[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190711/229f8172b231d361b3bca59ac948231a.png[/img] [img]https://i.postimg.cc/s2XYDRsk/supes2.jpg[/img][/center] [hr] [indent][b][u]January 1st, 8:04 PM Midtown Metropolis[/u][/b][/indent] Things were... looking pretty bleak in Metropolis. For one, the traffic [i]sucked,[/i] but that was to be expected on any given day. Secondly, there was apparently a big damned snowstorm creeping up the coast towards them by way of Gotham and that [i]other place no one cares about,[/i] so people were naturally in a rush to get home where it'd be nice and warm. And... oh, yeah. There was the trifling matter of the [i]leviathan beast of myth and legend rampaging it's way through Midtown,[/i] apparently not at all deterred by the fact that chunks of it's own seared flesh seemed to be falling off of it's body or that it's many heads were bound together by hardlight constructs. Which it savagely thrashed against both from the inside and from the out with it's colossal tail. Causing yet more mayhem in it's frenzied motions. ...Yes, [i]pretty bleak.[/i] The man responsible for managing to do that much damage to the titanic beast was down for the count. Most of the heroes present were battered, tired and running out of options. And the hydra, charming creature it was, simply [i]refused to give up.[/i] And somewhere in the midst of all this chaos, perhaps noticed, perhaps not, a tiny fissure appeared in the clouds overhead. And if one just so happened, by [i]freak coincidence,[/i] to be pointing a highspeed camera up there at that exact moment, they'd catch something a little peculiar. The Champion. Rocketing straight towards the Earth. [i]Elbow first.[/i] Before something from above slammed into the Hydra's body with enough force to send a column of rubble, concrete and bits of monster straight into the stratosphere and shatter every damned window in Midtown the fighting hadn't gotten around to breaking yet. As well as leaving one [i]hell[/i] of a crater. Suddenly, that hydra wasn't kicking up such a fuss. And as the dust began to settle, and the beast's now-inanimate heads began sliding out the back end of Preston's trap like some [i]particularly nasty looking sausages[/i] to come crashing back down onto the ground, only to be intercepted and vaporized by a stream of red light before they could even begin their journey, there came the man responsible— Brushing off the still-smoking elbow of his jacket as he made his way out of his own crater. [color=steelblue]"Well, scratch that one off the bucket-list..."[/color] The Champion half-mused, half-grimaced, as he casually walked his way over to the rest of the gathered heroes. Sheepishly scratching the back of his head. [color=steelblue]"Sorry I'm late. Everyone alright?"[/color] [hr] [indent][b][u]January 2nd, 01:00 AM Sector 34, High Earth Orbit[/u][/b][/indent] Duun Kad-El, last son of Krypton, Champion of Earth and all around guy who actually enjoyed being able to [i]sleep in ocasionally[/i] was... just a little bit [i]perturbed[/i] at what he was staring at right now— And it was only [i]partially[/i] because his [i]loyal and trusted[/i] teammate of the past decade or so had threatened to [i]rob him of his junk via a pink space rock.[/i] No, it was down to the fact that- [color=steelblue]"That's the fucking Great Fox."[/color] Duncan deadpanned with sheer existential contempt that went unheard in the void of space. [color=steelblue][i]"Why[/i] is that the fucking Great Fox?"[/color] [color=teal]"Duun, what are you so upset about now?"[/color] Chirped in his [url=https://i.postimg.cc/t4Gfx290/EtopBdn.jpg]mother's[/url] AI from his gauntlet, just about the only thing that [i]could[/i] catch what he was saying in the vacuum of space. [color=teal]"Do you recognize this vessel?"[/color] A low growl rumbled in the Champion's throat. But he elaborated, though still casting a cynical glare at the massive ship hanging in the void a mile before him. [color=steelblue]"It's... from a damned video game I played as a kid."[/color] He explained, dryly. [color=steelblue]"With starfighters, tanks, submarines, [i]fuzzy animals and a [b]big floating fucking monkey head."[/b][/i][/color] [color=teal]"Oh..."[/color] There was a long pause after that. [color=teal]"...Well, weirder things have happened, I suppose,"[/color] The artificial construct of Karna El continued, unabated [color=teal]"There [i]was[/i] that time you and that 'Grim' woman had to pretend to be a married couple in Monaco..."[/color] If at all possible, Duncan's frown deepened even further. [color=steelblue]"Can we not?"[/color] [color=teal]"It was so [i]cute[/i] though! You were holding hands, going to dinners, [i]smiling..."