Hexaflexagon

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

It is with great regret that I must inform you all that I will be hanging up my magician’s top hat come the beginning of Season 2. A mixture of burnout, the loss of drive to finish Z’s story, and inability to write myself out a hole of my own creation that I must respectfully admit defeat. To all of you that have read Z’s story up to this point and enjoyed it, I truly thank you for that and I hope that maybe somebody in the future I can come back and finish it in the future.

But this is not a goodbye instead it is a hello again. For some time, I have been teasing a “secret project” that I have been working on. Some of you have helped greatly in this project’s conception and some of you have no idea what it even is. All I can promise you that it is going to be one hell of a ride.

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Warbird

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

W A R B I R D

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^{_{C A R O L D A N V E R S ♦ S U P E R H E R O ♦ W A S H I N G T O N D. C ♦ T H E U N I T E D S T A T E S
O F A M E R I C A}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

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^{My country, right or wrong; if right, to be kept right; and if wrong, to be set right. - Carl Schurz}

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The world of today is different from what it once was, new threats and dangers challenge the old order of things. The dawning of the new millennium has shown that the United States of America once defined by its stalwart impregnability can bleed. A bleeding that has only been worsened by the continued arrival of metahumans and other 'powered individuals'. This new existential threat to the country having been clearly shown in the recent tragedies in Star City and New York. The damage to both innocent lives and property endured in this devastating attack on the American people has confirmed earlier suspicions by the Department of Defense that America must have a readied response to these new types of potentially catastrophic threats. These fears would lead to the formation of the Department of Extranormal Affairs headed by King Faraday. It was then quickly decided that the Department would need a face for the common people to rally behind. With Wonder Woman's loyalty being questioned more and more each day, and Captain America swallowed into Nick Fury's shadow games, it was felt that America needed someone new to hold up the virtues of Truth, Justice, and the American Way.

Luckily for the USA they already had an ace up their sleeve.

Carol Susan Jane Danvers was born in Boston, Massachusetts to working-class parents, Joe and Marie, and had two brothers, Joe Jr. and Steve. Succeeding both academically and athletically in her younger years, Carol gained admittance to the United States Air Force Academy in Colorado, Springs, Colorado. As her time in the Academy ended, she was tapped to undergo further training to prepare her for operations underneath the banner of the Air Force Special Operations Command (AFSOC). Predictably Carol would excel in her time in the special forces, she would earn high praise from her commanding officers, as well as numerous commendations including the Air Force Cross. It would be her continued gallant actions and her time and time again commitment to the cause that would lead her to being tapped for EXCELSIOR.

Project EXCELSIOR began soon after the end of the Second World War as an attempt to create an improved Super Soldier Serum. Due to budget restraints and bureaucratic red tape, EXCELSIOR would be canned, and the project would all but be forgotten until a decade ago. Everything changed when a Kree scout ship would crash in the New Mexico Desert; ironically enough it was the Corpse recovered in the crash that would breathe new life into EXCELSIOR. Gone now was the old plan of simply making a stronger Super Soldier Serum, instead using cutting edge genetic engineering technology they would splice together Kree and Human DNA to create the perfect mixture of both species’ strengths.

Carol was the 23rd EXCELSIOR test subject and thus given the designation of Subject - W. But where the others had failed, Carol's DNA took to the gene splicing exceptionally well. The two divergent helixes would merge together to create something entirely new. The DoD immediately saw the potentiality of Carol's powers and soon Carol would be shifted back under the oversee of United States Special Operations Command under a new codename - Warbird. Not wanting too much information to be leaked about their new weapon, SOCOM would use Carol sparingly and only in the direst of situations usually rescuing other operators that otherwise couldn't be saved.

But now Carol's time in the shadows was over. Transferred out from underneath SOCOM and under the jurisdiction of her new boss King Faraday. It was something that Carol welcomed with eager arms ready to take a more proactive role with the powers that she had been granted. And with the Department of Extranormal Affairs first press conference scheduled, it would only be a matter of time until the whole world knew Carol's name.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

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^{“By stressing that the identity of a democratic political community hinges on the possibility of drawing a frontier between 'us' and 'them', Schmitt highlights the fact that democracy always entails relations of Inclusion & Exclusion.” - Chantal Mouffe - The Democratic Paradox}

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Without mincing words too much the story I currently have outlined is very politically charged, as at its heart it is fundamentally the story of the failure of the Western democratic model. A model built on the promise of ensuring the rights of all its citizens but having never really been able to do so. A model that has propped up and supported increasingly authoritarian systems of governance supported by its most fundamental framework of inclusion and exclusion. The plot, I currently have outlined attempts at least in part to explore not only these broader ideas but the underlying themes of fear, hate, displacement, and the "other". For a point of reference thematically it is much closer to a House of Cards style show than a West Wing style show.

Carol then, serves as the perfect character to use to explore these narratives. In many ways, she represents the strange juxtaposition of ideals and values that can form in distinctly non-homogeneous place such as the USA. On one hand, she matches even the Cap himself in her belief in the American experiment. On the other hand, she is everything that same exact experiment seems to despise: a woman, LGBTI+, and in the Absolute Verse she falls under the category of Extranormal. And so, there is an unmistakable tension there in her character, which will serve primarily as the central tension of the story going forward. A tension that will only increase as Carol rather than rejecting the establishment outright as some might do, instead chooses to take up the herculean task of trying to make real change from the inside.

Beyond flexing my creative muscles with a tale about the moral gray on gray of the modern nation state, Carol also provides with me an opportunity that Zatanna's story did not - collaboration. Carol's position as the "face " of the Department of Extranormal Affairs will hopefully allow me to be much more open and active with collaboration and just helping expand the wider world further.

All in all, this is a story I’ve been thinking about for some time now, and I’m excited to have the potential opportunity to share it with you all.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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^{"Order, is a kind of compulsion to repeat which, when a regulation has been laid down once and for all, decides when, where, and how a thing shall be done, so that in every similar circumstance one is spared hesitation and indecision." - Sigmund Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents}

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• Carol will be wearing her more modern Captain Marvel style suit, because aesthetically I feel it fits better with where she is coming from and what she is doing in this story.
• Putting my money where my mouth is, I will be listing a supporting cast below, but there inclusion here no way, shape or form means that I'm claiming complete ownership over them the only thing I ask is please consult me before you do anything life changing with characters marked with a Δ.

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▼ Department of Extranormal Affairs ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Δ King Faraday - - - ◼ General Samuel Lane - - - - ◼ Δ Jessica Drew - - - - - ◼ Jimmy Woo - - - - - ◼ Avril Kincaid	- - - - - - -

▼ Enemies of the State ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Δ Karla Sofen / Moonstone - - - ◼ Δ Robert Hunter / Nitro - - - ◼ Albrecht Krieger	--

S A M P L E P O S T:

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^{"By this I mean a number of phenomena that seem to me to be quite significant, namely, the set of mechanisms through which the basic biological features of the human species became the object of a political strategy, of a general strategy of power, or, in other words, how, starting from the 18th century, modern Western societies took on board the fundamental biological fact that human beings are a species. This is what I have called biopower." - Michel Foucault, Security, Territory, Population}

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Prologue

1401-1409 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Willard Hotel, Washington D.C | Four Hours Ago

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^{Blast Radius|Prologue}

0

A buzz of activity hung in the air around 1401–1409 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, as a pack of journalists made their way into the Willard Hotel. All the big names were there: Times, Post, WHiH, Planet anyone that was anyone was sending somebody to the press conference held by the Department of Extranormal Affairs. The government's newest department was creating a significant amount of noise on the political circuit. The cynics amongst them were eagerly anticipating new blood to grease the gears, expecting similar controversies to that of Homeland Security, the last department created in response to an attack on American soil. Others were just curious to see what Extranormal Affairs purpose was going to be. The Extranormal Affairs Bill which give the department life followed very typical political mannerisms in that it said a lot while saying very little at all.

This air of anticipation was only intensified by the lack of information following the bill's passing. Little was made public about the hiring and staffing of this new department with only a few key roles being disclosed. The names that were released predominantly included former members of the military and intelligence communities. Among those drawing several raised brows being the inclusion of one General Samuel Lane, an old warhawk that made his name during the War in Iraq and being one of the main playmakers in the United States more proactive counterterrorism policy. With members such as Lane, it didn't take long for the conspiracies to begin to form about a militant wing of the government seizing power. This chatter only increased in volume when it was announced King Faraday, a relative nobody when it came to public politics, but someone with many ties with Langley and the broader Intelligence community, was tapped to serve as the department's inaugural secretary.

The shakers and movers in the Department of Extranormal Affairs seemed to be playing into this aura of mystique. Where the traditional way of communicating to the journalistic community may have been a courtesy phone call or email, the details surrounding the press conference came much more traditionally. The selected editors in chief finding a spotless white envelope on their desks closed with a wax seal carrying the department's crest. Only two dozen of these letters were sent out in total, the rest having to watch the live television broadcast like everyone else.

The lucky two dozen were ushered from the Willard's lobby to a second-floor conference room. The room was spartan in its layout, at the back a table with miniature bottled water, cups filled with precision cut spears of carrots and celery, and a small selection of patriotic themed baked goods. Beyond the table was the camera equipment being used for the press conference. A small film crew worked to get rigs set up, microphones ready, and gaff tape on the ground. They were following the directions of an arthouse documentary filmmaker who had made a minor wave at Cannes the year before for her documentary on Seoul's grassroots punk rock scene. Her presence another oddity replacing a veteran C-SPAN crew that would traditionally be taking on a conference like this. The journalists filtered pass the film crew and towards the front of the room where a few rows of chairs and a lectern was set up.

As the press moved to take their seats, Agent Woo counted heads with an analogue clicker as his partner checked passes. Dressed in a finely tailored black suit with matching tie and sunglasses, Woo played the role of government spook like he was born into it. Having served with the South LA County Violent Crimes Task Force for the better part of a decade, before spending time teaching at the Macau Security Forces Training College to get back in touch with his roots. He dropped the grade book and picked up the badge again when Faraday had finally cashed in an old favor. Woo would never tell his wife, but it felt good to be back in the field.

As the number on his clicker moved closer to the magic number he leaned into his arm to cough. As he leaned in closer, he whispered into a receiver that was clipped to the lapel of his suit jacket.

"This is Fisher to Kasparov, only a few stragglers left."

"Understood, be with you shortly Fisher." King Faraday replied.

He sat in an adjoining room as he tapped the ashes of his cigarette into the soil of a windowsill planter. Faraday wore the same navy-blue suit that he had been wearing for the past thirty years. The old intelligence operator was shameless to admit he did not own a suit in any other color. It came from some old kernel of wisdom he had picked up from his grandfather years ago - "King, my boy" he would say, "suits are like women. When you find one that fits stick with it." The hand spun Italian linen wasn't necessarily the kindest to his wallet, but it breathed easily and didn't restrict his movement.

King lounging there in his chair as he took another drag from his cigarette was the complete antithesis of Carol.

Carol Danvers stood in front of a mirror straightening out her medals for the fifteenth time as she practiced smiling. It was ridiculous really, she could storm an entrenched enemy position no problem, fly a million-dollar tin can with rockets strapped to it breaking the sound barrier, but she couldn't smile. Each attempt only managing to push her further and further into demented serial killer territory. And it wasn't like this was a new struggle that she was dealing with, her parents had an entire school yearbook that said otherwise. When she was little, her mother always told her to just think of something funny in her head, but how could you laugh at your own jokes?

As the blonde-haired woman gave out a defeated sigh, Faraday piped up from his chair.

"Loosen up Danvers, you look like somebody just shot your dog."

"Easy for you to say, you aren't the main event."

King stood up grinding the butt of his cigarette into the planter. He had the rigid locked-in perfect posture of a career military man; his 6'1" stature giving him roughly three solid inches over Carol. Despite being on the far side of fifty, King managed to fill out his suit quite nicely, he adhered to a strict physical fitness regimen to combat any ill effects that his advanced age and lifetime pack-a-day habit may have brought. As he walked over to the mirror were Carol stood, he licked two fingers and flattened out an unruly strand of white hair.

