@Stein I'm not overly familiar with the characters but should be fine. I can't see that stepping in anyone's toes.
<Snipped quote by Dead Cruiser>
Yes. I am amazing.
And, sorry to say, but all of Starfire's family, gender-bent or not, would be off-limits.
@Lord Wraith Okay, so a limit of 1-2 "headliners" as it were. So I could theoretically play Midnighter & Apollo if I felt so inclined.
Did you have a preference between Midnighter and Darkfire before I start on an app?
I must have missed that skimming over the character list. Jeeze, someone claimed all of the Titans? I thought there was a 1-2 character limit.
Actually I was basically planning to play Ryand'r so it shouldn't be a big deal. Could join the Guardians as a stand-in for the Omega Men.
“That’s not the suit that I asked you to alter.”
The air rushed by. The reverberation of the motorcycle radiated through the doll’s body, filling the night with a dull roar. The bike was a modified 1971 Triumph Daytona that had originally been used by Bruce Wayne as part of a publicity stunt, before it had been passed to Dick for use when he’d become a teen. The blue paint was factory, with the only emblematic addition being a muted Robin ‘R’ symbol.
The so-called Robin Cycle had been sitting inside one of the safehouses that had functioned as one of the many fallbacks to the Bat-Cave that were strategically placed in the event that Bruce had to shift operations. Converted from an old warehouse, it was owned by a dummy company that was tangentially connected to one of the Wayne Group businesses. Dick had used it as his headquarters when he’d first arrived in Bludhaven, before buying and converting the apartment over.
Amazingly, slapping in a new battery and putting some gas into the engine had worked. When this was over, Dick was probably going to have to replace the plugs and hoses if this kept up however.
His comment, of course, was not directed at the bike so much as it was the current operator. A short cape fluttering in the wind behind the small driver. While flashes of yellow marked the underside of the cape, the predominant color was black. The short sleeves, the trunks, the gloves, and the boots were all black. Gone was any hint of green. The yellow was significantly downplayed, relegated now only to the R symbol and the underside of the cape. The body and legs were both red, but a far more muted tone than the bright colors that Dick had sported.
“If I had to guess, based on the color scheme and quality of the polyester fibers, then I would say that the previous Robin suit was designed in the late Nineteen Sixties,” Toyboy remarked, quite astutely delivering a proverbial slap across Dick’s ear drums.
Unlike Dick, Toyboy’s vision was inhuman. The lighting had been removed from the motorcycle, as the dark shadow shot down Interstate-12 in completely blacked out conditions. On this part of the interstate, the traffic was light. By the time anyone thought that they saw something, the bike was already vanishing back into the darkness. This ensemble is much more durable and appropriate to the post-modern child superhero,” the doll added, easing back on the throttle of the motorcycle as he approached the turn. Sliding into neutral, the android boy allowed the bike’s speed to bleed away before neatly executing the turn from off the asphalt onto the dirt county road. “The use of black is apparently associated with something that the internet identified as ‘edgelord’,” the Toy Wonder remarked candidly, noting, “This is reportedly a popular trait with tweens.”
If it was possible, Toyboy could hear the facepalm through the Bluetooth earpiece that was clipped to the side of his head. “Popularity with the eight to fourteen crowd wasn’t exactly what I was going for when I was Robin.”
Sliding the bike into third gear, the doll rocked the throttle as the motorcycle underneath him gave a dull roar while the tires bit into the dirt. “Perhaps a reason why the identity has failed to attract a successor in recent times,”
The single lamp in the room, responsible for providing the bulk of illumination, was snuffed out like a candle. The windows closed shut. The curtains billowed inwards as the shadows began darkening into a black fog that was swallowing whatever it touched.
“ Having a bad day, Shocker?”
Black rivers began pouring out of the shadows, forming a puddle in the middle of his floor. A featureless hand gushed out of the puddle, grabbing onto the edges between shadow and wood as something or someone hoisted themselves out. The black penumbra of darkness shifted and hardened into a form of a man with indistinguishable features, aside from a matching set of leather pants and vest. A pair of milky white pupiless eyes glared at him from the darkness that seem to choke the light out of his apartment room. Inwardly, it thought it was an overly dramatic entrance but he wouldn’t dare say that out loud to the Master of Shadows, Ebon.
