Byrd Man

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

I need to work on an app for Jimmy Olsen. I played him once and had a ball. I went from palling around in space and time with Rip Hunter, to having Jimmy inadvertently become Intergang boss.

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

I'm still shocked that we're over a week in and we don't have a Superman. Or a Fantastic Four. Or a Doom.

Someone do something about that.

@Morden Man

You do something about it.

Do it.

Do it.

Guardians of Infinity

w00t

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

Washington D.C.
March 21st, 2005
07:22 Local Time

George Smiley had a tail.

He noticed it as soon as he started out on his walk to work. The thin man wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a jean jacket easily blended in on the streets of Washington simply because of his attire. It was his haircut that keyed Smiley to the fact something was off. The man's blonde hair was perfectly styled in a short crew cut that didn't match with his casual attire. He looked like something straight out of the 80's. This lack of subtly made the man as Russian. Only Ivan would think a typical American dressed in all denim.

The man followed him from the hotel he was staying at for the time being. SHIELD tried to rope him into getting a car, but he demurred. It was only a few blocks to the Triskelion and he could desperately use the exercise. This shadow that followed him was its own exercise. It'd been so long since Smiley engaged in tradecraft, but one never forgot the tools of the trade. He started simple, going down streets the wrong way, cross to the other side of the street seemingly on whim. Doubling back and ducking into cabs, only to duck out at the last moment. Smiley felt pride in the fact that he shook the tail free after only a half hour of tradecraft.

And then he noticed the second tail. While the Russian tailed from behind, a Chinese man shadowed him from the front. Smiley noticed him earlier, but his focus on Ivan made him not think much of him. Now that Ivan was gone, the tall Chinese man with the olive green coat and black turtleneck was still there, casually smoking a cigarette as he walked just far enough ahead of Smiley to keep track.

"You have a lot of eyes on you, George."

Smiley turned at the sound of the voice. Standing behind him was a ghost from the past. He'd put on weight and his hair had more gray in it than he remembered, but Peter Guilliam looked almost the same as he did when Smiley last saw him fourteen years ago. Smiley stared at the man, adjusting his glasses to make sure he was really seeing him right here in front of him. Guilliam wore a sardonic smile.

"Never mind him up there," Guilliam said, nodding towards his watcher ahead of them. "The spook world hears George Smiley is back in the game, they want to see for themselves."

"What are you doing here, Peter?" Smiley asked.

"I work here in Washington now. I work out of the embassy and liaise with the Cousins on intelligence matters. Walk with me."

It took Smiley a moment to find his feet, but he found them and walked with Guilliam down the sidewalk. Guilliam ended up having to slow his pace, his longer legs outpacing Smiley's short strides.

"You've sent many a tongue wagging across the pond," said Guilliam. "It's not every day that a former head of the Secret Service goes to Washington to become a Deputy Director of SHIELD."

"Fury roped me into it," said Smiley with a shrug. "Plus he's offering me real work. Which is more than the Circus was offering."

"Vauxhall Cross is worried about what you may tell the Cousins about your time in the Circus."

They came to an intersection and waited for the light to change. Smiley kept one hand in his pocket, the other clung tightly to his briefcase.

"is that why they sent you here, Peter? Who better than my old protegee to pump me for information?"

"Of course," said Guilliam as the light changed and they walked across the street. "But I also feel it was necessary to reach out to you. Anglo-American relations have vastly improved since the Cold War ended. Special Relationship and all that. Six wants to make sure everything stays just as chummy."

"And an Englishman in SHIELD threatens that?"

"No, an Englishman forced into retirement by SIS threatens that," said Guilliam. "M wants to make sure you won't make things tense, your complicated history with the Circus could cloud your perception."

Smiley sighed and rubbed his temple. He was starting to severely regret not having that car pick him up.

"Tell Sir Mallory that I do not dwell on the past like some people can. I'm working for SHIELD to help fight HYDRA, and that's all. I have no intention to air MI6's dirty laundry to the Cousins, especially when I was responsible for parts of that dirty washing. Will that suffice, Peter?"

