Captain Uni

Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay

Part 1.01: Change (In the House of Flies)

@Half Pint

Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay

Withdrawn

I S S U E # 2
I S S U E # 2

E Y E S W I T H O U T A F A C E
E Y E S W I T H O U T A F A C E

P A R T T W O
P A R T T W O

^{One day later...}

I'm in the middle of breaking a guy's arm when I hear the feedback of a radio in my earpiece. "Mr. Knight, I got your info on the dead girl," Detective O'Toole says.

I grab the guy whose arm I just broke by the head and slam his face into the floor. "Little busy but I can talk," I say, flinging a crescent dart into the barrel of a pistol. The thug tries to shoot anyway, only for the gun to backfire and blow up in his hands, taking his fingers with it. He falls to his knees and clutches at his fingerless hand, screaming in agony.

"Won't take long. We contacted her parents in Indiana. Said she moved to the Hub to be closer to her boyfriend, found a job as a housekeeper for some rich guy."

I duck under a baseball bat, using one hand to grab it and the other to send a palm into my attacker's stomach. His grip falters and I take the bat from his hands, swinging it at his head. The bat breaks in half as it smashes into his forehead. He's down for the count. "Alright. You talk to the boyfriend?"

"We did, he said she didn't tell him who she worked for. Gave us her phone though and we cracked it. After lookin' through her messages we found a number she had been messagin' about the job."

"You know who the number is for?" I ask, slamming my fist into the last guy's jaw and feeling the bone crack and splinter beneath my knuckles. He goes down.

"Yep. Gerald Hooper, local plastic surgeon. We got an address, 224 West Baker Street. We're working on getting a warrant, but that doesn't mean you can't step in and get some answers."

Plastic surgeon? I recall the girl's face. The skin was removed with medical precision. She wasn't butchered, she was operated on. "Thanks, detective."

"Don't mention it, Mr. Knight. Bring that bastard down." My earpiece goes silent.

I look around at the battered thugs, walking up to the screaming guy cradling his hand and sending a fist into his face that knocks him out. I slip a hand under my hood and press down on my earpiece. "Frenchie, put in an anonymous tip to the police. Drug deal at 610 Lemire Avenue. Perps are down, they just need to come in and clean up. Come pick me up from here too."

"Bien sûr, mon ami."

Ten minutes later and I'm riding in the chopper with Frenchie, heading to the address. It's in Jury Street, the part of the city where the rich folks live. Closer to the rest of the city is high end apartments and condos, the further out you get is when it starts to become manors and mansions ranging from "a little bigger than an average house" to "the size of a fortress". Our guy's house is on the smaller side, three stories tall and not too massive.

Once we're in position, I open the cockpit door and leap out, using my cape to slow my fall as I glide down into the backyard. I land on two feet and make my way to the back door, jiggling the handle only to find it's locked. I click my tongue in mild annoyance, then raise a boot and kick the door open. I step inside, finding myself in the kitchen. Time to find this bastard.

I stalk my way through the house, finding a door that's bolted shut with five different locks. Interesting. I make my way upstairs, checking every room until I finally find it: a bedroom, with a man snoring loudly in the bed. Hooper. I walk up to the bed and pull the man out of it, throwing him to the floor. He wakes up, looking up at me in terror before letting out a scream. "P-please, don't hurt me! Take whatever you want!" he cries.

"I'm not interested in your property. What I am interested in is that door you've got locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Open it for me," I say, looming over him.

"No, no! You can't go down there!"

"Do you want to lose your face like that girl you dumped in the river?" To emphasize my point, I pull out a crescent dart, running a finger over the razor sharp edge.

"Oh God... I-I'll take you down there..." He pulls himself to his feet and I let him move over to the nightstand to grab a key ring. The two of us make our way down the stairs to the door. Slowly but surely, he opens all the locks and then pushes the door open. It leads down a flight of stairs into the basement. I shove him forward and he leads the way down.

What I find down there is a makeshift operating room, a cold metal operating table next to another table with an assortment of scalpels and other medical tools. There's a large cage in the corner of the room, where a woman lays sleeping on the floor. "Wake her up," I say. Hooper nods shakily, stepping up to the cage and rattling it.

The girl wakes up, turning over to look at him. Her face is missing, just like the girl from the river. She looks at Hooper with terror in her eyes. "What are you going to do to me?" she asks, voice quivering.

