@Bounce Sounds good. Looking forward to it!
GreenGrenade
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Most Recent Posts
And I present to you, Community: High School Edition! (With superheroes.)
I apologise for the quality of the post, but I'm trying to find my footing with Miles. I think that the sooner Damian comes into play, the quicker that'll happen (@Bounce) :P.
I apologise for the quality of the post, but I'm trying to find my footing with Miles. I think that the sooner Damian comes into play, the quicker that'll happen (@Bounce) :P.
B R O O K L Y N V I S I O N S A C A D E M Y
T H E N E X T D A Y
0 5 : 1 5 P M
“…offering fifty million dollars to the man who brings me the head of the Batman. That's fifty million dollars, tax free completely under the table and free to do whatever you want with. All you have to do is, kill the Batman.”
Ganke paused the video on his iPad. They were in the library, seated at two long, wooden tables connected side by side. They were meant to be studying for their physics test, a frightening behemoth that awaited them in not even twelve hours – something that Ganke, rather evidently, wasn’t taking seriously. He stared at Miles intently. When it became clear that his attention was on his studies, he cleared his throat. Miles looked up from his notes. “What?” he whispered.
“Were you listening?” Ganke whispered back.
“Yeah.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Are you gonna help him?”
“Who?”
“Dude,” Ganke whispered in exasperation. “Batman.”
“Yes, Ganke,” drawled Miles, “Because I’m just going to go to Gotham City and help the Batman fight whatever deranged psychos he has to deal with. What a good idea. Why don’t I go to Metropolis and help Superman while I’m at it? Or join the Justice League?”
“Well, you fought that Ravager guy, didn’t you? I mean, come on, you totally kicked his butt. Completely and utterly. As thoroughly as Lana swears.”
“Ganke…” he began, eyes dropping to the table. He remembered that fight as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. Ravager’s agonized screams rung loudly in his mind, screams brought forth by his venom blast, sending him tumbling off the Brooklyn Bridge and to his death. It was a memory Miles preferred not to spend time thinking about, but nonetheless managed to worm its way back into his head – no thanks to Ganke. “I… really need to study.”
“Oh. Right.” Ganke scratched his chin. “Well, the others are late.”
Miles’ brows furrowed. “The others?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “You know, Judge. Lana.”
A black-haired girl, attractive, and probably (most definitely) a year or two older than them, walked into view, phone pressed against her ear. Miles raised his eyebrows at Ganke.
“– Clint, please. I’m at school. Nothing bad ever happens at school. (Well, except for, y’know, school.) Anyway, I have to go. I have this study-group-thing with these guys that are – okay, right. Say hi to Lois for me.” She tucked her phone in her pocket and arrived at the table, placing the books she carried at the end opposite of Miles and Ganke. Everything about her screamed of style, from her expensive clothing to the way she carried herself – easily, without much effort. And so it was with ease that she said, “Hi. Kate Bishop.”
“Uh – hi,” replied Miles. It was all he could do not to stare. “Miles.”
“So, Ganke said that your group’s good at all this physics stuff. I’m in grade eleven, but… I need help. A looooot of help. That’s cool, right?”
“Yep,” said Ganke before Miles could say anything. “It’s cool. Everyone’s cool. We… are cool.”
Miles rolled his eyes. Kate sat down.
A thin boy with large headphones approached the table, a girl with heavily applied black lipstick and nail polish not far behind him.
“Hey guys,” said Judge, “Sorry I’m late.”
“Yeah,” said Lana, “I didn’t know we had a study group. It was kinda last-minute.”
“No, that’s cool. Cool, cool, cool. Well, come on, people,” Ganke said, rubbing his hands together in an animated fashion, “This exam won’t study itself!”
Miles sighed and returned his attention to his notes, as did the others. As much as he needed to focus on his work, he couldn’t help but sneak glances towards Kate; there was something about her that was magnetizing. He had no doubt that Ganke only created this study group to get a chance to talk to her – such were the ways of fifteen year-olds without an inkling of knowledge on girls. “Okay,” he began, poising his pen above a blank page in his notebook, “Physics.”
<Snipped quote by Bounce>
Come to NYC. Damian vs. the Punishers could be fun.
@Bounce Please do. After he's done with the Punishers him and Miles can have that video game tourney :P.
"Rich guys showing off their toys."
"Iron Man uses his armour to hide his identity."
Etc.
