[Shatterworld] - Fearful symmetry

[Draxx]

Introduction

Sundered from the world of our own by gulfs of time and stranger dimensions are worlds not so different from our own, that we may only touch through the realms of imagination, where myths and legends still walked among us, where science and fancy are not so different, and where mankind is not alone. A world where the only limits are that there really are no limits to the possible.

Follow me here now, if you will. Find yourself in a world apart from our own, yet shockingly familiar, one that is as much a part of our own as our world is a part of it. But it is not our world, though it may superficially resemble it. Let us look into this far distant place now. And let us see what tales it has to tell…

For those who came late...

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Mankind is a young creature. Even on earth, there are countless other creatures that predate him, hundreds of entire civilizations that have risen and fallen without his knowledge. However, even in a time of a hundred thousand years, a mere eye-blink by the standards of geological terms, let alone astronomical terms, the timeline of human progress is so unimaginably complex and tangled it is all but impossible to make sense of it for even the most dedicated and impartial of observers. However, an attempt shall be made here.

For I am Uatu, the watcher, and I perceive and remember all. I was born to observe, and shall continue to do so even unto the end of time.

In the beginning, the universe was created by some manner of supreme being, or perhaps a group of less then perfect beings working in concert. None know exactly, despite claims to the contrary, and so this is best left to philosophy, though many would like to take credit. Nonetheless, this being or beings put things in motion, much of which would remain beyond the comprehension of even beings such as I, an unreachable goal to humanity, or so I assume. For though I have witnessed every event, from their beginning to their end, I have and never shall know what it is to be human.

Four and a half billion years ago, out of the wreckage of stars was formed a world, a mere crust upon an inferno of molten rock. It formed a core and eventually an atmosphere, and began the complex process that would lead to ideal conditions for one day supporting life. Of course, many worlds have the potential, but never the opportunity. But Earth was chosen, perhaps by the same force that made the stars and set the limits of the possible, and life did begin there.

Shortly after this process began, a being took up residence on the planet. It was a being that defied existence as any can hope to understand, given it was not composed of matter, energy, or in point of fact, any material that existed whatsoever. But despite this impossibility, it nonetheless persisted in existing and chose Earth as a suitable place for it's needs. Shortly after arriving, it went to sleep. It still slumbers now, dreaming terrible dreams, awaiting the starts to be right.

But in regards to the process of development, and in the story I will now tell, this being is entirely irrelevant. Despite it's presence, the earth would slowly develop and support life, and many beings would come to call it home, beings of startling diversity and disposition. Periodically, they would be scythed from the surface by ice, gas, inundation or falling rocks impacting from space, shaking up the delicate systems that formed the environment to such an extent that by the time they recovered the world had moved on without them, onto new things, new designs, new lifeforms.

Nonetheless, this rock would go on to be the birthplace of mankind, of that rarest of miracles, intelligent life. Much of the actual process does not interest us, as a complete report on the slow and gradual process to come just this far detracts too much from the purpose of this, understanding mankind's past. The environmental qualities that led to their bodies tell us why humans are, but not what humans are, for example. Enough to know that they did develop, adapt, and in time, even thrive. Instead of adapting to their environment, mankind forced it's environment to adapt to it, and strived to greater and greater heights.

Since recorded history began, some fifty thousand years ago, there has always been more to the world then has been guessed by those trying to understand it. Much of this can be glimpsed in the stories they tell, the tales they make, and words that have been passed down in folk-lore and the collective unconscious to form a sort of racial memory. There is a secret history of the superhuman and fantastic, purposefully hidden from the eyes of those who live in the world of the mundane, by a vast and incomprehensible conspiracy that keeps the knowledge for itself, purposefully isolating humanity from the wonders and terrors that are actually present on Earth. Traces of these wonders can be found, but the reality is warped and somewhat sinister.

History when it comes to the truth is something with few facts but much conjecture, even for an impartial observer whom nothing is hidden from. Little empirical evidence is to be found, and less still can be made sense of. Even if one sees everything, how can they hope to unravel the complex and tangled series of events that lead to results? But there is enough to see one thing that few people can bring themselves to truly accept. Man are not alone in the universe, or even this planet. More to the point, they never have been, even from the start.

In the most distant mists of the past, some hundred thousand years ago, the Celestials arrived. I know them of old, just as they know of me. The Celestials are alive, but not in a way that makes much sense to us biological beings, they are an enormous and enigmatic race of unfathomable purpose and power, whose designs even I fear to guess. They visited Earth, at the time a sea of life, where they found a species called Homo erectus (so named because they walked upright, the distant ancestors of humanity). They made a few changes to the world, in order to better serve their mysterious purpose. First, they influenced the chosen species at a genetic level, furthering their evolution for reasons known only to them, as well as implanting several latent genes that would remain dormant for a long time. Once they had done with humans, they created two other races, the Eternals, who would be the immune system of the planet, and the Deviants, beings who each was a fresh roll of the genetic dice, creating limitless diversity. They then built the city of Olympia on the South Pole for their creations to dwell in, and departed. When the Deviants multiplied beyond what could be supported and began a conquest of the world, twenty thousand years after their genesis, they returned and culled them, leaving them almost totally extinct.

It is not known if this is unrelated or caused by the Celestials behavior, however it was after this second arrival that humanity began to develop a purpose, a historical inevitability that took physical form, in the 'spirits of the century'. Each one had a lifespan of a century, and would live out the events that humanity itself struggled with. While all had a tremendous effect on the times they live in, few made it into recorded history beyond off-hand mentions and the occasional observation in folk-law.

Humanity began to evolve and build society, cities, and the trappings of civilization, forcing the planet to their designs rather then make the most of its natural state. And so the city of Archon was built, secrets better left undiscovered were found, black magic and necromancy were first used, and the worst of humanities propensity towards hate and violence was uncovered. After the fall of Archon, Atlantis came to power, forming the first major Empire on which the sun never set as it stretched around the entire globe, before it sank beneath the waves and it's people were forced to adapt to life beneath the seas, it's satellite kingdoms finding themselves suddenly independent and free to pursue their own destinies, beginning the age of High Adventure, of Nemedia and Aquilona and the the other kingdoms, that at last gave way to the kingdoms of Mesopotamia and Babylon, both of which would fall to Egypt, the people of the Nile founded by two trapped aliens resolving to make the best of their situation. It was then that the wizard Shazam created Black Adam to be humanities protector (not trusting the often absent Gods or the mysterious Eternals), but he proved to be far too dangerous to be allowed to remain and so was banished (for a time) and forgotten.

However, despite their growing levels of understanding, at the time humanity were still primitive, and ignorant of the planet around them, of it's history, and of those who lived upon it. What they did understand was as much a product of superstition as fact, and they were ignorant of the wider universe. Unfortunately for them, other beings were not so ignorant of humanity. Perhaps humanity would have been wiped out completely by a more advanced race, never having come within inches of it's potential, but for chance, as the races that did look down upon them proved benevolent.

The Asgardians, one of four great powers among the Third World, along with the Olympians - another of the powers, both took an interest in Earth beginning four thousand years before Rome, in the city of Mesopotamia, and began to guide humanity when whim took them, teaching them aspects of their science and knowledge, only slivers, but enough to jump forward development at a rapid pace. Both would grow to care for humanity in their own way, and did their best to help and protect them, even from themselves. However, two thousand years ago, the Third World was destroyed, and the Fourth World rose in it's place, the old gods almost eradicated but for precious few survivors who managed to escape the fate of being dissolved into raw firmament to build the next generation of gods.

For a while the Eternals covered for the now absent heavens, however increasingly they were not needed as humanity took on a life of it's own. The Roman Empire, commanded by Julius Caesar proved unbeatable, and by 50 B.C stretched all the way from Britain to outer Mongolia (bar one defiant village in Amorica, Gaul), under the tactical brilliance of Julius Caesar, who married the last of the Ptolmic pharaohs and beget a dynasty that would last five hundred years. But for said tiny village, he could have been said to rule the majority of the world. But it was not to last forever, and Rome was split into the two empires, one to be wiped out by the germanic tribes and the Huns, the other to slowly change to the point it had become a middle eastern nation.

However, with Rome gone, there was a sudden power vacuum, and nations regained their independence all at once. Some of them did better then others. In Britain, the kingdom of Camelot was founded, with the help of Merlin Satanspawn, and the bastard son of Uther Pendragon acting as regent. Percy the Black Knight helped protect it, and for a time it flourished as the last bastion of civilization in a darkening world, fighting off hordes of saxons other invading armies while promoting a better way of life then rule of the strong. Indeed, Arthur more then anything wanted to destroy the idea that Might made Right. However it was not to last and Mordred betrayed his father and destroyed the kingdom, plunging britain into dark ages once more. Merlin would wander for a time, bitter and lost, before being the first being to be made The Doctor by the wizard Shazam, meddling again in human history.

It is now that the Kherubim and Daemonite war comes to earth. They crashed millennia ago after a skirmish between their exploratory vessel and a Daemonite warship near Earth's orbit, and have since been grounded there. Lord Majestros of Khera, their defacto leader decided that as long as they were here, they could make use of it, and so put their powers and knowledge to work. However, this did not see widespread use, as for the most part they would work with an individual rather then put it into mass production.

The Renaissance came and went, the Industrial revolution began, and humanity continued to exponentially develop in all the areas of science and culture. Wars were fought, men lived and loved and died, and the world moved on again. However, society didn't necessarily keep up with innovation, and that would go on to cause problems.

In the seventeenth century, mad scientists ran the world. Badly. The landscape was ravaged by superweapons, death-rays, armies of clockwork soldiers and genetic abominations, and that was just the start. Steam and clockwork engines served every purpose imaginable, maps changed overnight as they battled for supremacy, and monsters were created, all because it seemed a good idea at the time. However, their madness proved their own undoing, as one by one they were burned to death by angry mobs, turned on by their own creations, or caught in explosions as their devices malfunctioned. Eventually, towards the end of the century, all but the best died out, and the left a power vacuum in Europe. That, more then anything, led to a new age of empires.

