Byrd Man

Absolute Comics: Rebirth

"I'm the best at what I do, but what I do isn't very nice, guvnor!"

Absolute Comics: Rebirth

<Snipped quote by Byrd Man>

I'll keep your seat warm.

@Lord Wraith

You can void out my stuff. I dont want to hold anyone up who may have ideas.

Absolute Comics: Rebirth

<Snipped quote by Byrd Man>

Yes, sorry to hear this as well. Perhaps when you've acquired a new internet connection, we'll have the pleasure of having you back.

@Lord Wraith

Sure. I'm moving at the end of next month. So look out for me in January

Absolute Comics: Rebirth

I've got to bow out. I turned off my internet service in preparation for moving so I can only use my phone at the moment, and I ain't about posting shit from my phone. I can use my phone's internet in a limited basis to tether, but I can't do it all the time so I'm doing triage and picking another game over this one. Scumbag move? Perhaps. But regardless, it's better to cut ties and let everyone know than to never post without reason.

Marvel: Knights of New York

MARVEL: KNIGHTS OF NEW YORK

Mood Music

Luke Cage

CHARACTER BIO:

Real Name: Carlton Lucas
Age: 30's
Gender: Male
Powers, Abilities, and Gear: Cage has steel hardened skin and super strength.
Origin:

The story of Luke Cage can be told in verse. The early days are when his life went from bad to worse. Carl Lucas, a would be gangster working around Harlem town, working as a strongarm lackey to that Willis Styrker clown. Styrker had Harlem tight in his grasp, strangling the community with his criminal clasp. Young Luke fell for Lenore, Stryker's sweetheart. Styrker went mad with jealousy, his sanity fell apart. One day Carl was headed home when he got stopped, ya dig? It was two NYPD uniforms and a detective pig. They ran Carl in because an eyeball witness, the man said Carl was around a murder scene the night before and acting suspicious. Carl's fingerprints matched the ones on a piece, so he was arrested for murder by the police. A swift trial commenced, so fast you couldn't blink. The end result was predictable, Carl sentenced to life in the clink. Carl's heart was tortured, his spirit maimed. He knew that he was framed.

Ten years in the slammer seemed to rapidly pass, all the while outside Stryker's kingdom gained mass. Losing hope on getting out and his prospects dim, Carl decided to volunteer for a project most grim. An experiment to create the durability of a famous super-soldier ended in disaster thanks to an evil poacher. Carl lay in a science chamber, his body resting, when a vindictive guard broke in to where they were testing. The guard smashed the console and dial. The chamber began sparking, its insides filling with bile. A massive explosion rocked the prison then, a force that was like a keg of dynamite times ten. The guard, the doctor, and the whole experiment were lost in the detonation, nothing could survive that great conflagration.

Out of the fiery rubble and debris a lone figure came crawling. It was a naked Carl Lucas who ran, his own ass he was hauling. He ran into the woods to avoid any guards. Through some odd happenstance he was now out behind bars. What's more his whole body seemed unreal. The explosion hadn't hurt him, his body tougher than steel. With new powers at his command and ten years spent spurned, he set his sights for Harlem and home he did return.

Once home he started a crusade for payback, Willis Stryker and his criminal rackets were prime for attack. A new life and fresh start he had acquired. Carl Lucas was dead, believed perished in that fire. Soon after coming home he sought out his former love Lenore. He was shattered when he discovered she was no more. She had died six years back, overdosing from mainlining pure smack. He made a promise that day, for letting her die Stryker would pay. Adopting the alias Luke Cage, he tore up Harlem fueled by his powers and rage. It didn't take long for Stryker to get mad. He put out a million dollar hit for Luke Cage, man he wanted that brother reaaal bad. Cage tore trough Styrker's men like butter, setting the residents of Harlem's hearts aflutter. For a long time now they had needed a defender to help them thrive, but Cage didn't want none of that jive! He wasn't a hero to speak for the masses, he just wanted to kick Styrker and his men's asses.

