AndyC

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Oh hey, your avatar's an anime chick I actually recognize for once.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

So, ummm.......this isn't the present-day continuity for either company. It's player-created, Year One, and Gwen Stacy is our webslinger instead of Peter Parker. So yeah, continuity-wise I'm afraid it's a page-one rewrite, and even then you're gonna want to talk to Henryjonesjr about spider-stuff since his Gwen is less than a year into her career.

Also, we're about two weeks away from the RP's season ending.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

“You’re going to pay, Livewire,” I say, bobbing and weaving between arcs of electricity flung wildly into the air, “for all the people you’ve hurt today. The people you’ve killed.”

“Wouldn’t a been near as many if you hadn’t taken yer sweet time gettin’ here,” she sneers. “You’re the one always goin’ on about protectin’ the innocent an’ all that. An’ when real trouble shows, you’re late to the party. Far as I’m concerned, their deaths are on you.”

Livewire points her index finger straight at my chest, pointing her thumb up to make a finger-gun gesture and lets loose.

“Bang.”

In the fractions within fractions of a second, I can see the bolt of lightning arcing towards me, the air ionizing in front of me like a second bolt reaching out to it, completing the circuit. I try to juke to one side, but I might as well be moving through cement while trying to dodge a fighter jet-- just because I can see it coming, doesn’t mean I’m fast enough to get out of the way.

The explosion sends me tumbling head-over-heels, and my upper body curls up tightly before violently arching back as my muscles spasm. For a moment, there’s a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest as my heart actually skips a beat.

Before I can regain my bearings, she’s behind me, forcing me to the ground with another blast.

“Y’know, I was really worried I’d never get another chance at this,” she says, the air buzzing angrily as she hovers over me. “Ta pay you back fer turnin’ me into a freak like you. They put me in an insulated cell in the Raft, huge walls a’ rubber an’ concrete an’ a release ta flood the whole thing with water ta short me out if I started actin’ up. I was startin’ to give up hope, Supes. I thought I’d never get out.”

I lunge towards her, but by the time I’m even halfway towards her, she’s long gone. Another bolt of lighting sends me careening into the side of an old brownstone building.

“Then, hey presto, I find out I got friends in high places,” she gloats. “A bald naked silver guy pops into my cell, says he’ll let me go if I go kill me a cape. Didn’t have a doubt in my mind which cape that was gonna be.”

Silver……

Damn it, the Surfer’s broken free. If he’s enlisting other super-powered criminals to do his dirty work, there’s no telling how bad this might get.

I lunge at Livewire again, and again she’s too fast for me. To be honest, I’m never going to be able to catch her.

Which is why rather than try to grab her, I’m trying to move her into position. She now stands between me and a large steel dumpster. It’ll do.

“Ah-ah-ahhh, Supes,” she scolds mockingly, “ I can move at the speed a’ light, an’ you can’t. I thought ya learned that the first time we foug--*oof!*”

“I did.”

I might not be able to move at the speed of light, but my Heat Vision lasers sure as hell can. They pass through Livewire’s plasma form, but create a path right into the conductive metal dumpster, forcing her into the circuit and slamming her into the dumpster at full speed.

The dumpster explodes, sending smoke and shrapnel everywhere. Even before the smoke clears, I see arcs of cerulean light dancing wildly around her.

“That was a real cute trick, Supes,” she snarls. “How ‘bout I try a new trick out on you?”

Her body dissolves into an amorphous cloud of electrical plasma, and races towards me. I start to fly upwards, but she’s too fast. Every muscle in my body feels like it’s being pricked by a million pins and needles as the plasma wraps and constricts around me. Gritting my teeth, I continue to fly up, to give me some more room to maneuver, and to stay clear of civilians.

“See, I know this might hurt like hell,” I hear Livewire’s voice in my ear, her plasmatic form taking just enough shape to form a mouth, “but as long as I’m attackin’ you from the outside, it’s not gonna do all that much. But maybe, if I go at you from the inside……”

The angry buzzing fills my ears, and suddenly everything is white light and excruciating pain.