Nations grew in size and power, settling in parts of the world previously undiscovered. Some, like America, went on to become independent, others were thoroughly conquered. It was a time of ideas, and the birth of globalization. Britain was the Empire on which the sun never sets, modeling itself on ancient Atlantis. The Ottoman Empire was on the decline, and the world was coming to focus on Europe. The frontiers were being pushed back, and new discoveries were constantly rolling in. Metahumans existed on the fringes, using their gifts as best they could to preserve themselves.

This was the age of the zeppelin, the ocean liner, the flying-boat airliner, and the skyscraper. Progress seemed unstoppable and the future was sure to be bright, though economic downturns and shortages conspired to keep the lower classes from appreciating them. As often the case with humanity, it was only the few who enjoyed the fruits of the collective labor.

The war of the worlds, shortly after the turn of the century when martians from Mars invaded Earth (driven of their home by the other species who live there), is largely what inspired the trend of individual enhancement, although contact with extra dimensional creatures stretches all the way back to the dawn of man. However, before the war against the martians, they were not something that concerned human beings. They were simply something that existed. The war changed that, but the effects were not felt for some time after, even considering the formation of the 'League of Extraordinary Gentlemen'.

Contact with other worlds had occurred in the past, but for the most part this was limited to extremely advanced species who used Earth for their own reasons, some idealistic, some brutaly pragmatic, a few even malevolent. Humanity had always simply weathered them, they did not seek them out or look for them, simply making the best of their situation. But as man would not be a slave to his environment, so he would not allow other beings to define his existence.

The first contact with an alternative reality intended by humanity was in 1920, where a stable portal was created through the Bleed, and contact was made with another reality altogether. In the meantime, humanity continued to develop at an outstanding rate, sending up the first satellites of what would soon be a global communications network, creating limitless free energy utilizing heretofore unavailable substances, and embarking on projects to change the landscape of the world.

It was also a time of cultural change. Cities were rebuilt, largely to facilitate humanities growing innovations and changing lifestyle, as well as rebuilding being a cheaper alternative to upgrading. For a long time in Europe, cities would be left abandoned as construction was begun elsewhere of a newer, more developed city. Skylines became filled with towering, dream-like structures, and other formerly impossible feats of engineering. London, for example, installed cavorite in Buckingham palace after some considerable reinforcing of the structure, allowing it to hover over New London. It also lead to many new cities in America, such as Star City, Gotham, Metropolis (that would go on to become the nations capital) and several others, as the older cities were abandoned.

But humans remained humans. The drive to become more really began with World War 2, when Germany was taken over by Grand Arcmage of the Thule Society Adolf Hitler. The war was not truly a new war so much as a carry on of the first, under new management. The society in the background was much the same. Germany, with their growing obsession with ethnic purity and superman complex, desired to reach the 'sum of human potential', that set off a genetics race. Furthermore, Hitler acquired the spear Longinus, allowing him to use it as a focus to write the destiny of his people.

Huge breakthroughs were made in building 'better soldiers', through therapy, experimentation, regimes and breeding, even cloning, the Nazi's slightly ahead at first, but the gap rapidly closing as the other nations saw the writing on the wall and threw their might behind it, and the nazi's getting side tracked by dead ends (billions were wasted on the search for the 'homosexual gene'). Captain America was the first great success, and was seen as the poster-boy of the projects. Rogers proved to be more then capable, and his officers came to rely on him as much as a battalion of their best men.

Shortly after, the wizard Shazam awoke from his meditations in the Himalayas, and walked into parliament in full regalia, proclaiming that Winston Churchill is the promised savior 'returned in the hour of greatest need', and then stays on as a war advisor, even participating during the Blitz, with Captain Britain arriving shortly after as well. The Howling Commandos, the Blackhawks, and several other special soldiers were inspired by this new way to fight a war, and soon began appearing on every front. More then that, Majestic decides to interfere in human affairs when the Nazi’s ally with another of his people’s ancient enemies (the Chitauri), and, the dawn of the 'Superhero' begins. The phrase was first coined shortly after.

It was this time, that Order 666 was given to several inner ranking Nazi higher echelons. They were to win the war by any means possible, no matter the cost. They focused on the occult while the allies focussed on science, leading to armies of robots fighting armies of superhuman zombies, supermen fighting mad archangels bound with infernal runes, and other, less easy to describe things. Major Montana Max, Grigori Rasputin, the host of the first of the Ogdru Jahad and all the creations of Wolfenstein were geared towards building an army that could defeat the Allies. They ripped a hole in reality, stepping through to the ruins of an advanced and dead civilization, and used what they found on the other side to great effect, as well as making contact with said alien race (the Chitauri). They are also aided by several less the scrupulous beings with agendas of their own, including Vandal Savage and Ra's Ah Ghul, however The League of Shadows betrayed Nazi command in the early stages, killing many of the high command and leading them to be replaced with the Nazi's supersoldiers.

The Japanese don't have a program as such, leaving that to their allies (much to the disgust of Tiger Yamamoto). Just the same, they did have several figures who filled that role helping out, and the Emperor was secretly removed. Furthermore, they managed to make an alliance with a race of extraterrestrials formed of living, sentient metal, known as the Decepticons. Using what they could glean from the study of their allies, they reverse engineered their technology to build weapons and robots far ahead of the rest of the world, giving them (at the time) seemingly unbeatable tanks and warmachines, complete with minds of their own, in the form of AI's. Equally usefully, their long distance communications and transportation took off, even discovering micro-chips and crude shielding technology. They break alliance with the rest of the Axis before long, and attempt to carve out an empire in Asia, ignoring Europe completely. However, they lose heart, particularly after Hiroshima, and the assassination of the Emperor, and have no choice but to surrender.

In 1943, after the invasion of Russia, Red Skull tired of Hitlers mistakes (as well as the man being essentially a laughing stock, having being badly beaten up by several Heroes who came just shy of killing him by luck more then anything else, and several time-travelers launching assassination attempts), executes him on National Television, and takes command himself, using the military to seize all means of production and supplies, and turning Germany into a dystopian state practically over night, rigidly controlling every aspect in the process, and turning all the industrial power to war. The Nazis were no longer making administrative mistakes, and the war stretched on for four and a half more years, devastating much of Europe, and ending in 1948. The German people were largely doing their very best to aid the allies in every way they could or were totally crushed by fear by this point, but Red Skull pointedly said he did not need, nor care about, their approval.

Finally, the end of the war came, as Germany could no longer support it’s efforts, and Nazi high command begin making their escapes. They will go on to be a threat for a long, long time. Berlin was occupied, and Red Skull vanished, along with Captain America. An official statement claimed he was killed during the fighting, but even in those days that was recognized as unlikely, and conspiracy theories abounded. The truth is, he took a job with Stalin, and started making the system more efficient (both the nazi and the communist felt that loss of life was largely incidental). He’d still be there for decades to come.

We then hit a stop. With no longer any such motivation pushing people forward, the development of super-humans lost priority, and the industrial capacity instead geared towards repairing the damage. The Superheroes in this are the early heroes, groups like the Minutemen, ordinary people dressing up and fighting crime. Usually, not even organized crime, just pickpockets and other petty criminals, gangs and delinquents. They generally didn’t last long, and are seen as essentially stunts, not worth taking seriously. Just the same, they did manage to inspire plenty of detractors. The powerful individuals who had emerged go back into seclusion, no longer needed. Majestic returns to his people and the civilization they are trying to build, while others integrate back into the world. Miracleman, for example, launches a successful corporation.

Progress in terms of Superheroes stops... until the sixties when it takes off again. The Vietnam war was underway, and the militaries are not proving up to the task of pacifying the region. Then, in less then a few months apart, Dr Manhattan and Superman Red Son arrive on opposite sides, and suddenly the Cold War took on a whole new dimension. Red Son proved to be easily the most powerful known being, far beyond any pre-existing class (Including Majestic, or even the deities that had visited earth long ago), while Manhattan was essentially the same, near omniscient and capable of producing energy to change molecular structures, making him, from an outsiders perspective, able to warp reality on a whim. However, while Manhattan's powers made him detached and uncaring, considering himself above normal people and unable to relate, Red Son's had the opposite effect, making him an altruist who did all he could to support his fellow man, and changing the Soviet Union to become what it had always presented itself as. With Stalin's death (Red Skull had vanished shortly before, untraceably) Red Son took over as General Secretary, and began fixing the problems that plagued the Soviet Union.

Now in the world at large, there is a drive to expand, and so they do, building several teams, and revitalizing old programs. More to the point, several heroes appear on their own, and it was that, more then anything, that prompted the worlds governments first began to become aware of the tremendous threat that they represented, a threat perhaps more real then conventional weapons, as individuals possessing destructive capabilities beyond anything humanity had access to existed, and were answerable to nobody.

The first initiative was to create superheroes of their own. At first, these results were less then spectacular. The Comedian, for example, was heralded as the new Captain America in media explosions, but he was largely a propaganda front, and aside from being tough and well built he had little real weight in the circles he moved in. They received a lot of media attention, but in the scheme of things were not particularly significant.

It was also the first incarnation of Stormwatch. America created SHIELD, England created STRIKE (At first directly under and answerable to Parliament, but later given independence and with Jenny Sparks (Spirit of the 20th century) put in charge and given autonomy), and several other agencies came into existence, all at the same time, for the same purpose: Controlling, monitoring, and dealing with threats that the rest of the nations reserves were not equipped to handle.

STRIKE soon collapsed, and instead a new group was formed, the MIB under Cecil Stedman. They would work to keep the realities of the world from leaking onto the news too much, as if there is one thing humanity craves, it’s stability. Their job was making the world appear to be safe and secure, and many of the things blamed on the conspiracy are in fact directly the fault of this organization.

Meanwhile SHIELD, headed by war-hero and hardcase Nick Fury and General 'Thunderbolt' Ross saw things differently. If that's the way it was going to be, then they would have better superhumans then anyone else, and over the next decades the two of them were largely responsible for all America's varying superhuman programs. But it all began with Weapon X, essentially (at the time) colonel Stryker, colonel Wraith, and a drinks tab trying to overthrow the Soviet Union. However, SHIELD grew in power over time, and they eventually formed their own unit of specialist military personnel, G.I Joe, as well as a division to reverse engineer the weapons and technologies utilized by the regular threats to Earth.

