[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/841663747940417597/1048790890803634186/Untitled-6.png[/img][/center][hr][color=yellow]G M  E V E N T  # 1[/color]
[sup][color=silver]Waterside Plaza, Manhattan, NYC[/color][/sup]

Roxxon Energy Corporation, a multi-billion dollar oil and gas enterprise, operating in almost thirty countries, was experiencing its most profitable period since its founding in the early 20th century. The company's newest CEO, industrialist entrepreneur and investor, Dario Agger, having taken over in 2011, was mostly credited for the record-setting successes Roxxon was seeing due to his aggressive, forward-facing business strategy. In reality, the multinational behemoth's $500 billion annual profit was owed to an entirely different factor. While the world knew Roxxon as one of the largest and most influential global conglomerates, the company was rooted deeply within the criminal underworld. 

The Chitauri invasion and subsequent 44-Hour War changed how the world viewed life itself. For Dario Agger, already an amoral businessman, it entirely altered his perspective on enterprising profit. In the decade since taking control, Agger rapidly became the 8th richest man in the world and established himself as one of the central figures in the superhuman black market. Manufacturing of illegal weaponry based on scavenged Chitauri technology; development of super performance enhancing drugs; trafficking mutant slaves; genetic engineering. The Roxxon Energy Corporation dabbled in it all, unbeknownst to the public. 

All across New York City, Roxxon Energy tanker trucks cruised the streets. Ostensibly transporting fuel, the vehicles were in truth smuggling next-generation weaponry out of the Big Apple. A fact that wasn't as secret as Roxxon's CEO would have believed. 

One such tanker and its inhabitants, idling at an intersection in Waterside Plaza, discovered this the hard way as the heavy truck suddenly teetered violently from side to side accompanied by a cacophonous blast. The high-explosive grenade that had rolled underneath the vehicle impacted with enough force to lift the rear end several inches. A hail of bullets followed, striking both the sturdy doors and scattering across the bullet-resistant windshield. Screams filled the air as the surrounding vehicles slammed on brakes and hurriedly threw their cars in reverse to put as much distance between them and the chaos. 

At the same time, two large garbage trucks slammed through the traffic, tossing smaller vehicles in their path aside, as they maneuvered to block the tanker. From the backs of the garbage trucks, fourteen armed individuals clad in an assortment of dark hoodies, masks, and patched-together body armor poured out, surrounding the tanker. Another figure, this one in less-tattered tactical gear, emerged from the rear garbage truck and gestured towards several others. 

"Hurry up and cut into that thing," he said in a thick British accent. "The Big Man wants what's inside."

Four men broke formation to approach the large, metal tank. They produced palm-sized cylinders that began sparking blue from the tips. High-intensity plasma cutters would make short work of the tanker's shell and reveal the hidden goods within. 

"Mort!" The panicked voice came from the front of the Roxxon truck in the moment of silence following the pause of gunfire. "We've got a problem, there's something in the—"

The shouting was cut off by the abrupt sound of tearing metal and thick glass exploding, replaced by a short-lived scream of terror and a sickening crunch. 

Mortimer Norris, leader of the assault team, took a step back as he witnessed a hulking figure drag itself out from the passenger side door - or rather, where the door had once been. 

Standing seven-and-a-half feet with thick, armored plates decorating his massive, orange-grey body, the monstrous Antonio Rodriguez towered over the assembled men circling the tanker. His services retained to guard this particular shipment, he growled ferociously as the onslaught of bullets returned, this time harmlessly ricocheting off his body. 

"You don't know who the [i]fuck[/i] you just messed with."