Guilliam nodded. The two came to a stop in Dupont Circle. Smiley saw the Chinese man was still with them, always an appropriate distance away.

"Where's your man, Peter? I spotted the Russian and the Chinese watchers, I know you have someone following me. If it's the man walking the terrier, I would suggest not having someone with a dog do tail work. It's too conspicuous."

Guilliam kicked at the ground, putting his hands in his coat pockets and staring down at his feet.

"My own country spying on me... what a day."

"You would do the same, George," Guilliam said he met Smiley's gaze. "You were sent out into the cold for a reason, George. It was never intended for you to come back. You have us all on edge -- Russians, Chinese, and British. Everyone wants to know what you're going to do."

"All this fuss over little old me," Smiley said with a laugh. "You flatter me. Like I said before, Peter, I have a simple mandate to find HYDRA. Unless you have members of HYDRA in your organization, you'll be fine."

"That's what worries me," Guilliam said with a raised eyebrow. "You pull strings, George. You pull regardless of where they lead, and you send the whole damn thing crashing down."

Smiley adjusted his glasses, pushing them up off the bridge of his nose. He turned and waved at the Chinese man. He saw Smiley's wave and turned around, quickly scurrying down the street. Smiley let out a laugh and turned to Guilliam.

"If the whole damn thing can be destroyed by a few string pulls, Peter, then maybe it deserves to come crashing down. Maybe it wasn't that stable to begin with. Now, if you'll excuse me I need to get to work."

Guilliam nodded and they shook hands. They said their pleasantries and Smiley watched his old friend walk down the street. A few moments later the man with the terrier followed him. Smiley checked his watch and straightened his tie. Welcome back, George, the thought to himself. Welcome back to the game.

Guardians of Infinity

I can always bang out a quick post of Howardish chaos. I'll probably do that later tonight.

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

@Byrd Man If you're referring to Tiger Shark as Todd Arliss, then that causes some concerns for me. I was going to do his whole origin and introductory storyline with Namor later :/

@Eru Iluvatar

Nope. This guy: dc.wikia.com/wiki/Tiger_Shark_(New_Ear..

The Pickett County War: A Rural Noir RP

John spent a few minutes in Mike's car, trying to steel his resolve and prepare for what he might have to do. The Cadillac was parked outside Pickett First Methodist, right down the block from Sheriff Parker’s house. It was ten till one and the rains of earlier started back up just as Mike parked the car. A light drizzle peppered the windshield with drips of water. He took a deep breath and began to climb out the car.

"Let me go in with you," said Mike. "I do not trust this son of a bitch. Never have."

"I ain't going in alone," John said, patting the gun hidden under his jacket.

"Just give me a holler, okay? I'll pull up closer so I can hear better. I hear yelling or a gunshot and I'm busting in."

John nodded and got out the car. Parker’s house was a two-story home just off what people in town called the Mill Hill, the slope above where the empty Simpson Mill sits. The entire hill was filled with the old homes the company provided to workers. The second floor in Parker’s home was an add-on and looked like it. The more modern style and fresh paint clashed with the humble architecture of the blue collar worker bottom.

Parker’s silver unmarked car the county provided him with sat in the front yard. His wife passed a few years ago from breast cancer and his only son lived outside the county was his own family so he lived alone. He went around back and inspected the door. It was locked but not deadbolted. It only took John a few minutes to pick it with the old credit card routine. With the door unlocked, he slowly opened the back door and ventured inside. He passed through the back porch that had old clothes and a washer and a dryer in it. The next room through that was the kitchen.

He put one foot into the tile floor of the kitchen when the light snapped on. Standing in a white tank-top and striped boxers was Parker. The bored looked on his face made it look like he was waiting on a bus instead of a burglar. Down by his side was his service pistol. It was aimed square at John's chest. His gun was still in his pocket.

“Have a seat,” he said, walking towards the kitchen table beside the sink.