"He's not going to do anything," I say, stepping forward so she can see me. "I'm here to free you." I gesture for Hooper to unlock the cage and he does. The girl pulls herself to her feet slowly, then runs out of the cage as soon as the door is open. She doesn't run for the exit, though. She runs for the table with the scalpels.

She grabs one and runs back to Hooper, screaming in rage. She raises the scalpel as he cries out, "No, don't!" I don't intervene as she takes the scalpel and stabs it into his neck. He falls to the ground and she goes down with him, landing on top of him and stabbing the scalpel into his neck over and over again. He starts choking on his own blood, his screams turning into wet gurgles.

I watch. It takes a few minutes for her to stop stabbing his corpse. She stands, covered in blood and shaking. "I'll get the cops here. They'll take you to a hospital. Get you some medical help."

"... What the hell am I supposed to do now? My life is over. He took... He took my face. Made me wear other girls' faces," the girl says, dropping the scalpel.

"You can get skin grafts. There's a man I know that can cover your operation. What's your name?"

"... Brianna. Brianna Newman."

"I'll make sure that operation gets paid for, Miss Newman."

She continues shaking, then falls to her knees and begins to sob. I walk over to her and place a hand on her shoulder. She doesn't react to it, just keeps crying. I stay with her until she has no more tears left to cry.

Uni's Character Depository And Post Workshop

Hub City notes

Hupert Square
Named for the founder of the town, Hupert Square is the primary business district of Hub City. Filled with office buildings, law firms, and clinics as well as upper middle class housing. In the center of the district is Gaston Hupert Memorial Park, a small park dedicated to the founder of Hub City, Gaston Hupert, who was killed by Native Americans not long after founding the city. A statue of Hupert laying claim to Hub City is erected in the center of the park.

Jury Street
Once a residential street officially part of Hupert Square, Jury Street has grown enough to become its own district, extending out into the city limits. Primarily composed of high end housing with mansions further out of the city, this is where most of the criminal elite and politicians in Hub City live. The size of some of the houses are only matched by the decadence of the residents.

The Wedge
Officially Meadowview Heights, a residential district of Hub City filled with townhouses, apartment complexes, and locally owned stores. The Wedge is nicknamed as such because its shape on most municipal maps is like a wedge of cheese. The district was primarily a multicultural boiling pot at the turn of the 20th century, where all the blacks, Jews, Native Americans, Hispanics, Italians and Irish lived. Its population is still just as diverse even all these years later.

Lucifer's Corner
Officially Gordon's Corner, named for Gaston Hupert's right hand man Isaac Gordon, who took over the title of the city's mayor after Hupert's death. The district has garnered the nickname Lucifer's Corner for its reputation as a hotbed for criminals, be they street gangs, mobsters, drug dealers, or so on. It is composed of brick tenement buildings and condemned businesses. Most people stay away from Lucifer's Corner out of fear for their lives.

Hupert River
An industrial district stretching out for a few miles beyond the city, Hupert River is named as such because of the river that flows straight through it. Composed of factories, power plants, and rail yards, not far from these factories are houses and trailer parks, home to the workers and their families. At night, it's a popular spot for criminals to conduct business. Dumping bodies into the river, drug deals, weapon trades; you name it, it's happened.

Chinatown
Officially Logan's Port, named for Arthur Logan, the man who pushed the Union Pacific through Hub City, Chinatown is named as such because, well... You get three guesses and the first two don't count. Originally a campsite for the Chinese railroad workers, Chinatown was built up into a series of tenement buildings, apartments, and houses over the years. Its population has a 50 to 1 ratio of Asian Americans to any other race. A hotbed for the Triads.

Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay

Once I wrap up this initial arc (which should be the next post) I kinda want to have Marc make his way to NYC to go to the gala, probably as Steven since, y'know, millionaire playboy alter. I'd have to think of a reason for him to want to do that though. Maybe wanting to get some intel on these new heroes since they're (presumably) going to come?

Reach Out of the Darkness - A Historical Mystery

August 7th, 1968
Encino, Los Angeles

Charlie Rembrandt's '57 Nissan Bluebird rolled along the road steadily. He glanced at his watch: 7:48 AM. He got the call an hour ago, was told that a construction site had been burnt down overnight. The firefighters were trying their best to suppress the flames burning on in the fields around the site, while the cops were on the scene keeping the burnt down homes secure as they awaited his arrival. He rolled on past a wooden sign declaring the place the home of some villas, down the hill and towards the projects. Where once skeletons of houses stood now there was only charcoal. A small crowd of civvies, probably reporters, was gathered outside of one of the homes and being held at bay by a squad of the boys in blue.

