HenryJonesJr

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

I really have no idea who the Surfer’s master is. Which is fun.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

<Snipped quote by HenryJonesJr>

Oooh, which one(s)?

(Has been contemplating a Godzilla-verse RP since watching the King of the Monsters trailer)

@AndyC

Watched Destroyah, now Megaguirus. I have the double pack blu ray, but have never watched Megaguirus before. Also have Giant Monsters All Out Attack and Against Mechagodzilla double pack.

May or may not be coming up for a concept for a Indy Game where the Godzilla lore is heavily involved

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Working on a post, but also watching Godzilla movies...so I'm not sure if it'll be up tonight or Sunday.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

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Oh anti-SHIELD? Yeah right. Spider-Freak ain’t pulling the wool over the good people of New York- we all know she’s one’a SHIELD’s freaks.

@Superboy

Fight the power, man.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

On the topic of teams, if the Justice League ends up being SHIELD affiliated, don’t expect Gwen to be on it. I’m planning on her being pretty anti-SHIELD.

Speaking of SHIELD, they’re public knowledge right?

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

"You will not hold me!" Aleksi Sytsevich rages as he bangs against the bars of the Stryker's Island prison cell he is now assigned to. His orange prison suit, the largest size the prison had in its selection, was struggling against the sheer mass of the prisoner. His muscular forearms are already ripping the sleeves like sausage stuffed into too much casing. His massive fist strike the door, rattling the metal. It may have broken if he was allowed to keep at it. "No prison can hold me!"

"Shut up you giant bastard," Mac Gargan grumbles from the top bunk of the cell, flipping through a well worn copy of War of the Worlds. He has been cursing his luck ever since he was assigned the giant Russian as a cellmate. Prison is never going to be comfortable, but sharing a cell with a seven-foot-tall, three-hundred-pund man made of pure muscle sure doesn't help the situation. "If you're gonna fill up my space the least you can do is shut the hell up and let me read in peace."

"Heh," the giant grunts. "Reading. Meanwhile we rot in here."

"Just because you can't read doesn't mean the rest of us don't enjoy it," Gargan smiles over the book, revealing the chipped tooth in the front of his mouth.

Sytsevich roars and shakes the bunk, "You're always insulting me! I can read! You think you're so smart! But all you did against Spider-Woman vas get captured!"

"Yea well the rest of you didn't do jack shit either!" Gargan growls back.

This is how it's been between the Enforcers since their capture by Spider-Woman and the police. The four of them had never been stopped before now, and the taste of failure seems to sit bitter in their mouths. The infighting, now prevalent, had never happened while they were a well oiled machine. But then they had never had to deal with someone like Spider-Woman before, either.

"Quiet, the two of you," Digger Harkness hisses from the next cell over, trying to keep the peace. He knows they won't be in here long. The Tarantula won't allow it. What he doesn't know is what he'll do when he gets out. The world is changing, and he has no idea if he even has a place in it anymore. Maybe it's time to cash out and walk away. Maybe head back home and disappear into the Outback. That wouldn't be so bad. "We'll be outta here in no time. Then you can take out all your aggression."

One thing he has heard in the joint is that Silvio Manfredi had failed himself, felled by the hand of a man known only as "the Punisher" on the streets. That meant Black Tarantula may be without the Enforcers, but also without their biggest roadblock up until this point. At least there is a bright side.

"I'm certainly gonna show Spider-Woman what it's like to be beat down and embarrassed," Gargan seethes. While the man is a good tactician, Digger always thought the ex-military man was too quick for a fight, allowing bloodlust to mar otherwise good tactics. "She's gonna pay."

"Yes," Aleksi nods. "We vill make her pay."

"Oh yea?" Digger laughs mockingly. "And how are you gonna do that? You're two dumb bastards with no powers. She's a goddamn superhero. Best just leave her alone, gents."

"Whatsamatter, Harkness?" Gargan sat up in bed. "You losing your mojo? Can't get it up anymore?"

"Heh."

"Maybe I just don't wanna get my teeth kicked in by some super powered kid again," Harkness mumbles. "Maybe it's time to realize this life is short term anyway. Maybe with all these freaks showin' up is a sign for us to move on. Cash out."

"Yea, you go do that," Gargan rolls his eyes. "More loot for me."

**********

"So I take it you like her?" Peter interjects, slightly bored, after I've been going on about Doctor Kafka and the Institute for a good twenty minutes as I swing through the city on patrol. He's at Oscorp, taking his data on the lizard rats Doctor Octavius and Doctor Connors have been working on. He seems about as enthused about that as he does in my gushing over my new boss. Peter may be a genius, but it'd be a lie to say he doesn't know he's a genius. He wants to be challenged. Wants more to do on the project. He'll get there. I tell him to be patient, but it doesn't help much.

"Sorry," I respond sheepishly. "But yea. I think this is really what I should do with my life."