John stared while he sat down and laid the gun down on the table. “Shut the back door, please. House can be kinda drafty in this weather.”

Not knowing what else to do, he complied and sat down at the table facing the sheriff. Parker’s fingers were laced together and resting in front of him on the table. A supposed gesture of good faith, John guessed. Still, the gun was well within reach. There would be no way in hell he could beat Parker in either going for his gun or reaching to get the pistol in his pocket.

He started. “A few days ago, someone in the woods found a body. This led to a few of my deputies finding the body of Howard Beggs. Four bullets went through his body, mostly his head. The only reason we made him as Beggs was because the license in his back pocket.”

John stayed silent while Parker’s gray-blue eyes kept him transfixed where he sat. He stared at John for a few seconds that felt like they took forever to pass before he kept talking.

“Scott Andrews, my chief deputy, said you were asking all over town about Beggs recently. Scott also asked to run a background check on you. He said he remembered you having a gun. Last I talked to him, he was bucking for a search warrant on your trailer.”

John kept silent while Parker kept staring.

“Well.” Parker shook his head and let out a short bark of a laugh. “Boy, they fucked you over but good. Only way you’d look better is if they found you over Beggs’ body.”

“You bastard,” John finally said. “You goddamn bastard. You set me up for this from the get go.”

“Me?” Parker asked, pointing to himself. “No. I was just following orders.”

John leaned forward and showed his teeth as he spoke. “Bullshit. You know where this was going to lead me. I know you went to see George Silvers the day before you hired me. He told me he spilled everything to you.”

Parker sighed and scratched the back of his head. “He did. And now you know the truth.”

“And I still don’t believe it.”

Parker raised a hand and showed John he was going to pick up the gun.

“I’m armed as well,” said John. “So, you try anything you’re going down with me.”

Parker picked the gun up and motioned for John to follow him through the house. He stayed close behind Parker while the sheriff led him into a bedroom that had been converted into a study with a desk and a few file cabinets. There was a leather chair facing the desk. John sat down gingerly, slipping a hand into his pocket to grab his gun, while Parker rifled through the desk. Finally, he pulled out a folder and slid it across the surface of the desk to him.

“Read it and weep,” he said.

John opened the folder and saw that George’s bullshit was all true.

The photo was a mugshot of Howard Beggs. The date beside the shot said it was taken six years earlier. He was eighty pounds heavier, his blonde hair in a buzzcut and a thick mustache over his lip. Beside the photo was a file that was completely different than what he had read about him.

Howard Beggs was, in reality, Jerry Miller. Instead of being forty years old and from Darlington County, he was instead born in Moncks Corner. And he was a detective sergeant with the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division.

“So,” he said, looking up at Parker. “That’s why they set me up for this?”

“Yep,” Parker said. “It’s one thing to make a tweaker like Howard Beggs disappear, nobody gives a shit. But do the same to Sergeant Jerry Miller? Not so easy.”

An undercover SLED agent? He leaned back in the chair and had to fight the urge to puke all over the file and Parker’s desk. When it had passed, he shook his head and looked at Parker.

“So that’s how he got off without having to pay bail?” John asked.

“Yep. Soon as Sherry brought him in, he was on the phone to someone in Columbia. They got him off right fast and in a hurry by putting pressure on me. After that I asked around to some of my friends with the state police, and that was when I found out. He was sent in to Pickett six months ago to look at all of us, Billy and the sheriff’s department.”

“That arrest report you had was fake?”

“Yep. Everything up until his last arrest. Turns out, the state police were just as interested in finding him as Billy. He’d gone off the reservation, so to speak.”

“Meth does that to people." He passed the folder back to Parker. “Billy knew a week before you did. George said Beggs got fucked up one night and bragged to him that their little plan to expand behind Billy’s back would work. That was when he told George the truth. George ran and told Billy to save his own skin. Also explains why Scott Andrews pulled him over for no real reason.”