“ I thought you said you’d handle it. Static. Dead. Nothing for me to worry about. ”
“ It’s a process, Ebon,” He picked up his welding mask off the floor. “ Breaking his arm was the first step. Next time, we meet. It’ll be our last.”
“ Well, Lightning Junior managed to molotov you even when you had him on the ropes.”
He turned around trembling, angrily staring at Ebon’s cold stare. The damned bastard was currently leaning back on his own couch, relaxing in his room like he’d owned every place he ever walked in.
“ Why don’t you do it yourself, then?”
Surprisingly, Ebon didn’t look like he took any offense to the question. The shadow meta merely tilted his head mockingly, looking at him like he was a child. He stood up and began to pace around the room, hands behind his back as he began recite a rehearsed speech.
“ I could, but ensuring the safety of our turf is the number one priority of my gang. I’ve learned from the gangs of the past that you don’t off someone with no planning. This requires grace. Precision. The will to see something through.” Ebon stared at him pointedly. “ There’s also the fact that killing a fellow Bang Baby would only make people question my position as leader. The Meta-Breed doesn’t kill fellow metahumans after all. We seek to promote the rights of metahumans within this city. As soon as that betrayer, Static, is out of the picture.”
He snorted. “ So, you’re making me take the fall? I thought we were partners.”
Suddenly, the shadows rushed out towards him, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him up in the air. “ We’re not partners. You can’t be part of the Meta-Breed if you’re not a metahuman.”
Shadowy shackles gripped around his arms and legs as he was forced head-first into whatever dimension Ebon inhabited. It was a whirling dense penumbra that swallowed all white and so black that it could set shadows on shadows itself.All sensation was driven from his body as he rode through nothingness for a while, screams pouring out from his mouth but no sound to make of it. Eventually, he exited the dimension. A sign of relief escaped his lips, only to notice the faint whistling of wind in his ear.
He was falling.
“ HOLY SHHIIIIIIITTTTT -”
His legs and arms were flapping uselessly in the wind. He could hear his heart thumping, his brain calculating the time it would take for him to crash to the -
A portal formed in the midst of his free-fall, sending him crashing back into the sofa of his apartment. He groaned as Ebon stood over him, arms crossed.
“ See the difference? You’re missing the meta part, Buchinsky. Without your fancy tech, you’re nothing. Remember your place and do your job. You’ll get your pay fair and square at the end. If I don’t see the Kilowatt Kid’s head on a platter in the next two days,.....”
Ebon forced Larry Buchinsky’s head to look into his emotionless gaze
”..... you better start watching your shadows closely.”
Silence surrounded the God of Thunder. He wasn't sure whether he was alive or dead. Considering what was happening the last time he remembered having thoughts, dead was the most likely answer. Still, being dead would be a welcomed respite to Ragnarok. So much fire, noise, and death had consumed him there. Even to a legendary warrior like himself it was nearly too much to bear.
Through the void he remembered the sight of Surtur standing as tall as a mountain, towering above Asgard. He could feel it when the demon plunged his fiery sword into the heart of his home, ending it in the blink of an eye. Around Thor his friends and family fought valiantly against the invading hordes, but it was all for not. They were not prepared. Ragnarok was not to come for years, yet it had happened just that day.
The faces of the dead floated through his consciousness. The Warriors Three laid hewn on the steps of the palace. Lady Sif slumped over in his arms. His father Odin yelled defiantly as Sutur's blade pierced through the skin of Asgard and into its heart. The Allfather was consumed by blinding light as Asgard was obliterated.
And Loki...Loki was in the great library when the attack came. It was where Sutur's hordes breached the wall. Thor knew his brother had perished, even if he did not see the body himself. While he and Loki had often not seen eye-to-eye, often leading to some prolific clashes, he was still Thor's brother. He was still family.
Now he was gone. All of them were gone.
And I think I'll use Dru-Zod and have him be somewhere between Lawful Neutral and Neutral Good