[/i][/color] [color=steelblue]"One, it was just a cover. Two, Pretty sure Zo doesn't swing that way. Three, [i]can we [b]not[/b] have the 'grandbabies' discussion [b]right now?"[/b][/i][/color] [color=teal]"A mother can [i]dream,[/i] Duun!"[/color] And without further ado, but a [i]whole lot of irritation,[/i] Duncan launched himself toward the bridge of the all-too familiar vessel, coming to a stop just outside the tinted viewscreen of the bridge, whereupon... he gave a little knock on the glass. Though, despite his apparent outward grumption at the ludicrous situation he now found himself in, he couldn't help but do it to the tune of the [i]Starfox 64 theme.[/i] [i]There are some things you only ever get one shot at, after all...[/i] [hr] [hr] [center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190701/53b8a0cbe9c18b703e33b3d3cb68c40f.png[/img] [img]https://i.postimg.cc/Qdpj0R8q/houndt.png[/img] [img]https://i.postimg.cc/3NRtFDhs/warehouse.jpg[/img][/center] [indent][b][u]January 1st, 8:25 PM Utility Room, Smithwick Textiles, Bludhaven, NJ.[/u][/b][/indent] [color=orangered]"A [i]magic cleaver?[/i] Are you [i][b]shitting me?"[/b][/i][/color] Julian could only stare back in silence at the... [i]thing...[/i] watching him from across the room, sat there on a stool, leaning forward and staring right the hell back with eyes that quite literally burned like smouldering embers and gave off the only real light in this increasingly claustrophobic, dark room. Perhaps it was some measure of indignation at just how easily he'd had his ass put on the ground that kept him quiet. The jolts of pain that shot through his face, knee and arm whenever he dared to move certainly weren't helping his mood, either. Maybe it was how [i]unnerving[/i] it was how downright... [i]casual[/i] the creature became after it had disarmed him, disabled him and liberated him of his radio. Even going so far as to give an amused little [color=orangered]'Heh, always wanted one of these...'[/color] as it relieved him of his nightstick, holster and all and clipped it to it's own belt. ...Though, in all likelihood, it was probably down to that sudden and uncomfortable realization that, in all the past three years of working for these lunatics, not [i]one[/i] of them had bothered to mention that [i]the fucking [b]Hound[/b] was [b]real.[/b][/i] [color=orangered]"Well, that explains a lot,"[/color] The creature mused, it's eyes shifting over to what Julian very [i]clearly[/i] remembered being a [i]concrete fucking wall.[/i] [color=orangered]"Sure as shit doesn't [i]look[/i] like a mage..."[/color] Despite the circumstances, the cop with less than rigid morals couldn't help but cocking a brow. "The hell does [i]that[/i] mean?" ...He also couldn't help but flinch a little as the being's eyes snapped back toward him, locking him with a silent glare [i]juuuust[/i] long enough to make him regret owning a tongue. Before the being visibly relaxed again, and began fiddling with the radio, cycling through all of it's channels almost like a kid with a new toy. [color=orangered]"Iiiiit's a bit of a long story,"[/color] The hitherto bit of local superstition answered dismissively as he pulled a roll of what looked suspiciously like electrical tape out of his jacket pocket. [color=orangered]"But that's beside the point, what's the deal with the [i]cannibal with a magic cleaver,[/i] anyhow?"[/color] Muller, to his credit, only let out a little grunt as he sat himself up slightly to lean against the wall, the the effort still made him pant a little. Still, licking his lips as he gathered his thoughts, he answered. The Hound had made it very clear what was going to happen if he tried to [i]lie,[/i] after all... "...Fucked if I know; But dude's old money— some kinda Sardinian royalty or some shit, I'unno— showed up about a month ago with a damned [i]cargo ship[/i] looking for work and Phage hired him on the spot." The Hound paused in the middle of unrolling a strip of tape. [color=orangered]"Cargo ship?"[/color] He asked, suddenly very intrigued. [color=orangered]"What was he hauling?"[/color] "I dunno, man. A million tonnes of soylent green or whatever the hell else a [i]magic Italian cannibal[/i] would bring with him across the fuckin' ocean!" Jules reflexively snapped back at his captor... before finding his tact again and biting his tongue. "Look, I'm just a boot to these people. They don't tell me [i]jack shit."[/i] The Hound held that same silent glare on the man for a few more seconds. [color=orangered]"Yeah. I suppose you're right."[/color] [i]And then he stood up.[/i] And very suddenly Jules wished he could just melt into that fucking wall behind him. "Look man, I told you everything I know..." [color=orangered]"I guess you did."