“Yeah,” Parker said. “If not for Sherry showing up, Beggs probably wouldn’t have made it off that roadside alive.”

John agreed. “Easiest thing in the world for Andrews to shoot him while he’s stopped and drive off like nothing happened. Sherry shows up and Andrews can’t kill him, so they bring him in. He gets free and then rabbits. He comes to George for help, George sells him out and the set up is on for me. Only thing I can’t figure is your part in this, sheriff. You roped me into this. You were in on the fix, but why if Andrews is playing for the other side? I didn’t think Billy had everybody in his pocket.”

“Like I said, just following orders.”

John pulled his gun from his jacket and leveled it at the sheriff's chest.

“Not good enough, Gene.”

He glanced at the gun by his side. It would be close, but it may end up as a draw. They both knew a draw would end with both of us shot. Instead of getting feisty, Parker hunched over his chair and leaned forward. His face screwed up and John could tell he was fighting back tears.

“Billy’s had my ass under the eight ball for nearly twenty damn years. I don’t work for him, I’m his slave. He’s got blackmail that would ruin me, John. I’m talking about more than getting me thrown out of office, I mean criminal charges.”

“What, exactly?”

“No,” he said with the shake of his head. “I’m not telling, I don’t care if you shoot me full of holes. The point is, John, Billy’s owned me for nearly my whole time in office. I went looking for Beggs on my own after Mark and Danny failed to find him. I came across George and he sung when I threatened him with jail. The snake that he is, he told Billy and Billy came up with the plan. We’d use you as the fall guy. You're a Norman, for god's sake. Everybody’s been waiting on you to snap. No way in hell nobody would believe you getting framed.”

John's anger started to rise. Parker was joining the cast of characters that made up the revenge fantasies in his head. Smashing his face into the desk over and over again until his blood stained the wood was starting to look like a good possibility.

He kept going. “So, I was to force you into finding Beggs and let you ask your questions around town. Then Jed would grab you, plant his gun on you, and he’d leave you by his body where Scott would find you and arrest you, or shoot you down and pretend you drew the gun on him. Scott would get the glory that that would launch him to running for sheriff.”

“Replacing you?” John asked.

“Yeah,” Parker said with a look of disdain. “Apparently, I’m too old and it’s time to put me out to pasture. Billy wants Scott as sheriff now, a man he doesn’t have to threaten to work for him.”

It was laid out in front of him, the whole damn thing. An undercover state police officer addicted to meth and gone rogue with some half-assed plan to make meth and money, but his greed got him killed and, more importantly, majorly fucked John's life up.

He looked down at his gun and then up at Parker. “I don’t want to go to jail, so if you let me leave now I won’t have to hurt you.”

“I have no intention of arresting you, none at all.”

“Then what?” John skeptically asked.

“You want this to go away?” Parker leaned forward to look him square in the eyes. “You do exactly as I say and I can make this go away, or at least buy you enough time to leave.”

“What do I have to do?”

He smiled and John felt his arms break out in goose bumps at the cold and callous thing on Parker's face that was supposed to be warm and friendly. “They want to push me out, I think you should push them out.”

“Who?”

“Billy, Scott, Jed, even crazy ass Jim Brown. I want you to kill them all and find the blackmail Billy has on me. You do that, I’ll pin the murder on one of them and get you off scot free.”

“Are you serious?” John asked with an arched eyebrow.

“As a heart attack, son. Hell, you pull this off right and I’ll give you my blessing to run Billy’s rackets.”

“Never say the law here in Pickett County don’t look out for the wellbeing of its citizens...”

“Billy’s had a good run, but it’s over,” Parker said with a shrug. “Besides, you’re a Norman. If anybody can do it right, it’s you.”

John knew that was sucking up bullshit. He didn’t want to do all the things Mike had done. Dealing drugs, breaking legs, and pimping wasn’t John's style. But he had a chance to get revenge without any impunity. And it was an offer Parker was too quick to throw out.

“How long have you had this card in your back pocket?” John asked.