Cage dispatched Styrker's men at their nightclub without breaking a sweat. They were the bad mothers, but to him they proved to be no threat. Cage finally set his sights on Styrker, that villain. The two fought each other, both intent on killin'. Stryker tried his best to fight off his former friend, but the steel skinned man was too much to defend. Desperate to kill and half crazed, Stryker decided to kill both he and Cage in a massive blaze. Up went his nightclub in a red hot spire. Nobody was getting out of that fire. If you think that's the end of this story and Cage is dead, then what the hell's wrong with your head? Out of the fire came Cage choking, unharmed and unhurt but his body smoking. While he came out of the fire okay, Stryker had been consumed in the infero's fray.

Gathered around the blazing hulk were the people of Harlem so grateful, they were glad to be rid of the crime boss that was so hateful. In the embers of the building Cage watched it burn, while a feeling inside him did churn. His vengeance was complete now that Stryker had died, but he still felt hollow and empty inside. That day Cage made a solemn vow, he would change his life and his ways somehow. From that day forward he decided to work for the people as best he could, writing wrongs and injustices in the 'hood. If you need help and your situation is dire, then you can always call Luke Cage: Hero for Hire.

STORY INFO:

High Concept: I want to tell stories about Luke Cage, Harlem, and street heroic in the same vein of guys like Chester Himes, Walter Mosley, and Ross Macdonald.

Motivation and Conflict: Cage is in business to help people. He learned the hard way what happens when you lead a bad life and wants to atone for the sins of his pass by making up for it with good deed.

Notes:

Supporting cast:

Sgt. Alex Stone -- NYPD squad sergeant and occasional ally.
Sister Mercy -- Streetwise junkie and snitch for Cage.
Franklin "Foggy" Nelson -- Local defense attorney and routine employer of Cage.
Marcus Drayton -- Harlem community activist.

PLAYER INFO:

Player Name: Byrd Man.

Preferred Contact Method: PM

Why This Character?: Cage is one of my favorite Marvel heroes period, and especially a favorite among the street level. Been a while since I rocked him. So, Sweet Christmas!

What Can You Bring to the RPG?: A reliable player who has been writing this character off and on for ten years and knows how to write him, at least a version of him I guess.

Absolute Comics: Rebirth

Midtown Manhattan
11:10 AM

"'Justice personified is blind, and so is Injustice. More specifically, that personification is a blind lawyer. This blind lwayer sits by the phone day and night, waiting for the call from some of the city's most dangerous and corrupt individuals. This blind lawyer talks about the lofty ideals of justice in the courtroom and in the media, but one look at the names on his client's list -- Campisi, Manfredi, De La Rosa, Blackwood -- and you discover that Matt Murdock's deeds do not match his words...' It goes on and on like that for a while. Bunch of talk about the mistrial with Blackwood, then the stuff about De La Rosa... and then a last bit saying you should be disbarred."

"So, usual Daily Bugle boilerplate," I said to Karen. "Remind me to sue them for libel when I get the chance."

"Yes, sir."

That paper has attacked me so much over the past year that I barely noticed Karen's pulse rise anymore when she reads their editorials. They're not the only place that likes to attack me. Papers, websites, TV stations, even other lawyers and politicians all have an anti-Murdock stance of some sort... at least, the politicians and media organizations not in the pockets of my clients.

"That's all, Karen, you can go."

Karen Page, a paralegal and my only staff member quickly and quietly left the room while I leaned back in my chair. Karen was the gatekeeper when it came to any time with me. I only worked by referral, my card nothing but a phone number. That phone number rang here to Karen's desk. From there she would do the Murdock Test. Either you had enough cash to cover my fees, or your case was unique enough to grant me exposure. If you didn't have one of those two things, then Karen would refer to her rolodex full of other lawyers happy to take the case. If you did pass that test, then she passed you along to me and we would have a meeting either at my office or at whatever lockup you happened to find yourself in. Hopefully said meeting would be in my office, if only for the scenery.

My office sits on the fortieth floor of an impressive Midtown skyscraper. They say it has one hell of a view of Lower Manhattan. Guess I'll take their word for it. Someone once asked why I paid so much for this corner office when I could have gotten another one on the same floor without a view for a hundred thousand dollars cheaper. I didn't dignify them with a response. In this business, what I do on the books and off of them, you show strength by your decisions. A blind man wasting a hundred grand on a view he'll never see is part of my strength. It's part of my power. I bought the office because I could.