"Other than your extracurriculars?" he interjects slyly.

"Yea, obviously that doesn't end." As I back-flip-swing over a group of kids below, they go nuts, and I give them an excited wave, which only increases their excitement. "But I need to make money somehow. And the two could end up helping one another."

"Like with the Fireflies?"

"Yea," my voice drops. Ever since the night of the fires, they've been quiet. The way they, or he or she, was talking, the fires would be coming fast and furious. Instead, we've got nothing. Not even more random YouTube videos of their weirdo manifestos. I definitely expected more of that. "I asked her about that. She thinks it's just someone with delusions. The manifesto is meaningless."

"You don't agree," he can hear the trepidation in my voice. It's not a question. It's a statement.

I hate that he can see right through me. Well, not so much hate as love.

"No. The fire was too hot. Too powerful to be some random crazy guy with some gas and a match. He's been outfitted."

"I considered that as well," Peter agreed. "Which means we have to find where he got...whatever he used."

"Well, we need to find him first."

**********

"Mister Parker," Otto Octavius announces his presence in the lab, causing Peter to jump in his chair slightly. Being a Friday in the summer, most of the normal staff is already home or on their way to a vacation. "You should be at home. With Gwen. No reason for you to still be here. Go enjoy your youth. Live your life, young man. Plenty of time for science later."

"They've been acting weird," Peter motions towards the rats in their enclosures. "Plus Gwen started at Ravencroft today, so she's busy."

"Ah, I will have to contact Ashley to see how they got along," Otto smiles down at the boy before turning his attention to the rats. "Doctor Connors had mentioned they were acting odd the past few days, but I've had other matters to deal with recently. What have we been seeing?"

The rats, spliced with the healing genes of a lizard, are the first in the line of true tests of Connors and Octavius's belief that gene therapy like this could one day cure cancer, paralysis, and maybe even the loss of limbs, should it work as they theorize. The idea, if it works, could be the the thing that revolutionizes the medical field, saving millions upon millions of lives. Pete is honored to work on the project, even if he thinks he can be doing more.

"The injuries we've seen are healing rapidly," Pete gives his report. "The genes don't seem to have a obvious negative effect. At first. We've been seeing increased aggression between the rats when they're in the communal space, recently. The increased aggression leads to fights, which leads to increased healing. The healing then seems to lead to even more aggression. I think we're looking at a feedback loop. Something, whether it's adrenaline or what, is causing the lizard genes to take over. We haven't seen any physical transformations, but at this point I'm not ruling it out."

Peter looks up at Doctor Octavius, and can see the wheels turning in the genius's head. Parker still cannot believe how lucky he is to work with one of the greatest minds in the world. Octavius has pushed forward robotics, genetics, and computing in his many stops. He's worked for entities like STAR Labs and Stark Industries before coming to Oscorp. Hell, people think that he'll get the Nobel Prize in Medicine and Physics at some point.

Peter only hopes he can be as great as Octavius one day.

"Well, we should keep up the tests," Otto rubs his chin. "We want to know the worst that could possibly happen. On Monday we'll take a blood sample of the aggressive animals and see what we can find. For now, go home, Parker. Enjoy your weekend. School starts soon. Not much freedom left."

"Sure thing, Dr. Octavius," Pete hops off the stool and heads towards the exit of the lab. "Have a nice weekend."

"Oh I will, Peter," Otto smiles broadly. "You do the same."

As the boy leaves, Otto turns back to the rats, his friendly smile melting into a malicious grin. He opens the doors to the communal area of the rats, allowing the supposedly-aggressive rats into the shared space. The scientist watches eagerly as the two rats entered, and immediately began tearing into one another. As their teeth and claws tear into their bretheren, the gashes and scrapes they leave heal almost instantly. As the fight continues, it becomes more and more ferocious, with neither rat able to gain an upper hand.

As the struggle continues, Otto notices that not only are the animals' aggressive tendencies increasing, their strength does as well. And while most animals would have been tired by the struggle by now, the two rats are not losing steam in the slightest.

"Well, well," Otto separates the rats and puts one back into its enclose. He holds the other, wriggling creature, snapping unsuccessfully at the scientist's hand. Otto can see green scales begin to form under the creature's fur as it continues to struggle. Otto picks up a syringe and takes a blood sample before putting the test subject back in its pen. As its anger subsides, Octavius can see the scales fade, and flake off.

"Time to start the next round of trials," Octavius muses as the red blood int the syringe glints in his eyes.

**********

Obi-Wan had it wrong. Mos Eisley is not the most wretched hive of scum and villainy in the universe. A seedy bar town on the edge of the galaxy where bounty hunters and criminals hang out probably isn't the greatest neighborhood, but I mean, I've been to the Bronx. Nope. That isn't half as bad as Reddit and 4chan. Those would make a Jedi Master's beard whiten faster than a decade or two in the desert sun.