[/color] The Hound took a step closer. "A-and you said ya'd know if I was lying right? And I've been honest this [i]whole time!"[/i] The Hound nodded in agreement, giving the radio in his hand one last once-over as he stepped even closer. [color=orangered]"That you have."[/color] "So... ya gonna let me go?" The Hound only let out a soft chuckle at that. [color=orangered]"Heh heh... haaaa..."[/color] ...Even as he calmly taped the radio's push-to-talk switch down. [color=orangered][b]"Nope."[/b][/color] [hr] [indent][b][u]January 1st, 8:30 PM Factory Floor, Smithwick Textiles, Bludhaven, NJ.[/u][/b][/indent] Amadeo Macellaio, was getting a little impatient, if the almost-twitch of his ever-controlled brow was any indication as he stood there, arms folded behind his back as he shifted his weight from the balls of his feet to his heels, almost like an antsy child. He'd sent Muller out to deal with their little electrical problem a good fifteen minutes ago now. What was taking him so long? Julian was not a [i]smart[/i] man, but up until this point, the Sardinian believed him to at least be a [i]clever[/i] one. There was no logical reason he should have had to sit here in the dark [i]this[/i] long. [color=darkslateblue]"Well... this is nice..."[/color] Sasha piped up groggily, head rising again out of unconsciousness as she cast an eye about the now-dark room. [color=darkslateblue]"We havin' a fuckin' [i]slumber party[/i] now, or what?"[/color] The Sardinian didn't try to stop the twitch of his brow at that. [i]So uncouth...[/i] "Just a little unexpected interruption before we start, my dear Miss Jericho." Amadeo explained, stepping over to her and placing a facsimile of an assuring hand on her shoulder. "But don't worry, I've already sent Mister Muller to go have a look at the fusebo-" [color=darkslateblue]"Ya sent [i]Julian[/i] for that? Are you really as fucking [i]stupid[/i] as you look?"[/color] Sasha quipped right back over him without skipping a beat. [color=darkslateblue]"Man can barely tie his own shoes, nevermind change a fuse. So ya might as well get fuckin' [i]comfy,[/i] because we're gonna [i]be here a while."[/i][/color] No sooner had the words left her throat, there was something cold and metallic pressed against her cheek under her one good eye. A cleaver, if she was seeing right in what little light they had to spare. One that quickly began to glow [i]blood red.[/i] "I suppose I will just have to take your word on that, Miss Jericho." Amadeo retorted, cheerily. "So we might as well get started, light or not." [color=darkslateblue][b]"Oh, [i]pound it up your ass."[/i][/b][/color] That was, evidently, the last straw. As the Sardinian abruptly took hold the near-amazon's chin in a harsh grip, pressed his weapons against her skin, took a deep, [i]excited[/i] breath and... [color=orangered][b]"Nope."[/b][/color] ...Stopped. His eyes flicked back over to his little 'work' table. That... came from his [i]radio.[/i] Releasing his hold on Sasha's face, the older gentleman cocked his brow and walked over to the electronic in question. Picking it up with a curious expression, he pressed down the push-to-talk button to ask what [i]that[/i] was about. Only for it to immediately sound off with a loud 'BLOOP!'. Someone was still on the line. [i]And then the screaming began.[/i] Following what a man of his talents quite obviously recognized as the sound of crunching bones. Casting a quick glance back over at Sasha, who seemed just as confused as he was, he clicked over to the next channel to try and figure out what was going on. ...Only to find he couldn't get a word in through the panicked chatter of the rest of his men... which was quickly replaced by yet more screaming. The next channel was much the same. Though this time he started hearing the din of gunfire from further within the old factory. And the next... [i]-Click!-[/i] [b]"NO! [I]NOOO!"[/I][/B] And the next... [i]-Click!-[/i] [b]"IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE!"[/b] And the next... [i]-Click!-[/i] [b][i]"HELP MEEEEEE!"[/i][/b] And it was somewhere in that time that Sasha had apparently figured it out. Letting out as much as a laugh as her cracked ribs would allow. "And just what the [i]hell[/i] is so funny, Jericho?" Amadeo snapped, finally loosing his cool and wheeling on the woman who, for her part, just kept right on laughing in his face. [color=darkslateblue]"Oh, nothing, just... I thought this night couldn't get any [i]more[/i] crazy, yet [i]here we are..."[/i][/color] "I beg your pardon?" [color=darkslateblue]"Maybe it's the concussion talking... [b]but I think you woke up the local bogeyman."[/b][/color]