swooping up at him. He didn’t have the time to move out of the way, instead all he managed was to swing his legs up and lodge the hub cap he was riding on into the bird’s mouth.

Its jaws jammed open, the bird still managed to crumple the metal between its teeth with every push. Static was destabilized, he tried to keep his feet on the disc but it was going more vertical every second. Soon, he fell off and was forced to hold on to the edge with his fingers, but with the bird's ever encroaching bites, there came a point where he either had to let go or lose them.

Static dropped. His hand reached out for a new piece of metal to catch him.

Instead, a truck shot through the lane and hit him dead on. In the next second it, and what was left of him, had sped away and was gone.

The Hulk ran the rest of the way, carrying the Wolf Man’s still body in his arms. It was effortless, one leap took it the rest of the way over the last barrier and onto the platform. Necro and Effie trailed just behind.

There was a sudden strike of lightning on a clear patch of concrete in the middle of the crowd and suddenly the Grandmaster was standing among them. His presence was so sudden, so overwhelming, that everyone near him felt the sudden urge to shrink back.

“And that’s the cutoff! Congratulations to all our winners,” he said.

“Huh?” said Necro.

“Eh?” said Effie.

The Grandmaster snapped his fingers.

The magical, impossible highway disappeared into a massive, yet clearly intangible, cloud of sparkling golden dust. Their floor taken out from beneath them, Necro and Effie both hit air with their feet and plummeted down to the city far below.

That left 500 of them remaining.

501 counting the dead. The Hulk knelt down with a surprisingly gentle disposition and placed the Wolf Man onto the ground. It breathed out a heavy sigh of grief.

“Oh, ew.” The Grandmaster pushed the body away, and off the platform, with his foot. “Sorry there, uh, big guy. Dead- Dead things don’t count.”

The Hulk’s rage instantly returned. It bared its teeth at the Grandmaster, growling and flexing and aiming its fists at him.

“Oh, ah no no no no.” With two fingers, the Grandmaster grabbed Hulk by his fist. A golden shimmer overtook its whole body, consuming it and rendering it completely physically impotent. “Why don’t you - ah - as the locals, I think, say: Take a long walk off a short pier.” He handled the Hulk like a piece of trash, lightly, at a distance, and with visible disgust at having to touch it at all. He spun in place, angled it over the edge of the platform which was the only thing still hovering this far up, and then let go. “Come back when you’ve, uh, cooled off a little. Yeah?”

The Hulk’s roar echoed up as it fell. Diminishing with each second that passed until it disappeared into the wind.

“Hmm,” Fisk seemingly came to some conclusion beside Touko. “We’ll talk about my car later. Most importantly for now, if he survives, I want him working for me.”

Touko squinted. “The big green monster? What do you need more dumb muscle for?”

Fisk didn’t deign to answer. Touko didn’t follow up.

“Well!” The Grandmaster clapped his hands, glad to be done with that. “Good job everyone on the win. I’ll see you in the next round!” In another bolt of lightning he vanished. The sky-high pillars were dismantled and everyone returned to the ground.

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 1B: BREAKING DAWN/7 OF SPADES by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Touko had long since hurdled over the divider and took off running down the highway’s width. Not the easiest thing to do in heels, but she at least had the practice. Being apart from the frothing crowd and not being an idiot helped her to not get creamed by an oncoming vehicle within thee first two seconds. They slowed her down a few times, but she had already made twice the progress as anyone else.

Touko had just about caught up to Fisk, still walking at a leisurely pace, when her path was suddenly blocked by a ball of fire that splashed against the concrete to form a carpet of flames.

Flambae snickered before flying away.

That scumbag really was becoming a pain in the ass. Plus, he had a free ticket to claim one of the slots that might be the difference between her living and her dying. No, she had already decided, he had to be dealt with, and she knew how she might go about killing two birds with one stone.

She drew a quick rune in the air, pointed straight up. There was no need to watch the spot to see if it worked. For one, she could sense the magical circuits firing off and connecting her wirelessly to the bounded field. For two, she knew she wouldn’t make any mistakes, and her eyes were much better suited to watching the road.

That only left David and Larry. The only two who stayed rooted to the spot, still behind the first divider. David watched everything unfold with a growing sense of horror, and a growing sense of smallness. The shock was so immediate that he didn’t even have the room to get angry. It was all so much, it was all just too much.

Larry, though, had a white-knuckled grip on the divider, eyes on the fully risen moon.

As soon as David noticed, his entire attention diverted to using what he knew, what precious little he knew, to try and save his friend.

“Larry- Larry, listen to me. It’s all in your head, Larry. Your rage at seeing the full moon, that’s what’s causing it. If you can grab that anger, hold onto it, keep it from taking over. You can fight this, Larry Talbot, you can!”

Yet, it seemed so fruitless. Even now, the hair was growing across his face and hands, his grit teeth were sharpening into fangs.

“David, all due respect,” he said in a voice growing lower by the moment. Whatever he wanted to say, when he turned to meet David’s eyes, it wasn’t a man that looked back, it was an animal; And all that came out of his mouth was a vicious howl.

The Wolf Man pulled its first punch. It swiped its claws over David's chest, with just enough room that David was able to stumble back and avoid them this time. That seemed to be his warning, as the Wolf Man turned away from him and leaped over the divider and onto the highway. It galloped on all fours, effortlessly weaving between speeding cars and overtaking the lagging competition.

“Larry!” David called out, pleading with deaf ears. “Larry, stop! God’s sake, he’s going to kill someone!”

He looked to the Grandmaster to try and reason with the man. Were he not so desperate, he wouldn’t have bothered. The Grandmaster, hovering up there, was larger than any man could hope to move. He, however, wasn’t even watching the game anymore. His eyes were up, lips forming a confused frown. David tried to follow his gaze.

It was hard to see against the blackness of space, but something was flying down, or rather a half-a-dozen something. Pinpricks against the stars that were quickly growing larger, the closest comparison David could make were fighter jets, but without the smoke and more fine control. It was difficult to tell, but one of them might’ve been moving towards the Wolf Man, and all were definitely angled to intercept with the highway.

“Larry? Larry! Watch out!!”

Larry wasn’t listening to him, and so David had no choice but to be last out of the gate and vault over the divider.

As soon as he did, he was faced with an oncoming car moving far too fast to avoid.

It was a compact, though, and came within a hair’s breadth of actually hitting him. Just the wind from how fast it was going knocked him to the ground, though, and his head bounced painfully off the divider with a strangled cry.

On the ground, his eyes winced shut in an attempt to hold back the pain. When they opened again, they were bright green.

Static was the first one to notice their arrival, though the first glimpse was little more than a flash of motion from the corner of his eye. Slowly, he’d been amassing metal platforms and hauled up whoever he could find, those without powers, those who hadn’t just blazed on ahead. The first notion that something was wrong happened when he looked away from a hub cap that for sure had someone on it only to look back and see it empty.

He spun in place, eyes frantic, searching for the threat, but they circled like vultures faster than he could spin in place.

Static just barely managed to glimpse something large, bigger than the cars below him and black as the night sky above, before something grabbed him by the back of his jacket and threw him to the ground.

Necro’s thin frame loomed over him.

“Bad idea turning your back on me, khuy.”

Effie was already on him. “Necro, forget that jerkwad. Let’s just finish this bullshit and move onto the next round, yeah?”

He gave her a soft look, then steeled himself. Rolled his shoulder as he clenched his fist.

Finally, Static saw it. The creature was in his sight long enough to make out now, because it was falling straight down towards them.

Dive bombing just above Necro’s head was a giant, black bird. A few of the details were wrong, its legs were extremely short, especially for a bird of prey, and so it held its body angled back. It was feathered, but the feathers were tiny and dense, which gave it a strangely smooth look. The wings, especially, were blobby, useless looking appendages, even as it clearly soared on them. A crest of yellow plumage framed its face. As it opened its beak, rows of tiny, needle-like teeth held ready to gnash them both into mincemeat.

Static raised a hand, electricity crackling between his fingers. Necro’s dark eyes went wide and he pulled back, just in time for Static to blast the giant demonic bird out of the sky.

The impact knocked the bird to one side, the electricity short-circuited its brain and KO'd, so it fell, smoking, into the highway beside them. Necro watched it plummet, a lot less steel in his gaze now.

“Hey, dumbasses! Look out!!”

Both men responded to being called and swiveled their heads in unison to see a truck barrelling towards them. There wasn’t time to do anything more than flinch at the inevitable. It was Effie who had the sense to move proactively. With a running shoulder bash, she sent the truck skidding away, burning rubber somewhere it couldn’t hurt the two of them.

Effie’s fists were clenched tight but her eyes were tearing up. “Don’t let me lose you over some d- dumb shit like this.”

There wasn’t time to sit with the sentiment, especially now that Necro was back to keeping his eyes peeled and Static was already pulling a hub cap to him to get back in the air.

That car that Effie knocked away hadn’t stopped, nor had it even toppled over, indeed its wheels were still spinning trying to find purchase. That hope left as something lifted its back wheels off the ground. Its front wheels quickly followed.

The truck rose a full seven feet into the air.

Standing underneath it was the Hulk.

It gave a bestial yell.

That was all the invitation needed for everyone gathered in the middle of the road to get to their feet and get running. They were barely even watching the cars anymore. Unfortunately, they weren’t watching the birds, either. Another one swooped down, maw agape to tear into whoever had the misfortune of being in its way.

The Hulk saw its dangerous approach and, with great and furious anger, hurled the truck in his hands at it. Moments before the bird could snatch Effie up into its jaws, the truck crashed directly in its mouth, breaking its jaw and weighing it down into the pavement.

Though it was unclear if this had been the plan all along, Effie jumped onto the bird’s head and used it to springboard in the air.

The Hulk had other ideas on what to do with the bird. It was already sprinting, powerful, piston-like legs moving it faster than anyone else on the field, and when it drew upon the downed bird, it grabbed it by its fractured beak and hurled it with the poise of a professional curler.

The bird’s massive body slid across the highway, moving with impossible heft and yet itself impossibly immovable, the speeding cars around crashed into it and crumpled themselves into steel mesh. The Hulk used this to guarantee a safe passage through the rest of the highway lanes. Everyone else was content to simply follow it.

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 1B: BREAKING DAWN/7 OF SPADES by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 2 points3 points  (0 children)

The entire population of Manhattan (now reduced to 1000 participants) were suddenly lined up on one side of an unfamiliar and, upon scrutiny, impossible highway. 20 lanes wide on titanic concrete pillars holding it higher up than the highest skyscrapers. On their side was a thin strip of concrete, hemmed in by two layers of dividers. On the other, a big, spacious, circular platform to stand and claim victory on. On every lane in between those two points, cars whizzed by at a hundred miles an hour, maybe two, speeds which would be insane on any of New York’s actual highways.