"Danvers, I spent years using media to influence foreign elections to suit our great country's many interests. And in that time, if I learned anything it's that the media loves a good story."

"So what? I love cake but I still know when I'm eating a shitty one."

"Well good thing we aren't feeding them cake then. And even if we were, any cake will taste good after being starved for weeks. We've been denying them any information for weeks and now they are just begging for any little morsel we may dish out. Trust me Danvers everyone in this country is going to know who you are by the end of the day."

Yeah as that girl who can't even smile right Carol thought to herself as she followed Faraday out of the room and into the hallway.

King straightened his tie before entering the conference room. He gave a small wave as the clicking of cameras filled the air like rain rolling off a roof. He walked towards the lectern at a controlled pace, giving the cameras all the time, they needed to track his movements. Despite being a spook for most of his life, Faraday navigated the crowd like he was a movie star. From his first step he made it clear that he was in command here and everyone else was just along for the ride.

As he got to the lectern, he made a show of pulling a piece of paper from his suit pocket. It was a piece of loose leaf, the edges off kilter in a way that suggested he had just torn it out of a notebook moment prior. It echoed another man called King, who finished his "I Have A Dream" speech in the Willard's lobby several decades prior. Of course, in King's case, the paper was blank, an artist hired to rip, wrinkle, and fold it in such a way that created the most aesthetically pleasing mimicry of frantic energy that money could buy. Another prop in the carefully planned show that was unfolding in front of a nation's eyes.

Clearing his throat Faraday began to address a waiting populace.

"Thank you, members of the press, for joining me here today, as well as all of you at home watching this live. Today is a monumental day in the history of our great nation, because today I get to introduce to you the future of American security & safety. Before we begin, I believe introductions are in order, my name is King Faraday and I will be serving as your newly appointed Secretary of Extranormal Affairs.

What is Extranormal Affairs you may be asking? All of you, I assume are painfully familiar with the attacks the befell New York and Star City. I will be frank with all of you, we were unprepared, and we paid the price. The Department of Extranormal Affairs was created to ensure that we are never unprepared again. By committing to developing our state of readiness and enabling proactive measures against potential threats we, will ensure that no Extranormal threat is able to devastate our people in such a way again.

But our mission isn’t just preventative, it is also about building bridges. The only way our new department's mission will ever come to pass is through the aid of those among us that possess abilities and understanding far beyond our own. As many of you undoubtedly know it was many of these exact kinds of individuals that at the end of the day were essential in stopping the attack on two of our greatest cities. And so, it is our intent to foster dialogue and communication between the everyday citizen and these remarkable individuals. For it is the belief of myself and the entire department that we will work better together.

To that end, I would like to introduce you to a very special individual. Many of the bravest members of our armed forces community know her personally and those that don’t, know someone that was saved by her. She is one of our own having graduated near the top of her class at Colorado Springs and afterwards serving with Air Force Special Operations Command with distinction for several years. And yet she is also unlike us with abilities that most of us could only ever dream of. In this way she has a foot firmly planted on each side of the divide, and if our mission goes according to plan, will help erase that divide from our vernacular completely. When she is on mission, we call her Warbird, but today I will introduce her to you under a different name. Without further delay, it is my pleasure to introduce you all to Ms. Carol Danvers.”

The woman of the hour closed her eyes and exhaled as she tried to expel the tingling sensation which was causing her lungs to seize up. Standing in the hallway by the same door that King had entered moments earlier, she half-listened to Faraday. She had heard the newly christened secretary give the speech at least seven times during their car trip to the hotel. The words were already solidified, but each variation he would change his dictation and inflection in subtle ways. The meticulous way in which he hung on each word reminding Carol of an old fling who worked at the Smithsonian telling her why the old renaissance masters marble sculptors were so impressive, it was because they were about subtraction. Painting she told her was about addition and so wayward mistakes were easier to fix, but sculptor was about subtracting and that was permanent. That’s how the white-haired man went over his speech, the subtle cutting away at particular pauses and moments of emphasis to give a new angle that would reshape the work.

The words all too familiar at this point, she waited absentmindedly for her cue. Most of her attention was drawn towards wrestling with the other thoughts that were racing through her head. The primary one was that she didn’t give her parents a courtesy call before the conference went down. None of her family knew about the whole “super powered government” agent deal, they just knew that she did work for the Government that she wasn’t able to talk about. The first that they would be hearing about any of it was going to be with the rest of the country. Carol could only imagine the angry string of text messages and voicemails that her mother was going to send her way. Her father would try to do damage control of course, but being an undercover superhero was a lot bigger than hiding a rescued stray cat in your bedroom for a month, and when Marie found out about Apollo, Frank had only managed to reduce her sentence to one long month of nothing but chores, homework and sleep. And now the Danvers’ matriarch babied old Apollo like he was her long-lost child or something.

Was it okay to feel nervous about your entire way of life changing? Since her last day at the Academy life had become at least partially defined by the bureaucratic masquerade. A system of security clearances, long established cover stories, and the type of lies that after a while just ended up becoming fact. A structure of organized hoops and dotted lines to at least create the facade that somewhere in the chain of command that someone knew what they were doing. After all, if the public even understood half of the uncertainty that went with protecting and securing the interests of the world’s biggest superpower, Danvers was sure they would wonder where all that money for drones and the NSA was going. But now in a way, Carol was being liberated from that structure, though if she was being honest, it felt less like being freed of something and more like being pushed out of the nest.

Though if that was the case, she only had herself to blame. She was given ample opportunity to turn the offer down and the DoD would have been more than happy to keep her for themselves. She couldn’t though, Danvers wouldn’t have necessarily described herself as religious despite growing up in a family of self-identifying Ulster Protestants, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that doing this was what she was put on the Earth to do. She believed tremendously in the Department of Extranormal Affairs intended message of collaboration and acceptance. A fundamental idea that at the end of the day you were always better trying to build a bridge than burn one. It was a simple choose to her really, it didn’t take more than a casual observation of any playground brawl at the local school, violence always ended up breeding more violence. Healing only was able to happen once you put the swords down. It was time for Carol to put those beliefs to test, to make them more than just moral philosophizing done in the dead of night to bring her own demons to rest. And that all started now.

“…it is my pleasure to introduce you all to Ms. Carol Danvers.”

There was a moment before Danvers had entered the room, while Faraday pivoted his torso and extended his arm to greet her that their gazes met. In that brief fraction of a moment as the perfect blue of the sky collided with the deep earthen gray all that needed to be said was. A playwright from England once said that all the world was a stage and now for just a few minutes that stage was going to belong to Carol. She nodded her head in affirmation, smacking a palm across her right shoulder to get the blood pumping again and then she stepped in from the hallway.

The blonde-haired woman had to fight the urge to block the flashes from the cameras. The rapid fire clicking that preceded each shot sending an involuntary shiver down Carol’s back as they sounded eerily like the punctuated staccato firing of a machine gun emplacement. There was no moment of reprieve as each barrage of flashes followed closely on the heels of the last volley. Somehow though, despite the efforts to seemingly blind her, Danvers was able to make it to the podium.

Standing there she felt like a specimen on display. Bright lights from either corner of the room brought in by the film crew were centered on the podium radiating heat like two miniaturized suns. As sweat began to build on her brow, Carol looked out onto the crowd but only found shadows looking back at her as the lights swallowed any significant detail from their facial features. The conditions were at least vaguely familiar to her, having been cast as the corn stalk in her preschool thanksgiving play, but they were still unwelcome. The world watched on in a stretched out and agonized silence, as Carol took a few seconds too long to get adjusted. The ease and command that her boss exerted moments earlier replaced with an awkward anticipation. Gripping the edges of the podium, she forced out a slow and shaky breath as she looked down at the podium, King’s artisanally disheveled paper still sitting where he placed it. As she exhaled, she looked back up at the journalists and too nervous to think about it, Carol produced the easiest smile in her entire life.

“Sorry,” She started out “it’s a little bright up here.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment as the blonde fought the urge to sprint out of the room. Thankfully, one of the journalist’s chuckled and a few others followed. Carol wasn’t sure if the journalist was laughing at her or with her, but in the moment, she didn’t care either way. The laugh dissipated the tension in the room, as Carol could feel the heavy knot in her chest start to loosen. Flickering her eyes quickly to her left, she caught Faraday stone-faced and standing to one side, but ever so slightly he nodded his head in approval and confirmation to continue. Having caught her own momentum and unwilling to let it go again, Carol practically jumped to the next comment.

“My name is Carol Danvers, but I guess you all know that already don’t you? I am a superhero and I will be working with the Department of Extranormal Affairs to bring back a sense of normality, to allow our great country to heal the wounds that have been unjustly placed upon it. And it is my hope, that along the way, I can inspire some of you to do the same…”

The script that a gaggle of speechwriters had worked hours on painstakingly crafting for her had gone straight out the windows. The words became muddle and key points lost in the haze of the moment unable to find purchase upon her tongue as she spoke. Despite going off the range the journalists seemed to respond well to her comments as she reinforced many of the same talking points that Faraday had hit on previously. Her primary focus being on a message of unity and community building rather than the disciplinary side of Extranormal Affair. Hopeful in tone and assertive in her convictions, through the course of her speech citizens of not only the nation, but the world watched as Carol slowly came into her own. And at the end she gave an even bigger smile than before as she looked out into the crowd.

“Any questions?”

A forest of hands sprouted from the seats as the eager journalists all began to try and get Carol’s attention. Peering into the crowd, she picked a hand jutting outward from somewhere in the middle. The lights still made it hard for Carol to get a look, the journalist’s face still covered in shadow. Though as she peered forward Danvers was able to pick up on two details: The first was the man’s long white hair pulled up into a tight ponytail; the other was the slightest glimpse of the man’s eyes. It was the eyes that made Carol freeze, she’d seen those eyes on only two kinds of people before: those that were about to kill themselves and those that were about to kill somebody else. The blonde could hear the smile on his voice as he spoke, his voice distinctly light and velvet smooth, like a cold glass of water on a hot summer’s day.

“Have you ever seen a man explode Ms. Danvers?”

Time slowed down to a crawl around Carol as her human/kree adrenaline gland kicked into overdrive as her “sixth sense” kicked in. She watched as the white-haired man’s skin began to crack and flake away as pulsating red energy poured through rapidly forming cracks and fissures. Her options were limited, if she broke the sound barrier she was at risk of permeant deafening the people with less than superhuman eardrums, the bomber had intentionally positioned himself in a location where she also couldn’t safely let off an energy blast without hurting the other journalist. The only real option she had was trying to absorb whatever energy that the man was about to release. And so, she moved.

In the blink of an eye, Danvers vaulted over the lectern and bolted forward like a bullet through the air. She outstretched her right hand and gritted her teeth as she flew directly at the “journalist”. The last she saw of his face was a haunting wild grin before it vanished consumed by the red energy. As the man combusted and the energy rocketed outwards Carol attempted to absorb it. Like smoke being pulled into a funnel the energy pulled towards her. She could feel it begin to course through her veins, but the energy was too much for her to handle, it felt like liquid metal coursing through her body and she couldn’t hold on. The explosion spilled back outwards filling the space as it went, and the last thing Carol saw before the darkness took her was an angry wall of red as she felt the heat and heard the screams.

The world, through the lenses of one of the still functioning television cameras, watched in horror as there was a bright flash followed by heavy smoke. And in the middle of that smoke there was a newly reformed figure who emerged from his cloud of death. The white-haired man’s hair was no longer in a ponytail and he was now wearing something closer to a skintight jumpsuit, but the manic grin still clung to his face as his eyes were bright with bloodlust. He stalked up to the camera slowly and with inhuman strength yanked it up and into his hands so that the whole world could see his face.

“The meek shall inherit the Earth no longer.”

And with that he threw the camera to the ground; as the picture faded into static, he to faded into the smoke.