Livewire, she’s not just electrocuting my body…...she’s in my head. Not affecting my mind, but literally inside my head, attacking my brain.

Can’t-- see---

--control-- arms--

--legs---

--breathing--

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

“That’s what I wanted ta hear,” her voice booms in my eardrums as they fill with blood. “Don’t get too worried now, Supes. It’s all gonna be over soon.”

My chest-- feels like spears running through me.

She’s not just-- not just trying to fry my brain. She’s--

--trying to stop my heart.

Can’t--- can’t break free. Can’t take much more.

Going to kill me. Have to….have to stop it.

Down. DOWN.

I fly downward, every ounce of willpower I have guiding my body straight down.

Straight down into the river. Short her out.

“No, no, nonononononAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--”

There’s one last burst of shocking agony throughout my body, then it clears.

The water around me is boiling, but it gets colder the further I sink.

Colder…..

…..darker…...

…..then it all goes black.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

<Snipped quote by Lord Wraith>

We did, and we will do it again. Time is a flat circle. We've always been in this OOC thread and we will always be here, discussing superhero themes again... and again... and again.

@Byrd Man

Let's be honest, there are only so many topics one can cover in the superhero genre. At least we haven't broken down into "who would win a fight between (x) and (y)" just yet.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Also, how on Earth can @Sep say Zimmer's theme is the definitive Batman theme?

There's only one definitive theme for Batman.

@Lord Wraith

Well, you're half right; there is only one definitive Batman theme.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Follow-up question: do you have some sort of conditions that need to be met to warrant an avatar change, or is it just an on-a-whim thing?

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

I gotta ask: how many anime-babe avatars have you gone through?

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

<Snipped quote by Byrd Man>

You rang?

@Simple Unicycle

I mean, this is a thing now, so.....

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

As a Mach cone ripples the air in front of me, I see the pillar of smoke billowing up into the sky before I even see the skyline of Metropolis. A few seconds later, I’m diving down below rooftop level, heading towards the devastation in the middle of Hob’s Bay. I hear sirens from within the thick walls of smoke, and more on their way. I hear crackles and pops of electricity, like power cables on the ground. And I hear screams.

Hob’s Bay is a mostly residential district, particularly for lower-income families. It’s better off than Southside, known to the locals as the “Suicide Slum,” but it’s hardly the most high-end part of the city. Normally, in the event of an attack, the usual targets would be a few blocks east in New Troy, home to the major tech firms and the financial district. Whoever’s doing this likely isn’t interested in money or hardware, then. Chances are they just wanted to get my attention.

I’ll have to remind them to be careful what they wish for.

Peering through the thick blanket of smoke, I see people calling out for help. An older man is lying on the pavement, pinned under a fallen street light. A couple is trapped inside an overturned car, calling out for someone to let them out. An apartment building is engulfed in flames, and on one of the top floors, a family of four huddles in the corner, choking on smoke.

There are hundreds of other people ducked behind cover, out of harm’s way for the moment. There are a few others lying in the street, hanging out of broken windows, or in the seats of their cars, who aren’t moving at all. I’m too late to save them, but I can at the very least bring their killer or killers to justice.

First things first, the family in the burning apartment building. I fly up to the floor they’re on, and focus my vision to see into the building. The upper floors have suffered major damage, and could collapse on themselves at any minute. The fire hasn’t spread to the family’s apartment itself, but smoke has filled the place and rubble has blocked the door. I’ll have to bring them down to ground level myself.

I find a spot in the wall that’s far from the structural supports, and burst through into their living room.

“Is ever--” is all I’m able to get out before the sudden rush of fresh oxygen from the outside causes a backdraft, filling the apartment with a wave of flames. As the fire rushes towards the family, I speed towards them, holding my cape out to my sides to create as wide of a shield as I can.

The fire washes over me, and I grit my teeth. The family screams, but looking down to them I can see they’re relatively safe as my cape--and my own body-- take the heat for them. Still, that was reckless, Clark. There’s got to be a safer way to do this.

Most of the flash-fire burns itself out in a few short seconds, but even so, the smoke is thicker than ever, the heat unbearable. I need to get them out of here now, before it gets worse.