Another look of innocence from Parker. “What do you mean?”

“Getting me out of trouble with Carol and her folks, cutting through all that red tape and greasing palms get me free, knowing that Bill may employ me, knowing about my little weed farm for years. How long you been waiting to cash those all those favors in?”

“Ah.” He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “You see, John, lot of men collect things. Cars, fishing rods, baseball cards, things like that. Me? I collect favors. You think you’re the only one in this county, or hell, the only one in this state I’ve went the extra mile for? I got friends all over Pickett, you’re just one of many. And now I’m asking for one more favor. You got it in you to step up to the plate and do what needs to be done?”

John stood up and tucked the gun into his jacket. “Of course. I’m a Norman, ain’t I?”

Parker smiled, a genuine one this time. “You most certainly are. Now, go do your ancestors proud and go out there and kill as many sumbitches as you can.”

---

Gene Parker stood at the window and watched Mike Norman's Cadillac disappear down the street. He let out a long breath and sighed. His knees nearly buckled and his hands were shaking fiercely. When he saw John Norman in his kitchen, he was certain he was going to die right then and there. But he talked his way out of it. It was mostly truth, but there was bullshit in there to. Enough to spin the Norman boy's anger away from himself and towards more deserving parties.

He turned from the window and shuffled back towards his holster. He slid the service pistol into place and picked his cell phone up off the coffee table. Gene took a deep breath and dialed a number.

"It's Gene Parker," he said after a few long moments of silence. "We need to have us a talk."

---

Mike couldn't believe what John had just told him. They drove out of town and parked amidst all the rotten old buildings in Saloon City. Mike just listened as John recapped his conversation with Parker. This entire mess was a clusterfuck. Just trying to make sense of it hurt his head. This game Billy was playing was a bunch of bullshit in his estimate. Back when Mike ran things, he just walked up and killed someone. End of story. All these layers and lies just tangled things up.

"Still want to stay?" He asked his grandson.

"Parker made it clear I either get the blackmail Billy has on him, or I get a murder charge on me."

Mike sighed and ran his hands through his thinning hair.

"If Billy has anything on the sheriff, we both know where it'd be."

John nodded slowly. "Ray's. That big ass safe in the backroom."

Mike popped the trunk and started to open the door of his car. He motioned for John to follow him. They went to the back of the Cadillac where Mike raised the trunk. Laying there was a twelve gauge pump shotgun with a box of shells.

"You take the shotgun and I'll take the pistol in your jacket," said Mike.

"I don't--"

"I ain't asking," he said curtly. He looked at John through the dark. "This ain't just about you, boy. It's about us. What Billy Brown took from us. Not just my business, but my son. Your daddy. You grew up without a father because of that son of a bitch, and now he keeps fucking with us long after the war is over. This is about clearing your name and bringing our name back. People in this county used to fear the last name Norman. They need to learn to again."

Mike watched as John picked up the shotgun pumped a shell into the breech.

"Let's go."

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

"Ideally, Tiger Shark is to be taken alive. We need intelligence about HYDRA's current assets and movements, and he can provide that for us."

George didn't say it, but he wanted more than just intelligence. His current mandate was to turn the tide and bring the fight to them. As valuable as Tiger Shark would be as an intelligence source, he would be ten times more valuable if he could be turned into a double agent. But that depended on if he would cooperate, and if he could be brought in alive. Too many ifs to make the scenario feasible.

"If it seems as if there is no other alternative, Tiger Shark is to be eliminated. In that event, you are ordered to bring in any electronic devices recovered during your mission. We'll gather intelligence as best as possible from those devices. A plane is leaving Andrews Air Force Base in an hour, you're going to be on that flight. From there, you'll fy to a military base in Germany and fly straight to Jakarta after that."

George slid a manila dossier across the desk to Barnes. Stamped on the cover as the SHIELD logo, a red diagonal slash that indicated it was top secret, and the designation OPERATION FISH FRY.