_{Prologue End}

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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^{"The fact that man is capable of action means that the unexpected can be expected from him, that he is able to perform what is infinitely improbable. And this again is possible only because each man is unique, so that with each birth something uniquely new comes into the world" - Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition}

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N/A

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Hey y'all doing some planning stuff for season two and I was wondering if anyone had any plans for Nitro. Figured I'd ask while I'm still sketching things out.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Jailbreak In Fairyland VIII

_{The Royal Palace, Bathhouse, Faerie}

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"Frankenstein," asked Tefé "like from Alvin and the Chipmunks?"

"That's what you're going with?" Zatanna responded. "Of all the cultural touchstones you go with the one with animated chipmunks? Not Terence Fisher or even Mel Brooks?"

"I have never fraternized with any chipmunks real or animated." Frankenstein asserted.

"That's beside the point!" Zatanna responded trying to drag the conversation back on track."You're Frankenstein? Like Mary Shelly Frankenstein?"

The man in the cage gave a tired sigh.

"I became friendly with Mary and her husband after coming to their aid against a lycanthrope. I would only learn sometime later that Mary wrote a biographical account of my earlier years."

"And then you murdered a king?"

" I did not perform such a brutish act. Murder is something a plebian does when they find their lover is sleeping with another. It is senseless emotion getting the better of the senses." Frankenstein stressed "What I did was peak refinement, grace, and purpose, it was art. I did not murder a king, I assassinated one."

"Murder. Assassination? Does it really matter? Oberon is dead and that makes you the Kingkiller right?" Tefé asserted.

"Ah yes," Frankenstein replied "that title that was so graciously given to me. Is it just to define a man by his darker deeds? Do vilify Einstein for his work on the atomic bomb? Or do we remember him for all his broader contributions to science?"

"Listen," Zatanna said "I'm not interested in judging your past actions. I need a monster hunter and they say you are the best there is. So we are going to break you out and you're going to help me. I think that's a better deal than staying locked up in here and getting experimented on by Anton Arcane, and you?"

Frankenstein stroked his jaw as he pondered the magician's proposition. It was, to say the least for Zatanna to view him in person. Of all the various depictions that a lover of horror such as herself had seen, all failed to capture how human he was. Not even Shelly herself who made broke him down to the desires of revenge and belonging. There was the patchwork skin, the stitching, the bolts, and the destroyed eye yes. But despite his deformities, Zatanna did not see a monster sitting there, she saw a man.

"The opportunity to challenge me against a worthy foe once more is tempting." Frankenstein commented, "Though I do not swear my loyalty to any soul haunted by the dark, who are you girl?"

"First of all, I'm not a girl." Zatanna corrected "And second of all my name is Zatanna Zatara and Tefé is my chipmunk loving friend."

"Aww, you consider me a friend already?"

"Quiet you." Zatanna sniped back before continuing. "I'm a magic user from Earth and I've been having dreams, no, visions of great evil. These visions have come after someone sent a flesh elemental to attack me in my childhood home."

"Zatara you say? That would explain the taste of magic in the air." Frankenstein replied as he leaned in closer against the bars of his cage to get a better look at Zatanna. "I never had the pleasure of working with your father, but I'm aware of his work."

Zatanna let out a frustrated sigh.

"Are all you people getting your lines fed to you by an earpiece or something? I don't care if you knew my dad or jerked off to his picture or whatever! It's not him asking for your help it's me."

The magician pushed air out of her nose trying to regain her composure. Berating the person that you were trying to get to help you wasn't exactly the best of stratagems. She knew it wasn't exactly the man in the cage's fault either that he prodded an emotional nerve. Yet Zatanna wasn't about to lie and say that finally letting somebody have it didn't feel good.

To her surprise though if anything Frankenstein seemed pleased by the outburst. A grin stretched across his stitched together mouth as he buckled over in deep bursts of laughter. Fitting for someone of his gargantuan stature, the laughs felt cavernous. Each laugh more akin to a long deep rumble like stones falling in a rockslide.

"How I've missed humanity's rambunctious nature. These fairies are too concerned with their hierarchies and unspoken unruled rules. They have no spontaneity only calculations, but feeling will drive you to conflict." Frankenstein stated wiping at his eyes with his arm even though Zatanna wasn't sure if he even had tear ducts.

"So you'll help us?" Zatanna asked cocking a brow as she took a step back from the cage.

"If you free me from my current bondage, I will aid you in your endeavor."

"Well, you might want to start working on that quick Z'!" Tefé interjected gesturing towards the cell door.

Ensnared in her conversation, Zatanna did not notice the banging on the door had stopped. It appeared that the guards had gone and gotten something else to aid them. As now Zatanna watched as something was slowly beginning to cut its way through the door. A bright light shining through as the heavy metal bulkhead was pulled away. The progress on the door was slow but consistency in its pace. Already having almost made a man-sized line on one side of the door they didn't have much time.

Quickly Zatanna sprang into action. At first, she tried to use her magic to undo the locks off on the cage, but in a similar fashion to the door, they resisted its effects. Having Tefé use her strength was also a no go, otherwise, Frankenstein would have done so already. Searching the room from bottom to top for any kind of release lever lead Zatanna towards the back wall. A console of strange levers and switches greeted her written in a language that she could not read. Reaching for a lever at random she pulled it down to see what it down.

"This is peculiar..." Frankenstein commented as his cage was now suspended in the air.

"Sorry!" Zatanna replied as she pulled the lever back into its original position.

This is pointless Zatanna thought to herself as she looked over a panel. There was well over a hundred switches and levers and there was no knowing how many needed to be pressed to open the cage. The soft hissing of the guard's cutting instrument continued pressuring her onward. In desperation, she turned over her shoulder and called over to Tefé.

"Do you know how to read this shit?"

"Coming!" Tefé responded jogging over.

Taking Zatanna's position at the head of the console Tefé looked it over. She appeared to be trying to read one of the labels, running a finger along the etched in script as she silently mouthed a word. Nodding to herself, she turned back to Zatanna with a smile on her face.

"You are going to want to stand back."

Stepping away from the console, Zatanna watched as Tefé moved a hand towards one of the levers. A second later she would yell in horror as Tefé plunged her arm directly through the console. The air light up like a rave as bursts of magical energy filled the room. The light from the denotation too bright for the magician causing her to turn away and shield her eyes until it faded. When she was safely able to look back in the other woman's direction rage boiled on her face.

"What the hell was that for!"

"That!" Tefé pointed

The plant elemental was pointing towards the now open cage door. Frankenstein tested the door grabbing at it with a huge hand pulling it open and closed again. Satisfied with his experimentation, the large man stepped out of his cage and onto the floor.

"Freedom at last."

"Yeah, well only if we can get through the guards about to chop through the door," Tefé explained

"Yeah anyone have any other bright ideas in that regard? Preferably not involving punching potentially vital equipment?" She said.

"Hey! How could you've known it was vital if you couldn't -" Tefé was cut off as the room violently shook accompanied by a thunderous boom in the distance. As the shaking subsided, the magical lights in the room sputtered out. Outside the room, the cutting stop and Zatanna could hear the guards began to yell as she heard the sound of metal scraping against stone. Rapidly Zatanna muttered a spell and threw up a small globule of light into the air.

"An explosion to direct our pursuers to another part of the palace? Most cunning indeed." Frankenstein remarked sounding impressed.

"Hate to break it to you big guy, but that wasn't us." Tefé pointed out.

"Yeah who the hell was it?"

Suddenly the sounds of screaming and fighting broke out from beyond the door as the guards clashed with an unknown enemy. It was only then that Zatanna realized what that metal scraping was. Without the magical catalyst, there was nothing keeping the other cell doors shut. The other prisoners had escaped and now they were venting their frustrations at their captors. But it was strange, there was not the chaos and yelling that she expected from rioting prisoners. Instead of revelry and yells, there was a disturbing discipline and order of a singular chant. They all yelled a singular phrase that continued to grow louder and louder, loud enough to spell into the other room.

_{"The Dawn Will Rise"}

"Ahh shit." Muttered Tefé.

"This day continues to get more and more interesting." Said Frankenstein nodding his head in agreement.

"Can the two of you stop being cryptic and tell me what is going on."

"It's the Court of Dawn Z'," Tefé explained never pulling her attention away from the door in front of them. The sounds of violence continuing to spill over. "They are attacking the Royal Palace."

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Jailbreak In Fairyland VII

_{Faerie, The Royal Palace, Forbidden Wing}

---

With Zatanna's assistance, Tefé was able to gather up the rest of the guard uniform. As the newly dressed guard finished putting her boots on Zatanna paced around the scene of the crime. Zatanna wasn't a professional criminal but even she knew that you got rid of the evidence. The last thing they needed, after all, was the whole thing going up in flames because they got found out early. The first order of business was the horrific display of Tefé's blood. Luckily for the magician a simple cleaning spell work just as well on viscera as it did grease stains.

The blood dealt with they now needed to deal with the bodies. The hallways barren nature provided little hiding space. Instead, they found the nearest door and got to work. With her strength, Tefé gathered up the guards while her black haired associate used her magic on the lock. With a click, the door gave way opening into an unused bedroom. Dust covered the dressers and nothing but a mattress sat on a sagging bed frame. They dumped the bodies on top of the bed in a small pile. As they left, Tefé snaked a root-like tendril into the locking mechanism breaking the door. They would still be able to force the door open, but it would still delay them if they woke up quicker than expected.

The last signs of their struggle dealt they finally advanced. Crossing the threshold into the forbidden wing, Zatanna couldn't help but feel nervous. Growing up in a place like Gotham crime and theft was always the reality. And yet even a city plagued by crime its population had a habit of romanticizing it. Crime would always be sexy you only had to look at Bonnie and Clyde or Dillinger to see that was true. Yet the platonic ideal of the Errol Flynn was that - an ideal. The reality Zatanna was finding was much more frantic, much more brutal.

Trying to distract herself, the magician attempted to talk to Tefé, the problem was she didn't know what to say. What did people talk about on heists? Or did they talk at all? It seemed rather counterproductive to the goal of not getting caught. But then again Tefé also didn't seem like the type to follow societal conventions. Deciding to go for it, Zatanna asked the only thought that she still couldn't shake from her head.

"So...."have you always been like this?"

When Zatanna was younger she had a pet corn snake that she found in the garden. She named the snake Lucifer, because of course she did, and was fascinated the first time he shed his skin. Now Zatanna found herself clinging to those memories of her old pet to reconcile with Tefé's ability. The comparison only worked so far though as Lucifer didn't leave a pile of melted flesh and blood when he shed. And even as she looked at Tefé's new red-headed, armor-clad form, a mote of queasiness still coiled in her stomach.

"Yep ever since I was a small babe," Tefé confirmed nodding her head in agreement. "A shame really might have been a more interesting story if I fell into a vat of nuclear waste or something."

"Are you a metahuman?" Zatanna asked before adding "Not that if you were it would be a bad thing. We kinda go hand in hand, after all, both having our starts in sideshows."

"No, but the way that people act when they see what I do, I might as well be." Tefé commented with a shrug "My dad controlled plant stuff and my mom controlled flesh stuff. So when I was born it turned out I got the best of both worlds."

"Must have been some family huh?"

"It was interesting at times yeah." The woman in armor responded before directing the conversation away from her. "How about you? Even a girl from the bayou like myself has heard of Giovanni Zatara before."

"It was a life."

"That bad huh?"

"Don't get me wrong, I had a very privileged childhood. Most kids, hell most adults, would have dreamed for what I had."

"And yet you always felt like you were missing something? Mardi Gras without the jambalaya?"

"Really working to battle stereotypes aren't you?" Zatanna asked with a raised brow and despite herself the start of a grin.

"Hey Z', Jambalaya is fucking great." Tefé insisted

Zatanna snorted and shook her head.

"Whatever you say, swamp girl," Zatanna teased "and maybe ask me later. I'm not really in the business of dropping years of emotional baggage on strangers."