“Sorry about that,” I say, throwing my cape around to fan away as much of the smoke as I can.

"सुपरमैन! भगवान का शुक्र है!" the father exclaims. “आपको हमें बाहर ले जाना चाहिए! कृपया, बच्चों को पहले बाहर निकालो!”

My Hindi isn’t very good, but I’m able to pick out the words “children first.” I nod, and pick up the two children, a boy and a girl both elementary school age, and with a couple of long strides, leap from the window. I’m still not exactly the most gentle in the air, so our descent is more or less a freefall before I hit the brakes for the past few yards. The kids scream and cry, but at least they’re safe. I set them down on a stoop across the street, reassure them the best I can with what little I can speak of their language.

“तुम यहाँ इंतज़ार करो, मुझे माँ मिलती है,” I say, roughly meaning ‘you wait here, I get mother.’ I’m sure I sound like a caveman to them, but it’s the best I can do at the moment. Taking a few steps away from them so they don’t get caught in my gravitational wake, I hurl myself back upwards into the apartment, and appear again a few seconds later with their mother, then go back again for their father.

As I touch down with their father around my arm, the apartment building’s roof and upper floors begin to topple in on themselves, crushing their home beneath several tons of rubble. The kids begin to cry again, while their mother tries to comfort them.

“धन्यवाद, सुपरमैन, बहुत बहुत धन्यवाद!” the father thanks me. “हम वहां फंस गए थे, उस भयानक महिला ने हमें बिजली के साथ हमला किया!”

Again, my Hindi’s not great, but I’m able to pick out a few words. “Trapped,” “horrible woman,” and “lightning.” I get a sinking feeling in my gut with the last one, as I start to think of who might be behind this.

“सुरक्षित जाओ,” I say, which I’m pretty sure is just ‘go safe.’ Still, despite sounding like I’m doing a bad impression of Frankenstein’s monster, the father nods, and starts to herd his family towards a staircase down the street leading to an underground subway station.

With that out of the way, next priority is the old man trapped under the street light. Getting him free from underneath is simple enough, as I’m able to lift the pole with one hand and set it aside. Moving him, though, is another story-- his leg has been smashed to pulp.

“Aaagh, aww God!” he cries out when I try to move him. “I can’t--I can’t move!”

“Okay,” I say, trying not to crowd him, “I’m gonna find a way to get you to a doctor, all right?”

Still clutching at his leg in agony, the man nods. Not far from here, I hear the sound of ambulance sirens, so that’s encouraging. With paramedics in the area, I hopefully won’t have to fly him all the way to the hospital. Still, I can’t carry him in his current state.

Looking around, I see a construction site, and a dump truck parked at the curb. Perfect.

I don’t fly so much as make a long jump to the site, cracking the pavement beneath my feet when I land. Heading to the back of the dump truck, I grab hold of the tailgate, my fingers sinking into the steel like clay, and with one good heave and a loud screech of twisting metal, I pull it off the hinges.

Carrying the tailgate back to the old man, I set it down next to him. “I’m going to get you to someone who can help,” I tell him, “but to do that, I need to move you onto this, like a stretcher. It’s probably going to hurt a bit, but it’s better than leaving you here.”

“Right,” the man says, “I gotcha.”

With a grunt of strain and gritted teeth, he slides himself onto the makeshift stretcher. I grab one end of it.

“Hold on tight,” I tell him. He nods, and grabs the edge of the tailgate. I raise the end of it up just enough that I can get under it, then lift it onto my back, and take to the air as delicately as I can.

Normally, I’m able to just force my way through the air without much trouble, but moving slowly actually requires a lot more energy. I think it’s a matter of how much I have to focus on my body and whatever-- or in this case, whoever-- I’m carrying, and the greater amount of concentration I have to exert, the greater the strain it has on me. If lifting a huge object while airborne feels like keeping all of my muscles flexed at once, this is like having to do that while also building a house of cards.

By the time I’m able to find the ambulance and set him down so the paramedics can treat him, I’ve got a splitting headache.