The Doctor, at this time a man named Dr Steven Strange, decided to take a more overt hand on the world stage. Cutting all links with his previous groups and affiliations, which he had only maintained out of tradition, he takes a hand in improving the state of life the world over, first with medicine and spiritual healing, then more overtly.

Chinese national Shang-Tsung launched the 'Strongest Under the Heavens' tournament, where it is won by an old man, Jackie Chun. He appeared from nowhere and was a total unknown, and vanished again soon after, however he did star in a few B-grade movies in the one year he was known, most of which went on to become cult classics and began an industry of poorly envisioned martial arts movies, where metahumans utilized their powers for entertainment.

Finally, the Space Race was won by a third party candidate. Professor Cuthbert Calculus, alongside a few scientists and old friends of the professor succeed in building a functional rocket ship in Syldavia (backed by the governments generous contribution) and getting it not only to the moon, but to the dark side, take pictures and return, months before either the Americans or Russians had anything quite workable. Tintin, a Belgium reporter, had the honor of being the first human to meet me, and I retain fond memories of the young man.

The seventies came next. And they begin on an exciting note, as Elijah Snow, the ghost of the 21st century, actually tracked down Red Skull and confronted him. If their was any justice in the world, the nazi would have at last answered for his crimes, but it didn't go well for the archeologist, and the nazi vanishes again, leaving Elijah stranded in The North Sea. He would go on to help found several organizations and cause chaos and destruction in South America, although, upon determining that the goals of said groups were all doomed to failure, cut all ties to them and, upon consideration, give up nazism as well, trading it for a new concept of his own creation. In much the same time, Elijah rethinks his purpose, and decides it is not merely to uncover the lost and forgotten secrets, but also to bring them to light, and improve the world with his discoveries rather then hoarding them.

Of course, the great equalizer was about to come, and put a new perspective on the superhero arms race. A special comet passed the Earth during the 70s. The comet gave off special radiation that would turn many humans on Earth into Seedlings, people with (latent) superhuman powers find them coming to the fore. They were Mutants, and it was as the celestials had intended.

They were not the first. Some were manifested far earlier, although their powers were increased by the comet, and among them were two intellectuals, Charles Xavier, and Eric Lesherr. The two of them had been in contact for a long time previously, and had become close friends and confidants, and so with the coming of the comet that they concluded that humans were out-evolved. They could not compete with the new, emerging race, that shared their DNA but was not truly among the rest of the world. The two went on to form a group of such people, build their own island, civilization, and everything else, and waited for the world to follow them. The two friends slowly began to come at head, their radically different ways of acting at odds with each other.

Meanwhile, SHIELD finally began to have success. Their creation of the 'ultimate assassin' had less in the way of concrete results then their soviet counterparts. The best result they could get was Slade Wilson, who escaped with his brother in tow and went into business for themselves, and James Logan, a mutant of unclear origins. The few that they did keep were more or less useless. But Fury managed to poach Bendix, who proved far more capable by not worrying about things like morals or ethics, and having access to all sorts of DNA taken from various members of the superhuman community, makes some truly spectacular breakthroughs.

The eighties were a period defined entirely by relentless growth. Nixon, during his second term, had Dr Manhattan intervene in the Vietnam war, finally winning the war for the Americans. It was the first actual use of superheroes in war since the second world war, and the world was shocked. Russia retaliated with an EMP nuclear missile, cutting all power in America and blotting out the sun for three days, as well as destroying Washington DC. It was largely this that led to test ban treaties, mostly regarding posthuman limitation and nuclear proliferation. However, the balance of power was shifting, America in something of a decline, while The Soviet Union was on the rise.

Increasingly, America was finding itself in debt and unable to produce enough, necessitating it sinking further in debt. Worse, the Soviet Union was going the other way with Red Son in charge, and it's borders were spreading, peacefully, mind, but surely and steadily.

The greatest under the Heaven's tournament is opened again, and this time won by Son Goku, after a tremendous fight with a being who claimed to be a reincarnated Demon King Piccolo, first vanquished in the Han dynasty. The being was vanquished, and Son Goku vanished with him, never to e heard from again.

Two groups, under the auspices of the Directory of Mainland Technology Development, attempted the same mission, faster then light travel. Both consisted of four people, a pilot, a scientist, and two assistants, and would be using the same type of ship, departing with in seconds of each other, to attempt the same result, the first foray into what was called 'the N-Zone', later renamed the Bleed. The results were nothing more then a quirk of fate, but while the group led by Reed Richards came to New Genesis and were bombarded by one wave of cosmic rays, the group headed Randall Dowling were bombarded by the same radiation, but ended up in a very different place.

It was what first drew the lord of Apokolips, God of Tyranny and king of the fourth world, Darkseids', gaze to earth, and when they returned, both found themselves with very different missions. It was also the moment of the first successful defection from The Soviet Union, in the form of Latveria, headed by Victor Von Doom. It was followed by Vorozheika, headed by the Eternal Druig, lord of nightmares.

Charles Xavier and Eric, now calling himself Magnetto (and abandoning human culture completely) finally part ways. Their split was far from pleasant, and Magnetto becomes something of a dark messiah, as well as engaging in acts of terrorism against the western world for mutant rights. The two would go on to find themselves at odds constantly.

Superheroes were appearing everywhere by this point. The Hulk's first rampage is stopped by a man who calls himself Superman, and soon becomes America's favorite son, given that he embodies the values and qualities that people had began to think were gone from the world. Decency, justice, truth, and doing the right thing. And in all the world's history, there was perhaps never another man his equal. He would go on to become one of the worlds most identifiable constants, and become an international figure of incredible acclaim.

Around the same time, Bendix went rogue. To match all the 'superheroes' he sets himself up as the opposite. Approaching Red Skull and Destro, a prominent arms dealer, funded by Lex Luthor, he began an army of his own, and Stormwatch found themselves in a fight beyond their capabilities. However, he is eventually stopped, though it's a near thing.

More Superheroes were appearing, and less want to have anything to do with any government at all. Themyscira appears in the greek archipelago, a remnant left by the Olympians when they favored the world with their residence, the entire island snapping into existence seemingly out of nowhere, and many of the previously neutral super-beings find themselves having been surpassed without their notice and no longer relevent. Princess Diana, or 'Wonder Woman' as she calls herself, is sent as an emissary, and is given a seat on the United Nations. At the same time, King Namor of Atlantis is officially recognized.

The global blocs are becoming increasingly tense, and Mutually Assured Destruction came into play, with the doomsday clock ticking closer and closer due to tensions rising. Red Son has annexed more of Europe, absorbing it into his growing state that stretches from china all the way to Germany. Meanwhile, America’s economy is struggling, with no real production and most of the manufacturing done in India, the national debt out of control, and quality of life is spiraling down, leading to a crime wave. Nixon, deciding that there is no other option, resolves to attempt to wipe out the Union before they can do the same to him, and prepares to press the red button.

Fortunately, he never does. A former hero, once part of the second Minutemen, Ozymandius now going by Adrian Veidt, foresaw this, and puts a plan he prepared for this eventuality into motion. Realizing that humanity had begun fixated on perceived differences, he realized he had to engineer an event that would make them look elsewhere. He had a complex plan that would cause a ceasefire, by engineering a cosmic threat and forcing mankind to band together. Initially, he planned to fake one, but then had a better idea, and using a complex signal actually brought one.

That night, within minutes of Nixon having come to his decision, a silver streak could be seen in the sky as the herald of Galactus came. An hour before the order to fire the nukes was given, Galactus came to Earth with the intention to devour it, sparing nobody. The embodiment of entropy had intended to devour the planet, but was stopped (by Reed Richards, Eljah Snow, and Superman), and, graciously admitting defeat, left after the promise to never devour the Earth. Dr Manhattan, suddenly forcibly shown that for all his power, he is still a long way from being as enlightened or powerful as he had always assumed he was, left Earth to explore the rest of the universe and learn more. Humanity, realizing how close destruction had come, agreed to a ceasefire, and for a while things looked good.

It was an illusion. It had turned everyones gaze outward, to look for an enemy amongst the stars instead, and so the Earth begins to become involved in galactic events, despite it’s desire to remain alone. S.W.O.R.D is formed, replacing the now long defunct MIB.

The first Kree-Skrull war flares up, with the alien officer Captain Pluskommander Geheneris Halason Mahr Vehl arriving and mankind finding themselves involved almost by default. However, the earth mannages to pass through the battles mostly unscathed. Due to the circumstances of their victory, however, the Skrulls come to see Earth as a holy site, and begin infiltration. Both superheroes, politicians, and people of a less tangible evidence are abducted and replaced with Skrulls assuming their identities (Elvis Presley among them). This would not come to head for some time.

Worse, the Kerubians, long allies of Earth (if for no other reason then convenience in their ongoing interstellar war) were wiped out almost completely by the Vitrulmites, along with several other worlds on friendly terms (Almerac, Tamaraan, Thanagaar) when they resist the warlike races expansion efforts, leaving the ones on Earth as the sole remaining survivors of the species. Majestic leaves earth with all the companions he could convince to join him and attempts to get revenge, returning a few months later, alone and badly beaten, his companions all killed. Fortunately, internal problems and administrating concerns slow the Empires expansion. Majestic, not appeased, makes a deal with several specialists on Earth, and creates the Legacy virus, that wipes out almost the entire population of his new enemies, and spreads too fast to be combated. In no time, the Vitrulmites are all but extinct as well.

Nick Fury in response to all this, formed his own team, 'The Avengers' as the American equivalent of 'The Winter Guard'. As it is formed, to the surprise and delight of everyone, Steve Rogers, 'Captain America' is pulled from the ocean, frozen solid, and successfully revived. He is placed in charge of the team. The team soon cuts ties with the government, and the independently wealthy members begin funding it.

China at last completes it’s own project, and announces ‘the great ten’. Led by a clone of Guan Yu, a man famed in his life for his fidelity, honor, nobility, and ability to rout an entire army by himself. As the nation was, at this point, a subsidiary of the Soviet Union, the team for the most part is of little importance, until the second revolution swept through China, and the nation declared it's independence.