Rembrandt parked his car and stepped out, taking a moment to pull the flask from his inner coat pocket and gulp down some whiskey. He hacked a bit at the bitter taste, then pocketed the flask and stepped forward. Pushing his way through the crowd of journalists, he made his way to the front and presented his badge to the officers. "Rembrandt, LAFD Arson Investigator," Charlie said. The cops made way for him and he stepped into the husk of the home. "Anyone been in here yet?" he asked the nearest cop.

"No, sir. We haven't stepped inside," a young man with a badge reading 'McCall' replied.

"Good. Don't need you fucking it up," Rembrandt spat as he stepped into what would've been the foyer. McCall snarled, then stepped back in formation. Rembrandt took a look around, starting with the floor. The wood was scorched, though slightly less so in a strange swirling pattern in the center of the room, one he had seen before. He looked ahead and saw a charred corpse there, burnt beyond recognition. Most men would've lost their lunch at the sight, but Rembrandt was used to it this far along in his career. He pulled out a notepad and a pencil, scribbling down his thoughts.

Likely gasoline used as accelerant, swirling pattern drawn with the splashes. Same pattern we found in the Park Avenue Apartments in Burbank last month. Another corpse too. Are the fires trying to cover them up? Or draw attention to them?

Rembrandt finished writing and pocketed the pad and pencil, stepping back out of the house. He looked to McCall. "Fire was started with gasoline. Found a stiff in there too, burnt to shit. Same MO as a few cases I've seen this past year. Get homicide down here to look at the body. Not sure there's any evidence that wasn't burned down though."

McCall grunted in acknowledgement, still not pleased with Rembrandt. "We'll get Fairfield down here."

Rembrandt felt bile rising in his throat just at the thought. Fairfield, the old bastard. His former partner on homicide, taught him the ropes of the job. Was also the one that let it slip that Charlie was seeing that singer on the side. If Charlie ever saw him again, he'd either punch him or put a bullet in him. For Fairfield's safety and Rembrandt's peace of mind, he had to get out of here. "You do that," he replied, before walking back to his car.

He sat in the car for a moment, taking another swig from his flask. With a sigh, he started the car up and made his way out of the valley and back to the city. He had to get back to the station and write up a report on this.

Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay

<Snipped quote by Simple Unicycle>

And it was on that day Uni received 19 laugh reactions on his post.

@Lord Wraith

I'm still waiting for you to get me back for laugh reacting every single IC post you did in UOU.

Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay

Friends, I have an announcement to make.

It has come to my attention that we have 19 roleplayers participating in this roleplay not counting myself or the recently departed Bounce. However, I have noticed that I am not receiving 19 likes on all of my IC posts. This is a grave error on all of your parts and I expect it to be fixed as soon as possible. Thank you for your time.

Uni's Character Depository And Post Workshop

Supporting Cast (Spoilers)

Sorted by chronological order (probably)

Allies

◼ ZACK DAVIS/SCRATCH - A fifteen year old boy cursed with a special form of lycanthropy that isn't tied to the lunar cycle.
◼ LAYLA EL-FAOULY/SCARLET SCARAB - Marc's former lover and mercenary partner who was resurrected to serve as Taweret's blade.
◼ MYRA FERMIN - Hub City's mayor who held the city together during its trials and tribulations, former lover of the Question.
◼ ARISTOTLE "TOT" RODOR - A retired university professor who served as the Question's mentor and father figure.
◼ VIC SAGE/THE QUESTION - Hub City's former vigilante who returned to the city to rescue his former lover Myra.
◼ HELENA BERTINELLI/HUNTRESS - A Gotham based vigilante who partnered up with the Question.
◼ REESE WILLIAMS - A young woman turned into a vampire against her will by the Structure who serves as the receptionist for the Midnight Mission.
◼ SOLDIER - A former Hydra agent who became disillusioned with his work and left the life behind to care for his mother.
◼ YEHYA BADR/HUNTER'S MOON - The other Fist of Khonshu, an Egyptian doctor who operates a clinic in the Wedge.