“Thanks,” the man says with some relief, “you’re a lifesaver. I didn’t think I had chance. That blue-haired woman just came outta nowhere.”

I frown, as he confirms my suspicions. If it really is her, more than this neighborhood might be in danger.

I head back to the street to find the couple in the overturned car. This one should be easy, just turn the car upright and--

KRA-KOOOOOOM!!!!!!

“NO!” I shout as the car explodes, arcs of cerulean lightning dancing in the smoke and fire.

“Therrrre you are,” says a voice from inside the plumes of fire. “I was startin’ to worry you wouldn’t show. But now I got my chance to get back at you fer puttin’ me away.”

Emerging from the inferno is a woman, with gray skin and electric blue hair standing up in spikes. She has a playful grin on her face, but her eyes burn with a searing hatred. Electrical sparks crackle and pop from her hands.

A few months ago, Leslie Willis was an activist and local media personality, riding the same sort of “Beware the Superman” narrative that people like G. Gordon Godfrey like to spin. She held a rally in Centennial Park, which quickly turned into a riot. I tried to intervene when someone in the crowd pulled a gun and opened fire, hitting an electrical generator next to Willis and causing it to explode. It should have killed her on the spot, but the combination of my getting in the way at the last split-second to take most of the voltage and her own latent meta-gene awakening transformed her into a being made of electrical plasma.

Blaming me for what happened, she declared Leslie Willis to be dead-- killed by Superman-- and in her place was her new identity…..

“Livewire,” I scowl, balling up my fists and getting ready for a fight.

“Nice to see you too, Superman,” she sneers, forming balls of plasma around her hands. “Now how’s about you an’ me have ourselves a dance?”

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

"You'll have to excuse me," says the man with graying red hair and moustache as he paces behind his desk. "I don't really like talking to the press. The GCPD's already made an official statement, and normally I'd leave it at that. But in your case, I made an exception."

Captain James Gordon, a man about the age my own dad would have been, has an air of seemingly perpetual concern and exasperation, a man who knows the rules and believes in them but is always surprised when someone breaks them. His brow is furrowed so deeply I could almost swear they were sculpted in place. There seems to be an "I'm getting too old for this" or a "Jesus, I need a smoke" hanging off the tip of his tongue at all times.

In the far corner of the office, a bookish young woman in a wheelchair--Gordon's daughter, I was told-- types away at her computer, seemingly too engrossed in her own work to give us any mind.

"And why's that?" I ask, taking the bait. "Why make the exception for me?"

"Because of who you work for," Gordon answers. "The Daily Planet. I don't get a whole lot of time to sit down and read the papers anymore, and when I do, admittedly, it's usually the Gazette. But your paper's got quite the reputation these days. Whenever people think of the Planet, they think of people in capes and tights doing crazy, impossible things. You've become the unofficial voice of Superman and everyone like him."

"To be fair, plenty of other news outlets cover metahuman activities," I say.

"True," Gordon admits, "but none of them catch the public's attention the same way. Everyone knows that J. Jonah Jameson and G. Gordon Godfrey are cheap sensationalism, scare tactics to rile up an audience. But the Planet plays it straight, or at least they pretend to. Sure, you talk about the damage these super-people cause, but you also point out the people they save, almost keeping score. And that, in a way, might actually be worse."

"How so?" I say, trying not to be offended. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the red-headed girl at the corner desk scrunch her nose, apparently annoyed by her father's stance as well.

"Let's say Superman gets into a brawl in the middle of Metropolis," Gordon continues. "Smashes another killer robot, saves the day. That's all well and good, and people start wanting to be more like him. A couple of weeks later, we've got the Bat-Man snapping limbs and shooting mobsters with their own guns. A few people start to raise concerns, but nobody dies so everyone turns a blind eye to it. Not long after that, the Punisher guns down a dozen people in New York. At this point, people start justifying it, saying that it's okay because his victims were all gangsters and drug dealers. As long as the perpetrator is seen by the public as the 'good guy' and the people he's thrashing are painted as 'bad guys,' all of his actions are seen as justified. No matter how many people get hurt, no matter how much damage is done, no matter how crazy the world becomes."