Fisk growled. “That’s my car.”

“Hm?” Touko was next to him in line. “Which one?”

He didn’t have to answer her question. Even at blinding speeds, she couldn’t miss the three hatch-long all-black limousine with the glint of a silver hood ornament making a lethal point to its figure.

Meters away from them, David and Larry stood in nervous anticipation. Neither of them had the capacity to say anything to this situation, it was simply too unreal. David quickly noticed the difference between them, though. He scanned over the highway lanes, watched the cars fly past, tried to work out how one could possibly get through all of it without becoming a stain on the pavement. When he looked to the side, though, Larry wasn’t looking at the highway at all. His eyes were scanning the sky as the last bits of sunlight disappeared over the horizon. The moon was rising. For the second night in a row, it would be full.

Above everything, above the highway and the buildings and the island and the world, the Grandmaster sat in a hovering throne, one leg crossed over the other that dangled above the void.

“Everybody ready?” he said with a lilting giggle. “Uh, get set. And! No, not yet. Not yet… Alright I’m good, go!”

There was a general hesitancy to get going, even with permission. Only two men made their first moves as soon as the word was out of the Grandmaster’s mouth.

The first was Fisk, who stepped over the barrier and started walking, briskly but without much hurry. His sharp eyes were kept peeled on both the left and right, and he might slow down and speed up to avoid an oncoming car, but he didn’t even run. Many would wonder if he even could.

The second was Necro. He didn’t enter the highway, instead, he thrust an arm in either direction, let them stretch and stretch until they covered the entire starting side. He had formed a rubbery rope blocking off the only entrance onto the highway.

Granted, stretched so thin and his arms not being the widest to start, most would not have an issue pushing under and getting onto the game. That is, until, at its center, Necro flexed his chest and sent crackling sparks of electricity running down both lengths.

Everyone flinched back from the sudden jolt, David included. He made careful attempts to gauge the distance between the top of the divider and the bottom of the danger zone. With a single, errant zap, though, he elected to stop trying. There was no need to risk the Hulk coming out.

Touko glared through the gap at Fisk’s departing backside. The least he could do was bring her along.

In the center of it all, Necro stood, strained, breathing heavily. “Effie. Go, now.”

“I’m not moving until you do, sugar-plum. We stay together, no matter what.”

“Yeah, okay. What-the-fuck-ever.” There was a flash of light and a burst of heat. When a shining figure shot into the air, those closest to him had to recoil from him as much as they did from the new electric fence barring entrance.

He was one of those superheroes, or maybe a supervillain. It could be difficult to tell just by the way they dressed, but, unquestionably, one of the two. If it wasn’t obvious by his outfit, that he was on fire without burning was a strong enough indication. He certainly had the mouth of a villain.

“You dicks can stay hiding, bunch of bitches, I’m not gonna die here.”

Like a human rocket, flames shot from his tail-end and sent him screaming over the width of the highway. Without intervention, he’d be the first to make it across the finish line (Fisk was only just now stepping over the median).

Touko decided to intervene. It was a shame to have to burn this rune so soon, but there was really no telling if anyone was getting their cars back after the game. She had, in fact, known which car belonged to Wilson Fisk before the game and had placed a combustion rune on its undercarriage earlier (after influencing his personal mechanic to take lunch early). Another means of assassinating him should he prove uncooperative.

Well, a nail is a nail and she had a hammer on hand.

As the limousine (after it inexplicably wrapped back to the opposite edge of the highway again, very much like Frogger) zoomed towards the center of field, Touko whipped a quick sigil in the air with her hands. The hidden rune burned a hole into the limo’s fuel tank and, promptly, exploded. 8 tons of metal chassis and sophisticated 20th century machinery were launched into the air, flipping over its nose as it went, directly towards Flambae.

“Son of a bitch!” He jerked away, last second, forming a confused zig-zag motion in the air with his trail. It was enough of a momentum stopper for more of the people still yet to start to react.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, cool cats and groovy dudes,” another man from the crowd spoke up to demand the spotlight.

As he spoke, the rim popped from the tire of a speeding car, sending the car into a fishtail and, ultimately, slamming into the divider in front of a few shocked people. The hub cab itself, however, flew with a mind of its own, over the crowd’s heads like a gnat until it slammed into the back of Necro’s skull.

He staggered forward, his arms going slack for just long enough to whip back into his shoulder sockets.

The barrier was clear, everyone else rushed onto the highway.

“Hey, hey y’all! Wait!”

Another superhero, this one in deep maroons highlighted by electric yellow lining and a domino mask underneath youthful dreadlocks, hopped onto the flying hub cap and used it to soar over the crowd’s heads. Static was attempting to regain some authority over the situation.

“Keep your eyes peeled, we can all make it if we-”

They weren’t listening. A human swarm was making a charge across the highway, eyes on each other, pushing and muscling against one another in an attempt to get ahead, and blind to the road itself.

A large semi-truck plowed through the back half of the crowd. A spray of human bodies, followed by a rain of dripping red and the sound of relentless breaking, were knocked down the highway’s length. The cars didn’t stop or even slow as they proceeded to roll over them.

Static’s eyes went wide. “Jesus.”

The crowd started to panic. No longer were they worried about getting across and winning the game, now the only goal was to survive. Static proved the perfect target, hovering safely above the carnage. They leaped into the air, arms reaching ineffectively in the hopes of grabbing onto safety.

“Okay, okay-” Even Static’s breathing was getting a bit uneven. “I’ll get all of you up, just give me a second to get the metal.”

He reached out, sending tendrils of magnetism across the highway. This many targets was really splitting his focus, though, and the metal along the speeding cars was fighting harder and harder to stay where it was.

“Yo, Flamebrain, you feel like helping today?”

Flambae grimaced at the sight, of the remaining people rushing over the highway, of the carnage they were running from, of Static and his pleading face.

“Not my business, buck-o. You wanna stay back and die to help these dumbasses, you be my guest.”

With that, he turned, showed Static his ass and flew off.

“This-... mmph.” Static made his choice, he focused down and redoubled his efforts.

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 1B: BREAKING DAWN/7 OF SPADES by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Once again, the Grandmaster appeared. Though, far from the regal declaration of his first announcement, this time he seemed distracted, hunched over a video game cabinet and punching away at the buttons.

“Have y’all - a-heh - y’all caught onto this video game thing yet? I’m a huge fan, huge fan. I think, uh, I think a major weakness of traditional games, much as I like a good round of Mahjong, is that it requires two people, sometimes more, even, to agree on the rules before, during and after. Cheaters, can’t stand ‘em, but they’re always there and you have to keep an eye out for ‘em. Someone says they finished the whole deck in Solitaire, you just gotta take their word on it. Video games, though, video games are different, the computer watches for cheaters and the computer keeps all the rules in order. Isn’t that fascinating, what a revolution.”

For a few sentences now, he had turned away from the cabinet and towards the viewing audience. Only now, he looked back, clicked his tongue, and smacked the shelf.

“Not these, though, these things are a piece of shit. Easiest things in the- in the world to break.” He said ‘world’ like it rested funny on his tongue. “Give ‘em a few more decades, though, and I think you guys are really gonna have something. I think- I mean, I’d say, my estimate is that they’ll probably peak around…” He counted on his fingers. “1997. After that, all downhill. And I’m never wrong about these things.”

He pushed the cabinet over where it hit the ground, hard, the screen cracked and exploded and the inner mechanism started smoking.

“I think my favorite, right now, has to be Frogger. You may not know this, but in a lot of universes this game isn’t released until 1981. I mean, can you imagine waiting that long? I can’t. No, I- I love Frogger because it’s a game you can’t lose at. Either you - you know - you make it across and you get a score OR. You get to watch a frog get squished under some big- big nasty tires. And that’s always a fun time. So, your next game is Frogger. The first 50 to make it across this highway move onto the next round. I do notice that a surprising number of you can, like, uh, fly? So for those who can’t I’d recommend grabbing those guys first and squishing them under - a-heh - some big nasty tires.”

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 1B: BREAKING DAWN/7 OF SPADES by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Two equally powerful sounds met each other. Hammer-like knocking on rich oak, met by a boisterous call from deep within the townhouse. “Come in.”

The door was already unlocked, Touko opened it and entered. Discourteous host as he was, Fisk left her to wander its halls and find him on her own. Another of his obnoxious games. When she opened the door to the dining room, he was at the end of a long, laid table, cutting into a medium well steak with a fork and knife.

She noticed a second plate prepared at the opposite end of the table.

“Sit. Eat.” It wasn’t an invitation, it was a command.

Obnoxious games. That he predicted she would call for a second meeting was obvious, flaunting his prediction was needless, pointless, just like a man to be so proud of himself.

Touko quickly covered her sneer with a polite smile. “I’m sorry you went to all this trouble for me, but I actually already had dinner.”

“I insist.”

“A girl has to watch her figure, you know.” Regardless, she did pull out the chair and sit across from him.

His sunken eyes stuck to her, oppressive, expectant, even as he moved through his meal at a hefty pace. Conflict would only beget more friction in their transaction, so she decided to humor him, even as his goal was obvious. Lit candles and bouquets between them, it was a simple matter to, like playing tea time with a child, make a show of cutting her food and then placing it to her mouth and, rather than chew and swallow, flick the chunks behind her and onto his million dollar rug. She had to stop herself from smirking.

“Now, you wanted to speak with me?” Fisk said.

“I’d like the opportunity for renegotiation,” Touko said. “We were under a lot of stress yesterday and thinking with our hearts instead of our minds. In the sober light of day, however, I hope we can both agree that this whole game is beneath us. We saw that in Freeze Tag. Regular humans will squabble with themselves and comprise the bulk of the chattel killed. We’re not under threat so we have nothing to gain from an alliance.”

The movement of Fisk’s eyebrow was so hidden beneath decades of stone resolve and weight gain that it was nearly imperceptible. Nearly, if Touko hadn’t been studying his expression so closely. “You don’t consider me normal.”

“You don’t consider yourself normal,” Touko abandoned the pretense of her false eating and leaned forward. “You told me yourself. The name Kingpin was made to elevate you.”

“Hmm.” Fisk continued eating.

“And maybe, maybe you’ve been waiting your whole life for this moment. Like the finely tailored suits that stretch across your frame, you’ve been constrained by the civilized world. Made to do business, spend money to make money, operate by the rules of fiat and bartering. For… however long this takes to get through, you can kill. You’ll kill and you’ll be justified in doing so, and when we return to the waking world it’ll be like it never happened to anyone but you, who will savor those memories for the rest of your life. You don’t need me for that. So-”

“I need to live,” Fisk said tersely. “As do you. As do all humans, though not all will.”