Tefé shrugged

"Suit yourself. We are getting close anyway."

Zatanna didn't need Tefé's comment to notice the change in the environment. The ornate decorations of the palace had faded away to dark gray stone. It reminded Zatanna of walking down a street in the week after Christmas, watching the houses that were once filled with bright twinkling lights go dark for Winter's coming chill. There was no need, after all, they were trespassing beyond the veil established for the public. It was a waste of resources to focus on aesthetics when only guards or prisoners would see it.

An occasional door was the only thing to interrupt the barren stonework. Unlike the ornate wooden doors in the palace, these doors were solid pieces of metal. Zatanna deduced that their controls must be elsewhere given the lack of any handle or crank. As she neared closer to one of the doors to examine it she got startled as a fist slammed against the other side. Heavy and hard the repeated banging grew in intensity as the prisoner on the other side began to scream.

"Let me out! Please let me out! I don't wanna be here anymore!"

Tefé reached her hand out and tapped Zatanna on the shoulder.

"Come on," She stated gently "we gotta go."

Nodding Zatanna turned and followed her.

Yet the prisoner's ranting continued and it wasn't long before other prisoners joined. The arrhythmic pulsating thundering of fists sounded like a growing stampede. And on top of the slamming was the voices. Some of them were pleading like the first prisoners, others were yelling vile threats, while others still screamed. It created a cacophony of sound that only amplified with time as it traveled like a wave down the cellblock. Ahead of the magician, Tefé picked up speed as she tried to outrun the sound.

Soon the sounds of heavy footsteps joined into the chaos. Ahead of the infiltrators was a group of six guards no doubt coming to check on the commotion. Much to Zatanna's dismay, they had different uniforms than the one that Tefé was wearing. Black interwoven scales shined to a polish made up the uniform's primary material and rather than helmets, they wore masks. Horned demonic visages adorned the masks each snarling in a grimace.

"You look nothing like them!" Zatanna whispered as the guards approached.

"How the fuck was I supposed to know that?" Tefé protested

"You said the guard you were sleeping with told you!"

"Yeah, where they were keeping the Kingkiller, not the friggin' dress code!"

"What are we going to do?"

"Go with the flow."

They both slowed to a stop as the guards traversed the last of the distance. Zatanna tried her best to act casual as the masked individuals began to fan out across the width of the hallway. One of them stepped forward to address them. A large crystalline blade hung from his back and an orange mask adorned his face.

"What are you doing here soldier? And with a civilian at that?" He questioned. His voice was deep and textured like oil running over jagged glass. Zatanna didn't know if Faerie had cigarettes but if they did this guy must have smoked at least two packs a day.

"I'm to escort her to the Kingkiller, sir."

"The Kingkiller?" The man asked surprised "I'll need to see papers from both of you."

"What papers?" Zatanna asked

"Papers given to you by the Queen."

"Ah well, you see... funny story about that." Tefé started before sending an arm of bark flying forward in a sucker punch. The guard anticipating the move dodged to the right and drew his blade.

"Apprehend them!"

Three of the guards moved in on Tefé drawing crystal blades similar to the one with the blue mask. Zatanna moved to help her but before she could three sharp twangs sounded. Three crossbow bolts with crystal tips came soaring towards Zatanna. In a state of panic, she tried to leap to right out of their path. Her acrobatic efforts managed to avoid two of the bolts but a third clipped her in her left leg drawing blood. As the crystal made contact a pulse of cold energy ran through her leg. The magician having to drop to one knee as the chill made the entire leg seize.

The masked guards aimed and readied themselves for another volley to finish the job. Gritting through the pain, Zatanna looked up at her attackers and remained calm. She waited as they leveled their crossbows and fired another volley. As three more shots came to end her life, she yelled a command.

"Sigea!"

And for a brief moment, the air in front of her hardened into something thicker. The particles pushed together and pulled into a hardened barrier. The bolts one after another made contact with the shimmering magical defense. Two of the bolt's splintered from the force of the impact and a third rebounded off of it completely. The three arbalists looked to one another frantically before they prepared another volley.

But Zatanna was already on them.

"Ekans!"

One of the guards screamed as his crossbow transformed into a large serpent. Before he could drop the reptile it already began going for his neck. Screaming the man collapsed to the ground wrestling with the reptile as it began to wrap around him. One of his allies in a valiant attempt to defend him aimed his crossbow at the snake and fired. The bolt killed the creature, but the heavy impact pushed it through the snake and into the guard. He screamed in pain before the crystal's effect took place making him go numb. With the panicked guard f reloading, Zatanna turned towards the other about to fire.

"Pu!"

As if attached to a cable, the arbalist was yanked upward. He shouted as he dropped his weapon as he soared upward. The guard slammed hard into the ceiling several feet above them. As he made contact the effect of the spell fizzled and gravity took hold of him once more. Screaming even more as he came down like a hammer upon the ground. He lay there groaning on the ground, only able to curl himself up into a ball.

Another bolt came flying towards her but soared far off the mark. Zatanna turned to face her last adversary having finally finished reloading. The magician could only feel pity when she saw the tremble in his hands as he held his crossbow. In a panic, he tried to grab another bolt but fumbled and sent it clattering to the ground. Showing mercy the dark haired girl put him out of his misery.

"Thgiew!

A soft pinkish glow surrounded the arbalist's weapon as the magic took hold. He began to struggle as the weapon grew heavier in his hands struggling to keep it up. The numbness in her leg fading, Zatanna stepped over the bodies of his comrades. Closing the distance, Zatanna took a single index finger and poked it into the center of his mask. The force was enough to send him teetering backward collapsing like a felled tree. He lay struggling unable to move pinned to the floor beneath the weight of his own weapon.

"Z' heads up!"

As Zatanna ducked the blue-masked swordsman was sent flying over her head. As the body landed on the floor ahead of her in a crumpled heap, the magician rose to her feet and looked back. Tefé stood her armor dented and blood dripping from a cut on her forehead but still smiling.

"We should probably go..." Suggested Zatanna

Tefé nodding in agreement they broke into a sprint running down the rest of the hallway. Zatanna's heart pounded and the muscles in her legs protested as they ran for what felt like an eternity. She pushed on though inspired by the image ahead of her. A large vault-like circular door at the end of the hallway. If Zatanna was a prison design it was behind a door like that she would store her most valuable prisoner. Slowing down as they reached it Zatanna shouted out a spell.

"Nepo!"

Nothing happened.

"Nepo!"

Still nothing.

"What's wrong Z' outta juice?"

"I don't get out of juice!" Zatanna replied as she got up close to the door. "They must of spell-proofed it somehow!"

Gently pushing her aside, Tefé stood in front of the door and closed her eyes. As she breathed out hundreds of tiny little tendrils burst through her flesh and began wedging themselves around the door. Zatanna could only watch in amazement as she could hear dull clicks from beyond the door as the tendrils worked at an unseen lock. Tefé's eyes were shut tight with concentration as she listened to the soft sounds to guide her in the right direction.

"Stop them!"

Spinning around Zatanna's heart sank as even more masked guards were running down the hallway towards them.

"No pressure or anything but are you almost done?" Zatanna asked

"Just.... keep them busy!"

Turning her attention back to the guards, Zatanna knew that she had to hold them off somehow. Recalling the frost stonework leading to the bathhouse, she was struck with an idea.

"EzeerF!"

Patches of ice began to spread across the floor of the hallway ahead of the guards. The patches connected and multiplied and soon a thick sheet of ice covered the floor. The charging guards focused on the two of them did not notice the ice until it was too late. The first few that stepped onto the icy patch collapsed. The falling guards set off a domino effect as they knocked down the guards behind them and so on. Zatanna smiled as the sound of panicked shouts and metal clanging against the floor. The guards were already pulling themselves up but the diversion had bought them some time.

"Got it!" Tefé proclaimed

There was a loud affirmative click as the door slide open. Zatanna scrambled inside with Tefé following suit, the guards still hot on their tail. The plant elemental was just barely able to pull the door back into place before their would-be captors reached the door. The Guard banged against the door and tried to force it open but it would not budge. But it was not the banging on the door that drew Zatanna's attention.

The magician was staring at a large birdcage in the center of the room. And there sitting cross legged in the middle of the cage was a man unlike any Zatanna had seen before.

The prisoner was a large man wearing a pair of sackcloth brown pants and nothing else. He was gargantuan in size, a solid mass of muscle that seemed to fight with one another to take over his frame. But the thing that caught Zatanna's eye the most was the prisoner's skin. An amalgamation of different tones and textures patched together with staples, stitches, and screws. As they came in, he tilted his head upward from his meditative stance. Two eyes stared back at Zatanna one a deep green and the other a milky white. As they came in, he tilted his head upward from his meditative stance. Two eyes stared back at Zatanna one a deep green and the other a milky white.

"And who might you be? Does another observer come to see the freakshow? No that is not right at all, your demeanor is all wrong to be one of them. Interesting." The patchwork man commented as he rose to his feet easily towering over both Zatanna and Tefé. "Then tell me, why have you come to visit old discarded Frankenstein left to rot in his cage?"

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Alright so I less want #1 then I have some problems about #2 currently. So I'm going to try and explain the feelings that I am having.

Here is how I see it.

What are we necessarily trying to do by switching over to a new thread? It seems judging from chats in Discord and Wraith's prompt its to gather up new blood to revitalize the RP? And personally I don't see the reason for it you know? Ask any experienced GM how an RP goes the distance and its having a reliable core group. Look at all the RPs that have gone the distance on the site now and old guild what did they have? A core group of players that stuck with it. If you want to ensure the survival of the RP you got to look after those players.

To that end, I feel that the move will harm us in that regard. Look what happened with UOU for example. Switching threads effectively breaks any kind of narrative cohesion and consistency. It particular it hurts anyone (such as myself) that prefers long term storytelling over the small bit-sized arc structure. Because now people will literally have to dig up old threads to read the entire narrative. And also it puts an unnecessary pressure of "oh well I have to move uber fucking quick because Crisis is going to nuke the the thread in three months anyway." Something which you guys specifically said wasn't going to be a concern this go around and that you would be able to continue your narratives through crisis.

To that end I will also speak of the effectiveness or lack of effectiveness rather of the suggested move. Long-running roleplays get new applications all the time, those role plays just aren't really us. That has something to do with us as players not because of the GM and frankly it is the childish claiming culture that we have going on. @Lord Wraith I'm gonna call you out the most on this because you are a man and I know you can take it. We joke about your protective claim over Gotham but its actually a problem. Gotham is much bigger than Batman my dude, but you are potentially limiting new people's possibilities of the characters that they want to play. Not to mention any one's real hopes of playing someone else in the Bat fam. And this goes beyond claiming areas. Whole characters that could rightfully stand on their own and antagonists and the like have been scooped by people without even being used. We take away people's options before they are even there. I'm also part of that problem and to that end the only way we would be able to fix a change like that isn't a thread shift its a cultural change, because trust me I'm part of that problem to taking Swamp thing and such. It is to strive to be more like Maxx and Webby. Both of these players show a maturity that is beyond all the rest of us because they are ready and willing to give up antagonists, supporting casts or work with players so that everyone can use the characters that they want. And that's how real comics work! That is in part because of why they are so awesome because of the sharing of characters and the collaboration, but the current system doesn't encourage that. Instead it encourages grabbing all your favorite toys and not letting go.

The other problem kinda falls in the same area. We have already taken claim over a lot of A-listers with more to come from folks we know who are joining and other characters. Currently two of the only A-listers that I know of that don't have a sheet in the works are Hulk and Aquaman. All the other big names have been taken and also a whole damn lot of other heroes have been snatched up through supporting casts as well. We are limiting the options of new people severally and not even giving them a shot at the story they want to tell. It would be like going to an ice cream shop and finding out they are all out of ice cream and they only have cones left. And don't get me wrong you can do great things with B-listers and lower but unless somebody really wants to play that character you aren't going to catch any new blood that way. And the only way I could see us fixing such a problem would be making everyone have to reapply for their character again in Season 2. Which presents a whole nother bundle of problems that I don't think anyone would want to deal with.