"And you think the Daily Planet is to blame for this perception?"

Gordon sits and ponders for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

"Not completely," he says. "Not even mostly, I'd say. But people trust the Planet in a way that they don't trust your competitors. Your words carry a lot of weight. And I think it'd go a long way if you'd tell people what's going on here."

Trying to read his expression, I get the impression that he's a man reaching the end of his rope, feeling himself lose more and more control of the situation he's in.

"Well, what would you want us to tell people that we're not already?" I ask.

"Well, for starters," he begins, "I don't think I've seen anyone talking about the long-term side-effects that being around all this insanity has on the population. People are starting to turn, well....cowardly. Superstitious. Some of the boys are starting to call it 'cape shock.' Take a suspect who came in about half an hour before you did. He walks in, wearing all sorts of crazy contraptions and calling himself 'the Electrocutioner,' and demands to turn himself in. Says he tried to mug a random passerby on the street, but the passerby happened to be Superman in disguise. Hmph."

"Pretty crazy," I clear my throat, and find myself looking away. I notice the red-headed girl at the computer has suddenly stopped typing. I glance over at her, but she continues to stare intently at the screen.

"Point is, the city's falling apart," Gordon says, "And there's only so much we can do on our own to turn it around. I'm not going to stop until I see the Batman behind bars, but, if I'm honest.....I'm not so convinced I can be the one who puts him there. The only way these super-people aren't going to tear apart the world they're trying to save is if they start holding each other accountable."

I have to admit, that's a big reason why I'm here. The story aside, I've been letting the more....extreme elements of the vigilante community get out of hand. Maybe it's because I've been too preoccupied with disasters and monsters and cyber-terrorists. Or maybe it's because I really have had a blind spot when it comes to people claiming to act in the name of the greater good. Either way, he's right. If things are going to change, I have to--

*KNOCK KNOCK*

The door to Gordon's office opens, and a dark-haired woman steps in.

"Sorry to interrupt, Captain," she says. "but we've got some trouble brewing on the South Side. Apparently about a half-dozen drivers decided to start their own little demolition derby."

Gordon sighs, and stands up from his desk.

"Looks like we're gonna have to cut it short, Mister Kent," he says, moving to the coat rack and donning his jacket.

"Actually, I'd better get going as well," I say, standing and offering a quick handshake. "Thanks for your time."

He quickly shakes my hand and shows me out the door, before starting to shout out orders to his team. Meanwhile, I start looking for somewhere I can change. I'd rather not advertise to the Batman that I'm in the city and drive him into hiding, but I can't exactly leave innocent people in danger, either.

As I duck into a stairwell and start undoing the buttons on my shirt, my phone rings. I've got it set to silent, only ringing for emergency calls. I frown. The officer mentioned the disturbance is going on around the south side of the city. Grant Park is on the south end as well. If Lois is in trouble again....

Checking the phone, I see it's not Lois. In fact, it's Jimmy.

"Jimmy?" I answer. "What's--"

"Clark! Holy crap! Jimmy shouts on the other end of the line. "Are you back at the apartment?!"

"No, I'm in Gotham City today, remember?"

"Oh, thank God," he says, before I hear a loud, angry buzzing noise over the air. "There is some major stuff going on in Hob's Bay, man. Half of our block just got blasted to bits!"

"What?!?!"

"It's like a friggin' war-zone here!" he shouts over the sounds of an explosion.

"What's going on?!" I say in a panic. "Who's behind it?"

"I can't--....---at --em," he says, the signal cutting in and out as the angry electrical buzzing gets louder. "But I ---- 's Liv--"

The signal cuts off completely, and I stare disbelieving at the disconnected phone for a moment. I can't be in two places at one time.

"Damn it!" I curse to myself before opening up the shirt. People might die if I don't stop whatever's going on over on the South Side of Gotham. But people will die if I don't stop the attack on Metropolis. Hopefully the GCPD can take care of the crazed motorists before it gets out of hand.

In the meantime.....

....I've gotta run back home.

Hang on, Jimmy. I'm on my way.