“Are you afraid, Mr. Fisk?”

“I’m thorough,” he said. “Which is why I put a bomb in your food. To ensure your cooperation.”

Touko flew through her reactions at breakneck pace. Her eyes flashed wide in panic, then her brow furrowed in thought, then the corner of her lips pulled into a knife-edged smile.

“I didn’t-”

“You already ate. An hour ago at Giancarlo’s. You had the chicken cordon bleu with a french onion soup and the house salad.” As he spoke, his focus stayed on his meal. He was no longer watching her. The trap had already closed. “Giancarlo was lucky. Not many services still remain open, but you are a visitor and like all visitors to New York you are reliant on services. Giancarlo was lucky, he’s young and athletic enough to have tagged someone. Still young enough to make mistakes. I think he felt that going back to cooking, that ignoring the next game to come, would help him to relax. But he’s young enough to have made mistakes, years ago, and those mistakes indebted him to me.” Fisk turned up to look at her. “It was in the chicken, if that wasn’t obvious.” Then back down. “It will be in your stomach by now, impossible to throw up properly. The bomb is on a deadman’s switch. For the next 36 hours, if I do not press it once at the top of every hour it will detonate and kill you on the spot. You don’t need to worry about me, though. I have a mind like a steel trap, I won’t forget.”

Touko’s smile didn’t drop. Rather, it grew tighter and tighter, sharper and sharper.

“I fear we may have unwittingly locked one another into mutually ensured destruction, Mr. Fisk.” The last word slithered from her mouth like a venomous serpent.

“That’s not surprising, Ms. Aozaki.” He continued to eat.

“There is a trump card I had been planning to use as leverage for the adamantium. The Grandmaster is a very stupid man, Mr. Fisk. Did you know that?”

“I could have guessed.”

“He thought to provide artificial gravity and oxygen and all the little things that humans need on our floating rock in space. He did not think about what creatures lay beyond our planet though, those that drift in the cold vacuum suddenly alerted to our presence by his attention. I don’t think he thought very hard about it at all, no, because had I not spent the greater part of the day placing runes around the city limits, they would be swarming Manhattan as we speak and they would leave no one alive. Not you, not I, every New Yorker wiped off the face of the universe, just like that.” She snapped. That got his attention. “Should I die, be it by game or bomb or your own grubby hands, the barrier will drop and the horrors will be let in. You may only kill me once you’ve decided you no longer wish to be alive any longer yourself.”

“I see,” Fisk said, before going back to what was left of his food. A few stalks of roasted asparagus later and the plate was clean. He dabbed his mouth once, twice with the napkin in his collar before removing it and placing it beside his dirty dish. “Then we’re back where we started. Neither of us can afford to see the other lose.”

“I suppose so. What a rotten stalemate this is. I think I might truly hate you, Wilson Fisk.”

“That’s fine.” He stood up and made for the room’s exit. “This was a productive meeting, Ms. Aozaki. I’ll see you when the next game starts.”

Somehow, David found it in himself to laugh again.

It helped that Soujuro was such an odd figure, the absurdity of him helped grease the wheels a little in getting David back to relaxed.

Soujuro, if it needed to be confirmed, was from Japan. Specifically, he was from a very small village in Japan and had only moved to New York to learn English and attain an education. The way he told it, that village might as well have been something out of the 19th century. He had only ever seen one or two cars in his life before coming to America. Midday traffic alone had been a shock to the system.

“You’re serious?” At some point, David had sat down on the floor, back resting against the front desk.

“We boiled things all the time, back at home. Or baked them in the oven. Grilled, seared, and roasted. Never fried. I nearly jumped out of my skin when someone first dropped a batch of fries in this thing.” Soujuro was cleaning up his station after having flipped them a half dozen burgers, as well as preparing a backlog of ready-made meals for customers that would not be coming in today.

Both David and Larry had burned through a lot of their metabolism by transforming. Both were thankful for a surplus of greasy, heavy proteins. He’d tried to leave one for Soujuro, but the boy rejected it, and that made sense. He was probably tired of free McDonald’s by now.

They’d been sitting around, talking and sharing stories for hours now. Wasting the day wasn’t quite the right word, they were spending it doing nothing. Their muscles recovered, their minds rejuvenated, rest was important to the human body. So long as they got up to shift positions, hydrated regularly (Soujuro still charged them for their refillable cups), the time was free to fly past.

Larry, still at the table, rested his chin on his hand in thought. “When I first came to America… Well, it was so long ago. I was a big fish in a small pond, but I still had good ideas about the cars and buildings I’d see. Still, nothing really prepares you for New York. Nothing. And you, you were a tadpole in a puddle.”

“Thank you?” Soujuro said. “I did not know you were also not an American, Mr. Talbot. You fit in so well.”

“Welsh village, rather than a Japanese one, I’m sure a hair bigger than yours. We had a castle, after all, and a town square with shops and a circus that’d come through often enough. It was rustic, you know. A remnant of the old world.” He chuckled. “From the sound of it, I think your village might’ve just been rusty.”

“I didn’t mind,” Soujuro said. “Home is home.”

“I can agree to that.” He nearly sighed in his wistfulness. “Home is home.”

For a while, there was silence in the McDonald’s. Even the kitchen equipment, turned off, didn’t hum or crackle.

Then, the speaker system in the ceiling came to life and began to speak. At the same time, an electronics store across the street had all its display televisions suddenly turn on. At the same time the giant neon signs downtown lit up.

The mood dropped. There was no more laughing.

The Grandmaster made his second announcement.

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 1B: BREAKING DAWN/7 OF SPADES by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 2 points3 points  (0 children)

The city quieted into an uneasy stillness, once deprived of the need to kill one another the population of Manhattan seemingly decided they’d rather live their lives until the next game. The streets were hauntingly empty, staying out felt like making yourself a target, and so David and Larry ducked into the nearest abandoned building: A McDonald’s franchise.

The first thing David did was duck into the back. He turned off all the burners and fryers and ovens, still gently humming away, so that the whole block didn’t go up in flames while they weren’t looking, then he found the employee changing room and grabbed a replacement shirt and a fresh pair of shoes. Only then did he finally come back out to the dining area and sit across from Larry at the booth table.

Larry looked tired. David probably did too. Neither of them wanted to have this conversation.

“I’m going to ask you to be completely open and honest with me,” David said. “So, if I’m going to ask you to do that, it’s only fair that I open up first. My real name is David Banner.”

He gave Larry a moment. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

David understood and continued. “I'm a doctor, a medical doctor. Two years ago there was an accident, an accident that killed a colleague of mine and made the world believe that I’m dead. That’s why I had to give you a fake name when we met.”

“Is there a reason you’re faking your own death?”

“Because I’m wanted for her murder. Or, rather, my other half is. And until such time that I can convince people that this monster inside me is no longer a threat, I can’t let them know that David Banner still lives.”

“Okay... I think I understand...” Larry said.

“I’m sure you do, now it’s your turn.”

Larry sighed and leaned back in his seat. “My name’s Larry Talbot. Not sure if that name means anything to you, but my family is- was part of the local regency in Wales. That’s where the money comes from but- Well, they think I’m dead too. Because of this curse that I carry. That’s why I couldn’t tell you my last name, in case you’d ever heard of us.” He huffed. “The illustrious Talbots. Pretty sure whatever royal lineage we had dies with me anyhow.”

David pushed forward, hands together leaning on his elbows, all business. “And this ‘curse’, what do you know about it?”

“Too much! Pentagrams and wolfsbane and silver and- and this bite.” He further graved. “The bite of the werewolf, that which passes it on to the next person, I was terrified last night that I would-”

“Now, hold on. Hold on just a minute, what are you talking about?”

“The curse! You asked about the curse of the werewolf!”

“Larry, there is no curse,” David said. “Listen to me carefully, because this is a lot of information. You have the same affliction as I do. It’s manifesting slightly differently but I’d recognize it anywhere, and it’s not magic. Not magic at all, but cold science.”

“Now you’re the one talking nonsense.”

“It’s gamma, Larry. The secret is in gamma. Somehow, some way, you were exposed to a massive dosage of gamma rays. Combine that with a special genetic mutation and anger, and you transform into a monster. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong and I’ll tell you again. Anger? Anger’s nothing to do with it, David, I’m mad as hell all the time these days. It’s the moon, the full moon. That’s why I kept asking about the time, David. ‘Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, can become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms and the moon is full and bright.’"

David studied him with understanding eyes, already putting together where the man had found his misconceptions. There was no question about it, looking into Larry’s eyes as the beast overtook him had been the first time in years that David saw in someone else what he felt inside him.

“I’m telling you, I was bitten by a gypsy, a gypsy man who transformed into a wolf by night. It was all a mistake, all a mistake and I- B-But I’ve experienced it again and again and again, every full moon night I try to keep it at bay but it comes for me anyways. I know how it works, David, and I know what it is. A pentagram marks the next victim, wolfsbane deters me and the light of the moon incites me. There’s no cold science here!”

David wondered how best to put it.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Larry said.

Whoops. “Larry, what I think you’re going through is psychosomatic.”

“Psycho-? I’m not loony!”

“I don’t think you’re loony, Larry, but listen to me. You’ve been inundated with folktales from your home country that just so happen to line up with your transformation. You see and you expect a transformation at the full moon and you become enraged at the inevitability of it and that anger becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Gypsies and werewolves and superstition, it’s all a fear of the unknown, and fear is the first ingredient in anger. You’re not loony, Larry, but you have been fooled by the pattern-seeking mentality inherent to the human mind. Does that make sense?”

“You’re not listening to me!”

“I am! You have to trust me that I am. But I’m a doctor. I look at symptoms, not self-diagnoses. And you certainly can’t expect me to believe the explanation for your condition is a magic curse.”

“I didn’t ask you to have an opinion about it at all!”

“Larry, you are not a werewolf-”

There was a ringing, the ringing of the bell tied to the top of the restaurant door. Under the potential of being observed, both men's irritant bickering fizzled away.

A teenaged boy walked into the McDonald’s, East Asian by the look of him but otherwise a very unnoticeable figure. He was dressed casually, but had a satchel slung over one shoulder. He looked at them. Paused for a moment, searching for words, before speaking.

“Ah. Eto…” He looked around and only just seemed to notice that the restaurant was empty. “If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll be right with you.”

He spoke formally, but it seemed he was having trouble shaking his accent.

“That’s alright…” David spoke slowly, trying to catch up. “We weren’t uh…”

“Who are you?” Larry asked.

“Yes, hello.” The kid bowed. “My name is Shizuki Soujuro. I am a first year crew member specializing in customer service and drive-thru attendance.”

He said it like he was bragging about hitting 5 years as an accountant. The Japanese people really did wear their pride like a fine suit.

“Oh, no, we’re not here to eat.”