And realistically consider how many new players are we going to draw in from the switch. Consider our last batch of new people that came through, we were only left with what like Ceta in the end? So if we consider that to do be a solid working point to go off of for every completely new person to join we will only gain one person? And beyond that consider how many other new people have joined and left, honestly really Ceta is the only new blood we have managed to keep. And if all those new folks ended up dropping out, I don't think it is a coincidence. I think it is a sign of a bigger problem that we have.

There is a reason that these games have a reputation. A bunch of people don't just end up thinking that we are assholes for no reason. And in some ways they are right. We are combative, we argue a lot, we are over protective of our characters and ideas. We play favoritism towards our friends sometimes to the detriment of others. When your RP becomes the definition of an Old Boy's Club of course new people aren't going to join. We actively push out new faces not invite them in. We have a lot of problems and that is never going to change unless we try to be better people and I know that is asking a lot from the most of us lol.

So to summarize I'm opposed to Option #2 if we are just trying to use it as a quick cash-grab to get new blood. Because that is not going to work, we have seen it not work before for the reasons above. I will support Option 2 if we make a commitment to try and change the culture and the nature of the RP moving forward because that is the only way that we are going to get new folk's to not only apply but to stay. If we honestly take a moment to reconsider and think about why all these RPs fail in the first place instead of jumping to a perceived easy solution to the problem. Because the problem isn't that we have a big scary thread, people jump into big scary threads all the time, look at literally any other sandbox RP lol.

No the problem is we are assholes and the environment we foster does not encourage nor support new players in the first place.

Anyway rambling done. I've just had a lot of thoughts about these RPs for a long time and it was nice to organize them into a cohesive structure.

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Jailbreak In Fairyland VI

_{The Royal Palace, Hallways, Faerie
CW: Some mild body horror towards the end, so if that ain't your thing you might want to skip this one.}

---

“You seem troubled timoune.” Voodoo asked as he adjusted the collar of his guayabera again.

“I’m fine,” Zatanna replied dismissively “a little nervous that’s all”

Voodoo laughed

“That’s fair,” He agreed “it isn’t everyday you dine with royalty.”

“Yeah... that’s true”

Though I guess it isn’t everyday you try and stage a jailbreak either Zatanna thought to herself.

Before Tefé and her parted ways in the bathhouse they had come up with a basic plan. Fae dinner according to Tefé wasn't, “Sittin’ around a table thanking Jesus or some shit”. Rather the dinner functioned more like what Zatanna might call a ball or gala in the Mundane world. A function where the “who’s who” of society could socialize amongst themselves. If everything went well, Zatanna wouldn't be subjugated to such torture. The plan itself calling to spend as little time in the ballroom as possible. Once she rendezvoused with Tefé, they would slip out on the pretense of trying to locate a restroom. From there Tefé would lead them towards where they would be keeping the Kingkiller. If all went well Zatanna would use her magic to contact Voodoo so that he could also make his exit. They would then sneak their way out of the castle and meet back up on the other side of the bridge. From there it was as simple as getting on the next train heading back to London.

And yet Zatanna could not quite shake her own haunting anxiety as she prepared for the evening. If crime movies had taught her anything it was that no heist went according to plan. Though it wasn't even the chance of disaster that bothered the magician that much. No, instead it was Voodoo's earlier remarks about balance. Her actions would remove a society’s ability to choose and she wasn't sure she had that right. No matter the realpolitik behind the Kingkiller, he was still a criminal. Did she have the right to decide what measure of guilt counted? She didn't know but she knew what she was going to do anyway, she made her choice. And yet, despite her resolve, she knew there was also a reason she was choosing not to inform Voodoo of the plan before hand.

In an attempt to distract herself she looked at her reflection in a passing mirror. Deciding that her typical show outfit was too loud, she choose something more formal. She ended up going with a simple black dress. Along with the dress she wore a pair of white sneakers, not wanting to have to flee for her life in heels again. The outfit was more "student at fashion school" than "master thief" but a catsuit seemed a little much

Soon they arrived at the ballroom. It hung over the twilight below as its own standalone wing. A large octagonal space with dining and buffet tables lining its perimeter. The floor in the center made out of thick glass that provided a stunning view of the endless twilight. The nobles chatted amongst themselves on the floor in small groups. The hum of conversation accompanied by musicians playing string instruments alien to Zatanna.

"Jericho!" A voice called cutting through the noise.

From the other side of the ballroom Titania approached them. She wore a long gown weaved of moonlight that surrounded her in an ethereal glow. Like moths entranced by the glow, a small entourage of courtiers surrounded her. Yet Titania give them no mind as she glided across the floor towards the two magic users. She seemed happy to see them, a broad smile on her face.

"Queen Titania," Voodoo replied with a bow "you look as marvelous as always."

"Always the charmer Jericho," Titania replied chuckling "best be careful or I'll keep you."

"Oh you wouldn't want an old bore like me."

"Nonsense! Come! Come! We have much to discuss after all! I'm oh so very curious about what is happening in the Mundane."

As Titania took Voodoo by the arm Zatanna took the opportunity to slip away. The older magician glanced over his shoulder at her, Zatanna giving him a wave as he was dragged away.

Zatanna slipped through the groups of people as she headed towards an empty table. As she made a way over, she plucked two flutes of alcohol from a waiter's tray. Setting the drinks down on the table she sat and observed the crowd. The way they moved about the room reminded Zatanna about bees and how they danced to communicate. The nobles moving between groups as if following some kind of predetermined mechanism. Up close it was unbearable but at a distance there was a beauty to it that Zatanna couldn't deny.

She regarded one of the flutes of alcohol watching how the light caught the bubbles before she took a sip. As soon as the liquor hit the back of her throat, she had to fight the urge to cough. A hint of honey followed by a burning bitter burst that swelled in her neck like an open flame. As she tried to regain her composure someone called out to her.

"Didn't anyone tell you not to drink on the Job Z'?"

Tefé sauntered over to the table and pulled up a chair. Her look had transferred from The Clash to the Thin White Duke. She leaned against the edge of the table reminding Zatanna of a cat about to pounce.

"That's a shame, because I have this other glass right here." Zatanna explained as she offered Tefé the other drink.

"I never did say it was a bad thing did I?" Tefé explained as she took the other glass. Her fingers lingering for a moment as they brushed against the magician's. "Salute!"

They tapped the rimms of their glasses before they each downed the contents of the flute. Zatanna let out a long exhale as the burn of the alcohol settled in her chest. She watched in amusement as Tefé titled the flute all the way back to ensure the last drops of the liquid came out. She wore a triumphant smile as she slammed the glass back on the table.

"So," Zatanna questioned "we still doing this? "

"Fuck. Yeah."

Without another word needed the pair began to make their exit. They slipped out of a side service exit to avoid the guards stationed at the entrance. They slipped in through the door as a waiter carrying another platter of food stepped out. Ahead of them, Zatanna could hear the chaos of the kitchen as the shadows of chefs dance along the wall. Whispers and fast footsteps caused Tefé to pull Zatanna down another passage. This one-sided game of cat and mouse ending only as they exited through a door back into the upper halls.

"This way." Tefé gestured as she gained her bearings leading Zatanna to the left.

"How did you find out where they are keeping him anyway?" Zatanna whispered

Tefé laughed.

"I asked one of the guards?" Tefé explained with a grin. "Turns out they are as respective as anyone to questioning when their pants are down."

"Hmph," Zatanna mused as shook her head "guess some things never change."

"There are some things about nature that people can't fight Z' remember that." Tefé asserted with a wink.

As they continued the quiet rumble of the ballroom continued to fade. Zatanna followed behind Tefé as she navigated the labyrinth hallways with a purpose. The other woman only having to stop at one or two intersections to consult her own mirror before heading on. At regular intervals Zatanna checked behind them to make sure that they didn't have a tail. Their gambit having so far been successful as not a soul stalked the halls this far away from the ballroom.

As Zatanna was looking over one shoulder she almost collided into Tefé who had stopped at a corner. Before she could speak her companion raised a hand to her lips and gestured around the corner. Zatanna nodded in understanding before peeking around the corner to see the problem. At the far end of the hallway were three guards positioned around a large gated entranceway. Two of the guards sat on stools around a table playing cards, while the third watched the hallway.

"Guessing that's where we need to go?" Zatanna whispered cocking her head in the direction of the guards.

"Didn't say it was going to be easy did I?"

"Wouldn't of been fun if it was," countered the magician "what's the plan?"

A manic grin pulled the corners of Tefé's mouth tight.

"Act shitfaced and follow my lead."

With a wink Tefé wrapped a hand around Zatanna's waist and pulled her around the corner. Together they began to stagger down the hallway towards the entryway. Their erratic pattern drew the attention of the guard on watch who alerted the two playing cards. The card players readied themselves picking up their weapons and getting into position. The guard who had first spotted them took the initiative and step forward her spear raised.

"Stop and identify yourself!"

"D...do you know where the bath...bathroom is?" Tefé slurred as she closed the distance further "We reallllllly need to find one."

The tension in the lead guards body relaxed her grip on her weapon loosening. Her two companions stepped forward on either side of her but did not raise their weapons.

"Drunks." Explained the lead guard shaking her head

"What should we do?" Asked the guard to her left

"We'll try and send them back to the ballroom."

Expoliting the guards confusion, Zatanna and Tefé closed the distance further. As they came within arm's length of the lead guards thrusted rward spear Tefé sprung into action. Dropping her hold on Zatanna, Tefé grasped the shaft of the spear and with great strength yanked it upward. The lead guard catapulted into the air could only shout in surprise before she went flying. Dropping the spear, Tefé outstretched a hand towards the guard on the right who was readying a thrust. Zatanna's eyes widened in surprise as the other woman's arm exploded into an expanded column of vines. The arm now turned battering ram slamming hard into the guard's chest sending him flying back. The force of the blow caving his armor inward as he crumpled to the ground in a heap.

The last guard did not have a spear but instead a long sabre which he brought down towards Tefé. The young woman still dealing with the other guards leaving herself open. But before the blade could make impact Zatanna raised a finger towards him and shouted.

"Tsur!"

There was a slight distortion in the air around the guard as spots of brown began to appear on his armor. Yelling the guard dropped the sabre and tried to wipe at the spots but the damage was already done. The rust crept across his armor locking the joints as his shouting continued. Unable to move he toppled over encased in a thick coating of rust, his yelling now muffled. Feeling bad because the guard was only doing his job, Zatanna knelt down and whispered a command.

"Peels."

The panicked shouts dying out soon after.

"Remind me not to piss you off" Tefé commented gesturing towards the guard.

"I could say the same about you!" Zatanna replied standing up "You didn't tell me that you were a plant person!"

Tefé chuckled at this comment as she sauntered over to orignal guard that she had tossed through the air. The impact was enough to knock her out but unlike the other two there was minimal damage to her armor. Tefé pulled off the guard's helmet revealing elfin features and red hair pulled up into a tight bun.

"Oh I'm so much more than a plant person." Tefé explained as she reached out and touched the guard's face. "A plant person couldn't do this."

For a second nothing happened and Zatanna was about to tell the other woman to stop pulling her chain. And then Tefé's skin began to bubble, it was slow and first before growing to a rolling boil. Zatanna could only watch in horror as her skin ran off her body creating a waterfall of blood and flesh. Her bones screamed as they cracked shifting in size and position as her height increased an inch or more. A new layer of skin and hair was visible underneath all the blood, but instead of her own face Tefé now wore the guards. Bloody and naked, she began to strip the unconscious guard of her clothes.

"What. The. Actual. Fuck." Zatnna spoke as fought the urge to vomit and failed.

"Yeah that's the typical response," Tefé responded as she continued to loot the guard "if it makes you feel better I can always change back."

"You... you stole her body!"