"Phone call for you," Karen's voice chirped out of the speaker on my desk. "It's... Uncle Angelo..."

---

Syosset, New York
1 PM

"Matt, my boy," Don Campisi said cheerfully.

His old and withered hands felt like sandpaper scrapping against the skin of my hands. He patted the back of my hand and put the other hand on my elbow to guide me across the lawn. He thought of it as a favor, but I could get around the yard better than he could. I've never laid eyes on the man but I can describe the old mob boss perfectly. Short, squat, with wisps of white hair on his pale scalp. Large eyeglasses so thick his eyes look alien. To the world at large, Angelo Campisi looks like a doddering old grandfather. To think that's what he is would be to sorely underestimate the man.

"I'm so glad you made it out," he said once we were both sitting in lawn chairs. "I know it's a hell of a drive out of the city, especially for you."

"Well, I didn't hear any moaning under the car when I stopped, so I guess I did alright."

"If you hit 'em just right, you won't hear any moaning at all!"

Campisi laughed at his own joke before moving on to small talk. He had to tell me all about his kids that I didn't care about. I nodded at the right times and said the right things. One of Campisi's men came out and dropped off two impossibly strong coffees. Just the smell of it gave me the jitters. Campisi picked one up with shaking hands and took a long sip. After that he finally got down to it.

"I want you advice on something, Matty. You know Joey Bags? Works with that crew out in Red Hook? He and Paulie got into some trouble last night on a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"They were working out a plan with those biker guys you rep."

"The Crusaders?"

"Those are the guys. They were gonna use these Cruasder fucks to mule coke and dope across the country. They're always going on these cross country rides to Piss-ant, Florida or somewheres out in California. They don't go on the interstate, and they can make drops and deliveries to our people in Miami, Kansas City, or wherever. Instead of a fucking pick-up truck carrying two hundred pounds, fifty bikers carrying six pounds a piece make drops over the course of a week. "

"Good idea," I said. I knew all about the scheme, and the meet, from the Crusaders. "I'm a bit upset you didn't use me as a go-between."

"Doesn't matter now," Campisi said with a shrug. "As I said before, there was trouble. That cocksucker in the mask showed up, the one that dresses like the devil, and he kicked the shit out of them all before stealing the coke my guys had sent. Joey Bags is in the hospital and two fucking pounds of blow are in the wind!"

I knew that all too well. Campisi was exaggerating. It was actually a pound and a half of cocaine I stole last night. And it wasn't in the wind, it was down a storm drain eight blocks away from the meeting. The part about Joey Bags is probably true. I remembered breaking a few of his ribs.

Campisi took another sip from his coffee. "What do you know about this guy, Matty?"

"Just what you know, Uncle Angelo. I heard that he took over the rackets of the Puerto Rican Army back during the summer. He runs Washington Heights."

That's the rumor on the street, anyway. In truth, since I took out Martinez brothers, Washington Heights has never been safer. The Devil acts like an up and coming racketeer, except he doesn't fill the void when he eliminates the competition.

"Look into it for me, will ya?" Campisi put his dried up hand on the back of my hand. I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming. "You got friends on the police force and the DA's office. They have to have a file on this guy. If he's trying to muscle in on our action, then he is in for one rude awakening. We ain't fucking Puerto Ricans, we know how to fight back."

"I'll see what I can do, Uncle Angelo. As long as you answer this: Why didn't you let me know about the deal going down between your guys and the bikers?"

Campisi shrugged again. "It's Paulie's show, you know how he is with you. Thinks cause you're a mick you can't be trusted."

I didn't say it, but I thought that maybe Paulie was on to something. Maybe he was the only member of the Campisi Family with any bit of sense.

---

Williamsburg, Brooklyn
2:15 PM

Yussel Goren had never seen so much blood in his life. It seemed to coat the floor and walls of the small Brooklyn apartment. It covered his hands and arms. The thighs of his navy blue pants were a deep crimson now due to the blood. Neta was face down in the carpet, her blood pooled out from the spot where she had fallen and oozing out through the rest of the room.