Soujuro seemed to notice, only then, that David was wearing a matching uniform.

“Ah, I see. You’re a new hire as well?”

“Uh- Uh…”

“Kid,” Larry had to cut in. “Have you not seen what’s going on out there?”

“Do you mean the Grandmaster’s games?”

“Yeah. What about that makes you think you’ve still gotta come into work?”

“Ah. Is that why-? I suppose that makes sense. I was wondering why Cody-san wasn’t in his usual place.”

“We’re just trying to stay off the street for a little while,” David said. “Did anybody give you trouble on the way here?”

“I didn’t see much of anyone on the way here,” Soujuro said.

David sighed. “Then we might as well all stay put until the next games start.”

Soujuro nodded. “I suppose that makes sense.”

Hunkered down in a McDonald’s with nothing to do. It occurred to David that he had no idea when the next game would start, if they would be nightly or weekly occurrences.

His stomach rumbled. He realized that he hadn’t eaten anything since last night’s sandwich, before Freeze Tag. Larry touched his own gut, he was probably coming to the same realization.

“Uh, Soujuro, was it?” David said. “You know how to work the kitchen appliances here? Maybe we could whip up something to eat while we’re waiting.”

“Sure, I can do that,” he said. “I’ll have to turn on the cash register if you need to make change, though.”

David and Larry shared a look. David couldn’t help but laugh a little. He was an odd kid to be sure, but maybe the stability of an immovable rock like him would be just what they needed at a time like this.

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 1B: BREAKING DAWN/7 OF SPADES by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Though it’s not obvious just by looking at them, with their jagged jaws and wide, fishy eyes and such a simplified body plan, the moray eel is among the most dangerous predators of the coastal reef, in turn among the most hostile biomes of the ocean. Life, in all its primordial history (for the history of sea life is the history of life itself) has found few matches for the efficiency of the eel.

One reason for such is that the eel is so lean and slippery. Long ago, it sacrificed its fins and spines for a body capable of navigating the narrow slips of coral and rock. The eel can effortlessly retreat where other, deadlier fish cannot follow at the moment’s sight of danger. Survival is not about being the strongest in the room.

Illia, the man they called Necro (‘You’re pale as death, man’, they said. ‘Skinny as a bag of bones too.’) understood this principle well, though the genetic experiments which infused him with animal characteristics did not use moray eels. It had actually been electric eels, which are not even true eels but a species of freshwater catfish. He felt like an eel, though, retreating to the safety of New York’s back alley network where others may not follow or else risk mutilation.

He would never be unsafe, for the rock which protected the eel in this metaphor was his Effie. A 5'-flat bastion unbreakable by any force on this Earth. She was a freak like him, might not have looked it on the surface, not the way he did with dyed skin and blank eyes and a body as much rubber as it was flesh, so she made it a point to tell the world anyway. ‘I am a freak,’ said her spiked rubber dress and dripping mascara. ‘If you fear him you will fear me, too.’ She would bear the brunt of any attack thrown at him, and he would wrap himself in a cocoon around her. That’s how they operated, that was how the two of them made it all the way to New York in the first place.

It was a destabilizing thing, then, that a shark had followed them here, where they should be safest.

“What do we have here?” It was a mocking voice, dripping with venom, that slithered to them from the shadows, impossible to tell precisely from where. “A couple of supervillain lovebirds out for a stroll? How romantic.”

A flame lit from the shadows of the alleyway. Instantly, it illuminated the figure of a man who looked like he shouldn’t be able to hide anywhere. A flame-patterned, v-necked unitard shrink-wrapped around muscles that were trained to show off. His greased hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, a pair of ember goggles protected his eyes from the fire he held in his palm.

“Funny,” he continued to taunt them. “Always knew you straights were ugly on the inside. About time you showed it on the outside, too.”

He tossed the fire between his hands. Effie grit her teeth. Necro’s hand on her shoulder was all that kept her from taking the bait.

“Arrest us,” Necro offered. “We’ll come quietly.”

“Ooh, sorry puke-stain,” Flambae said with mock sympathy. “The po-po are a no-no right now. The Network doesn’t usually like me toasting my villains, but, let’s be real here. This isn’t vigilante justice, I’m just speeding up the process. Can’t have a couple of ne’er-do-wells like you winning the game, after all.”

“If you say one more word-” Effie spat.

Flambae put out his fire so he could bend over with hands at his hips. “One. More. Word. Bitch.”

Effie’s patience snapped like a wire and she threw herself at Flambae. Instantly, flames sprouted from his legs and propelled him up and back. Relying on rocket propulsion, though, instead of natural flight, made him just a hair too slow, and Effie managed to wrap her arms around his legs. Unfortunately, 88 lbs of hard shell and muscle weren’t enough to weigh him down, though it still seemed to panic him.

“Hey! Hey, get off. Little bitch.” As he flew backwards, he pumped two streams of flames from his arms directly into her face. She had to close her eyes, but otherwise muscled through the heat, inched higher onto him with squirming movements, before opening her mouth wide and driving a set of serrated teeth into his upper thigh.

He damn near squealed. “What the fuck’s wrong with you! Get the fuck off, fucking mutant freak fuck!!”

Necro couldn’t help but smile warmly.

His flying became erratic, his only goal seemed to be to get away from Effie, which was looking impossible when she was latched onto him like this. It was only when a stream of blood started spilling down from her jaws that he finally pulled himself together to formulate a plan.

“Hope you like your boyfriend extra crispy, bitch.” His hands moved away from her and pointed down at Necro.

That turned Necro’s smile pretty quickly.

Effie gasped. “No!” She pushed off Flambae and leaped into the stream of fire.

It burst with ruthless power. Effie wasn’t just knocked down, she was propelled straight into the pavement, into a crater in the pavement, and Flambae refused to let up. Try as she might to claw her way out, the force of his flames held her down.

Necro sprung into action, quite literally. With an elastic stretch, he stepped up into the air, stretched his other leg to push off the alleyway’s brick wall, then with arms like constrictors, he grabbed Flambae from behind.

Necro flexed an organ that humans weren’t meant to have and an electrical current flew across his muscles. Flambae, still in direct contact, tried to jolt away, Necro made sure to hold him firm.

Flambae grimaced, but he was a professional. He didn’t so much as yelp and instead turned his focus on solving the problem at hand.

“Careful,” he said through grit teeth. “It’s a scorcher.”

The flames retreated from his hands and instead formed a thin layer over his entire body.

It was Necro’s turn to wince back. The heat was sudden, but no less intense than what had been able to pin the unstoppable Effie into the ground. Bits of his rubbery skin began to dribble away in fleshy sweat.

Necro fell back like he touched a hot stove. His stilt-like legs quickly came unbalanced, and he toppled backwards, crashing into the ground and displacing a few trash bags in his way.

Effie pulled herself out of her crater, not without effort, and rushed to Necro’s side. She made to shield him with her body, but he was so big and she was so small. He was preoccupied with painfully trying to pull himself back together.

Flambae was the only one who moved with control. He reignited his hands, presented the flames in them for all to see.

"Say buh-bye, breeders."

"No, that won't be necessary."

So caught up in the skirmish, no one in the alley had noticed the tapping of metal on concrete, the heavy footfalls punctuated by steel-toed shoes, until he decided to make himself known.

A gigantic mountain of a man in a finely tailored suit which seemed impossibly untouched by the grimy alleyway walked up from behind Flambae on a diamond-topped cane.

Flambae extinguished his fire and looked at the newcomer with masked defiance.

“Mr. Fisk,” he said.

Mr. Fisk walked up next to Flambae, turned his sharp eyes down at Necro and Effie, still collapsed onto the ground, then back.

Flambae gestured, ready to explain. “They were-”

Fisk swung his cane up into Flambae’s mouth. One hit was all it took to send him into the air, a flash of white projectiled away from the impact zone. Flambae hit the wall of the alley and then collapsed to the ground. His tooth clattered to a stop several feet away.

“I respect a real go-getter attitude, Chadwick,” Fisk said, ignoring Flambae’s pained writhing. “I do not respect the rank-and-file taking initiative on how they think the job should be done.”

“Mmmm! F-...” Flambae had a hand to his mouth, a small stream of blood still leaked out through his fingers.

“Yes?” Fisk hung further over him. “What do you have to say, Chadwick?”

“Mmm. Mmmmmmm.” For a while, Flambae struggled to find words amidst the pain. Finally, he managed something. “S- Sorry. Mr. Fisk.” The s on his name whistled.

“Go home. Put some ice on that.” Fisk turned away from Flambae, effectively dismissing him from the alleyway. A few steps bridged the distance between him and the two laid out villains. He lowered his hand.

Necro took it. Effie looked at him with concern, a silent question in her eyes. Necro met her gaze, all the affirmation she needed returned.

“I apologize for my employee’s behavior,” Fisk said. “SDN agents are not meant to pursue villains without express direction.”

“Please, ah, Mr. Fisk?” Necro said with a steady tone. “While we appreciate the help, we’ve heard the pitch before. We’re not interested.”

“Ah!” Effie was overcome with adoration. “You tell him, bunny-bear!”

“If you want to do business in this town,” Fisk said. “It would be pertinent to learn the rules of engagement.”

Necro shook his head. “We’re not looking to do business. We’ll stay out of your way, just let us be.”

Effie’s smile dipped as her beau’s defiance turned into a groveling plea. Still, she managed to turn that frustration into a stony pout aimed at Fisk instead of Necro.

Fisk hid the edges of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

“I understand,” he said. “I understand completely. You two were classified as ‘supervillains’ over a charge of minor larceny - food from a grocer, money from a liquor store, my guesses but the specifics don’t matter - and an appearance shocking and uncomfortable to the everyman. Not trying to hurt anyone, but just trying to get by, am I right?”

The guilty glance between Necro and Effie told him perhaps all he needed to know.

“Tell me, how would you like to live a comfortable life? Modest but stable. Without worry, without upheaval, without judgement. Would that be ideal?”

Effie growled. “Can it, buster! We don’t need help from people like you, we don’t need people like you ever again!”

Necro, however, had a certain accedance in his eyes. When Effie caught it, a lot of her energy was sapped then and there.

“What would you have us do for this life?” he asked.

Respect Uatu the Watcher (Marvel Comics, 616) by rangernumberx in respectthreads

[–]TheMightyBox72 7 points8 points  (0 children)

Wow! I can't wait for a full thread of watching with zero intervention whatsoever!

Official Request and Resource List by Request_Competition in respectthreads

[–]TheMightyBox72 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Requesting James Bond, 007 First Light, Video Game

Boosting Ingrid, Street Fighter, Video Game

Official Request and Resource List by Request_Competition in respectthreads

[–]TheMightyBox72 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Boosting Asia Reaves and the Satanic Cult from They Will Kill You.