Which makes them the perfect place to try and find out where the Fireflies came from. The YouTube video from the other night shows whoever is leading them is ready and desperate to broadcast th"eir nutball message. They didn't start broadcasting that message after their first attack. There's a trail somewhere out there.

"Jesus sex robots need to be a thing yesterday," Peter grumbles from the bed as he surfs the sites as well. "You'd think guys who can't get laid would be in nirvana now. 10 years ago you had to pay for porn. I assume."

"You've never been laid, sweetheart," I stick my tongue out at him.

"Yea, but I don't act like that's some grave injustice against me. You find anything?"

"Too much, to be honest," I shake my head. "There's plenty of threats against superheroes. A lot of chatter about rising up against them. A lot of mentions of Jameson. Thanks Triple J."

"Lot's of keyboard warriors," Peter responds idly. "Wait.."

"What?"

"Some similar rhetoric here. Talking about humanity being forsaken. Cleansing fire. Similar stuff in posts from the user over the past 6-ish months. It all fits."

Standing, I check my backpack to make sure my costume is inside, "Can you find the user?"

"Sure, it might take me a while," he nods. "I'll let you know when I get a ping."

"Thanks, babe," I give him a kiss as I go to leave. "I'll be swinging, so I'll be ready."

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Will definitely have a post up tomorrow. Mostly done now, but I'm dead tired.

Also, hoping to catch up on the IC thread this weekend. I'm way behind outside of the Silver Surfer posts.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

I wanted to do more with that last post, but I was struggling to keep it from getting unwieldy, so I'll have more on Wednesday or Thursday.

Using some painkillers that minimize the issues with my neck until my appointment, but I still intend to write through it. I'm not MIA-ing for 2-3 weeks.

@Inkarnate

Ugh. neck pain is the worst. Feel better.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

The church wasn't the only fire the Fireflies started yesterday night. As I slept, three other places of worship went up in flames, and now they lay in ash across the city. From what Peter can gleam from the police scanners, the fires and explosions were so hot that they left absolutely no trace or clue on how they were ignited. Not surprising. Why would anything be easy? Why would there ever be any actual clues? Nah, better to make me run across the city in a wild goose chase instead. That's the better use of everyone's time.

The video doesn't tell us anything, either. It was clearly recorded before the attacks actually happened, and the mask and voice modulator makes it impossible to tell who actually is speaking. Pete has been trying to find out who uploaded the video to YouTube, but so far all he's found is a bunch of pings from public wifi locations. Whoever the Firefly is, he or she is one hell of a smart cookie.

I'm still not sold it's multiple people. The mask, the phony cult speech, and the plural name is all a smokescreen, if you ask me. Just a distraction to make the cops chase down some new, wacky church in the dark corners of the city, while whoever Firefly really is goes around burning everything his heart desires. Probably nothing more than a pyro with some fancy equipment.

"Can you believe how close we were?" MJ says from beside me as she pops a french fry into her mouth. "We could have been incinerated in a blink of an eye!"

"Yea, well," I shrug, deep in my own thoughts, "I guess after a bald, naked, silver alien drops out of the sky and plays around with the strongest heroes in the world, a lot of people's worldviews will go haywire. Must be some religious nut who can't handle the fact that science is swiftly overtaking what we all thought was possible a few months ago."

I've been trying to keep my mind off the appearance of the Silver Surfer. Partly because I have enough on my plate with Spider-Woman, Peter, school, Dad, and everything else. But I'd be lying if part of my desire to keep it from dwelling in my mind is because I would have stood no chance in hell if the alien had decided to drop into Times Square and put me through his test. It's a reminder that while I may be powerful, there are things out there that can wipe the floor with me. I may enjoying playing the plucky, punk underdog who fights to the last, but I'd rather not end up smashed on the windshield of a chrome, cosmic god.

More frightening than what would happen to me in that case, however, would be what would happen to the people who I protect. What happens when someone like the Surfer brings down the Empire State Building or something? I may not have been alive when 9/11 happened, but I know if I was and had my powers, I would have tried to help people. And probably would have failed miserably doing so. I can't match up with someone like that, and if I can't, who knows how bad things could get.

My comment about worldviews isn't far from the mark, I think. His appearance has changed everything. For one, the first meeting of superheroes has given people hope that even if someone like this shows up again, we will have a chance. That would be the good news, of course.

The rest is hearsay and rumor, but enough of it is hitting home for me to know that it's got some truth to it. I've heard Dad whisper about new arms and ammunition coming into the NYPD from some technological think tank to combat metahumans and be ready for any invasion. To say it has me on edge is a ridiculous understatement. If Dad and the NYPD are getting new toys, it's almost a certainty that governments across the world are scrambling to catch up to the new paradigm.