"I copied her body." Tefé stressed "And you trapped a man in a prison of rust. So neither of us are angels in this scenario darlin'. And how else did you think I got in here in the first place? I ain't fancy pants nobility or some spell-slinger."

"Bu-Bu," Zatanna protested "that was very just... it was very visceral and you gave me like no warning!"

"You could of turned away at any time. You weren't terrified, you were curious. Now are you going to help me put this armor on or what?"

"...Fine!" Zatanna relented as she began to pull at a boot.

What Are You Listening To?

Absolute Comics - Season Two: The Monster Within

Jailbreak In Fairyland V

_{The Royal Palace, Bathhouse, Faerie}

---

Their previous escort had left two guards posted at the door. Each roughly stood at least a head and a half taller than Zatanna, dressed in knightly metallic armor tinged with green as a moss-like substance grew in the cracks of the armor, their insectoid-like wings reminiscent of a dragonfly's tucked tightly against their backs. Their purpose, either to keep them safe or prevent them from wandering Zatanna couldn't have guessed, but they served their uses well enough to the dark-haired young woman. Amicable enough to the prospect of conversation they listened to Zatanna as they leaned on their long elegant polearm their tip covered large jagged protrusions of glass. Between the two of them, they were able to aid Zatanna in her plight directing the magician towards a bathhouse located on the lower levels of the palace's guest wing.

Giving them her thanks Zatanna took a left down the hallway stopping at the third door before the end. The wooden door opened to reveal a long spiral stone staircase descends downward, the pathway lined by floating globules of light that changed color from a bright pink to a deep purple as Zatanna passed by them. Following the directions given to her, Zatanna followed this colorful display of light down passing by various landings similar to the one she entered the stairwell from. As she continued her descent, the magician couldn't help but notice the decrease in temperature around her, splashes of gooseflesh appearing across her skin as her breath became visible on the air. Pulling her arms closer against her body to try and ward off the cold, Zatanna soon arrived at the bottom of the staircase.

Reaching for a handle encrusted in frost she pushed open a wooden door and entered another hallway. Particles of ice hung suspended in the air creating a breathtaking effect as spheres of light similar to those in the hallway were reflected through them like a kaleidoscope. On either side of her were long windows that looked down onto a large workshop. Workers rushed about large vats filled with strange frothing liquid hauling containers of the strange substance to the craftsman busy sculpting the strange glass covered armaments that the guards around the palace and the city seemed to carry. Though the surrounding environment lead Zatanna to suspect that it wasn’t glass at all, but rather a kind of magically enchanted ice made resistance to melting. The bridge-hallway fusion that the young magician stood upon lead towards the center of the workshop where a large furnace continued to belch flames that the works thrust containers of the liquid into which seemed to cause the frothing liquid to stabilize. Above the furnace was a large egg-like structure that a pair of double doors at the end of the hallway lead into. Zatanna could only assume that was the titular bathhouse using the residual heat from the blasting of the furnaces to its own ends.

The thought of warmer climes spurred Zatanna onward as she picked up speed. As she reached the pair of doors they opened on their own volition scraping across the ice-covered stone of the hallway as they went. Immediately upon crossing the door’s threshold, Zatanna was hit with a burst of warm air, her extremities beginning to break out in pinpricks as blood began to rush back. A thick cloud of steam hung in the airlifting upward from a series of large pools that were dispersed across the room. Each pool was closed off from one another by an array of decorative paper walls inscribed with floral designs. A podium carved from a singular protrusion of stone jutting upward from the ground greeted Zatanna but there was no one manning it. Zatanna looked around experimentally for someone that looked like they knew where they belonged but couldn’t find any and so with a shrug she went deeper into the bathhouse.

The stonework of the podium served as an aesthetic prelude for the rest of the chamber that opened up into a cavernous space carved out of stone. The smooth stonework of the hallway and the rest of the castle faded into impure darken stone that rose and fell, made up of interspersed sections of smooth stone worn down by countless footsteps and rough cracked surfaces. Zatanna carefully made her way across the stone paths slick with water from the pools that they navigated around. The pools themselves were sparsely populated, a handful of patrons who mostly clustered towards the pools nearer to the bathhouse’s entrance. They paid little mind to Zatanna talking quietly amongst themselves as they enjoyed the water.

Not particularly in the mood for company, Zatanna made her way towards one of the pools towards the rear of the cave. Small and approximately the shape of a lopsided crescent, the pool was tucked away into the back left-hand corner. Stepping behind a privacy screen constructed out of the same floral paper walls, Zatanna began to undress. At first, getting in and out of her stage uniform had been something of a hassle which was made only worse by the fact that she was the one who designed it in the first place. Yet in the four years since then and an innumerable number of fast changes later, the outfit had become more or less a second skin for her and she was able to efficiently and quickly undo the many straps and hooks that held it all together. Gingerly like one would take care of a child, she grouped the clothes together in a small pile and left them on the driest area of rock that she could find.

Tentatively she dipped a toe into the water testing the temperature, Zatanna was aware of how human bathhouses worked in regards to efforts to prevent their inhabitants from boiling alive, but there was no way she could be sure that such establishments in Faerie work along with similar guidelines. Much to her relief though while the water was warmer than she was used to it was not excessively so. The young magician eased herself into the pool of water making sure to keep her head above the water. Sinking downward so that everything above her neck was submerged Zatanna let out a long sigh of relief as muscles that she didn’t even know she had began to loosen from the heat. Closing her eyes she leaned back against the perimeter of the pool resting her arms upon the stone,

She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she was able to properly relax. Between her show’s west coast tour, her father’s death and then everything that came after it had to be at least months. The sense of relief that she was feeling came with its own share of guilt. Zatanna had everything that anyone could have wanted, her name plastered in lights on marquees across the country and yet all she wanted to be was normal. She saw what famous meant, it meant having a father that barely existed, it meant a trapped existence defined by the high walls of your estate, it meant never feeling like you had a family. If Zatanna wanted to she could have lived the life of any rich Gotham socialite, but she had no desire to be the next Bruce Wayne. But no matter how she tried to desperately avoid it fame had managed to entrap her.

Deep in her own contemplation, the magician did not hear footsteps approaching her until a voice asked in an easy southern drawl

“You mind if I join you?”

Causing Zatanna to nearly leap into the air.

Crouching at the edge of the pool was a young woman roughly Zatanna’s age her blue eyes looking down at her inquisitively, a smile across her face as she nestled a hand along the shaved stubble along the back of her head, her sides shaved in an undercut, an uncontrolled puff of white hair cresting her head like a cloud. Her whole appearance screamed more punk rock show in Brooklyn than a royal palace in a parallel dimension: a worn-in pair of converses, black skinny jeans with a rip over the left knee, and a shrunken white crop top with a stylized black raven across the chest, the crop top in turn revealing the pale white skin of her stomach the definition in her abs clearly visible. Zatanna felt a blush coming to her face as her gaze rested on the exposed skin for perhaps a second or two too long.

“Sure?” Zatanna responded after a minute or so delay still caught off guard.

“Thanks” The other woman responded offhandedly before she began to strip.

Zatanna wasn't a prude, a quarter's lifetime of working in show business expunged any faux-pas or taboo that may have existed over nudity, but the blatant disregard that the other woman showed still managed to surprise her. Letting out a sound that generously resembled a squeak, Zatanna quickly spun around facing away from the stranger directing her gaze downward as a discarded bra landed in her periphery. This small display earned an amused laugh from the other woman.

"Aww," She teased "there was much more to stare at then just my abs."

Her comment was followed by a splash as she entered the pool.

Zatanna tentatively turned around just in time to see the stranger burst upward from beneath the water in total disregard to the potential bacteria that could find a home in the warm liquid. She stretched her arms out wide taking in all the warmth that she could manage, a large smile across her face as her eyes closed in bliss.

“My name is Tefé by the way.”

“I’m Zatanna”

“Oh,” the other girl laughed again “I know who you are”

“You know who I am?”

“Z’, it's your first day here and you've already managed to have an audience with the Queenie herself. Everyone knows who you are.”

“Is that why you wanted to join me?”

“Well, I ain't a liar so I’m not going to say I’m not curious” Tefé admitted “and you being cute only helps in that regard.”

“Cute?” Zatanna asked flustered before quickly moving on “I mean, curious what about?”

“Well, the rumor is that you are looking to free the Kingkiller.”

“The Kingkiller...” Zatanna sighed “the way all of you keep on talking about them I can only assume he’s some kind of boogeyman or the Second Coming, maybe both.”

“Wait?” Tefé asked with a cocked brow “Are you telling me you don’t know who the Kingkiller is? Have you been living under a rock or something?”

“Might as well of been considering the number of surprises I’ve had this week.”

“Somebody sounds a little angsty. Well, maybe I can help clear up that angst a little bit.

Once upon a time, all of Faerie was ruled by a cruel king by the name of Oberon. A warrior born and bred he ruled his kingdom like a general would an army demanding complete obedience and respect. But the Fae valued freedom above all else and so conflict between Oberon’s loyalists and those who stood against his rule. And so civil strife as nature tends to will it became civil conflict and soon all of Faerie was plunged into war. A war that would only end once the hired assassin known as the Kingkiller’s cold iron plunged its way into Oberon’s heart.”

“But who would have hired them?”

“Someone is asking the right questions! I had a good feeling that you were going to be a clever one” Tefé proclaimed.

“The most common belief was that it was Titania herself. The Queenie at the time was a neutral party choosing not to align herself with either faction in the squabble, and because of that, she was in a fine position to become a “neutral” party to rule after everything settled back down. So I don’t know about you Z’, but that might just cause a girl to hasten up the process.”

“And then she had him arrested to cover up her tracks!” Zatanna declared

“Elementary, my dear Watson.” Tefé concurred with a grin before leaning in closer to Zatanna “But that still leaves little old me with some questions, particularly what a pretty girl like you needs with a big bad assassin like him.”

“Well...” Zatanna said as she slipped out from around Tefé causing her to have her back against the wall “as you mentioned this Kingkiller is particularly proficient at the whole killing business and my companion and I, need help killing a very particular kind of monster.’

“Ah yes,” Tefé commented “the venerable Doctor Voodoo... so are the two of you an item? Not that I’m judging, he just seems to be a bit of a bore.”

“Ugh of course not!” Zatanna protested shaking her head and in her distraction, Tefé was able to switch their positions around again leaving Zatanna up against the pool’s wall “he’s a family friend and totally not my type.”

“Oh, you have a type?” Tefé prodded curiously

“Of course I do,” Zatanna explained with a wink “Not that I would tell some random stranger I just met though”

“Hmmm, that’s fair.” Tefé admitted with a shrug “Maybe you would be willing to divulge if I helped you?”

“Help with what exactly?”

“The Queenie isn’t going to let you have the Kingkiller,” Tefé explained like it was obvious

“Why? She said she would think about it! And Voodoo said she owed him a favor!”

All the flirtatious energy withdraw from Tefé as her face grew cold. “Because of the living shithole that calls himself Anton Arcane.”

A shiver went down Zatanna spine despite the warmth of the pool as she remembered Arcane’s ember eyes. “Arcane? I mean from what Voodoo has told me he sounds like a total creep but he has no control here right? He’s not the Queen?”

“He has what the Queen wants. The daughter of the late King Oberon and the Queenie’s former lover, the Girl-Traitor Queen Mab of the Court of Dawn is slowly rebuilding her father’s lost army to reclaim a throne that her lover took from her. The gristle of it is that Arcane is promising to create the Queenie an army to crush this rebellion before it can begin in exchange for her patronage, and that army will be constructed using the Kingkiller’s blood as its catalyst.”

“How do you know all of this?” Questioned Zatanna

“Let’s just say that I’ve made it my mission to keep tabs on Arcane.”

Zatanna shook her head “This.. this isn’t good. We came here specifically for the Kingkiller! They are the only one that would be able to help us.”

“Hey don’t be giving up just yet Z’, maybe the two of us could help each other out?”