And I was really liking him for what he had to say about Supes, too.
"Iron Man uses his armour to hide his identity."
Etc.
And I was really liking him for what he had to say about Supes, too.
That moment when in chapel at your Christian school the teacher talks about justice and absolutely nails Superman's essence while simultaneously getting Batman and Iron Man's so completely and utterly wrong.
Gah.
Gah.
<Snipped quote by Morden Man>
*quietly hides Ultimate Spider-Man collection*
*quietly scraps Miles*
M I D T O W N, Q U E E N S
0 3 : 1 2 P M
All the Ringer wanted was to rob something.
He’d been trying to find an opportunity to prove himself for months. The Rogues weren’t easy people to impress, but after weeks upon weeks of planning and scheming, he’d finally stumbled upon the perfect heist; the perfect job to put him on their radar.
He was going to rob a bank.
It was pretty simple on paper. He would walk into Midtown Savings Bank with two henchmen, demand that they give him money, then walk out of there with bags full of dough. It was simple, fool-proof, and easy to pull off... but of course, even the best plans have their flaws.
Turns out that someone had called the police on him. When Ringer had triumphantly walked out of the bank, henchmen in tow, he was met by a barricade of police cruisers, behind them a dozen or so officers with their weapons trained on him.
“Hey, Anthony,” whined Doug, the more competent of his two employees, “I don’t think this looks too good, man.”
The Ringer fought back the urge to sigh, opting to shoot a gigantic, silver ring, his trademark and namesake, at a nearby cop. The cop leapt out of the way, the ring wrapping itself around a lamppost. “Stop, or we will shoot,” warned another man in blue. The Ringer believed him, and told Doug to shut up.
And then he arrived.
“Yeah, Tony,” said Spider-Man, flipping from the bank’s roof to land in a crouch in front of the Ringer. “This actually looks kinda crummy.”
“Oh, god,” said Anthony, “It’s you.”
“Surprise!” exclaimed the wall-crawler, launching off the ground to plant a swift kick beneath his chin. The Ringer collapsed onto the ground, dazed. His vision swam. Doug and the other henchman just stared, unsure of what to do. “Oh, hey guys,” said Spidey. “Sup.” They waved.
“FREEZE!” yelled one of the police officers. “PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD AND GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES!”
“Sorry, dude. I don’t swing that way,” quipped Spider-Man, leaping over the Ringer’s near-unconscious form to punch his henchmen in the jaw. They joined him on the ground. Useless.
The cop fired at Spider-Man, bullet whizzing past his shoulder as he dodged it just a split second before it made contact. “Hey! That was rude. Can you believe these guys, Tony?”
“I hate you,” the Ringer managed, before slipping into the comforting arms of unconsciousness. Something told him he wouldn't be teaming with the Rogues any time soon.
S O M E W H E R E I N N E W Y O R K C I T Y
0 7 : 3 0 P M
Aaron Davis stared at the television screen with dangerous eyes. Dangerous, because they spoke of a coldness, a calculating anger not seen in many men. Dangerous, because they were directed at his nephew, jumping and quipping his way through footage on Channel 52 as Bethany Snow filled America in on his latest victory over yet another common criminal. It disgusted him. To see such potential and power get wasted on these lowlifes with even lower ambitions made Aaron sick to the stomach. It twisted it into such a festering pile of frustration and rage that it was all he could do not to seek Miles out and beat some sense into him. But a deep breath and a comforting cup of scotch reminded him that he couldn’t do that. Not yet. Didn’t he remember what happened the last time he tried to do that? And anyway, he told himself, Gotta keep my eyes on the bigger picture.
Because in a few short, short days, he would be making his move. No one will see it coming. Not the police. Not Miles, or the other Spider-Man. Not Daredevil. Not the Justice League. No one.
In a few short, short days, Brooklyn and Dakota would no longer know Tombstone’s name. They would know his.
They would know the Prowler.
@GreenGrenade Whatever happens, I just need Grant Wilson to 'die' by total accident. Ya know. For drama n' stuff.
Okay, sure. Miles could venom blast him and stuff. It's worse for any enhanced humans/mutants/people. So, like, PM me, bish.
Okay Okay...Uhhh. @GreenGrenade Would it be cool with you if Deathstroke's brat tried to kill Miles and got his butt whupped?
I... would love that. Equally so if it's Miles that gets his butt whooped.
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