Charles Xavier, Informal Leader of the World's mutant affairs, was assassinated. The killer was never found by the worlds authorities, however I can tell of an unrecognizable corpse is found, torn apart from inside, not long after. With his death, organized mutant rights plummet, and the brotherhood takes over as the primary agency working to further mutants. Mostly through terrorist actions. Many of the X-men default to The Brotherhood. But once more Earth's problems were miniscule besides the universe's own issues.

Thanos created the infinity gauntlet, and so achieved omnipotence. Fortunately, he did not destroy the universe in the end, as much due to his own flaws as due to the abilities of those in the universe to stop him, and was stopped, but not permenently. He returned shortly later, and began once more working towards his goals.

It was at this point that Japan completed the Knightmare and other 'mecha' giant robots with human pilots based on the principle of Decepticon technology mixed with several other concepts. Tony Stark worked as a correspondant, and at the time made several improvements to his own armor.

Black Adam’s first and greatest rampage began when his lover is killed. Having been ruling Kahndaq with an iron fist, he abandoned all he had achieved to find those responsible. He began at Latveria, smashes into Russia to battle the Winter Soldiers then Red Son himself, and after being halted then driven back deflected and veered into China, where he was forced out again, and left to devastate much of Europe, proving almost impossible to stop. Eventually he was brought down, at considerable cost, and the process of rebuilding began.

Barely a week later, The Authority was reformed by Jenny Sparks, and the world begins to take a darker tone. Gone are the old days, now the world seems perpetually at war with itself. The Authority, however, proved to be very much a decisive force in the world; while their success at protecting the Earth from various extranormal threats and international terrorists was unparalleled, their simultaneous use of lethal force and willingness to topple dictatorial regimes favored by one power bloc or another kept tension high. However, for the first time in forty years, the US is matching The Soviet Union. By the turn of the millennium, America is more unstable then ever before, going through no less then four presidents in a year (the first was impeached, the next two were assassinated, the first by the renegade superhero group the seven guns, the second by the Authority themselves).

A coup takes place, The Authority seizing control of all

An international coalition of operatives led by Nick Fury and Ivan Simanov manage to move quickly and efficiently, deploying Navy Seals, the SAS and a Spetznaz team against the Authority within an hour, the soldiers headed by agents from the various monitoring groups. And to the surprise of even the most optimistic of projections manage to not merely stall them but actually subdue them all. However, Maxwell Lord worked behind the scenes to stabilize the new regime, so they have no choice but to defer to the Authority, and let them do their new job.

The Skrull Secret Invasion came to head shortly after, over the course of which many Skrull infiltrators are identified and dealt with. The Skrulls had been undertaking a long-term, well-planned subversive infiltration since the war, and they are finally ready to move. They are eventually dealt with, by Norman Osborne of all people, although it was a near thing.

Humanity was invited to join the coalition of planets by Thaedus, the founder and ruler of the group, and after a summit meeting humanity agrees. It's a period of development, and once more we make great leaps and bounds in terms of progress.

Unfortunately, this was also a time of galactic unrest, as the Sinestro corps war began, as the mad lantern rallied himself an army of the most fearsome beings in the galaxy and declared war on the peace-keepers in the name of law and order. The war ended with the matter undecided, and thousands dead on both sides. All was going according to his plan.

Hawksmoor and Magnetto cut a deal, and mutants are finally given the recognition and status that satisfies him. In exchange, he goes legitimate. Eric Lensherr actually goes on to become a senator despite not being an American resident, proving that there is no such thing as bad publicity.

And then, all of a sudden, The Authority are taken out of operation one by one by a shadowy self-proclaimed terrorist who goes by the name 'V', who is never identified, found, or even satisfactorily established as dead or alive. Never giving them a chance to strike back he immobilizes them through a series of perfectly taken care of incidents, taking out most of the administration who supported them in the process with assassinations and blackmail. Eventually, Hawksmoor is forced into a corner, with the only way out being to stand down, and restore democracy to America, with free elections.

Lex Luthor is elected president by a landslide. He dismisses Fury from Office, and makes Norman Osborne secretary for defense and head of SHIELD. Not because he trusts him, simply because it provides him with the perfect fall guy for the more morally questionable policies his administration undertakes. Leaning hard on congress and the senate he continues the economic reforms the Authority had begun, revolutionizing several industries and rebooting the economy. However, his primary motivation was simply forcing Superman into a situation he couldn't effectively fight back. Secretly, he begins the Mankind Liberation Front, an alliance with several other powerful figures, with the intention of removing the Mutant gene, 'foreign articles' from the genepool, and otherwise eliminate all metahumans and aliens. He was, however, perfectly willing to use metahumans as pawns in order to do this.

I am the Watcher, and I have seen more then any other being can claim. All that has happened, every molecular event, happened with an observer. And now, you know enough to make sense of the dark days to come...

[Draxx]

James Bond
M's office was stark, and spartan, though not uncomfortable. The furniture consisted of well maintained antiques, the stationary top of the line. He didn't have a computer in his room, he'd never really got the hang of them. A triumphant picture of Admiral Washington at the battle of Trafalgar was on one wall, his only decoration, that he'd inherited from one of his predecessors, Admiral John Godfrey and taken a liking to. It had been in storage for decades, but he'd brushed it off and hung it in his office for reason unknown.

Mallory possessed a razor sharp minded with a fierce ruthlessness to match. He was the Chairman of the Intelligence and Security Committee prior to heading up MI6, and is a former lieutenant colonel in the British Army, serving in Falklands war and in Ireland with the Special Air Service during the Troubles, where he had been held hostage by the IRA for three months. They'd tortured him enough that he still had scars.

Personal reservations aside, Bond truly respected this new M. In fact, he had fought by his side twice, and he was an individual that trusted his instincts, even in the face of contrary evidence. And that was important in this buisness.

"Sit down 007." M said curtly, gesturing to the 18th century carved mahogany chair on the other side of his desk. "A situation has presented itself that gives us cause for concern."

"Over the past 6 months, a series of high-tech thefts have occurred at various communication installations around central Europe, targeting allied installations. Numerous lives have been lost, including several key Intelligence operatives of ours. More to the point, these aren't acts of random terrorism. It's clear that there is a motive behind this, though what it is we hesitate to speculate. We do, however, have a probable suspect."

Michael Westen
You're in your loft, with the three people who form such an intricate part in your life as a burned spy, Jesse, Sam Axe, and Fiona. Sam in particular looks concerned. He's dressed as usual in a loud Hawaiian shirt and plenty of flashy jewelry that looks tacky and fake despite being top of the line. "So look. I got this buddy named Frank Moses. Former Black Ops, record longer then you want to know about, retired and living a quiet life in a Cleveland suburb. Anyway, yesterday he calls me, and says he got in touch with a few of his old buddy's, and made a bit of headway on your case, Mike. So I tell him alright, give me details, and he says it's not safe to talk now, and he'll call me back in an hour. I haven't heard from him yet, so I did some digging this morning, to find he's vanished off the map. His house has blown up, and there is no record of him anywhere. He hasn't just been burned, he's been unpersoned."

"So this is a good lead. All we gotta do is find Frank, then we find who made him disappear. And then we finally have a face to work from."

The Shadow
It's a dark night in New York. Dark as it gets.

Wilson Fisk, Kingpin of crime is the closest thing you've had to a worthy opponent since your enemy Si-Fan relocated back to the Orient. The law cannot hope to touch him, he is too organized and careful, too good at laundering and maintaining the illusions that protect him. Indeed, they wouldn't dare, his legitimate holdings alone are so vast that the entire nation's economy depends upon them to an extent. The other criminals don't dare face him, they just hand over tribute. And your fellow crusaders have come close, but are always thwarted before reaching him. But then, you haven't had a fellow spirit among them since The Spider, who Si-Fan killed sixty years ago.

It has been a long game. You chipping away at his power-base and interfering with the flow of his wealth, him working to force you out of hiding, out of the shadows that protect you. But tonight, he will be vulnerable, almost unprotected, so your informants have informed you. Tonight you can strike.

The Fisk Industries tower is a front for the Kingpin's public ventures as well as a base of operations for his criminal activities. It is located at 439 West 38th Street (on the corner of West 38th Street and 5th Avenue), just north of the Empire State Building and a few blocks south east of the Bank of America tower, one of the tallest buildings on the skyline. And at the top, is his penthouse.

The taxi-driver, who owes you a life debt and has no issue with acting as your wheelman as repayment lets you out, and asks if he should wait to pick you up.

Tommy Oliver
There are eight heavenly cities within the bounds of the orient, atop the Himalayas and similar mountains caring nothing for the borders or the events below, where the inhabitants isolate themselves and live lives of spiritual consideration and harmony. But once a generation, the Seven Capital Cities of Heaven align on a plane far beyond the ken of mortal men that has rules and laws only unto itself. It is here that these cities send their Immortal Warriors to compete against one another in a combat tournament to end all tournaments, for the right to determine the fate of the Earthly realm.

You know this because a message was delivered by a short brown man, written on a scroll in perfect English, congratulating you for the honor of being selected as one of six possible candidates by Master Crane to take place in the tournament, and to be in Tibet this time tomorrow.

[industrious]

Dermott Arkane

Progress.

People have fought for the idea, died for it. They have lived for it, acting unselfishly, hoping that their consciences would inspire others to act and join with them. Hoping to make a difference in a chaotic world.

They were fools.

Because progress doesn't come from individuals. There will always be a backlash, a tug of war between society and individual, or society and society until the ideas of progress come crashing to a halt.

To change humanity, you don't change the circumstances, the world around them. You don't change government or technology. To change humanity one must change...humanity.

The Statosphere. Where statistics have personalities; where the Archtypes dwell in the human unconscious, shaping us, molding our beliefs. Replace those, or add to them, and humanity changes, the statistics change, and we become different.

Take the Ascension of The Merchant, for example, back in the 7th century. Trade had always existed...but suddenly it blossomed. Mercantilism had become, for better or worse, embedded in human affairs. And whenever the concept evolved, permanently, it was because someone else had replaced whatever man had Ascended as The Merchant.