"Some reading for you to do on your flight. It contains every detail about the mission. Burn it after reading, please."

Barnes thumbed through it, glancing at the pages while George took off his glasses. Without the lenses, his eyes seemed small and beady. He blinked a few times as he cleaned his glasses on the fat end of his tie. Satisfied they were clean, he placed them back on his face.

"One more thing, James. This is not contained in the folder because I cannot share it with anyone. I believe this attack happened because of a leak inside SHIELD. The way Tiger Shark got into our satellite feed indicates knowledge of out communications systems, if not access codes outright. While you are in Jakarta, I will be back here engaging on a hunt for the leaker. Our purposes may overlap or come at odds at times, but stay focused on your mission. Keep what I just said mind in the future, because after you walk out of that room I will not speak of it again, and I trust you will not either. I've told you this because it goes back to what I said earlier: Trust no one. Not even me."

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

George stood and walked over towards his map of the world. Barnes stayed seated, but kept his eyes on him as he crossed the room. George placed a thumb on the southern tip of the Arabian Peninsula.

"This is Yemen and late last night, HYDRA attacked Yemen with SHIELD resources."

He explained the details of the operation that went bad. The drone strike -- he spent a few minutes explaining drones to Barnes, but he grasped concept well enough since it was an unmanned plane that he and Rogers blew up all those years ago -- that was intended for members of a radical terrorist organization instead killed high-ranking members of the Yemeni military.

"The dossier I read this afternoon indicates that Yemen is in a very delicate political situation. The president is fast losing allies, the ones that were killed were among the few he had left. With them gone, anti-establishment forces in the military may be able to stage a coup. All drone flights have been cancelled, and the Yemeni government is working with us to keep a lid on the whole fiasco. We believe HYDRA to be behind this because of the message that was sent to SHIELD headquarters just moments after the attack."

George let Barnes watch the video footage and the message that followed. From behind his desk, George pressed on with the briefing.

"The source of the digital takeover of the drone, what they call hacking now, was traced to the Indian Ocean, a few hundred miles off the coast of Indonesia. Satellite tracking has linked the hacking to this man."

George slid a photo across the desk to Barnes. The grainy surveillance photo showed a man in an expensive sharkskin suit with a red bandana covering the top half of his face.

"He goes by the name Tiger Shark. He is a pirate and smuggler responsible for nearly all the black market trade that goes through the Indian Ocean. He has no visible ties to HYDRA, but it's not too much of a stretch to imagine him as being in bed with that lot. This photo is the only one we have of him, and it comes to us from Vauxhall Cross, my old stomping grounds. The photo is at least five years old. Tiger Shark is highly dangerous and wanted for a laundry list of international crimes. Your mission is a very simple one: fly to Jakarta and find Tiger Shark and bring him in."

There was a second, unseen objective that George needed to accomplish. But that was his own mission, something he could only do alone. But his mission dove-tailed into Barnes. While he was in Asia, fighting pirates, George would be back here working from his end.

"A SHIELD contact will meet you in Jakarta when you land and help you achieve your mission. Any questions, James?"

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

"You're right," said George. "On both accounts. The world you've awoken to is vastly different than the one you left. The enemy no longer goosesteps in jackboots. They move in the shadows, entire nation states worth of people, arms, and influence out there in the ether. To do this work, you enter into what a poet once called the wilderness of mirrors. Appearances, intent, and even truth are all distorted when you gaze out. Words can have three meanings, people can have many faces, and the right thing to do is not always the thing that is called for."

George paused and put his hands together. His thoughts strayed to the past. And when he spoke again, he was talking to himself as much as he was talking to Barnes.

"The things you'll be asked to do will not be pretty. You mention sacrifice and hardship? They are all part of this job as well. You will be asked to sacrifice many things -- your personal life, your time and energy, and maybe even your moral compass -- in the name of world safety. There's still a war on, James. Just the enemy and his methods have changed. The stakes are as high as they've ever been. Having said that, are you ready for your assignment?"