Enemies

◼ THE COMMITTEE - A shadowy organization that has decided to capitalize upon and exploit the rise of superhumans and supernatural beings to fill their own pockets.
◼ KENNETH RICHMOND/TUTOR - The head of the Structure, a rising power in the vampiric world with chapters all over the country.
◼ SCARLET FASINERA/STAINED GLASS SCARLET - A vigilante armed with a crossbow whose eagerness to kill criminals puts her at odds with Moon Knight.
◼ ROBERT MARKHAM/MORPHEUS - gotta read the OG comic before I include this dude
◼ CARSON KNOWLES/BLACK SPECTRE - ditto
◼ ZODIAC - A man without a name, without a past, with only one purpose: breaking Moon Knight.

Maybe?

◼ THE HOUSE OF SHADOWS/THE MIDNIGHT MISSION - A sentient creature from dimensions unknown taking the form of a shifting building.

Reach Out of the Darkness - A Historical Mystery

C H A R L I E R E M B R A N D T
C H A R L I E R E M B R A N D T

^{"This city's burning itself down and I'm the poor bastard that's gotta look into it."}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Charles Oscar "Charlie" Rembrandt _________________________________________________________ 44 | Divorced _________________________________________________________ Los Angeles Fire Department | American

T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... ________________________________________________________________________________________ Born and raised in Los Angeles, Charles Rembrandt was orphaned at the age of 12 when his parents died in an automobile accident. He was sent to live with his grandfather in Huntington Beach, getting into all kinds of trouble from fighting other boys at school and around the neighborhood to ditching school to go around shoplifting alcohol and cigarettes. His grandfather, exasperated by his behavior, sent him to a military school at the age of 15 to teach the boy discipline. Charlie hated it, but over time he was forced to accept it and endure it. When he was on the verge of finally leaving the school, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and the United States officially entered the war. Many of the boys at the school were enlisted and Charlie was among them. He fought in the Pacific Theater as an infantryman, narrowly dodging death many times over. In 1944, he took a bullet to the leg, getting him an honorable discharge and leaving him with a slight limp that still impedes him. When Charlie got back home, he joined the LAPD as a beat cop, rising up to the ranks of detective within a few years. He was assigned to traffic offenses, but after a stellar year in which he cracked six cases, he was transferred to homicide where his talents would be put to better use. It was during this time that he met his wife Delores Ellison and the two married in a small ceremony in 1950. They had a daughter together, Marie Victoria Rembrandt, in 1951. In 1965, after fifteen years working homicide, Charlie was caught in an affair with lounge singer Eleanor Starr, tarnishing his reputation on the force and leading to Delores divorcing him. Eleanor left him as well upon finding that he was married. A year later, after being stuck back in traffic offenses, Charlie left the force to find a new career where he could use his investigative talents. Originally wanting to strike out as a private investigator, he was approached by the Los Angeles Fire Department to become an arson investigator. They were offering a decent enough salary and didn't seem perturbed by his history, so he accepted. Since then, Charlie has worked for the LAFD investigating fires and explosions around LA. It's not as exciting as his work with the LAPD was, but it pays the bills. In his off time, he day drinks and watches game shows on television while writing letters to his daughter that he'll never have the heart to send.

Uni's Character Depository And Post Workshop

I S S U E # 2
I S S U E # 2

E Y E S W I T H O U T A F A C E
E Y E S W I T H O U T A F A C E

P A R T T W O
P A R T T W O

^{One day later...}

I'm in the middle of breaking a guy's arm when I hear the feedback of a radio in my earpiece. "Mr. Knight, I got your info on the dead girl," Detective O'Toole says.

I grab the guy whose arm I just broke by the head and slam his face into the floor. "Little busy but I can talk," I say, flinging a crescent dart into the barrel of a pistol. The thug tries to shoot anyway, only for the gun to backfire and blow up in his hands, taking his fingers with it. He falls to his knees and clutches at his fingerless hand, screaming in agony.

"Won't take long. We contacted her parents in Indiana. Said she moved to the Hub to be closer to her boyfriend, found a job as a housekeeper for some rich guy."

I duck under a baseball bat, using one hand to grab it and the other to send a palm into my attacker's stomach. His grip falters and I take the bat from his hands, swinging it at his head. The bat breaks in half as it smashes into his forehead. He's down for the count. "Alright. You talk to the boyfriend?"