And now, Dermott Arkane was in Metropolis, covering the story of a rally for...whatever. The subject didn't matter. What mattered was the message.

And what really mattered was which way he spun it.

The Shadow

"That will not be necessary, Sebastian Lawrence."

The Shadow always called his associates by name. If only so that they knew that he knew who they were.

"I will be seeking...other routes for my departure."

The cab door opens, and nothing exits as it drops off. nothing puts on a pair of suction cups, affixing them to forearms and knees. And nobody begins to climb the tower, avoiding the front entrance.

[darkblade]

Michael Westen

When something feels like a trap it probably is.

"I don't like this Sam. Seems too obvious, an old friend suddenly gets a lead on me before disapearing." Michael said as he dug his spoon deeper into the container of yougurt. "Besides, the people who burned me. They aren't that blunt or I'd be a stain on the carpet by now."

Before she could even speak up he cast Fi a look. A house in suburbia exploding with no trace, she'd trade her favourite p-90 for a chance to look into that. "Alright but we are covering our bases before we take a road trip. Frank was cold war, means he probably had a dead drop here during the Missile Crisis."

Of course if you know it's a trap sometimes it pays to poke the bait a little bit so see if the trap setters show up.

***

Tommy Oliver

Zordon used to tell Tommy, "Once a ranger, always a ranger." Turns out it's not quite true. How many rangers remain active in the States (Japan's rangers seem to still be going strong after thirty-seven years)? Those new Megaforce kids, maybe a handful of others. Even his own pupils the Dino Thunder Rangers left the fight. Going on to play soccer, draw comics and become pop song one hit wonders. No one stayed when their battle was done anymore.

He looked upon the hidden city off in the distance and sighed. He didn't care much for tournaments, particularly not ones like this, fighting other heroes to find who is best suited to defend the Earth. An ancient tradition that seems almost quaint in the face of the hundreds of super teams across the world. Still he couldn't refuse, even as he is a man of science and a Power Ranger every martial artist dreams of seeing the Heavenly city and becoming an immortal weapon. He approaches the gate and shows the guards his scroll.

[Draxx]

Rex Salazar
Technically you, or at least your body, is the property of Stark Enterprises, the original manufacturers of the EVO nanites that caused the mess you are in now. There is a federal inquiry as to the dereliction of duty that led to this, but a definite source has yet to be determined, indeed it's felt that it was likely sabotage. Nonetheless, the nanites still belong to Stark, and were he a different sort of man you could likely look forward to a future as a (very humanely taken care of) lab-rat constantly analyzed for raw data so that you could be effectively replicated. Fortunately, for a heartless (literally) capitalist, Tony can be astoundingly liberal.

So the terms of your contract are simple. Once a month, you come into he corp for a routine check-up, and while they check everything they see what they can do about restoring your identity as well. Tony even offered you a job the second time you met him, which you thought was pretty cool.

The scientist taking care of you (if you qualify zapping you with various particle identification rays while you are strapped to a table under examination 'taking care') is John Henry Irons, an enormous black man with an impressively developed musculature. His head is shaved, his features are regular and hard, and his eyes are shrewd and intelligent, his voice deep and pleasant to listen to. He handles everything with deceptive care.

"Good news." He says at last, after a full spec analysis comes up negative. There was cause for concern about the strain on your body and the possible imperfect tissue repair. "You've finally stabilized. It's not going to get any better on it's own, but you're not likely to see any further degeneration either. No cancer in your future after all." He unstraps you, then hefts you gently to your feet.

"Well that's it on this end. How goes your attempts to trace the rest of the EVO's?"

Michael Westen
Sam concedes the unlikeliness of the situation, but can't quite bring himself to believe his old friend is involved in any sort of set-up. "Well, if you did want to get rid of Frank that's about the only thing you could do that has a chance of working. He's a black ops wet-works specialist from way back, and was the best in the game for a long time." He replies, spreading his arms expansively.

Jesse shrugs and leans forward. "Could just be a coincidence boss. It's not all about us. I mean, he's got enemies, same as everyone, and maybe he hasn't outlived them all. He asks a few questions, they get a bead on him, and do what they do."

Fi shakes her head. "The explosion says amateur. Either it really was an accident, or they didn't get him and are trying to cover their tracks."

"I'll check it out. See if I can find anything that tells us more in a hurry." Sam says, clapping his hands and getting to his feet. "Only lets get there before enforcement does and we have a cold trail."

Jesse shrugs. "I'll procure a vehicle and arrange to move anonymously. Any ideas?"

Tommy Oliver
The mountain air is clean and crisp, stinging cold. The horizon is an indistinct distant blur, and there feels no limit to how far you can see. Even your pack feels less heavy then it was when you left the airport. You're on the boundary, at the point of crossing over into the intersecting world where the heavenly cities belong, an older, purer world of tradition and individual excellence above all things. And yet somehow you can even get wifi here. Such are the wonders of progress.

Even now, you can't help but feel a little excited. This is a big step up from facing Jason Le Scott in a school martial arts tournament. Indeed, you had no idea you were this highly regarded, even at your hey-day you were usually just a headline on the local news. It's almost enough to give you cause for concern.

The city you are heading for is above you even having scaled two thirds of the mountain already, and no matter how far you walk you never seem to get closer. The note you received says that reaching the city is a state of mind, and so as your readiness progresses you come closer. Whether that's literal truth or hyperbole is probably missing the point.

As you stop to admire the view again, you catch a glimpse of a light blue color out of the corner of your eye, gone a second later before your brain can make any headway in identifying it. Turning, you catch it again along with a faint rustling sound, and realize something, or several somethings, are all around you, watching. And from their silence and sneakiness, you'd guess their intentions aren't strictly friendly.

Dermott Arkane
Lex Luthor is not a popular man, even if his authority came from what is essentially a popularity contest. He's not even respected really, no matter what he does, which huge gesture he makes to demonstrate his magnanimity or generosity or kindness, nobody is really won over. No matter what he does for them, how much he serves their self-interests, everyone knows, deep down, that he's a bad man that they have every reason not to trust. And he doesn't make it easier by more or less explicitly holding them all in contempt.

It's almost absurd, the people in this rally (the cause is one thing or another, occupying troops out of India, perhaps, or in reaction to the governments increasing secrecy, or perhaps just an insistence he looses the stranglehold that he applied to the nation, and allows some semblance of Free Market to return) is strange, given the ease he got elected one would assume that people were willing to forgive his past. Apparently that's not the case at all.

They are picketing outside his corporate headquarters, though they are also being surprisingly well behaved about it and the disruption they are causing is strictly minimal. This is Metropolis, after all. Luthor is in Washington, and not particularly interested in their opinions, however, the acting CEO in his absence Talia Head is less disposed to bored dismissal.

The Shadow
You pause as you come to the top floor. It is Wilson Fisk's habit to work late, sometimes through the night. Even when he does decide to sleep, he often simply does so in his office, and had a room specially built for that purpose. Yet something is wrong.

The lights are dimmed, and while the guards having been sent home is far from unusual, his executive assistant and other minor functionaries have gone too. It's not a trap. He's still unaware of you. Nobody knows of you as more then rumor until you will it, no matter how firmly his finger may be on the pulse of the city he is no exception.

Which leaves only one logical possibility. Wilson Fisk has chosen this night, of all nights, to entertain company. Company he feels so secretive about, he's taking pains to hide it from his own, less then savory or scrupulous people.

[darkblade]

Michael

Sometimes as a spy you have to let bad things happen to good people as part of the job.

"Alright we'll go." Michael sighed as he placed the dirty yogourt container in the sink.

But when you're burned, it often pays to play it the other way around. You need all the friends you can get, even if it means an illegal cross-country drive to investigate a potentially dead man.

"But plan for everything, regardless of if they are tied to me or not people who blow up houses are heavily armed and very desperate. Not people you want to meet unprepared."

***

Tommy

Why would the journey to the Heavenly City be peaceful? What kind of enemies could lie in wait this close to the heart of pure martial arts? Rita once contracted the Yokai when her magical clay reserves got low but they're Japanese, Chinese. Taking a deep breathe Tommy pulls back his sleeve to reveal the Dino Morpher.

"I don't know who you are but I don't want to fight." Tommy calls out, hoping this is just a misunderstanding.

[AnimeKid]

Rex

Rex rubs a few of the spots where he was zapped before answering. The tests didn't really hurt but they were a little uncomfortable to him. Or maybe that was the fact that it was someone else operating on him and not Doc. Holiday. "Eh could be better, could be worse. I'll give him this VAn Kleiss is crafty and slick. Guy practically turned into a ghost. Still he won't be able to resist taking a swing at me for long. Just need to figure out how to put him down for good."

KOS-MOS


KOS-MOS

Her memory banks seem to have images of floating after a Gnosis ,which doubled as a ship, that she and her companions were escaping from imploded with the Zarathustra and the Original Zohar inside it. She remembered using her force field generators to shield the Elsa from the blast as she was engulfed in it.

A device that was able to reset the universe by transcending imaginary time. It was no wonder that it's explosion could cause such an effect. To the people would be out and about they would see a bright light in the sky. It would get closer and closer, most probably thinking it a shooting star. However a close pass over the city would reveal that it was not shooting star at all. In fact it looked like a woman!

KOS-MOS shoots through the sky with her pod that acts as her recharging station. She eventually lands in an open field, digging a trench behind her as her body scrapes the ground. After creating a 400 yard long trench in the outskirts of a city in a heavily forested area she gets up unharmed and scans the area for hundreds of miles. "All scans indicate technology levels reminisent of 20th century earth. Wait...anamoly there is technology present that suggest a more advanced time period. However scans of calanders reveal that the time period is correct. No known planets with this level of technology. Most logical conclusion, a space-time jump was caused when the implosion the giant Gnosis known as Abel's Ark was coupled with the power of the Zarathustra. Most sensible action is to gather information." she says to herself as she heads of in the direction of civilization.

[Draxx]

Snowflame
Since your apparent demise at the hands of the New Guardians in Columbia, you have been lying low and biding your time in Basin City handling synthetics for the mob. Basin City is, in the truest sense of the word, a wretched hive of scum and villainy held together by fear and corruption, and kept from spreading to the rest of the world by the crumbling shell of a city!