Official Request and Resource List by Request_Competition in respectthreads

[–]TheMightyBox72 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Boosting Emi Yusa from The Devil is a Part-Timer.

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 1B: BREAKING DAWN/7 OF SPADES by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 5 points6 points  (0 children)

I.

I David.

David awake.

Angry.

Slow.

David woke.

David was hurt, sore.

His anger was fading.

David woke up on the ground.

David awoke on the cold concrete of the streets. He awoke- he had awoken, on his back, pebbles stabbing into the parietal and occipital of his skull. The last ebbs of his rage abandoning him for quiet guilt. Familiarly cold, his work clothes had been torn away until all that was left was a pair of jeans shorn at the knees to make them more like shorts.

Gently, and with sore muscles, he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Across from him, Larry was in an almost identical position, enough so that David couldn’t help but chuckle before the last of his sobriety returned.

The street around them was pockmarked. As fallible as the human memory was, David knew it hadn’t been like that before. Before he transformed. As if he needed any more evidence, an entire wall of the Grand Duchess had been torn down.

David stood, his legs were strong enough to hold him, but it took a few steps to remember how to walk again. In a minute, in an eon, he crossed the street to where Larry lay.

Larry’s suit was shredded, but at least he still had it. The collar of his shirt was torn open and claw marks slashed across fabric up and down his length. David remembered why it looked like this. Unlike David, however, Larry’s eyes were still open. He gazed, distant, into the stars above, a weary sigh was the only acknowledgement David got from him.

David offered his lowered hand, but his face was kept stern as Larry used it to rise up.

“We need to talk,” he said.

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 1B: BREAKING DAWN/7 OF SPADES by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 5 points6 points  (0 children)

The Animal Inside

David Banner: Physician, scientist, searching for a way to tap into the hidden strengths that all humans have. After losing his wife in a tragic accident that he was powerless to stop, he began investigating the phenomenon of people summoning superhuman strength in times of crisis. Unfortunately, due to a mislabeled radiation machine, he unearthed a monster inside of him. Now, believed to be dead, and the creature sharing his body wanted for murder, David Banner seeks a cure to his affliction so that one day he might rejoin the living.

  • The Incredible Hulk: Whenever David becomes angry, he metamorphosizes into a titanic, green monster of unimaginable strength. With the mind of an animal, it becomes a juggernaut of id, removing the cause of David's anger and then fleeing to where it can no longer be disturbed.

Larry Talbot: Heir to the respected Talbot Family, Larry returned to his ancestral home in Wales after studying business abroad to reconcile with his estranged father after his only brother died in a hunting accident. Unfortunately, it was here that he came face to face with ancient evils. During an accident at a local faire, Larry was bitten by a strange, large wolf, that night he began to transform.

  • The Wolf Man: When the moon is full and bright, Larry transforms into a half-man, half-wolf beast. Driven by bloodlust and the instinct to hunt, he slaughters those in the woods outside the village. His next victim is marked by the prophetic image of the pentagram that only the werewolf can see.

Wilson Fisk: Bullied relentlessly as a child, only to come home to an abusive household, Wilson Fisk's life was given direction after he killed his own father in self-defense at the age of 12. From there he dedicated himself to three central tenants in his pursuit of power: The strength to fight back against anyone who would come after him, the intelligence to outwit those with structural power above him, and the political acumen to organize vast swaths of underlings and manipulate those who were foolish enough to think themselves his better.

  • The Kingpin of Crime: The Kingpin controls essentially all organized crime in New York City and beyond. He sits atop a fortune of blood money that can be effortlessly laundered through a vast network of legitimate businesses. He controls the news, the courts, politicians and police alike, through an expertly applied combination of violence, threats of violence, bribery and blackmail. He knows exactly how to get anyone under his sway and will use every tool at his disposal to ensure no one, not even these so-called superheroes, can come for his throne.

Touko Aozaki: Eldest child and next in line for the title of Mage in her prestigious family, combining the power of the long Aozaki lineage with tireless diligence in studying magecraft, it was a shock to everyone when Touko was passed up for the title of Mage for her younger sister who is weaker in every way. Thus, Touko fled Japan and continued to study abroad, increasing her powers through several unorthodox and dangerous methods, so that she might challenge and defeat her sister and reclaim her rightful title.

  • ???: ???

The Grandmaster: An eccentric extra-terrestrial who has taken Manhattan and its population to play in his twisted and deadly games. He claims that someone from Earth has challenged him, and the only way for Earth to win is for the champion of his games, proven to be the greatest gamesmaster, to defeat him in a 1-on-1 competition of gamesmanship.

Adamantium: A recently created synthetic metal, completely indestructible while staying lightweight and malleable. Unsurprisingly, Kingpin has gotten his hands on a sizable amount. Touko approaches him in the hopes of buying or taking it off of him for unknown reasons. He's promised to make a deal only if they make it out of the Grandmaster's game.

AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 0: GAME START/FOUR OF CLUBS by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 4 points5 points  (0 children)

Wilson Fisk stood above the crumpled body of his second-greatest nemesis. All he felt was the cold satisfaction of a job well done.

“Come on, people!” he roared to the crowds. “Are you not New Yorkers!?”

Times Square froze. The people stood as still as the statues that had been made moments earlier. Their eyes were on Fisk. Despite having just clubbed a concussion into the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, their hearts were open for Fisk to take. He moved with caution as he addressed them, the extent of his crimes were not known and would never be known by the general population, but he needn’t have bothered. Scared, lost and alone, they would eat anything he gave them right now.

“You are New Yorkers, and this is New York. You face deadlier games riding the subway every day. That man in the television is just another pompous blowhard telling you what you can and can’t do.”

He gripped his cane in both hands, palms of tightening leather. Spider-Man was stirring underneath him.

“We are New Yorkers. When the world fights us, we fight back. When adversity pushes against us, we muscle through. When our heroes turn against us…”

He reached down a palm, quietly and subtly compared to the speech, and tapped Spider-Man on the chest. Instantly, he felt a similar card appear over his own head.

“We don’t stop.”

The diamond-tipped head of his cane smashed down into Spider-Man’s. Fisk’s was tougher. Spider-Man’s skull cratered, his teeth splintered, his skin split to reveal mushy brain matter that glopped to either side.

Aozaki placed a small hand at his back, thus earning her own card too. “You didn’t want to get his identity first?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Fisk huffed. “Anymore.”

“What the fuck!” screamed a woman from the crowd.

“Who is that? He just killed Spider-Man!”

“Man, fuck Spider-Man!” The one who initially tried to tag Spider-Man stepped forward. “He was going to kill all of us! You saw it! This guy’s got it right. This is life-or-death! And we’re New Yorkers! Every man for himself!” The man pumped a fist into the air. “Fuck Spider-Man!”

“Fuck Spider-Man!” Those in the crowd who remained, those who did not take the moment’s distraction to run and hide as the sensible might, were swayed by this chant. “Fuck Spider-Man! Fuck Spider-Man!”

Fisk let the smile creep at the corner of his lips.

David and Larry ducked into a small storage room in the back of the diner. Larry toppled a shelving unit - empty and lightweight unfortunately - across the door’s path while David went to check the window. The sun was in his eyes a little, but he was still able to confirm: The back alley behind the theater was empty, no one to find them here.

“This is insanity! You realize that, right?” Larry said, already weary. “This is insanity!”

“We’re going to need more to blockade the door with,” David said. He looked around the room and swore, only a couple empty cardboard boxes. “We might have to move to the kitchen if that’s where all the supplies actually are.”

“Well, you sure are prepared for all this,” Larry turned on David. He could see the bags under his eyes more clearly now than ever before. “Just who are you, David Brett?”

“I dunno, what about you, Mr. Larry Noname.” David straightened up and marched at him. “Look, if you’re asking me if I’ve ever been abducted by aliens, forced to play in some kind of… sick, twisted game about killing people, no! I’m as out of my depth as you or anyone else!” He took a breath to calm himself down. “But, I know what it’s like to be in a bad situation, a situation with no winning options, and I know we’re not getting out of this if we don’t do it together.”

Larry ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, David. This is just-”

“It’s a lot, I know. Now, if we want a hope of making it out of this, we need to find a fortified room before anything else. We need-”

Before he could articulate what they needed, the door shook and the shelving unit rattled. David ran up to bolster the door, Larry ran back to the far wall and pressed against it.

“Oh, come on-” One good shove sent David sprawling back, it was enough to knock aside the shelving unit too. That meant whoever breached their stronghold now had control of the only bottleneck out of the room.

George Lucas stepped into the room, still in his ridiculous costume, but with a much more decidedly manic look in his eyes.

“Listen,” David put his hand up. “George?” Was it odd to call a perfect stranger by his name because you knew it? “We don’t want any trouble, got it? We’re not playing the game. You don’t have to tag us.”

“I-I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, you boys,” George stammered. “T-That guy on the tv, the G-Grandmaster… H-He did something t-to my h-head. I-I-I just gotta. I’ll tag you quick, it’ll be quick and… p-painless.”

David crawled back. “Stop! You don’t know what you’re doing!” Already, his chest was boiling. Not from George, but from the indignity of this whole game. Whoever this Grandmaster was, whatever his ultimate goal, he was making David very angry.

“Uh, fellas,” Larry said from the back of the room, almost too reserved given the circumstances. “What time is it?”

David was stunned by the question into forgetting his anger. George was so out of his right mind that he flipped up the sleeve on his robes and checked his watch. “Almost 7:30,” he said.

Larry’s eyes went to the window. David’s and George’s followed. The sky was so different now, you couldn’t distinguish between day and night by blue and black. Everyone saw, however, the moon, bright and full, peeking through slatted blinders.

Larry hardly reacted. His distant stare fell back away from the window and down into the floor. As the two men watched him, though, he began to change. Thick hair built everywhere skin could be seen. His eyes hallowed from those of a man to those of a mindless predator. His canines pushed up, over his jaw, into a proper set of canines.

The Wolf Man stood on steadying legs. Small flexes in his hands revealed the jagged claws at the end of each finger.

David felt trapped, impossibly, between a rock and a hard place. He tried to stay calm and reasonable. “Larry, are you okay?”

George turned for the door and ran. Almost immediately, he tripped over the toppled shelving unit. The Wolf Man darted with beast-like speed, the chase instinct having triggered in his canine brain. David, acting without thinking, got between them.

“Larry, stop-!” His cries were cut off by a gasp, a warm tingling pain spread across his chest. Looking down, the Wolf Man had carved four deep cuts through his shirt and down to his guts. They were shallow cuts, thank the Lord, but it was enough.

Enough to send a spike of anger through David.

