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A crisply dressed individual departs from Oscorp Labs, taking a moment to sweep his brown hair to the side as he entered the gloriously busy streets of New York, and was quick to hail a taxi. This man was Quentin Beck, known mostly as the Chief Engineer of Oscorp Labs as of late; goes to show how much his other careers meant nowadays. As he finally flagged down his ride and gave his directions, he couldn't help but sit and ponder his current situation.

With the man behind everything, Mr. Osborn himself, taking a backseat to the company in favor of his political agenda, things had steadily grown static and unmoving in the workplace, a stark contrast to the rapid progress they'd managed to achieve in years past. It certainly stifled Beck's creative energies as well, working in an environment like that; still, one had to make a living, and he really couldn't ask for a better one that this. 

Really, it was no wonder how he ended up getting involved in something like this now, with all these factors. It was only natural to find ways to curb your boredom, after all. 

They had arrived. For a place as wide and sprawling as The Big Apple, this location was surprisingly remote; little street activity beyond a few casual passersby, and the occasional rat. Gotta love New York. Still, the isolation was what made this place ideal for him. As Quentin exited the vehicle, the driver was quick to speak up. "You, uh....Ya gonna be okay out here?" It was only natural for him to inquire. Beck was still dressed to impress, and needless to say, it didn't fit the relative squalor of the surrounding area. In response to this, he just gave a charming smile. [color=662d91]"No, this is fine, though thanks for the concern. Treat yourself."[/color] Approaching the driver's window, he gave his payment and more than a little extra in the form of a 100$ bill. Whether the man viewed this as an act of generosity or hush money, Beck wasn't particularly concerned, though he did get a bit of amusement from the brief look of surprise on the man's face before he could recover. "...Many thanks, sir. Stay safe." Tipping his cap, the taxi wheeled out from the location, leaving Quentin alone with the strangely quiet warehouse. Not wasting a single moment, he strode in like he owned the place.

Because he did. 

You would have never guessed from the exterior, but inside? Inside was where the magic happened. Six individuals seemed to be working away at a variety of tasks; a middle-aged woman was working on some strange, elaborate costume. A young man scanned through some monitors littered with news outlets to keep up with all the latest information. A younger woman was tinkering away at some hefty-looking drone crafts alongside an older, squirrely man with glasses. Lastly, two more individuals were hard at work as personalized stations, seeming to pilot the aforementioned drones, testing all their myriad features, from their cloaking fields to their silent running, their Holographics-based illusions and even their (wildly inefficient) energy-based weaponry. As Beck entered the room, all eyes laid on him, if only for a moment; many of them had to immediately get back to their work, so as to make sure no mistakes were made in their process. The younger man keeping track of current news, however, hailed him over. "Mr. Beck, you're gonna want to see this..."

[color=662d91]"Whaddaya got for me, Doug?"[/color]

He made his way over to the set-up as Doug replayed some footage from today's news. Looked to be an interview with the Fantastic Four. Quentin couldn't repress a derisive snort. There was plenty of crazy stuff in their modern times, but he still struggled to imagine a group of super-powered freaks coming from some alternate dimension. Still, at the very least, he couldn't deny their effectiveness. But no, the interview proper wasn't what Doug had pulled this up for. 

[color=f6989d]"I'm sorry, we've got a breaking news report. Sources are reporting an explosion and multiple gunshots here in downtown Manhattan. Police are attempting to cordon off the area, but eyewitnesses claim a superhuman is on the scene, and..."[/color]

[color=662d91]"Huh."[/color] "Yeah, 'huh'. If what I'm seeing online is right, too, then that Vision thing is also hitting the scene." Huh. The Vision...Quentin had some interesting thoughts about that, for certain. Sure, he was undoubtedly little more than some STARK propaganda to push into the superhero scene when all was said and done, but the entity itself was something that warranted some investigating. He smirked; today just got a whole lot more interesting. 

[color=662d91]"Janice, get the costume ready; how's the electromagnets coming along for the boots and gauntlets?"[/color] "Er, well, they should be in working order, but..." [color=662d91]"Good. I'll be needing them for this. Shanice, Will, how're the drones coming along? Combat ready?"[/color] The man with glasses spoke up, with a slightly nasally tone of voice. "Well, as per usual, the energy weapons based on STARK tech is still pretty inefficient. If we could figure out a more compact and powerful energy source..." He trailed off, leaving the younger woman some speaking room for herself. "At the very least, the projection system is up to snuff like usual, and we got the dents out from them having to eat lead last time. The silent running is working as intended, and I was able to improve on the cloaking field." She beamed with confidence, clearly pleased with her own work, even if her elder at the workbench was unpleased with other aspects of the creations. Beck snapped her a thumbs-up and a smile. [color=662d91]"Quality work as always, Shanice. Keep up the good work."[/color] He turned his attention to the two drone pilots, who had now taken a break to put their full attention into the conversation. 