The Kraut recently made enemies badder then he was, and his stranglehold on organized crime has gone through some radical changes of regime, eventually stabilizing under Jackie Estacado and Red Hood (or Parker Robins to his associates). While they are still fiercely in competition, neither of them have disrupted you or the church of your god. Men like you are useful, and so you were not overly inconvenienced. To do so would disrupt business, which neither will allow.

The economy is in terrible shape, since the factory work dried up. Public facilities are falling apart, the roads are cracked and broken, many buildings have been abandoned, to be occupied by vermin, hobos, or criminals. Decent jobs are few and far between. If you owned the city and the first circle of Hell, you'd rent the city and live in Hell. However, it's also the nations hub for the drug trade, brought in the the docks. And the Cocaine must flow.

Which is why you are standing there close to midnight, watching a ship slowly arrive. It's the Karaboudjan, a merchant vessel owned by the Franchetti family, and hidden on board is half a tonne of china white. The police have been bribed to look the other way, and there are no vigilantes to disrupt you, not in Basin City. Yet something, some instinct, makes you fear for your god, makes you suspect that something is going to try and interfere.

Perhaps the shadow man, who has been hemorrhaging from all the rest of the organized crime in the city. Perhaps something new.

Rex
John Henry Irons stares at you a moment. "Would you prefer a less passive solution? I have an idea or two that might help you out." He says, his deep and thoughtful voice lined with an emotion your not sure you recognize.

Michael
Vi nods, and goes to her car to ensure you have plenty of firepower. Jesse goes with her to make sure the firepower you do wind up with it easy to conceal and unlikely to give the game away. Sam goes onto the phone, to try to find out who Frank was talking to. And, like a well-oiled machine, in under half an hour you've got tickets and are ready to head for the remote and mysterious lands of Cleveland.

Tommy
As if addressing them called them into being from realms of raw potential, three ninjas seem to appear from nowhere in particular. One moment there was nothing but the mountainside, the next you begin to notice how what you took to be faint textures or smudge of shadow are actually parts of three highly visible ninjas.

Dressed in kabuki-theater stagehand costumes (actually the long distant inspiration for them) colored bright blue and aqua. They backflip to their feet, yell "Kai!" as loudly as possible, and perform gymnastics and twirl their weapons like they're warming up before a demonstration, drawing a range of diverse martial arts weapons.

The Lin Kuei, it would seem, have designs on disrupting the tournament. Or perhaps they are some sort of trial to make sure you are serious about entering the holy city of Gongmen.

[darkblade]

Michael

While the rest of his team goes about their prep work Michael pulls out a cell phone. An older model, from before the smartphone boom made the term synonymous with hand held computers. Great for the general population and law enforcement but very bad for spies. The mark up on higher end electronics is too pricey to justify using a smart phone as a burner and the microchips make rewiring it for other purposes not worth it in the end. He'll stick to pay as you go nokias for as long as possible.

He dials a number. "Mom, I'm leaving town for a while. Looking into something a friend of Sam's found."

***

Tommy

Lin Kuei, mercenary ninjas. Tommy smirks, he was expecting some kind of ancient Chinese demon or mutant Monolophosaurus. Maybe they were right? Maybe he had been a Ranger too long and it was starting to get to him.

He looks the ninja in mask, he can't see their eyes but he's used to stare downs without direct eye contact. Calmly setting his pack down he flexes his shoulders and lowers his frame into a karate stance, non-verbally challenging the Lin Kuei to make the first move.

[industrious]

Dermott Arkane

His notepad is at the ready; likewise his press badge from Now!News.com (a very small website owned by Dermott, but well-known among certain circles). Striding forward, he approaches one of the protesters with a sign.

"Excuse me! Dean Matterkros, Now!News.com. Are you aware that under the Luthor administration, unemployment is at a record low of 3%?"

He'd have to agree with him; the facts don't lie. They might not be true, for some given definition, but they don't lie. He'd have to acknowledge the message.

The Shadow

Too quiet. There might be a trap.

The Shadow cloaks himself, bends the minds of mortal men so that he goes unseen, unnoticed. And while it might be possible to kill Fisk unaware...his crimes demand greater punishment.

It begins slowly, low and deep, and expands quickly, echoing off the walls and into the penthouse. The windows hum in resonance, and it is everywhere and nowhere both.

The Joker had the most iconic laugh of all, but the Shadow was the first to weaponize it. The Shadow was the one who made the sound a thing for men to fear in the night.

[Draxx]

Michael Weston
Your mother and your relationship is the best it's ever been, however she is still, fundamentally, your mother. After she's reminded you to be careful, to bring a toothbrush and all sorts of other bits of advise you didn't really need, you've got that part of the proceedings over and done with.

The hard part is an identity, technically speaking you're not allowed out of Miami under any circumstances. Ever. So your first step is setting up an ID airtight enough to get you onto a domestic flight.

Tommy
The assassin loses the battle of wills first, charging towards you then leaping up in the air, swinging his weapon for maximum effect as he descends upon you. His fellow assassins circle around a bit further, trying to blind-side you while their leader takes the offensive. The crudeness of the trap is very nearly insulting.

Wilson Fisk
The Chrysler building echoes with the deep, mocking laughter of the Shadow, and Fisk pauses in his addressing the inner-circle of his investors. They'd begun as wealthy men. He'd made them obscenely rich, and all it had taken was their willingness to turn a blind eye to some of his actions, and to accept his total control over them. Not that it bothered all of them. In fact, many of them had taken to it as a duck to water. Most of them are just thugs in expensive suits, but a few…

Well, those would be the ones whose anonymity he is protecting. With some careful work, you could make organized crime a whole lot less organized.

Fisk gets to his feet, moving with deceptive grace for such a large man. "It would appear we are compromised." He says, sounding relatively calm, despite the effect the unearthly, hideous laughter is having on the majority of his associates. "There is a panic room at the end of the hallway. Go in there, and do not leave no matter what you might hear until dawn. I cannot stress this enough." With that he reaches down, picks up his cane as the rest of his associates file out of the room, and with one hand the size of a shovel unknots his tie and removes his dinner jacket. Then he steps into the center of the room.

A different sort of man would call for help, or attempt some brand of negotiation. But for all his pretenses, this is a man who only truly understands an appeal to the stick.

Dermott Arkane
The man is young, still in college doing a bachelor of Arts, bearing a sign imaginatively consisting of Luthor's head super-imposed over a criminal's mug-shot. He blinks when you address him, then blinks again as your undeniable words wash over him. For a moment he splutters, shakes his head, then manages to get his replies into some semblance of order.

"Livestock are well fed as well. What's your point?" He asks, a little discourteously. "He runs the nation like a company, and uses it's people as a disposable resource." It's clear he's not as well informed as you, though he's certainly right in spirit.

[industrious]

Wilson Fisk

"The weed of crime bears bitter fruit."

There is the sound of gunfire from down the corridor. Single shots, deliberately spaced. Screams - not of terror but of pain. Nobody has been killed - yet.

"Bears pus and poison. Taints the world and makes God a lie. You chose to serve a master who would let that weed choke out sun and soil; you swore an oath to do his bidding. You are his agents and his spies, and yet your hands are stained with very little blood..."

There is a sardonic chuckle.

"Well. Not anymore."

The cries become whimpers, and then fall silent.

"Wilson Fisk."

Now enter the Shadow, dressed in sable black, cloak billowing in an unseen wind, and the only color upon his outfit the long blood red scarf wrapped around neck and lower face. Blue eyes stare upon the Kingpin in cold fury between a great beak of a nose.

"I want you, you piece of decrepit vermin! Prepare yourself for death!"

Dermott Arkane

He taps his press badge meaningfully.

"I'm writing a story for Now!News about the protest. Trying to find the truth."

A Messenger cannot deny the truth, and cannot lie. But he knew that the act of telling the message changed its form.

"Now, what do you believe is the makeup of this group? The young? The old? Do you believe that your view of Superman has anything to do with your views on Luthor?"

He smiles, and clicks his pen.

"This is for the world to hear."

[Draxx]

The Shadow
An enormous wall of bulky overwhelming physical power towered above the dark man, yet there was something repellent in his paunchy thickness and his heavy and thick features, something that aped the savage existence of humanities forebears, ugly, harsh, brutal and short. The most prominent figure of organized crime in the whole US east coast, perhaps the most successful to date. He is not merely a mobster, but the king of mobsters, and his soul is as bleak and harsh and pitiless as hell itself.

"What a remarkable grasp of theatrics." He replies, in guttural tones akin to how a bear might speak, lips twisting with a certain savage pleasure. He makes no move to fight. Not yet. Though his hands do tighten on the stick. "Seems almost a shame to waste them, with nobody but me to witness. Very well, as I am at your mercy, and it is clear that no help is coming, give me a moment to compose my thoughts and compose a brief question to put to you."

He reaches down to one enormous hand, and fiddles with a ring on a pinky finger, projecting an air of dignity as he does. "Kill me. Well, you certainly got this far. Perhaps you might. But killing me like this won't do you any good. A death like this won't dissolve my empire, but it won't put it under you either. No, they'll be a war in the streets, as different factions try to fill my position, and you'll never be able to prove you killed me."

He pauses, for effect. "Of course, it's possible you are on the side of the angels. But then you'll only doom yourself. I'll never go to court, never stand trial for whatever it is you object to, and die, as far as the world is concerned, and innocent man. What's more, justice will fail, be shown up for the sham that is, and everyone will know. Everyone will know that it's not the law that protects them, it's men with killers eyes who don't show their faces."

"Why are you doing this. Are you trying to prove something, or is it simply a matter of mathematics?"

Dermott Arkane
"Mostly concerned citizens wanting to give Luthor the trial he's never had." The young man says, a little more at ease now that he's not being confronted with pure and undeniable objective fact, and falling into the role of the interviewer a little more easily. "Who want to show him that he's still answerable to us. And I don't think Superman has anything to do with it."