"We did, he said she didn't tell him who she worked for. Gave us her phone though and we cracked it. After lookin' through her messages we found a number she had been messagin' about the job."

"You know who the number is for?" I ask, slamming my fist into the last guy's jaw and feeling the bone crack and splinter beneath my knuckles. He goes down.

"Yep. Gerald Hooper, local plastic surgeon. We got an address, 224 West Baker Street. We're working on getting a warrant, but that doesn't mean you can't step in and get some answers."

Plastic surgeon? I recall the girl's face. The skin was removed with medical precision. She wasn't butchered, she was operated on. "Thanks, detective."

"Don't mention it, Mr. Knight. Bring that bastard down." My earpiece goes silent.

I look around at the battered thugs, walking up to the screaming guy cradling his hand and sending a fist into his face that knocks him out. I slip a hand under my hood and press down on my earpiece. "Frenchie, put in an anonymous tip to the police. Drug deal at 610 Lemire Avenue. Perps are down, they just need to come in and clean up. Come pick me up from here too."

"Bien sûr, mon ami."

Ten minutes later and I'm riding in the chopper with Frenchie, heading to the address. It's in Jury Street, the part of the city where the rich folks live. Closer to the rest of the city is high end apartments and condos, the further out you get is when it starts to become manors and mansions ranging from "a little bigger than an average house" to "the size of a fortress". Our guy's house is on the smaller side, three stories tall and not too massive.

Once we're in position, I open the cockpit door and leap out, using my cape to slow my fall as I glide down into the backyard. I land on two feet and make my way to the back door, jiggling the handle only to find it's locked. I click my tongue in mild annoyance, then raise a boot and kick the door open. I step inside, finding myself in the kitchen. Time to find this bastard.

I stalk my way through the house, finding a door that's bolted shut with five different locks. Interesting. I make my way upstairs, checking every room until I finally find it: a bedroom, with a man snoring loudly in the bed. Hooper. I walk up to the bed and pull the man out of it, throwing him to the floor. He wakes up, looking up at me in terror before letting out a scream. "P-please, don't hurt me! Take whatever you want!" he cries.

"I'm not interested in your property. What I am interested in is that door you've got locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Open it for me," I say, looming over him.

"No, no! You can't go down there!"

"Do you want to lose your face like that girl you dumped in the river?" To emphasize my point, I pull out a crescent dart, running a finger over the razor sharp edge.

"Oh God... I-I'll take you down there..." He pulls himself to his feet and I let him move over to the nightstand to grab a key ring. The two of us make our way down the stairs to the door. Slowly but surely, he opens all the locks and then pushes the door open. It leads down a flight of stairs into the basement. I shove him forward and he leads the way down.

What I find down there is a makeshift operating room, a cold metal operating table next to another table with an assortment of scalpels and other medical tools. There's a large cage in the corner of the room, where a woman lays sleeping on the floor. "Wake her up," I say. Hooper nods shakily, stepping up to the cage and rattling it.

The girl wakes up, turning over to look at him. Her face is missing, just like the girl from the river. She looks at Hooper with terror in her eyes. "What are you going to do to me?" she asks, voice quivering.

"He's not going to do anything," I say, stepping forward so she can see me. "I'm here to free you." I gesture for Hooper to unlock the cage and he does. The girl pulls herself to her feet slowly, then runs out of the cage as soon as the door is open. She doesn't run for the exit, though. She runs for the table with the scalpels.

She grabs one and runs back to Hooper, screaming in rage. She raises the scalpel as he cries out, "No, don't!" I don't intervene as she takes the scalpel and stabs it into his neck. He falls to the ground and she goes down with him, landing on top of him and stabbing the scalpel into his neck over and over again. He starts choking on his own blood, his screams turning into wet gurgles.

I watch. It takes a few minutes for her to stop stabbing his corpse. She stands, covered in blood and shaking. "I'll get the cops here. They'll take you to a hospital. Get you some medical help."

"... What the hell am I supposed to do now? My life is over. He took... He took my face. Made me wear other girls' faces," the girl says, dropping the scalpel.

"You can get skin grafts. There's a man I know that can cover your operation. What's your name?"

"... Brianna. Brianna Newman."

"I'll make sure that operation gets paid for, Miss Newman."

She continues shaking, then falls to her knees and begins to sob. I walk over to her and place a hand on her shoulder. She doesn't react to it, just keeps crying. I stay with her until she has no more tears left to cry.