Zatanna looked up at Tefé smiling face “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Tefé explained swimming in closer so that their noses were mere inches from brushing against one another, as she looked Zatanna earnestly in the eyes. “I know where they are keeping him and I don’t particularly want Arcane securing such a powerful ally as the Queen. So while most of the staff is attending the needs of the court at dinner, the two of us can stage a little jailbreak in fairyland. What do you say?”

Zatanna didn't even need to think about it.

“I’m in.”

What Are You Listening To?

Hex's Repository For Things Lost and Now Found.

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

W A R B I R D

---

^{_{C A R O L D A N V E R S ♦ S U P E R H E R O ♦ W A S H I N G T O N D. C ♦ T H E U N I T E D S T A T E S
O F A M E R I C A}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:

---

^{My country, right or wrong; if right, to be kept right; and if wrong, to be set right. - Carl Schurz}

---

The world of today is different from what it once was, new threats and dangers challenge the old order of things. The dawning of the new millennium has shown that the United States of America once defined by its stalwart impregnability can bleed. A bleeding that has only been worsened by the continued arrival of metahumans and other 'powered individuals'. This new existential threat to the country having been clearly shown in the recent tragedies in Star City and New York. The damage to both innocent lives and property endured in this devastating attack on the American people has confirmed earlier suspicions by the Department of Defense that America must have a readied response to these new types of potentially catastrophic threats. These fears would lead to the formation of the Department of Extranormal Affairs headed by King Faraday. It was then quickly decided that the Department would need a face for the common people to rally behind. With Wonder Woman's loyalty being questioned more and more each day, and Captain America swallowed into Nick Fury's shadow games, it was felt that America needed someone new to hold up the virtues of Truth, Justice, and the American Way.

Luckily for the USA they already had an ace up their sleeve.

Carol Susan Jane Danvers was born in Boston, Massachusetts to working-class parents, Joe and Marie, and had two brothers, Joe Jr. and Steve. Succeeding both academically and athletically in her younger years, Carol gained admittance to the United States Air Force Academy in Colorado, Springs, Colorado. As her time in the Academy ended, she was tapped to undergo further training to prepare her for operations underneath the banner of the Air Force Special Operations Command (AFSOC). Predictably Carol would excel in her time in the special forces, she would earn high praise from her commanding officers, as well as numerous commendations including the Air Force Cross. It would be her continued gallant actions and her time and time again commitment to the cause that would lead her to being tapped for EXCELSIOR.

Project EXCELSIOR began soon after the end of the Second World War as an attempt to create an improved Super Soldier Serum. Due to budget restraints and bureaucratic red tape, EXCELSIOR would be canned, and the project would all but be forgotten until a decade ago. Everything changed when a Kree scout ship would crash in the New Mexico Desert; ironically enough it was the Corpse recovered in the crash that would breathe new life into EXCELSIOR. Gone now was the old plan of simply making a stronger Super Soldier Serum, instead using cutting edge genetic engineering technology they would splice together Kree and Human DNA to create the perfect mixture of both species’ strengths.

Carol was the 23rd EXCELSIOR test subject and thus given the designation of Subject - W. But where the others had failed, Carol's DNA took to the gene splicing exceptionally well. The two divergent helixes would merge together to create something entirely new. The DoD immediately saw the potentiality of Carol's powers and soon Carol would be shifted back under the oversee of United States Special Operations Command under a new codename - Warbird. Not wanting too much information to be leaked about their new weapon, SOCOM would use Carol sparingly and only in the direst of situations usually rescuing other operators that otherwise couldn't be saved.

But now Carol's time in the shadows was over. Transferred out from underneath SOCOM and under the jurisdiction of her new boss King Faraday. It was something that Carol welcomed with eager arms ready to take a more proactive role with the powers that she had been granted. And with the Department of Extranormal Affairs first press conference scheduled, it would only be a matter of time until the whole world knew Carol's name.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:

---

^{“By stressing that the identity of a democratic political community hinges on the possibility of drawing a frontier between 'us' and 'them', Schmitt highlights the fact that democracy always entails relations of Inclusion & Exclusion.” - Chantal Mouffe - The Democratic Paradox}

---

Without mincing words too much the story I currently have outlined is very politically charged, as at its heart it is fundamentally the story of the failure of the Western democratic model. A model built on the promise of ensuring the rights of all its citizens but having never really been able to do so. A model that has propped up and supported increasingly authoritarian systems of governance supported by its most fundamental framework of inclusion and exclusion. The plot, I currently have outlined attempts at least in part to explore not only these broader ideas but the underlying themes of fear, hate, displacement, and the "other". For a point of reference thematically it is much closer to a House of Cards style show than a West Wing style show.

Carol then, serves as the perfect character to use to explore these narratives. In many ways, she represents the strange juxtaposition of ideals and values that can form in distinctly non-homogeneous place such as the USA. On one hand, she matches even the Cap himself in her belief in the American experiment. On the other hand, she is everything that same exact experiment seems to despise: a woman, LGBTI+, and in the Absolute Verse she falls under the category of Extranormal. And so, there is an unmistakable tension there in her character, which will serve primarily as the central tension of the story going forward. A tension that will only increase as Carol rather than rejecting the establishment outright as some might do, instead chooses to take up the herculean task of trying to make real change from the inside.

Beyond flexing my creative muscles with a tale about the moral gray on gray of the modern nation state, Carol also provides with me an opportunity that Zatanna's story did not - collaboration. Carol's position as the "face " of the Department of Extranormal Affairs will hopefully allow me to be much more open and active with collaboration and just helping expand the wider world further.

All in all, this is a story I’ve been thinking about for some time now, and I’m excited to have the potential opportunity to share it with you all.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

^{"Order, is a kind of compulsion to repeat which, when a regulation has been laid down once and for all, decides when, where, and how a thing shall be done, so that in every similar circumstance one is spared hesitation and indecision." Sigmund Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents}

---

• Carol will be wearing her more modern Captain Marvel style suit, because aesthetically I feel it fits better with where she is coming from and what she is doing in this story.
• Putting my money where my mouth is, I will be listing a supporting cast below, but there inclusion here no way, shape or form means that I'm claiming complete ownership over them the only thing I ask is please consult me before you do anything life changing with characters marked with a Δ.

---

▼ Department of Extranormal Affairs ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Δ King Faraday - - - ◼ General Samuel Lane - - - - ◼ Δ Jessica Drew - - - - - ◼ Jimmy Woo - - - - - ◼ Avril Kincaid	- - - - - - -

▼ Enemies of the State ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Δ Karla Sofen / Moonstone - - - ◼ Δ Robert Hunter / Nitro - - - ◼ Albrecht Krieger	--

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

^{"By this I mean a number of phenomena that seem to me to be quite significant, namely, the set of mechanisms through which the basic biological features of the human species became the object of a political strategy, of a general strategy of power, or, in other words, how, starting from the 18th century, modern Western societies took on board the fundamental biological fact that human beings are a species. This is what I have called biopower." - Michel Foucault, Security, Territory, Population}

---

Prologue

1401-1409 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Willard Hotel, Washington D.C | Four Hours Ago

---

^{Blast Radius|Prologue}

0

A buzz of activity hung in the air around 1401–1409 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, as a pack of journalists made their way into the Willard Hotel. All the big names were there: Times, Post, WHiH, Planet anyone that was anyone was sending somebody to the press conference held by the Department of Extranormal Affairs. The government's newest department was creating a significant amount of noise on the political circuit. The cynics amongst them were eagerly anticipating new blood to grease the gears, expecting similar controversies to that of Homeland Security, the last department created in response to an attack on American soil. Others were just curious to see what Extranormal Affairs purpose was going to be. The Extranormal Affairs Bill which give the department life followed very typical political mannerisms in that it said a lot while saying very little at all.

This air of anticipation was only intensified by the lack of information following the bill's passing. Little was made public about the hiring and staffing of this new department with only a few key roles being disclosed. The names that were released predominantly included former members of the military and intelligence communities. Among those drawing several raised brows being the inclusion of one General Samuel Lane, an old warhawk that made his name during the War in Iraq and being one of the main playmakers in the United States more proactive counterterrorism policy. With members such as Lane, it didn't take long for the conspiracies to begin to form about a militant wing of the government seizing power. This chatter only increased in volume when it was announced King Faraday, a relative nobody when it came to public politics, but someone with many ties with Langley and the broader Intelligence community, was tapped to serve as the department's inaugural secretary.

The shakers and movers in the Department of Extranormal Affairs seemed to be playing into this aura of mystique. Where the traditional way of communicating to the journalistic community may have been a courtesy phone call or email, the details surrounding the press conference came much more traditionally. The selected editors in chief finding a spotless white envelope on their desks closed with a wax seal carrying the department's crest. Only two dozen of these letters were sent out in total, the rest having to watch the live television broadcast like everyone else.

The lucky two dozen were ushered from the Willard's lobby to a second-floor conference room. The room was spartan in its layout, at the back a table with miniature bottled water, cups filled with precision cut spears of carrots and celery, and a small selection of patriotic themed baked goods. Beyond the table was the camera equipment being used for the press conference. A small film crew worked to get rigs set up, microphones ready, and gaff tape on the ground. They were following the directions of an arthouse documentary filmmaker who had made a minor wave at Cannes the year before for her documentary on Seoul's grassroots punk rock scene. Her presence another oddity replacing a veteran C-SPAN crew that would traditionally be taking on a conference like this. The journalists filtered pass the film crew and towards the front of the room where a few rows of chairs and a lectern was set up.

As the press moved to take their seats, Agent Woo counted heads with an analogue clicker as his partner checked passes. Dressed in a finely tailored black suit with matching tie and sunglasses, Woo played the role of government spook like he was born into it. Having served with the South LA County Violent Crimes Task Force for the better part of a decade, before spending time teaching at the Macau Security Forces Training College to get back in touch with his roots. He dropped the grade book and picked up the badge again when Faraday had finally cashed in an old favor. Woo would never tell his wife, but it felt good to be back in the field.

As the number on his clicker moved closer to the magic number he leaned into his arm to cough. As he leaned in closer, he whispered into a receiver that was clipped to the lapel of his suit jacket.

"This is Fisher to Kasparov, only a few stragglers left."

"Understood, be with you shortly Fisher." King Faraday replied.

He sat in an adjoining room as he tapped the ashes of his cigarette into the soil of a windowsill planter. Faraday wore the same navy-blue suit that he had been wearing for the past thirty years. The old intelligence operator was shameless to admit he did not own a suit in any other color. It came from some old kernel of wisdom he had picked up from his grandfather years ago - "King, my boy" he would say, "suits are like women. When you find one that fits stick with it." The hand spun Italian linen wasn't necessarily the kindest to his wallet, but it breathed easily and didn't restrict his movement.

King lounging there in his chair as he took another drag from his cigarette was the complete antithesis of Carol.

Carol Danvers stood in front of a mirror straightening out her medals for the fifteenth time as she practiced smiling. It was ridiculous really, she could storm an entrenched enemy position no problem, fly a million-dollar tin can with rockets strapped to it breaking the sound barrier, but she couldn't smile. Each attempt only managing to push her further and further into demented serial killer territory. And it wasn't like this was a new struggle that she was dealing with, her parents had an entire school yearbook that said otherwise. When she was little, her mother always told her to just think of something funny in her head, but how could you laugh at your own jokes?

As the blonde-haired woman gave out a defeated sigh, Faraday piped up from his chair.

"Loosen up Danvers, you look like somebody just shot your dog."

"Easy for you to say, you aren't the main event."

King stood up grinding the butt of his cigarette into the planter. He had the rigid locked-in perfect posture of a career military man; his 6'1" stature giving him roughly three solid inches over Carol. Despite being on the far side of fifty, King managed to fill out his suit quite nicely, he adhered to a strict physical fitness regimen to combat any ill effects that his advanced age and lifetime pack-a-day habit may have brought. As he walked over to the mirror were Carol stood, he licked two fingers and flattened out an unruly strand of white hair.

"Danvers, I spent years using media to influence foreign elections to suit our great country's many interests. And in that time, if I learned anything it's that the media loves a good story."