The man has never met Luthor. If he had, he'd never talk about the man like this. "Luthor thinks everything is for sale., and that he can name the price, Thinks that he's entitled to whatever he wants, and that we owe him… allegiance I guess. And right now, he thinks that bread and circuses are going to get him the nations soul. If you want, you can quote me." He finishes. "But you really should talk to Olson. He's somewhere over there."

[Fan]

Snowflame grins as he watches the boat appear, internal worries aside he knew that there would be no force in Basin that would stop his God from entering this city that writhed in horrific agony that only COCAINE could provide a reprieve from.

Yes, while China White was hardly the most pure form of his God, he knew that it would suffice for his needs and it would be Snowflame's pious duty to bring it to the streets of New Basin and ensure that the Pious-To-Be would be able to serve their waiting god!

Snowflame then walked forward on to the dock, spreading his arms wide and reveling in some of his god that he had brought with him, allowing it's white hot ecstasy to suffuse his being and consume his perceptions in it's own grossly incandescent light. Yes, he realized now that his fear was misplaced for his god was with him in all it's glory!

It was about now that the ship docked, and Snowflame smiled, for he would soon bring his God to the streets of this city, and ease it's pain.

[Cracklord]

James Bond
As always, James Bond is a handsome white male, quite tall but not unusually so and with a fit and lean build. He is dressed in a tailored suit, and his hands are folded on his lap.Though the face he wears might change, the institution goes on.
Bond does not take the chair. He stands, not quite at attention, both his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his face carefully blank. He stares at his superior in the eye for a moment, seemingly weighing something, then inclines his head. "Well that's better then nothing, I suppose. And who is disrupting international peace this week?" He's being flip. He's actually extremely grateful. He's spent the last three years working on EXCALIBUR, kicked upstairs and working as a glorified correspondent, and the only combat situations he's been part of were all borrowed off other agencies. This is like a gift.

[darkblade]

Michael

"Anyways I was wondering if you have any of Dad and Nate's old ID. Passports, drivers licenses."

Sometimes the best way to make fake ID is with someone else's real ID. Even airport security rarely checks the database as long as what you give them look real enough.

Given his deceased family member's ID Michael goes about splicing it with some pass port photos he got taken at a local drug store.

It may look like arts and crafts but it is good enough to fool four our of five security checkpoints.

***

Tommy

Tommy steps into the forward attacker, grabbing him by the wrist and redirecting his energy to toss him into the path of his sneakier counterpart. "I thought you guys were deadly assassins. Is this the best you got?"

[Draxx]

Michael
Your brothers passport and drivers license are produced without question, and the deceptively easy process of elaborate forgery using official government documents begins. The trick is to keep all inspections cursory and avoid notice. Of course you still have to satisfy them that nothing is wrong. The trick is knowing what you need, and what you don't, as well as some strictly aesthetic minor damage to surreptitiously hide details. In an hour, you have a fairly good cover as your brother.

By then, everything else is in place, Fi utilizing FedEx to get the equipment you couldn't take on the plane into place as quickly as possible, Sam having utilized his limitless stream of contacts to arrange a look at the crime-scene before any of the official investigation takes place, and Jesse likewise preparing an ID. You're ready to head out.

Slade Wilson
Bayville, New York. The location of Professor Xavier's School for the Gifted, a place where mutants receive rigorous and specialized training in the use of their individual genetic gifts. There Professor Charles Xavier has created an environment where all mutants can live in peace, learn and develop their abilities to the fullest. Charles seeks to educate those who fear mutants. He seeks to show that mutants and humans can live and work together in harmony and create a better world. He has always been waiting for the day, fearing it. A day when one powerful mutant would threaten humanity and the balance of power between the two species would shift forever.
A mansion of orphans of the mind, of the heart, of the soul, a cold, opulent building that soon became a home, a utopia in a sea of prejudice, of fear, of intolerance.

Half a mile away is a small coffee shop, remarkable only for the clientele. Yourself, and Colonel William Stryker, former project special correspondent for Weapon X. Army scientist, unconvicted war criminal, religious zealot, and radical mutant suppressionist. He's not a physically intimidating man. Short and heavyset, with a tired, lined face, a receding hairline, and a scraggly beard, wearing a buttoned greatcoat despite the unseasonal heat, and plastic rimmed glasses. "Been a long time, subject 6. Still using the code-name I picked out for you I see." He says, with a slightly flowery southern accent coloring his language. "Almost flattering, really."

Snowflame
The Stevedores unload it, stacking the plastic wrapped bricks into their respective vans, to ensure correct distribution. The underworld is about the only thing that does work efficiently in this city, a third goes to the quarters directly to the prearranged dealers, a third goes to Top-Dollar, and the remainder is left in your hands, to serve any purpose you desire.

It's then that the dark figure drops down, the masked assassin known only as Grendel. A virtual ghost, his movements, intentions and goals are all unpredictable, indeed he has rarely been seen, and almost never by the living. But the consequences of his actions are felt, in the trail of corpses he leaves behind.

Swinging his double pronged weapon, he slices three of the unloading stevedores apart, then stabs another in the throat before he can reach for his weapon. Darting through them, he carves a bloody trail, as though a storm were tearing through the tightly packed men unloading the ship. pieces of men were tossed through the air in every direction, severed limbs, heads still contorted in expressions of surprise and terror, all trailing streamers of blood. In less then thirty second, nineteen people are dead, and he's facing you, the weapon resting casually on his shoulder.

His voice is smooth and refined, cultured even. It seems at odds with his savage brutality and aggression. "I'll take it all." He says, gesturing to the drugs. "If you have any problem with that, you won't fare any better then your men."

Tommy
The ninja's are putting on an altogether poor showing. The two go down, tangled together and struggling to extradite themselves, while the third takes one look at you, drops his wave sword and runs away screaming.

He gets maybe ten feet before running face first into the palm of a hand that, without discernible effort, closes around and lifts the poor ninja a foot off the ground, then begins to exert pressure. Not enough to crack mans skull like eggshell, but more then enough to make him feel it, and to express without need for words that this was a distinct possibility being held in reserve. "Running away and leaving your comrades in peril to save your own skin." Rumbles the voice of Zangrief, The Red Cyclone, world famous wrestler and Russian celebrity. "Is not impressing Zangrief very much."

You're not a particularly big man, and Zangrief makes you feel very small indeed. He's a living testament to muscular over-development and sheer testosterone, stripped almost naked to showcase the great slabs of muscle rippling with power that made him look as strong as a bull. His hair was cut in a distinctive style that has become synonymous with him, as was his groomed chest hair and beard. He was dressed in only his speedo and cape despite the cold. Though given that he wears it in Siberia he's probably used to it. His entire body is covered in scars that haven't knitted all that well, and his chest is carpeted with hair.

[Fan]

"Ahahahahaha! Do you really think SNOWFLAME would allow you to walk away with so much as a gram of the glorious Incandescent glory that is Cocaine? Every cell, every atom, every iota of my being is suffused with the glory of Cocaine's majesty! Now allow me to show you the power of Cocaine's will!

Snowflame says as he retrieves handfuls of it from his belt pouch, snorting all of it in seconds, growing brilliantly incandescent, bright enough that even people in the surrounding area would probably notice SOMETHING, but in Snowflame's euphoria he didn't care about petty things like "Being noticed", or "Attracting Police Attention."

Speaking of petty things though, it seemed he was MUCH faster now, lashing out at Grendel as he attempted to run circles around Grell, striking and attempting to push him AWAY from the cocaine, knowing that Grell was most undoubtably still as quick as he, but he had the strength of Cocaine in his veins and would not lose as long as his God was with him!

((As a note, Snowflame can detect the echoes of past highs / drugs used when touching someone, including strikes, it'd be interesting to know if Grell is a badass normal / super serum type, if not, welp, I tried.))

[Draxx]

Snowflame
He stinks faintly of the demon named heroin, not enough to suggest a habit or dependence, but certainly indicating a prior usage that had sparked dark hallucinations in him. He certainly has no intention of stealing your god from you. He simply wants the wealth and power it will provide.

You swing you fist at his head, and he ducks out of the way, bending back so far that it whistles over him. He's not as fast as you, though he's as fast as an ordinary man can be, but he's agile and immaculately balanced, enough to evade your attacks, bopping and weaving and occasionally lashing out with his two pronged blades, cutting into your arms and legs.

[Fan]

Snowflame is the emissary and beloved of Cocaine, he is not one to feel such paltry injuries, let alone even life threatening ones that would probably be better handled if they were felt, but it doesn't matter because Cocaine! Luckily however, his own wounds are cauterized by the flames of his God, so there wont be any worries about bleeding out.

"A touch a heroin, various amphetamines, some surgeries perhaps? Maybe it's time that The Chosen of Cocaine tries a more tactical approach."

He says as he lashes out for a single tactical strike, right at the temple, for as the emissary of Cocaine an amphetamine that coursed through his veins reminded him that even to heretics such as him he was not here to cause undue agony.

[AnimeKid]

Rex

Looking at John Rex nods eagerly as he says, ""Are you kidding me?! Of course. It's better than just sitting around and mildewing until I'm called upon. Besides I could use a little exercise!"

[darkblade]

Tommy

Tommy steps back a little from the large Russian. On reflex he pulls out his Dino key, preparing to morph. Someone that huge can't be human. Then he sees him take out the last ninja. "So who's side are you on? I'm guessing it's not theirs."

***

Michael

Getting on the place Michael is careful to keep anyone looking at his passport distracted enough to not pay too close attention to it's flaws but not annoyed enough to keep him behind.

[industrious]

[QUOTE=Draxx;14737035]The Shadow

He has been where Fisk was now; long ago, he, too, was a kingpin of crime. But that was then, and now, he had a mission. He had studied at the feet of ancient masters, served a higher cause. There was good, and there was evil, and the Shadow served good by doing evil.

What he did was not personal, though he did enjoy doing it far more than was healthy. But he used his talents to punish the guilty

"I know why I am doing this, Wilson Fisk."

The Shadow stares across the room at the Kingpin, face unreadable beneath his scarf.

"There is the law, and there is justice. One you may have escaped with money, and bribes, and power, but the other cannot be eluded. Those who commit evil should not profit in any way, and you have spread nothing but discord, pain, and death in your miserable existence. Your time has run out."