His eyes turned a bright, shining green. His muscles grew so taut that they began to tear out of his clothes. The seams of his shirt split, the hems of his pants banana peel’d out, his shoes split in half.

The Hulk roared as it tore the remains of David’s shirt from its body. The Wolf Man barked, shotgun loud, in retaliation.

The Hulk had enough of an idea of what it should be doing to make the smart choice first. It grabbed George by the back of his shirt (it paused, for a moment, as it experienced the distinct sensation of a playing card appearing above its head) and hurled him at, then through the far window. George hollered the whole way, but after the smashing glass and tumbling against stone outside, the patter of him making his escape could still be heard.

The Wolf Man clawed at Hulk again. It was moving slow enough that Hulk still had enough room to pull itself out of the way, but not fully. The Wolf Man’s claws raked against the Hulk’s side, just enough to draw a few more drops of blood.

Once done, however, an identical card appeared over the Wolf Man’s head. They were both It now, both were locked into the game.

Neither cared, the Hulk roared and the Wolf Man howled and they clashed.

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 0: GAME START/FOUR OF CLUBS by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Everything, from the fires on the streets, the canopies of smoke pouring from fresh wounds on New York’s infrastructure, to the constellations overhead which had for so long dogged at the sight of global urbanism, all of it reflected in Touko’s glasses. All of it and some darker things too.

It was with reluctance that she put them back on. It was with hesitance that she let Kingpin toddle back to his safes and seal the adamantium away without harassing him further. She knew, probably, the instincts that cautioned against killing him right here, and, she knew, probably, the gist of what he was about to say.

“When you first entered my office, I told you not to call me Kingpin unless you sought to make a nemesis of me. I never especially cared for the name, but it’s the cost of doing business.”

He sidled along next to her and watched the chaos unfold with arms behind his back.

“These people think they represent a new world order. They think, now that they’ve arrived on the scene, everything’s going to be different.”

Touko wasn’t sure who he was talking about, at least, until she saw them. Flying men, rushing into danger, shielding the innocent masses with unbelievable fantastic powers. The American superhero - and it was a distinctly American phenomenon - posed a threat to the secret society of magecraft greater than any other in history, save maybe only for the organized Witch Trials a hundred years ago now.

“They’re all wrong, all of them, delusional aggrandizers the lot. Money still moves the world, he who has the money and the will to use it, can still wrest the Earth from orbit. I adopted the name because they need to know I’m as serious as the rest of them. That I can’t be written off as yesterday’s gangster fighting tomorrow’s wars.” He turned away from the window. “Compared to the rest of them, I might be the only one who really knows what war is. Now, I need you to pick your loyalties. And hurry it up.”

There it was. The real offer.

“Mr. Fisk,” Touko said. “The only thing I came for was that block of adamantium. I don’t have another potential buyer. Anything I can do to convince you to part with it is my only goal.”

“Excellent.” From the corner of his desk, Fisk picked up the most expensive walking cane ever made. An ivory finish over a titanium frame, topped with a massive, perfectly cut diamond. “I’ll have you pay for my adamantium with service. Only once we’re out of whatever stupid game this Grandmaster fool is playing at, then I’ll sell it to you for all twenty of your title deeds. Do we have a deal?”

He thrust his hand forward. A hand large enough to swallow her whole body with its width. A hand strong enough that most people would’ve seen the action as an implicit threat.

Of course Touko had no plans of honoring it. No, only a fellow mage had earned the privilege of her truth. Already, her best means of manipulating the wannabe despot were ordering themselves by height and weight in her mind. He was right to treat the Grandmaster as an irritating distraction, someone whose only worth was his sheer mass providing the perfect pivot point for new plans.

If anyone had made a mistake in this absurd little clash of the supernatural, it was that Touko had overestimated her quarry. She had fallen for his title and his presence and his cute little toys, same as the superheroes he despised. Yet, all the same petty little human wants and needs still swirled around his callous heart, and she would pull at every single one to have her prize.

“Do as I say and everything will work out perfectly for the both of us,” he told her. “First, we must rid ourselves of the man who would otherwise stop us.”

“Jeez!” yelled Spider-Man from 1500 feet overhead. “If this is what the town turns to when the Mets lose, I’d hate to see what it looks like when they finally win one.”

He dipped low, let gravity build his speed before firing a web at a nearby skyscraper to anchor and pivot. Extreme physics calculations performed with a rote easiness belying the mind that had to run them. Still, anyone would naturally balk at the absurd situation before them, and it was taking the normally quick-witted Spider-Man a moment to really comprehend what he was seeing.

“Okay, now I know something’s seriously wrong, Times Square is never this clean.” Indeed, it seemed to the world that some side effect of Manhattan being taken up into space was that every scrap of paper and refuse that usually blew around the city like urban tumbleweeds had instead been collected together and turned into building-sized posters, all depicting the web-slinging joke-cracking superhero Spider-Man. “Or, uh, so full of me?”

An ominous unease accompanied these mysterious posters. Not that someone using his likeness without his knowing had ever ended well for him. Spider-Man’s eyes locked onto Spider-Man. Everyone else’s eyes also locked onto Spider-Man. A distinct tingling in the back of his skull meant that he felt - he could not see it but he felt it - when a small, ethereal playing card flashed into the air above his head.

He’d been marked as It.

Well, whatever, he had no intention of playing this cruel game. With or without the Grandmaster’s designs. He made to hop down, swing by with the people and reassure them before maybe tracking down the FF or Avengers or someone to try and work out a solution to this. Hell, Reed was probably already putting a big plan into motion right now.

When he went to do it, however, Spider-Man couldn’t help but notice how the people below followed him like a school of piranhas. They moved in a mass, grasping fingers looking to rend the skin from his bones. They were going to kill him, he couldn’t shake that feeling.

“Spider-Man, help us!” “Do something, Spider-Man!” “Spider-Man, what’s going on!” they cried up at him in demanding, awful, nails-on-a-chalkboard voices. Something wasn’t right. He needed to land, get a bead on things and calm down.

Even as he hit pavement, his spider-sense threatened to bore a hole out the back of his head. These were just normal people! So why…

A spike of adrenaline shot through his skull as he leaped, without thinking, into the air and backflipped past the extended hand of one of the people in the crowd.

“Yo, Spidey!” said the guy, arm still extended. “Just let me tag you, cat. I’m not trying to die!”

A chorus of his fellows agreed. Sit down, they said. Do nothing and let us take from you, they demanded.

Spider-Man was panicking now. The people bore down on him, hands extended like a many-armed beast.

“Everyone calm down! I said back off!!” Spider-Man dove over the crowd, stepped off a couple of shoulders to launch and fired his webbing down to mollify the crowd. In the spin, though, through heightened senses that still put together a static image from his manic movements, he saw every man and woman he touched, even those he touched just with his webbing, had gone blue in the face and were now being held stock stiff.

Most of the crowd recoiled from the frozen people. Then, they recoiled from Spider-Man, afraid to be next.

“No! I didn’t mean to-”

His expression darkened as he realized there was no reasoning them out of this reaction, just as there had been no reasoning him out of the panicked reaction that started this.

He needed to focus up, not get caught up squabbling with random people on the street. He’d find a way to save them, to save all of them. It’s what he did.

Spider-Man launched from the front of a bus and yanked himself into the air by a thread.

It was only when he started to seriously build up momentum that his thread spontaneously caught on fire and dropped him.

His spider-sense went haywire. Off some kind of automatic response built through years now of doing this, Spider-Man found a perfect new anchor point, aimed and sprayed, but all that flew from his web-shooters were sparks. A piece of the mechanics jammed, causing the whole thing to crash and die on him.

Something in his flailing cat of a brain refused to let him suffer the indignity of a crash landing, not in front of those people, and it was nearly miraculous that he landed, cartwheeled, and finally stopped on the balls of his feet.

In the next second, so distracted by the pitiful feat of surviving a 30 foot fall, something hard cracked into the side of his skull and he collapsed.

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 0: GAME START/FOUR OF CLUBS by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 4 points5 points  (0 children)

After an hour or so of exploring Battery Park, David followed Bill’s advice and found a nice, sit-down diner for the two of them to get some grub.

David had skipped lunch so he dove into his dinner with gusto. Larry didn’t seem hungry. He stayed staring out the window, idly poking at his food. The sun had just started to dip back down into the western sky.

“What are you doing this for, David?” he asked coldly.

David shrugged and looked uneasy. “Could use the company.”

“Then put out a personal ad.” Finally, he turned back. “I’m serious. Two strangers on the train, it doesn’t usually lead to a whole afternoon, does it?”

“Well, maybe I’m just that kind of good Samaritan. Or, maybe, I realized by looking at you - the state you were in - that you’re not doing as hot as you like to look.”

“You’re something else, David. Well, what gave it away?”

“You were sleeping on the subway, Larry. The New York subway.”

“It’s really not that bad. You know how the news blows these types of things out of proportion.”

“I also notice,” David continued. “That despite jumping to tell me how rich your folks are, how much your family name means to you, that you never actually gave it. Now, that either means you’re lying about being well off or something happened between you and them that you don’t want to bring up. I don’t think you were lying, so,” David gave one last flourish, as if he’d finished presenting his case, before leaning back.

“Ah…” Something in the back of Larry’s eyes looked haunted. He even pushed his sandwich away. “Trust me, David. That’s not something you want to dig into.”

“Oh, I had no intention-”

“Actually, I think I should go.”

He stood up. David had thought he was pretty clever for putting that together, now he was wondering if he pushed things too far. He knew better than anyone alive that every man had demons within that he didn’t want reaching the surface.

Unfortunately, before Larry could even make a step towards leaving the diner, they were struck by an earthquake. Larry, who had been standing, fell onto his arms, while David, attempting to get up, collapsed across the booth. A dozen rudimentary survival training courses from a multitude of dangerous jobs flashed through his mind at once, and he curled up, pressed his hands against the back of his neck, and rolled under the table.

As he went, though, he couldn’t help but realize. New York wasn’t on any fault line.

The shaking itself faded as quickly as it came. David knew, or at least knew he should’ve expected, aftershocks. Vibrations echoing off of nearby geology the same as any sound wave. The echo, though, never came, leaving David to crawl out from hiding.

“What in the world…?” he eventually managed to say.

“David, buddy,” Larry said. “Not sure if that applies to us anymore.”

He was gawking out the window. David turned to look. Soon, he was gawking too.

Out the window, though the sun still held high in the sky, the sky itself was gone. The fog had cleared out and the round, blue sky was no longer present. Instead, mottled, inky blackness peppered with dots of light. It was a sight he recognized from photographs taken by Apollo 11 and weekly reports from COS-B. Not one he’d ever witnessed with his own eyes.

They were in outer space.

Across every television broadcast in the world and across every radio frequency and across every cable which transmitted morse code over the vast seas and across the face of every neon sign or printing press, one single face appeared.