"So what? I love cake but I still know when I'm eating a shitty one."

"Well good thing we aren't feeding them cake then. And even if we were, any cake will taste good after being starved for weeks. We've been denying them any information for weeks and now they are just begging for any little morsel we may dish out. Trust me Danvers everyone in this country is going to know who you are by the end of the day."

Yeah as that girl who can't even smile right Carol thought to herself as she followed Faraday out of the room and into the hallway.

King straightened his tie before entering the conference room. He gave a small wave as the clicking of cameras filled the air like rain rolling off a roof. He walked towards the lectern at a controlled pace, giving the cameras all the time, they needed to track his movements. Despite being a spook for most of his life, Faraday navigated the crowd like he was a movie star. From his first step he made it clear that he was in command here and everyone else was just along for the ride.

As he got to the lectern, he made a show of pulling a piece of paper from his suit pocket. It was a piece of loose leaf, the edges off kilter in a way that suggested he had just torn it out of a notebook moment prior. It echoed another man called King, who finished his "I Have A Dream" speech in the Willard's lobby several decades prior. Of course, in King's case, the paper was blank, an artist hired to rip, wrinkle, and fold it in such a way that created the most aesthetically pleasing mimicry of frantic energy that money could buy. Another prop in the carefully planned show that was unfolding in front of a nation's eyes.

Clearing his throat Faraday began to address a waiting populace.

"Thank you, members of the press, for joining me here today, as well as all of you at home watching this live. Today is a monumental day in the history of our great nation, because today I get to introduce to you the future of American security & safety. Before we begin, I believe introductions are in order, my name is King Faraday and I will be serving as your newly appointed Secretary of Extranormal Affairs.

What is Extranormal Affairs you may be asking? All of you, I assume are painfully familiar with the attacks the befell New York and Star City. I will be frank with all of you, we were unprepared, and we paid the price. The Department of Extranormal Affairs was created to ensure that we are never unprepared again. By committing to developing our state of readiness and enabling proactive measures against potential threats we, will ensure that no Extranormal threat is able to devastate our people in such a way again.

But our mission isn’t just preventative, it is also about building bridges. The only way our new department's mission will ever come to pass is through the aid of those among us that possess abilities and understanding far beyond our own. As many of you undoubtedly know it was many of these exact kinds of individuals that at the end of the day were essential in stopping the attack on two of our greatest cities. And so, it is our intent to foster dialogue and communication between the everyday citizen and these remarkable individuals. For it is the belief of myself and the entire department that we will work better together.

To that end, I would like to introduce you to a very special individual. Many of the bravest members of our armed forces community know her personally and those that don’t, know someone that was saved by her. She is one of our own having graduated near the top of her class at Colorado Springs and afterwards serving with Air Force Special Operations Command with distinction for several years. And yet she is also unlike us with abilities that most of us could only ever dream of. In this way she has a foot firmly planted on each side of the divide, and if our mission goes according to plan, will help erase that divide from our vernacular completely. When she is on mission, we call her Warbird, but today I will introduce her to you under a different name. Without further delay, it is my pleasure to introduce you all to Ms. Carol Danvers.”

The woman of the hour closed her eyes and exhaled as she tried to expel the tingling sensation which was causing her lungs to seize up. Standing in the hallway by the same door that King had entered moments earlier, she half-listened to Faraday. She had heard the newly christened secretary give the speech at least seven times during their car trip to the hotel. The words were already solidified, but each variation he would change his dictation and inflection in subtle ways. The meticulous way in which he hung on each word reminding Carol of an old fling who worked at the Smithsonian telling her why the old renaissance masters marble sculptors were so impressive, it was because they were about subtraction. Painting she told her was about addition and so wayward mistakes were easier to fix, but sculptor was about subtracting and that was permanent. That’s how the white-haired man went over his speech, the subtle cutting away at particular pauses and moments of emphasis to give a new angle that would reshape the work.

The words all too familiar at this point, she waited absentmindedly for her cue. Most of her attention was drawn towards wrestling with the other thoughts that were racing through her head. The primary one was that she didn’t give her parents a courtesy call before the conference went down. None of her family knew about the whole “super powered government” agent deal, they just knew that she did work for the Government that she wasn’t able to talk about. The first that they would be hearing about any of it was going to be with the rest of the country. Carol could only imagine the angry string of text messages and voicemails that her mother was going to send her way. Her father would try to do damage control of course, but being an undercover superhero was a lot bigger than hiding a rescued stray cat in your bedroom for a month, and when Marie found out about Apollo, Frank had only managed to reduce her sentence to one long month of nothing but chores, homework and sleep. And now the Danvers’ matriarch babied old Apollo like he was her long-lost child or something.

Was it okay to feel nervous about your entire way of life changing? Since her last day at the Academy life had become at least partially defined by the bureaucratic masquerade. A system of security clearances, long established cover stories, and the type of lies that after a while just ended up becoming fact. A structure of organized hoops and dotted lines to at least create the facade that somewhere in the chain of command that someone knew what they were doing. After all, if the public even understood half of the uncertainty that went with protecting and securing the interests of the world’s biggest superpower, Danvers was sure they would wonder where all that money for drones and the NSA was going. But now in a way, Carol was being liberated from that structure, though if she was being honest, it felt less like being freed of something and more like being pushed out of the nest.

Though if that was the case, she only had herself to blame. She was given ample opportunity to turn the offer down and the DoD would have been more than happy to keep her for themselves. She couldn’t though, Danvers wouldn’t have necessarily described herself as religious despite growing up in a family of self-identifying Ulster Protestants, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that doing this was what she was put on the Earth to do. She believed tremendously in the Department of Extranormal Affairs intended message of collaboration and acceptance. A fundamental idea that at the end of the day you were always better trying to build a bridge than burn one. It was a simple choose to her really, it didn’t take more than a casual observation of any playground brawl at the local school, violence always ended up breeding more violence. Healing only was able to happen once you put the swords down. It was time for Carol to put those beliefs to test, to make them more than just moral philosophizing done in the dead of night to bring her own demons to rest. And that all started now.

“…it is my pleasure to introduce you all to Ms. Carol Danvers.”

There was a moment before Danvers had entered the room, while Faraday pivoted his torso and extended his arm to greet her that their gazes met. In that brief fraction of a moment as the perfect blue of the sky collided with the deep earthen gray all that needed to be said was. A playwright from England once said that all the world was a stage and now for just a few minutes that stage was going to belong to Carol. She nodded her head in affirmation, smacking a palm across her right shoulder to get the blood pumping again and then she stepped in from the hallway.

The blonde-haired woman had to fight the urge to block the flashes from the cameras. The rapid fire clicking that preceded each shot sending an involuntary shiver down Carol’s back as they sounded eerily like the punctuated staccato firing of a machine gun emplacement. There was no moment of reprieve as each barrage of flashes followed closely on the heels of the last volley. Somehow though, despite the efforts to seemingly blind her, Danvers was able to make it to the podium.

Standing there she felt like a specimen on display. Bright lights from either corner of the room brought in by the film crew were centered on the podium radiating heat like two miniaturized suns. As sweat began to build on her brow, Carol looked out onto the crowd but only found shadows looking back at her as the lights swallowed any significant detail from their facial features. The conditions were at least vaguely familiar to her, having been cast as the corn stalk in her preschool thanksgiving play, but they were still unwelcome. The world watched on in a stretched out and agonized silence, as Carol took a few seconds too long to get adjusted. The ease and command that her boss exerted moments earlier replaced with an awkward anticipation. Gripping the edges of the podium, she forced out a slow and shaky breath as she looked down at the podium, King’s artisanally disheveled paper still sitting where he placed it. As she exhaled, she looked back up at the journalists and too nervous to think about it, Carol produced the easiest smile in her entire life.

“Sorry,” She started out “it’s a little bright up here.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment as the blonde fought the urge to sprint out of the room. Thankfully, one of the journalist’s chuckled and a few others followed. Carol wasn’t sure if the journalist was laughing at her or with her, but in the moment, she didn’t care either way. The laugh dissipated the tension in the room, as Carol could feel the heavy knot in her chest start to loosen. Flickering her eyes quickly to her left, she caught Faraday stone-faced and standing to one side, but ever so slightly he nodded his head in approval and confirmation to continue. Having caught her own momentum and unwilling to let it go again, Carol practically jumped to the next comment.

“My name is Carol Danvers, but I guess you all know that already don’t you? I am a superhero and I will be working with the Department of Extranormal Affairs to bring back a sense of normality, to allow our great country to heal the wounds that have been unjustly placed upon it. And it is my hope, that along the way, I can inspire some of you to do the same…”

The script that a gaggle of speechwriters had worked hours on painstakingly crafting for her had gone straight out the windows. The words became muddle and key points lost in the haze of the moment unable to find purchase upon her tongue as she spoke. Despite going off the range the journalists seemed to respond well to her comments as she reinforced many of the same talking points that Faraday had hit on previously. Her primary focus being on a message of unity and community building rather than the disciplinary side of Extranormal Affair. Hopeful in tone and assertive in her convictions, through the course of her speech citizens of not only the nation, but the world watched as Carol slowly came into her own. And at the end she gave an even bigger smile than before as she looked out into the crowd.

“Any questions?”

A forest of hands sprouted from the seats as the eager journalists all began to try and get Carol’s attention. Peering into the crowd, she picked a hand jutting outward from somewhere in the middle. The lights still made it hard for Carol to get a look, the journalist’s face still covered in shadow. Though as she peered forward Danvers was able to pick up on two details: The first was the man’s long white hair pulled up into a tight ponytail; the other was the slightest glimpse of the man’s eyes. It was the eyes that made Carol freeze, she’d seen those eyes on only two kinds of people before: those that were about to kill themselves and those that were about to kill somebody else. The blonde could hear the smile on his voice as he spoke, his voice distinctly light and velvet smooth, like a cold glass of water on a hot summer’s day.

“Have you ever seen a man explode Ms. Danvers?”

Time slowed down to a crawl around Carol as her human/kree adrenaline gland kicked into overdrive as her “sixth sense” kicked in. She watched as the white-haired man’s skin began to crack and flake away as pulsating red energy poured through rapidly forming cracks and fissures. Her options were limited, if she broke the sound barrier she was at risk of permeant deafening the people with less than superhuman eardrums, the bomber had intentionally positioned himself in a location where she also couldn’t safely let off an energy blast without hurting the other journalist. The only real option she had was trying to absorb whatever energy that the man was about to release. And so, she moved.

In the blink of an eye, Danvers vaulted over the lectern and bolted forward like a bullet through the air. She outstretched her right hand and gritted her teeth as she flew directly at the “journalist”. The last she saw of his face was a haunting wild grin before it vanished consumed by the red energy. As the man combusted and the energy rocketed outwards Carol attempted to absorb it. Like smoke being pulled into a funnel the energy pulled towards her. She could feel it begin to course through her veins, but the energy was too much for her to handle, it felt like liquid metal coursing through her body and she couldn’t hold on. The explosion spilled back outwards filling the space as it went, and the last thing Carol saw before the darkness took her was an angry wall of red as she felt the heat and heard the screams.

The world, through the lenses of one of the still functioning television cameras, watched in horror as there was a bright flash followed by heavy smoke. And in the middle of that smoke there was a newly reformed figure who emerged from his cloud of death. The white-haired man’s hair was no longer in a ponytail and he was now wearing something closer to a skintight jumpsuit, but the manic grin still clung to his face as his eyes were bright with bloodlust. He stalked up to the camera slowly and with inhuman strength yanked it up and into his hands so that the whole world could see his face.

“The meek shall inherit the Earth no longer.”

And with that he threw the camera to the ground; as the picture faded into static, he to faded into the smoke.

_{Prologue End}

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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^{"The fact that man is capable of action means that the unexpected can be expected from him, that he is able to perform what is infinitely improbable. And this again is possible only because each man is unique, so that with each birth something uniquely new comes into the world" - Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition}

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