Out come his two weapons, then, and the Shadow opens fire.

Dermott Arkane

"Of course."

Olsen it was, then. Already, an idea on how to present the mob begins to take form in his mind.

[Cracklord]

Slade Wilson
Slade was well-groomed and immaculate, dressed in a white suit that showed off the hard lean lines of his build, and a white eye-patch to go with it. "I should kill you." He said, his tone light and almost mild, but a terrible light burning in his eye. His right hand clenches into a fist underneath the table, and his teeth are a little clenched, as though just being so close to the man set him off. He's not a big enough man to forgive Stryker. Or to forget what the man had done for him and his own.

[Draxx]

Michael Weston
To attack an individual in a highly controlled environment, rather then try and work something in through the system, the best strategy is to introduce something foreign to the proceedings that the system is unprepared for and incapable of dealing with until too late. An excellent example of this was the infamous 'Snakes on a Plane' event, that still gets referenced infrequently by everything from lateral thinkers to comedians as possibly the most ridiculous assassination attempt since the CIA put a committee on the matter of Fidel Castro.

Something similar occurs on your flight, though by the time it is apparent, it's too late for you to do anything to stop it, and is considerably better planned. It begins with a controlled virus scavenged from a dead world that contact was made with half a decade ago, that is introduced through the air conditioning units in the hostess' quarters. Within minutes, the infection has killed them, and they have revived as zombies, a hunger within driving them to spread it to everyone on board the plane. Within ten, the pilot and co-pilot have the virus, and the plane is spinning out of control, as they turn to the passengers in their hunger to consume life.

Slade Wilson
Colonel William Stryker shook his head and chuckled, his watery blue eyes meeting yours without fear or anger, just a indefatigable sense of superiority. "But you won't, subject six." He tells you, spreading his arms as if to say 'I dare you'. You're not the first ex-subject he's had to tangle with, and he's become not easy to intimidate besides.

Rex
The doctor nods, giving you half a smile. "I understand and respect that." He says, leading you to his personal lab. Stark Enterprises is a fairly free sort of place in regards to it's chief scientists, letting them work on whatever projects interest them, which is one of the reasons it has remained on the cutting edge so long.

John Henry Irons hands you about a dozen schematics. "Look through these. A few of us had ideas to improve the technology you use. Could make your life far easier." Flicking through them, you see he's quite right. Stark Enterprises make the best in weaponry and quick resolution. He then takes you to a computer. "Also, there was recently an event in Utah. Some sort of dimensional displacement, possibly Time-Travel. Don't suppose you're up for some free-lance work?"

Kos-Mos
The time machine has left you in a deserted volcanic island in the Lesser Sunda Islands, atop an ancient deserted ziggurat, where half a century ago a tribe of amazons still lived. They're long gone now, and there isn't any human habitation on the island at all, nothing but the ruins of the past, and the hope for the future.

You have been sent back in time to make right what once went wrong, and prevent what almost destroyed the entire world. You have been sent back to prevent the fall of the age of the superhero.

Snowflame
He leaps back, trying to disengage, but for all his hard won skill he isn't quite fast enough, and the blow clips him. Such it the force, even a knocks him off his feet and sends him flying across the docks to impact painfully against the wall of a warehouse. He relaxes, goes limp and doesn't suffer much more then serious bruising, but still takes a moment to draw himself to his feet again.

His voice is soft and refined, seeming at odds with the clear aggression of his behavior and body-language, with a sort of quality one might expect of someone telling a joke. "Not bad. Excellent right-hook you have there. To-Dollar has an eye for talent, it would seem." Grendel says, resting his curious weapon on his shoulder.

"Why don't you come and work for me?"

James Bond
"In a way." M said enigmatically, folding his arms. "The attackers left this insignia behind during two of their raids. We believe it to be a vital clue to their identity and base of operations." M pressed a button, flashing an image onto the screen behind him. "This is the insignia was used before the second World War, in China and in India and in the Arab Emirates. The cartel of the Blue Lotus, dealing in opium and slavery, run by a Belgium film producer named Rastapopoulos." M explained.

The cartel vanished for the most part, with the eventual imprisonment of it's overseer, but nobody was ever entirely satisfied that it had been dealt with entirely, or even that the tangled web of connection was all traced."

Tommy
"HA! Zangrief has been called to take place in tournament!" Zangrief booms, tossing the unfortunate ninja aside as though he was made of feathers, and looming over to you, looking for all the world like an enormous physical wall of muscle and body-hair. You don't get the opinion he's hostile. But just the same, it's hard to be entirely at ease with him there.

The Shadow
Wilson Fisk had been trying to buy time, keep you listening and distracted while he played for it. But that wasn't desperation, simply the best strategy he had for formulating a better one. He didn't buy enough time. So he reacts the only way left, with savagery. His massive appearance bellies his speed and skill. In a single, smooth moment he lifts the massive, stainless steel table twenty men had sat in conference around in an almost mythic feat of strength, then, sinews straining on his neck, swings his shoulders and tosses the whole thing at you, both imposing it between him and your bullets, and giving you a pressing matter to deal with. Then he strides over to the wall, drives a hand in and rips out all the wires, cutting the power and the light. He stole this move off one of his more frequent adversaries.

You can cloud his mind to hide yourself. But in the darkness, it's no advantage at all. "There are no men like me. There is just me." He says in his deep voice, taking off his shoes to make his footfalls harder to detect. He knows this office well, every inch of it. And, right now, he is trying to determine your most likely position.

[darkblade]

Michael

Michael has had the fortunate luck in his long career as a spy to mostly avoid the freaks. Sure some Russian agents he took out may have been selling soviet secrets to winter Faeries for hexes and passage through the Nevernever, Sam had a run in with some vampires in Columbia and one of Fi's other ex-boyfriends was an immortal mercenary named Kincaid but Michael had for the most part avoided the time machines and jet pack apes that fill the land.

Zeds though are part of basic training as a spy. He knows to avoid getting pit and shot for their heads. All he needs now is a gun.

9/11 was the best and worst thing to ever happen to spies. On one hand the increased security gave them a lot more power to do what they had to do to carry out their operations. On the other it also meant it was next to impossible to carry any weapons onto an airplane.

Michael scans the masses of panicked civilians and ravenous dead looking for the air marshal and the only gun on board.

***

Tommy

"Me too. Name's Tommy Oliver." Tommy says holding out his hand to the large Russian, against his better judgment.

[Draxx]

Tommy Oliver
Zangrief looms up to you, the seizes your hand enthusiastically, swallowing it up in his own. You've braced yourself already for the inevitable crushing grip, but still have to grit your teeth as his hand closes around yours like a vise. He pumps it a few times enthusiastically, then lets you go, and points up at the mountain. "Come then, comrade! Shangri-La awaits!" He booms, the sound echoing up the cliffs, and heads up the path you were following a moment ago.

Michael
The Marshal numbers one of the dead, one of the first to be infected, but fortunately hadn't arisen. This suggests something chemical rather then the supernatural explanation, which is something of a relief.

Dermott Arkane
James 'Jimmy' Olsen, photographer, amateur detective, cosmic plaything and master of disguise (at least he looks surprisingly convincing dressed in drag) might have got this together, but he doesn't seem a part of the proceedings, so much as an invested observer, a little a part from it all.

[darkblade]

Tommy

"About that, my directions seem to be wrong. The city should have been at this peak but..." Tommy says gesturing around.

***

Michael

Michael makes his way towards the dead Marhsall and goes to remove the gun before he wakes up and starts looking for flesh.

[Draxx]

Tommy
Zangrief follows your gaze, and nods, admitting that, rather than seeing a mystical city where the secrets of time and space are unraveled and Martial Arts are perfected into prized secret techniques that more closely resemble divine interventions then approaches to techniques, he sees a great deal more mountain, much like the part he's already climbed, but with a better view. "Zangrief does find that puzzling." He rumbled, scratching his head in a somewhat thoughtful manner. "Perhaps he has the wrong address?"

Each of the Heavenly cities holds a different criteria for selecting their prospective champions. In K'un L'un, it is deceptively simple, at least to say. Kill a dragon, any dragon, with your bare hands, then bring it's heart back to the city. Nanda Parbat's approach was your parents had to be dead, and you had to slay the last Dog Brother, the champion chosen to represent the city, then take up his identity at the cost of your own.

To gain the consideration of Yu-Shan, you must subdue an entire army by yourself, by any means at your disposal. Shamballa did not reveal the reasons behind it's choices, so nobody could say for sure what they looked for, and Xanadu took those who set out to do something impossible and made it happen through sheer persistence and will. And Shangri-La, which you were called to come to, only offers the role to someone who has saved the world. The circumstances or motivations didn't matter, at least to them.

You stare around, looking for anything, then note a small, rude dwelling, closer to a tent then a hut. You only spot it because of the pillar of smoke rising above it. It hardly looks like a monastery, let alone a city, but it's the only sign that the mountain has any inhabitants besides crazed Russian Wrestlers and disappointing ninjas.

Michael
All the weird, incomprehensible stuff that the world grinds it's way through on a daily basis doesn't really effect people in the espionage game too much. The reason is simple, there's deceptively little overlap or conflict of interest. Most of the crazy stuff happens too quickly and gets resolved too soon to have much effect on international foreign policy. It's certainly not the department of anyone you know.

However, sometimes things inevitably do get tangled. When it does, you don't panic. You simply remember your objectives, and try not to get distracted. In this case, it's getting to Cleveland intact, without letting the Authorities know who you are. Unfortunately, this plane isn't a good bet anymore.

You get the gun, and the zombies, as expected, don't react. They don't have any filter but blind, uncompromising hunger and the need to infect others. Certainly no intelligence to speak of. Or ability to recognize immediate danger.

[darkblade]

Tommy

"No. If we both got the same bad directions it's probably some kind of test." Tommy says shaking his head. "Some kind of test of mind and soul..."

He looks at the small tent in the distance. "There..."

***

Michael

It is always essential to know exactly what it is you are up against before you go in guns a blazing.

Now armed Michael surveys the passengers, trying to gauge how many have been infected, turned or have pushed their way to safety. Also making sure his team is not among the the casualties.