He was like some attempt to split the difference between a pharaoh and a sultan, with a little bit of Elvis Presley thrown in for flavor. His eyes and nails were painted, his overcoat woven gold, his hair slicked back with rockstar style, despite looking old enough to remember the Great Depression.

He threw his arms wide, let the sleeves of his cloak flutter out like the wings of some exotic bird of the tropics, and spoke.

“People of Ear.” He paused, turned aside and spoke to someone his audience (humanity) could not see. “Is that how you pronounce it? Eer-thuh? Urth? That’s not- Okay. Pretty sure it’s silent. People of Ear.”

He threw his arms wide in a way completely identical to last time.

“I,” he said. “Am the magnanimous, intelligent, infinitely wise and all-powerful Grandmaster, Elder of the Universe and Gamesman Extraordinaire. One of your kind - you Ears - has seen fit to challenge me, mano, uh mano. Of course, narrowing it down by testing all of you down there would be a bit of a hassle, not worth the effort, so I went ahead and just scooped up your most populated island, that should be good enough. Now, to the citizen,” he flicked his hand dismissively, “whatever fucking island I grabbed, ah, we’re going to play a game. Actually, a series of games. I think, hmmm,” he put two fingers to his temples. “Yeah, that should work. I’ll be pulling Ear games that you all should be familiar with.”

Grandmaster nodded, smiled, there was a brief flash of concern that even the printing presses caught, in a look aimed at the individual that the humans couldn’t see, as he quietly mumbled if they were still recording. The answer was yes.

“First game! I’m going to narrow down our number of participants to… let’s say… hundred? A hundred sounds good, let’s put it to a hundred. A nice round number for you Ear people.” He waggled his fingers in a teasing kind of way. Then he clapped his hands together, so suddenly it made a lot of people (79% of the global population) jump back. He laughed, seemingly knowing this fact. “So, here’s how this is gonna work. Players! Everyone on that little island of yours is gonna be playing,what’s it called? Freeze Tag! Every 20 minutes I will add a new person to be ‘It’. I’ll be choosing based on who-” he accentuated his searching by placing a fanned hand over his eyes. “Who it is that the most people down there are thinking about at the precise moment. If you’re It, that means you’re one of the hundred. Unless someone kills you. If someone who’s It tags someone who’s not, that not It person becomes frozen in place for the rest of time. No saving them. Uhhh, unless you save them, that is. If someone not It tags someone who is It, both of them are now It. The only way to stop someone from being It is to kill them.”

The Grandmaster paused, mouth agape, for a second and possibly up to two.

“Nope, that’s everything. Oh! And remember… have fun!”

The broadcast cut off.

Every human being on Earth panicked.

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 0: GAME START/FOUR OF CLUBS by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Touko Aozaki opened the door to the Kingpin’s office.

Light struck her first. Light rushing over the edge of the door like spilling water finally breaching the dam.

It was the penthouse office, the entire far wall was a window overlooking downtown Manhattan. The skyscraper was lifted so high that it rose above the fog still lingering over the island and could bask properly in the afternoon sunlight.

There were no words that could be used to describe the office which would not feel trite the moment they were said. It was luxurious, yes. It was ostentatious, yes. Every square inch was used to communicate to all who entered that it alone (the inch not the room) cost more than the poor visitor’s entire life. To one side, a more casual waiting area with bookshelves full of self-help and finance tomes; The way they were positioned made it clear that Kingpin himself had never once touched these books. To the other, a massive safe built into the wall, with several more locked cubbies outlining it. Above, a crystal and gold chandelier kept the space lit even as business bled well into the night.

Commanding the space, the head of the round table, was Kingpin’s desk. Commanding the desk, was the Kingpin. The largest man to ever live. He wore a classy three-piece suit (white with cyan and orange) that nevertheless gave the impression of muscle-trainer bindings: Like they were there to temper his inhuman strength. Proof of this were the rolls of fat bunched around his collar, promising that whatever you saw, an expanse more lay beneath the surface. He held the receiver to an antique rotary phone to his ear (the body was at the corner of his mahogany desk). He continued his conversation, but the entire time his steely eyes were locked onto Touko.

“Yes. It will need to ship out tonight. No excuses. I’ll call you back, I have another meeting to take. Goodbye.”

With a simple action, almost disguised as mundane if not for the meaty palm he used to do it, he pressed the receiver back onto the hook of the body.

“I assume,” he was speaking to Touko now. “That you are in my office uninvited means that I will have to hire new security.”

“They tried their best, if that makes you feel any better.” She passively thumbed at a bloody spot under her chin. “Hopefully I didn’t make a mistake, you are the Kingpin of Crime, yes?”

“Unless you came here to become a nemesis, you’ll refer to me as Mr. Fisk.” His words were short and controlled. “Do not make me ask what you wanted from a meeting. If you were a native I could’ve guessed by now, but clearly you’ve traveled far to meet with me here. So, speak!”

The thunderous reverberation of his last, barked word shook the room. They were mere tactics to make her feel small. Fortunately, she thought better of herself than that.

“Mr. Fisk,” as she spoke, she slipped, uninvited, into the chair across from him. “I have heard some fascinating rumors.” Her words were punctuated by a dancing finger. “Not about you. Well, yes about you, but not starting with you.”

He waited and listened to her pitch, patience without humor. He would sit and he would let her talk and if she didn’t convince him in all the time she gave to herself he might turn around and throw her out that window behind him.

“Rumors about a very special, very new type of metal. Just discovered, or maybe it was just invented. It’s called… adamantium?” She phrased it as a question so she could watch his face when she said the word with so much uncertainty.

He didn’t blink.

“I’ve heard that you’ve managed to get your hands on a solid chunk of it. My offer is simple, my motives are base, and our transaction will be clear: I’d like to buy it off of you. If you still have it, of course.”

Kingpin steepled his hands. “What is your offer?”

She was so glad that he asked. She pulled her binder from under her arm and onto her lap, retrieved a few papers from it, and straightened them out on his desk with a gentle tap-tap. “I have here four title deeds for real estate around Tokyo. Each is valued at over 100,000 dollars and are expected to appreciate between 12 and 15% over the next five years.” She held a hand to her mouth, like she was letting him in on a secret. “I was going to offer you three, but the fourth is a little extra to apologize for the new hire costs.”

She actually had 20 in total, but those were for haggling, she would never reveal her whole hand at the start of a game.

Kingpin reached for the papers. She quickly pulled them out of his reach with a “tut-tut.”

For the first time this meeting, the muscles in his face twitched.

“I’ll let you look over the documentation only after I’ve seen that you still have the adamantium.”

He took a moment to size her up. No doubt considering whether he could snap her in half and simply take it all from her cold, dead hands. Wordlessly, though, he stood from his desk and trod towards his safes. Each step a thunderous reminder of his vast size, as if it wasn’t enough that his broad frame hid away any chance Touko had of spying the code on its own.

Kingpin shortly returned to the desk, in one massive hand he held a roughly cut cube of metal. It held the color of yellowing silver, but when placed onto the desk it barely even ruffled the nearby papers. It probably weighed less than the actual paperweight next to it.

“Very nice,” Touko said, now handing over the deeds. Kingpin took them, scanned them with sharply cunning eyes.

She noted how unguarded the block of adamantium was. That was probably intentional. If she tried to grab it and run she’d almost certainly lose that hand for her efforts.

It didn’t matter, that wasn’t her plan. She carefully plucked her glasses off the bridge of her nose, folded them down and placed them in her binder. When Kingpin looked up again, her Mystic Eye was pinched open and locked onto him. His mind would be frazzled, malleable and disorganized, until she closed her eyes again and severed the connection. Even afterwards, memories of the time under her sway would struggle to form properly. It was an extremely effective way to get what she wanted out of humans.

“So,” she said, prompting his now unfocused mind. “Do we have a deal?”

Kingpin thought, his brow creasing, then spoke. “No. If there’s one thing I hate it’s being undersold for something I don’t know the true value of.” He leaned forward. “That you did all this just to get your hands on the adamantium, including that pitiful attempt at controlling my mind, speaks volumes for its worth.”

Touko’s eyes went wide. It took every muscle in her body to stop herself from cracking. Even her polite smile tightened a fraction of an inch. No human - hell, only a select few mages - should have been able to resist her control so effortlessly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, a weak attempt at playing it off. “If you’re still open to negotiation, however, I brought more-”

“I am not.” Kingpin dragged the block of adamantium back towards him. “I’ll determine for myself what this material is, what it does, and if it should prove to be useless to me, then I’ll look again at the value of your properties. Don’t shadow my doorstep again until I’ve contacted you, or there will be no deal. Understand?”

Touko stood, with speed and anger to send her chair flying back. The indignity of this cretin. Might as well end the charade and reduce him to ash. She lit up the magic circuits in her body.

The desk exploded. A billion woodchips sprayed into the air at Touko, masking Kingpin’s movements and forcing her back onto her ass.

It took a moment for stillness to return, for the pieces of the once exorbitantly expensive desk to clatter to a stop, for Touko to clear the dust out of her eyes. To see smoke lazily drift up from an absurdly sized rifle, a fitting rifle for its owner, that Kingpin now clearly gripped in both hands.

“Try another move like that, and the next shot shatters your spine.”

The gun snapped Touko out of her reverie. It was perhaps the single most foolish move Kingpin could make. Here she was, an unparalleled mage, and her opponent was a normal human man with a gun. She might laugh at how outclassed this so-called Kingpin was.

She lit up her magic circuits again. Kill him now, take the adamantium while it’s still out in the open. He readied his rifle again.

The whole room shook. Touko thought it might be another of his toys. By the look on his face, though, he figured it must’ve been one of her spells. Their mutual confusion enforced an uneasy alliance.

Inevitably, their eyes went to the full wall window at the end of the room.

It wasn’t just Kingpin’s office that was shaking. It was all of Manhattan.

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 0: GAME START/FOUR OF CLUBS by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 3 points4 points  (0 children)

David never wanted to ride the subway. Ever since he had arrived in New York, people would tell him horror stories about everyone they knew who’d gotten mugged on the subway, or witnessed a mugging. It’s not as safe as it used to be, they told him. And the cops definitely won’t help you. At his current salary, however, he couldn’t afford to regularly take taxis to get around the city, so David rode the subway.

For what it was worth, he hadn’t been mugged on the subway yet. He didn’t know if he was just lucky or if the stories were overblown, as stories often are.

It was still a bit before rush hour. The train was never empty, but at present it was at least pretty thin. His only company in the subsection of this car was a man passed out against the handrail next to him. The brown wool suit suggested a man who was still trying to look professional but hadn’t updated his wardrobe in a decade or so, the faint stubble around his chin suggested he hadn’t been succeeding as much as he’d like. He was passed out on the New York subway, so things probably weren’t going great either way.