Yussel stumbled forward. He took his yarmulke off with his blood-stained hands and stuttered out some words in Yiddish. He fell to his knees and began to weep. His free hand found a bloody knife buried in the carpet. He held it up and looked at it just as the door to the apartment burst open.

"NYPD," the heavyset uniformed officer said, his gun out and aimed at Yussel. "Drop the weapon!"

Absolute Comics: Rebirth

The Baxter Building
Manhattan

"JOHNNY!" Ben Grimm yelled as he stomped through the Baxter Building's upper levels. "Come out so I can murder ya!"

"Stop me when I lie!" Johnny said as he ran out of a side room and sprinted down the hallway away from Ben. Ben started to give chase, his rocky footsteps shaking the whole floor. Johnny came the end of the hallway and ducked out on to the terrace outside. Johnny leaped from the terrace, free falling for a few seconds before bursting into flames and taking to the skies.

"Come back here!" Ben shouted, shaking his rocky fist into the sky as Johnny streaked away.

"What's going on?" Sue asked as she stepped on to the terrace. "Oh," she said, her face scowling as she saw what was on Ben's back. Johnny had slapped a sticker read "WIDE LOAD!" in the middle of his back.

"Mind helping me?" Ben asked, pawing at the sticker that was just out of reach. Sue nodded and helped pry it off his rocky back.

"I'm sorry," she said, crumbling the sticker up into a ball.

"You ain't gotta apologize for him," Ben said with a shrug. "Kid's been a jerk since as long as I've known him."

"I know. He should know better since you're..."

"What?" Ben asked defensively. "What am I, Suze? Crazy? Depressing? What?"

"You know, Ben," she looked away and shrugged. "Sensitive."

Ben turned away and started to stomp away. "Well, I'm so happy that the ugly rock monster is worthy of your consideration and pity."

"Come on, Ben, you know I didn't mean it like that," Sue called after him. "I'm trying to talk to you, but I can tell you're in one of your moods.

Ben stopped short and looked back at her. "Mood? What mood?"

"You're having one of your pity parties. Anything anyone tries to say to you, you turn it around and use it against us. You want to feel sorry for yourself, go ahead. Just leave me out of it."

With that, Sue turned around and left the terrace. She headed up a few levels to the floor where Reed and Sue kept their labs. Her husband
was in the main work station, stretched out underneath a hybrid car.

"How's it coming?"

"Fantastic!" Reed said from underneath the car. "I took out the engine and replaced it with one of my own design. It can go over eight hundred miles an hour, and it's more than adequate to power hover engines and maintain flight."

"A flying car? Is there anything else it does?"

"It runs on water, but it's not as efficient as I had hoped. Only gets two hundred miles to the gallon."

Reed pulled himself out from under the car and stood up, stretching his arm halfway across the room to grab a rag from his work bench. He wiped his greasy hands off with the rag. "So how are Ben and Johnny enjoying their R&R?"

"Don't get me started," Sue said with a roll of her eyes. "They've been bickering pretty bad over the past few days. It's been nearly two weeks since Mole Man in the Ukraine. I think they need something to do."

"Idle hands and all that."

Reed's computer on the other side of the lab dinged, alerting him that he had a priority alert. "Excuse me," he said, stretching the upper half of his body across the room. Sue watched from the other side of the room as he scanned whatever was on the screen.

"We need to find Ben and Johnny," he said as he snapped back to face her. "Something's going on at the UN.

---

United Nations Headquarters



"This is like a flying tub," Ben grumbled.

"It's not," replied Reed.

"Totally is," Johnny said as he flew by the car aflame. "

They saw the destruction below and stopped their chatter. Gunfire was erupting from every where. Without another word, Ben jumped from the car and fell the fifty feet to the ground. His impact made a small crater on the road, a crater which he climbed out of and started to run towards the building. Johnny flew behind him and followed him into the building.

"I'm going in," Sue said to Reed.

She created a disc of invisible energy which she rode down through the sky and into the building behind her brother and friend. Reed placed the car on standby mode and stretched down to the ground, following in the wake of the rest of the Four into the building.