[color=662d91]"Vicky, Gutes, how're they feeling? Running well? We're definitely gonna need the both of you on your A-Game for a fight like this."[/color] Victoria seemed confident and ready to proclaim as such, but the older man, Gutes, spoke up first. "Beck, are we [i]really[/i] doing this? Taking out petty robbers or street thugs is one thing, but this has an honest-to-God superhuman involved. Isn't this...Out of our paygrade?" It seemed Gutes spoke for some of the others as well, with Janice and Doug shifting awkwardly. Well, good thing he had the perfect ammunition to throw at him. With a smirk, he walked forward to stand face-to-face with Guterman, looking him dead in the eyes. 

[color=662d91]"Gutes, we always knew that one of these days, we'd have to raise the stakes if we want to [i]really[/i] be noticed. Now's our best chance!"[/color] He flung his hands out, motioning towards the monitor with the now-paused interview. [color=662d91]"We'll be fighting alongside The Fantastic Four, for chrissake! Are they weird? Totally! But people [i]know[/i] them! If Mysterio fights alongside them and actually does his part, then people will have to notice us. And not only that..."[/color]

He motioned towards another monitor, where Doug had pulled up the information of The Vision's arrival. [color=662d91]"STARK has their new favorite war machine out on display today...But we have a chance to one-up it. Are you all [i]really[/i] gonna deny that opportunity? To stick it to that soulless company that threw you out like yesterday's garbage?"[/color] Beck was absolutely playing it up...And they were biting it, hook line and sinker. Begrudgingly, Gutes shook his head. "...Just don't fuck it up, Beck." With that, he went back to his station, preparing for the oncoming trial. Shanice and William seemed to work with renewed fervor, hastily prepping the drones for the fight, as Janice just sighed, putting on the finishing touches before she faced the mastermind of their group with the costume in tow. "Let's get you into place, Mysterio." [hr]
Okay, as it turns out, just having magnetized boots didn't make it too easy to ride drones moving around 30 MPH, though he was quickly getting the hang of it out of necessity; they really needed to invest in some kind of jetpack or propulsion system at some point instead...Still, the enigmatic Mysterio kept up appearances as the fine people of New York saw him drifting through the skies, hurtling towards the crime scene. 

He was undoubtedly the last on the scene, it seemed, but that gave him a good vantage point of the situation from a bit afar before he made his proper arrival. Several armed thugs, some of them packing equipment that seemed, perhaps, a little too advanced for their ilk. Intimidating? Certainly. But not out of the realm of possibility for him and his skillset. What was, however, was the eight-foot tall yellow freak of nature. Not to be confused with the orange one. One of the drones made out the grisly scene at a distance as Victora relayed some of this information to him. "One of the assailants is already dead. Looks like that superhuman has a...Concerning amount of grip force." She could say that again; Mysterio made a mental note not to get too close to that behemoth. Or for his drones, for that matter; it was likely he could actually deal them some damage, and then his jig would be blown right up. 

Still, something didn't seem right about this whole scenario; what were these well-armed goons doing assaulting an energy tanker? Sure, the fuel could sell for a high price, that much he was certain, but firing off around something that volatile was ridiculously reckless, and something told him these guys were a touch too professional for something like that. Not to mention the giant beast of a man who'd emerged to defend the truck. That was raising its own questions...And Mysterio knew his answer. 

[color=00a651]"Vicky, have a drone run a scan over the general area, for any bystanders who are out of sight, as well as contraband. Something more than meets the eye is going on here..."[/color] The caped figure muttered in his helmet, only to be heard by his far-distant confidants. "Will do. What's the plan of attack here?" He gazed over the area once more. Without a doubt, he could say with assurance he couldn't properly take on the that yellow brick wall over there, nor was he eager to try. He could leave that to the Four, or perhaps The Vision; whichever came first. More realistically, he could handle civilian rescue and try to uncover what exactly was happening here. Beyond that...Perhaps he could handle some of the crooks, but he wasn't putting his money where his mouth was for that. 

[color=00a651]"We play it close to chest. Find innocents and get them out of the danger zone, and then we play interceptor for the gunmen as best we can. If we're lucky, we can apprehend a few without much hassle, but we need to make sure not to overextend here; this is a volatile situation."[/color] This time it was Guterman who spoke up. "Loud and clear. Now, how's this entrance gonna go?" Though his tech team couldn't see it, underneath the glassy, opaque dome that fit over his head, Mysterio smirked. 

Overhead of The Fantastic Four and The Vision appeared to be a cloud of green mist, which quickly coalesced, forming into a vibrantly viridian portal, from which emerged none other than the green-clad Mysterio, descending from the skies in spectacular fashion; it was eye-catching, if nothing else. He turned to his fellow heroes on the scene, giving them a brief bow. [color=00a651]"Apologies for the abrupt arrival; you may refer to me as Mysterio. But beyond the niceties, I am here to aid in this endeavor, if you will have me."[/color] Turning his gaze from them to the myriad goons and the menacing enforcer superhuman, an unseen grin crosses Mysterio's face. [color=00a651]"Shall we, as they say, take out the trash?"[/color]