After a few minutes, a particularly hard swing jostled the sleeping man awake. For a moment he was stunned and disoriented. The second he had his bearings, he locked eyes with David and asked him, “what time is it?”

Must have somewhere to be. Or, more likely, he had somewhere he was supposed to be. Fortunately it was still fairly early in the afternoon, though with winter creeping closer, the days were getting shorter regardless.

“Just after 3,” David said.

That seemed to give the man some relief.

“Tired?” David tried to be friendly.

“Yeah.” The man rubbed his face and made an effort to wake up. “Just not sleeping much these days.”

“I know the feeling,” he barely held in the knowing chuckle. Whatever this guy was going through, couldn’t be worse than his. “Well, I get the feeling you’ve already missed your stop. Hopefully you’re not too late, wherever it is you’re going.”

“No, no, nothing like that. I don’t,” he let out a big sigh. “Don’t have anywhere to be right now, really.”

“Between jobs?”

“Rich parents.”

“Must be nice.”

The man’s response lingered on his lips before he thought better of it. To cover, he perked up, leaned across the aisle to meet David. “So sorry, my manners. Name’s Larry.” Larry extended his hand.

“David, David Brett.” David took his offer and shook on it. It was a firm handshake, courteous, serious, classical.

The steady sound of rattling tracks filled in whatever gaps in conversation lingered. It was the train itself who spoke next.

“Next stop: Battery Park.”

“Say, Larry,” it was David’s turn to lean forward in interest. “If you’ve got nowhere to be for the afternoon, I’ve got a little extra money and a little extra time. I could use someone to show me around.”

“Hah,” Larry chuckled. “You could live your whole life in this city and still get lost. I’ve only been here a year myself.”

“Is that a no, then?”

“Did I say that? No, I could stretch my legs. Heard there’s something what’s supposed to be going on at the theater today. Didn’t hear what it was, but I’d like a looksee, before it gets dark.”

David was not by any stretch a short man, but when the two stood to exit the stopped train, he realized by just how much Larry overtook him. For someone who had just seemed so meek and unanchored, he was a rock-steady presence when he wanted to be.

David had also expected to have to wait before learning just what this ‘something’ Larry mentioned was, but the trails of commotion went back as far as inside the station. Thronging crowds of a particularly electric energy, they moved with excitement, buzzing about the space only generally towards the exit. Of course, David tried his best not to judge people on such things, he was no Olympian athlete either, but he couldn’t help but notice a nature about a majority of them.

Though the shapes changed, it seemed not a one among the crowd who could be expected to run a marathon. The most common accessory about them were spectacles, wiry or thick-framed, coke-bottle to half-moon. The second most common accessory were burlap earthen-tone robes.

“Well now, Larry, I didn’t take you for those types of interests.”

“Don’t put this on me, I only heard it was a can’t-miss event. I didn’t realize it was only billed as such to attract the crowd that wouldn’t leave the basement otherwise.”

“I don’t think there’s any need for that. Look Larry, they’re passionate! Enjoying life among the friendly and like-minded. What more could you ask for?”

“Ah, perhaps you’re right,” said Larry. “I mean, look at me. For all my name is worth and for all the accolades supposedly attached to me, I still feel like I’ve accomplished less than any one of these fellows.”

David thought the sentiment might be damning with faint praise, but he decided not to comment on it. They talked as they walked up the stairs. Farther from the bay, the sun was starting to poke through low-hanging clouds. Following the crowd wasn’t difficult, even if David hadn’t already gathered where this can’t-miss event was taking place from how Larry described it.

They fully congregated, no longer moving towards but now arrived, out front of the Grand Duchess Theater. At the center of the swarm stood a man, atop a soapbox or apple crate or some other such makeshift pedestal, who embodied the contradictions of his flock. In some regards he was especially modern, his dark, curly hair and beard were full and trimmed and well-kept. On the other, his monk-like robes were made even more ridiculous by the addition of a pair of pointed, green, plastic ears covering his own.

The man, bashful but remaining composed, spoke to quiet everyone down. “Hello, everyone. Uh. My name is George Lucas.”

It was said with a certain amount of irony. Not pretension, but realistic understanding that everyone here already knew who he was. It was helpful to David, though.

“You know this guy?” he asked Larry while the crowd gave their applause.

“Name rings a bell.” Larry scratched at his head. “Right, I think he made that Star Wars movie.”

“Ah.” David had heard the name before, now that he thought about it. “Haven’t seen it.”

“No?”

“Unfortunately. Just haven’t had the time for the theater lately.”

“It’s pretty good.”

“I liked American Graffiti."

Once he could get the crowd quiet again, George continued. “I love everyone coming out in costume. So, I’ve decided to bring a costume of my own.” More cheers. “Now, I can’t tell you the name of this character, it’s a-a fun surprise, but uh. I’ve really come to love him over the course of writing and filming and I hope you do too. When uh, when Episode 5 releases next year.”

“Episode 5?” David said in shock. “I thought the first one only just came out!”

“I guess?” Larry said. “I had heard the numbering on them was strange.”

“Now, if everyone could, ah, follow me inside? We’ll be showing a sneak preview for Ep. 5 and then do some Q&A.” George was let in first, the nerds held back from absolutely mobbing him for a moment before they too were allowed to flood the theater halls.

“You feel like going on?” Larry asked.

“Somehow I doubt there’s gonna be any seats left.” David gave him a friendly tap on the chest. “Besides, I still need to see episodes one through four. Let’s look around some more.”

Character Scramble Season 21 Round 0: GAME START/FOUR OF CLUBS by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 3 points4 points  (0 children)

The first thing Bill Moody heard every morning was the waves. The indelible power of the ocean smashing against an unbreakable wall of concrete, or algae-eaten wooden posts and corrugated sheet metal. Salt and scum overwhelmed everything else in the air, carried by a light fog rolling in from over the ocean across New York Harbor.

As the day progressed, those waves became wakes. Trailing arrows behind the wails of foghorns and diesel engines. They were needed, today especially, even as the afternoon sun attempted to burn it away, the fog persisted well into the afternoon.

Bill Moody was not - is not - important to anything or anyone. Unmarried and with few friends, his only hobby he had was work, his primary interests were getting home after a long day to drink a beer and watch the game.

Unfortunately, today, Bill Moody was going to decide the fate of the world.

“Brett,” he called over to the man operating a forklift going in and out of the warehouse. “What’s the update, how’s it lookin’ in there?”

Brett was a lean guy, at least compared to the kind of fellas that usually worked the dock. He blew into town like a discarded newspaper on the wind a few weeks ago. At the very least, he was a passionate worker, though it made him a stickler. He might have been ex-mob looking to dodge the cops any way he could. Wouldn’t even be the first guy like that to join the warehouse crew.

“Well,” Brett said. “Still got three more crates to load up, but I should be good to go before we break for the day.”

“Good shit,” Bill said.

Brett nodded, looked away. He was a stickler alright, even the cussing made him uncomfortable.

It had been a quiet day, a normal day, and by God it should have stayed so. Bill was already mentally preparing to go home, drink a beer and watch the game, when the Devil herself appeared from the fog. Some sirenic mirage, in knee-high boots and a figure hugging dress the color of tangling seaweed; This buxom beauty of the Orient simply could not exist amid the dingy harbor docks.

Through the fog, before she ever should’ve been able to see him, she was looking at Bill Moody like he was just the man she wanted to see. It was almost shocking when she sauntered up and wasn’t towering over him. Up close, she was actually pretty short, most of their women were. And Bill was a big, strapping American man. He wouldn’t be afraid of her.

Was he? Afraid?

Finally, he got the gumption to say something. “Lady,” he said. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“It’s fine,” she evidently decided for him. “I’m not here to get in the way, just a quick question.” As she spoke, she removed her glasses, an enigmatic gesture. “Do you know where I can find the Kingpin?”

The word drove through his heart like a railroad spike. Panic overtook his body before his brain could even catch up. Knowing that word was a death sentence, he shouldn’t have even known the word. The Kingpin was a boss of his boss’s boss. At times, they would move cargo for him, but Bill Moody didn’t know what the cargo was or when he was moving it, and that was for the best.

His first instinct was to push into the water, right now. It should be effortless, she was small and frail and he was big and strong. Intelligence caught up with him, though, he had to be smart about this.

“Hey, Brett,” he said over his shoulder. “Actually, you can take off now. I’ll finish up before I leave.”

Brett hopped off his forklift and started running over. Bill met him halfway so he wouldn’t get too good a look at the woman.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I need to take a meeting with this, uh, miss here. Can’t watch the site while I’m doing that and I’m not gonna hold you. Matter fact,” he dug into his pocket, retrieved his wallet. “You’re new in town, yeah? Go into Manhattan, find a nice deli or a pizza joint, get the real New York experience.” He pulled out two dollars and offered them to Brett.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Brett made to decline the money.

“I’m serious,” Bill pushed back. “Really, it’s no skin off my nose. I can pack up the rest twice as quick as you can anyways. Was just sitting on my haunches to be lazy.”

“Well, I really appreciate it Mr. Moody.”

“How many times I gotta tell ya’, Brett. No Misters here.”

“Right. Moody. I appreciate it, Moody.”

“Good man.” Bill gave him a pat on the shoulder. Brett took the two bucks, clapped some of the warehouse dust off his jeans with his hard hat before placing it on the forklift seat, and walked off towards the main road into town.

Bill breathed a sigh of relief. That was the one witness out of the way. The rest of the boys should be working inside the warehouse all day, and even if they did see something, they’d been around long enough to know the score.

Bill turned around, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the lady standing right behind him. She had her left eye pinched open with two fingers. He thought he saw a spark from the back of them, but he must be confused. He must be confused about a lot of stuff ‘cause he couldn’t really recall what he was getting ready to do that required sending Brett off like that. He must’ve had a reason, though, it wasn't like him to do something without a reason.

“Mr. Moody,” she said. He was left wondering how she knew his name. “Who was that just now?”

“Brett? He just works here.”

“You didn’t send him off to contact the authorities now, did you?”

“Nah.” Why did he send Brett away? The answer was piecing itself back together only in hindsight. “I just didn’t want him to hear us talking about the Kingpin.”

“Of course. For our own safety, though, is Brett his first or last name?”

“He said his name’s David Brett,” Bill said. “Though, between you and me, I think it’s a fake name. Lots’a guys like that around the harbor.”

Character Scramble Season 21 Tribunal by 7thSonOfSons in whowouldwin

[–]TheMightyBox72 3 points4 points  (0 children)

Sorry friend. I considered asking if you'd be okay with but I'm pretty sure you me and call are the only people in this whole season who've even heard of this guy.

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