Absolute Comics: Rebirth

Federal Plaza
Manhattan

"Are we doing this or what?"

"Let me start recording."

I heard the digital tone of the recorder on the table. It echoed off the bare brick walls of the room. Besides myself and my interviewer, the only other things in this room I could sense were two chairs and a table, all of them bolted down to the floor.

"For the record," he said into the recorder. "It is May 22nd, 2018. This interview is being conducted by me, Assistant US Attorney Franklin Nelson. FBI Special Agent in Charge Patrick Van Ness is in observation in the adjacent room. He will be in during the course of the interview, and will always announce his presence." There was a pause. "State you name, please."

"Matthew Michael Murdock," I said.

"And you have declined to have an attorney present with you, Mr. Murdock?"

"What good what it do, Foggy?" I asked with a laugh. "I don't need a second opinion to tell me I'm screwed."

"These are very serious charges, Matt." Foggy dropped the formality of the Mr. Murdock shtick. It was either to make me feel more at ease or himself, I couldn't tell. "Racketeering, money laundering, arms trafficking, drug trafficking, human trafficking. Jesus, Matt."

"Keep going, Foggy. I'm catholic. Shame feels good."

"Tell the truth and shame the devil," said Foggy. "And speaking of the devil. What do you know about him?"

I smirked. Subtle, Foggy. Very subtle. "More than most people. I'm the Devil, and he's me."

Foggy's heart started to race. I could smell sweat starting to form on his forehead.

"What?" he asked.

"It's a long story..."

---

Six Months Earlier
Brooklyn
3:19 PM

"You son of a bitch!"

Arthur Blackwood, president of the Crusaders Mortorcycle Club, hit me with a right cross to the jaw. It hit flush and spun me around. I hit the floor of the courtroom hard, spitting blood. Judge Newton slammed the gavel down and a phalanx of deputies rushed into the courtroom to get Blackwood out of there. I felt hands on my back, people helping me up. Across the room, the jury was stunned into silence by what they had just seen.

"Clear the courtroom," Newton shouted. "Clear the gallery, get the jury out of here!"

Five minutes later, I sat at the defense table with a paper towel on my mouth. Eric Sanchez, Deputy DA representing the state, sat at the prosecution's table while the judge dictated his decision.

"After the jury witnessed the defendant attack his attorney, I have no choice but to declare a mistrial."

Sanchez rose to argue, but stopped short thanks to a withering look from the judge.

"Mr. Sanchez, I understand what a gigantic pain in the ass that is, but there is no way in hell the jury can remain impartial after seeing that. They're tainted. We go back to voir dire and pick a new jury. A new trial would also mean a delay because Mr. Blackwood would need a new attorney, because he seems to have severed ties with Mr. Murdock in a dramatic fashion."

"I'll still rep him, your honor," I said standing. "He'll cool down."

"Be that as it may, I recommend you two work out a compromise or a plea deal. Mr. Murdock gets paid by the hour, but Mr. Sanchez and I are politicians. I don't want to cost the good people of New York anymore money on another trial. The court expects a decision on it shortly."

Newton left the bench and disappeared into his chambers behind the courtroom. I could feel Sanchez's eyes on me even before he spoke.

"Blackwood pleads to all counts. He gets a maximum of ten years, with time served and good behavior he'd be out in five."

"Bull," I said, standing. "The state throws out the gun charge and reckless mayhem charge, Blackwood pleads to simple agg. assault and gets two years."

"No way, Murdock," Sanchez started to pack his briefcase. "With time served, that means he could be out in six months. That man is a menace, my boss will rip my head off if I bring her this deal."

"Imagine what she'd do if you lost a trial," I replied. "Let's not forget, Eric, I already heard all the evidence the state plans to use against my client in the next go-round. It's gonna at least six months before we're back in here, that's six months I got to shoot holes into your case and present my own theories. It was already a shaky bet, I know there were at least two tough not-guilty votes in that jury we just lost. You want to role the dice again?"

"You're working awfully hard for a man who just decked you."