And considering human history, when scared, powerful men rush to keep up, bad things happen.

"Well, I think it's crazy how crazy things have gotten," MJ sighs, clearly trying to grab more attention than I'm giving her. I continue to mostly be off in my own world, so she throws something at me I can't ignore, "Speaking of crazy I hear you're starting at the loony bin tomorrow."

She's, of course, talking about my new internship at the Ravencroft Institute on Stryker's Island. I've been counting down the days until it starts, and the Firefly incident actually has me more excited, in a morbid way. I want to know how these kind of people think. Not just because that means they'll be easier to catch, but maybe easier to help as well. It's a pipe dream, probably, but it's worth a shot. Plus, I don't know what else I'm going to do with my life.

I shoot her a dirty look, "It's a center for the criminally insane, MJ. Loony bin isn't something you should say anymore. These people are sick. They need help. Well, most of them are."

My mind floats back to Max Dillon. What he did to those people. What my dad went through trying to catch him. He may be insane, but he does not deserve pity. I'm not sure he deserves help.

Maybe that's another reason I'm excited to learn from Doctor Kafka. Sometimes we need to see beyond our feelings and search for empathy where we have none.

**********

Ravencroft lies on an island in the middle of the East River, shared with Stryker's Island Prison. The facility is one of the most secure in the country, and actually has a good record in rehabilitating its prisoners and patients. Still, it's an imposing sight as I cross the bridge towards the main building.

Ravencroft sits in an old Victorian mansion, once the home of some nineteenth century oil tycoon. The structure's flowing architecture dominates the island. At the center of the house is a large, imposing spire, with a rust red roof sticking like a spear into the sky. On both sides are long, low wings. The building almost looks like a volcanic eruption, with the blacks and greys of its bricks mixing with the red of its roof.

"You be careful in there," Dad says as he drops me off. "You know the kind of people they have in here."

I give him a big hug and smile, "Relax. I'm mostly just here to observe. I'm not going to have contact with anyone."

"Yea, well, I know you," he gives me an amused look. "You tend not to listen to what you're told."

"Yea, well, when mass murders and the like are the other option, I think I'll behave."

"I'll keep that in mind for the next time I catch one."

"Okay, Dad," I feign annoyance. "That's not creepy at all."

Closing the door, I make my way towards the entrance of the asylum. It seems to loom over the entire island like a huge monster. It blocks out the sun as I move through the front gate and towards the front door. The double doors look like a mouth ready to swallow everyone who steps through them. For a place that actually helps people control their minds, this place is scary as hell to walk into. I just have to hope it's way nicer on the inside.

As the doors open in front of me, the inside is indeed more comforting. It's clinical, of course, as any hospital would be. But there seems to be an energy about the place. A calming energy that soothes. It could be my desires playing on my mind, but the inside does not match the outside. It's clear significant money has been poured into the hospital to bring it into the modern age. The halls are white and clean, with a modern design flair in the common spaces. Clean lines and soothing furniture adorns the walls and spaces.

Standing by the front desk waiting for me is Doctor Ashley Kafka, head of the Institute. A long white lab coat flows down her slender body, covering meager khakis and a blouse underneath. She stands about my height, with dark hair in a messy pixie cut, glasses hanging on the edge of her nose.

She looks up and smiles politely at me, "Ms. Stacy! I'm glad to see you made it. Welcome to Ravencroft."

"Thank you, Doctor Kafka," I take her hand as she presents it. "I'm really excited to get started."

"Please, call me Ashley," she waves away the use of her formal title. She begins to walk the halls and I follow her. "People like to complain about not being called doctor after all that training, but it helps people to trust me. Here, trust can be everything. Without talking in good faith, none of our patients can really make any progress."

We tour the halls of the hospital, and I marvel at how the treatment rooms are so informal. It's clear the idea is to make the patients as comfortable as possible. The rooms have couches, TVs, water coolers. They're leagues different from what you'd see in the movies or TV. It's more like a hotel than a hospital, made even more remarkable by the fact that this place houses some of the most dangerous people in the world.

"I don't see anything to restrain the prisoners," I comment. "Do you really risk getting into the room with them?"

"We have experimental restraints," Kafka explains. "Any sudden movements or movements outside the range we allow result in the loss of motor control. Totally painless, but ensures we stay safe in our sessions. Again, we want to give them as much freedom as possible. Some cases we can't allow that much, but we try the best we can. We cannot hope to treat and cure these men and women without treating them like human beings. Showing them that the world around them is sane helps them to grip reality. And that's all we can really hope for."

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

<Snipped quote by HenryJonesJr>

I've been thinking of getting that. I assume it's worth it?

@Byrd Man

It works for me, even if I’m waiting for Regal to get their own, better service. The theater I can walk to is usually pretty empty in the early afternoons/early on weekends so I don’t worry about the fact I can’t buy tickets ahead of time.