"Just doing my job," I said sheepishly. "What if I offer this: Agg assault, two years and Blackwood doesn't get credit for time served. He'll have to do at least a year. That's a year he's off the street and the Crusaders are without their president, a year that the feds and your boys in the intelligence unit have to find more dirt and keep him in there."

"And a chance for you to get paid to defend him again," Sanchez said. It wasn't a question.

"Do we have a deal, counselor?"

We shook hands. Sanchez hurried off to let both his supervisors and the judge know there would be no second trial for Arthur Blackwood. I lagged behind. Blackwood wouldn't be thrilled about a year in jail, but it was better than the seven years that he would have gotten if he were convicted. Right before I left the courtroom, I pulled out of my mouth the broken capsule that had been filled with fake blood and dropped it into the garbage can beside the door. Arthur Blackwood may pull his punches, but I never do.

----

St. Patrick's Cathedral
Manhattan
6:21 PM

"I'll be right back.'

Dakota North, my driver/investigator/bodyguard, said that would be fine as I stepped out of the idling car and into the church I had twenty grand in my coat pocket. The cash was from the Crusaders for the Blackwood trial, as well as my regular retainer for doing the club's work. It was drafty in St. Patrick's, like it always is this time of year. T

Going into churches always made me think about my mother. Maggie Murdock was like a ghost. I had no idea where she was, and I often wondered what she was doing if she were still alive. I thought many times over the years about getting Dakota to track her down, but I always came up short at the last minute.

The twenty grand in my jacket didn't feel that big. It was just two hundred one hundred dollar bills bundled into twenty neat thousand dollar packets. The cash felt light enough when I took it out of my jacket and stuck it in the poor box. They say all the good Catholics tithe ten percent. By that logic, I had to be a great one. Before I left I asked a priest to light a candle for my mother.

Maybe it was good to never meet her. That way she could be that devout catholic woman I knew all those years ago. She could never be corrupted like my dad was. She was frozen in time as a good woman. A good woman who would never have to witness what her son had become. I made a final prayer and prepared myself to go to work.

----

Red Hook, Brooklyn
11:20 PM

"We don't fuck with drugs we don't make," Mike Klebitz, vice-president of the Crusaders Motorcycle Club, said with a scowl. "We're not errand boys. You want mules go to Washington Heights and get some project niggers. Why the hell should we stick out neck out for you? Because you say you'll pay?"

The two mobsters looked at each other. Paulie D'agistino, the underboss of the Campisi Crime Family, rubbed his chin while Joseph Baggato "Joey Bags" stuck his hands in his pants pockets and shrugged.

"Because we'll pay," Joey Bags started. "And, we both know your club is going under. The days of the outlaw biker gang ain't what they used to be. Your guy, Blackwood, is in the slammer. You're hurting for money, the ATF busts your balls day and night about that little weapons trafficking business you got. Fact of the matter is you need this. You're already making these fucking rides anyway, why not get paid while you're at it? Say yes."

Klebitz looked behind him, where three of his fellow bikers sat parked on their motorcycles in the back alley lot. He shuffled his feet and exhaled before finally nodding.

"Fine," he said.

Suddenly, a sharp whistling noise filled the air. A spinning object flew from the shadows and decked a biker in the forehead. Paulie and Joey pulled pistols from their waistbands at almost the same time the Crusaders did. The two sides looked across the lot for any indication of the voice's owner.

"The hell was that?" Paulie asked, looking at Klebitz. "You trying to pull something on me?"

"Me? What about you?! You're a goddamn informant or something?!"

Out of the shadows, a blur of motion slammed into Joey Bags and knocked him to the ground. Both sides opened fire, Klebitz fell to the ground as bullets fired above him. The figure jumped away before the bullets could reach it. It swung back into the shadows and up onto the roof of the warehouse.



"Red Hook is the Devil's territory!"

The Devil jumped into the darkness to fight the gangster as they all opened fire on him.

Marvel: Knights of New York

I'm here and interested.

Absolute Comics: Rebirth

It would depend on what they wanted to do with the characters. I don't want to be a character hoarder, but the motivation for doing this is having control over all four. I'm open to working, but would prefer to have all four.