Morden Man

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

| Identity |
Carol Danvers, better known to the universe as Green Lantern of Sector 2814.

| Origin & Backstory |

Carol Danvers was an accident. Seventeen years after Joseph and Marie Danvers had their first child, Joseph Danvers Jr., Marie fell pregnant for the second time and given their traditional background abortion wasn’t an option. Joseph Danvers was a contractor and young “Joe” had followed his father into the trade whilst he prepared for college and a hopefully a future career in architecture. Joe was the apple of his father’s eye. Hard working, generous, funny, and popular with the girls to boot. That’s why it struck Carol’s father so hard when, barely six months into Marie’s pregnancy, Joe was taken from them in an automobile accident. Driving back from a friend’s house one night a drink-driver had crashed into Joe’s car and killed him on impact. In that instance he had stripped the Danvers household of any and all the joy it had once had and set the tone for the as of yet unborn Carol’s life.

Carol’s childhood was loveless and cold. Her father had been an affectionate man by nature before Joe’s death but not even Carol’s first steps or her first word could provide him with more than a superficial happiness. Joseph took to the bottle early and often to dull the pain he felt about his son’s passing and the family contracting business went broke. Despite her father’s spiraling alcoholism his wife stood by him and Carol endeavored endlessly to earn his approval at every turn. She pushed herself academically and physically to prove herself worth of her father’s affections but no matter how hard she tried, no matter what she achieved, in Joseph’s eyes she would always be a distant second to the son he’d buried.

When it came time for Carol to leave for college her parents forbade Carol from leaving. The insurance money from Joe’s death had been all but burned through and her father was in such a state that he couldn’t support himself or pay Carol’s way through college. Reluctantly Carol stayed, convinced it would have been what Joe would have done, and tended bar around Boston to support her parents. Everyone in Boston knew old Joseph Danvers, they knew who he’d been once and what had happened, and they knew what he’d become. A drunk, one that staggered into the bars that Carol worked to demand free alcohol and embarrassed his daughter at every turn. Once the smartest girl at her high school, Carol worried she’d waste her life away toiling after her father’s approval and paying down her parents’ debts.

Then the Towers came down. Suddenly everything that had come before it felt meaningless. Her sense of duty and obligation to her family dissolved was displaced only with a sense of duty towards her country and the freedoms it provided her with. She gave what money she had managed to save to her mother in the hopes it would be enough to tide her parents over and signed up for the Air Force. In doing so she hoped that finally her parents, her father especially, might see she was her brother’s equal, his better even, and treat her with the regard that she deserved.

It didn’t take long for Carol to make a name for herself in the Air Force. She would regularly out pace the men on endurance tests and she was a better pilot than all of them, much to their chagrin. So when she was called up for action in Iraq it came as little surprise to her or the other recruits. She’d been ready the second she had walked through the door and had aced every simulation and test she had been put through. The real deal however would turn out to be something completely different. On only her second run Danvers was shot out of the sky by hostile fire and somehow managed to survive the crash though not without great cost.

Carol’s legs were amputated. Her left beneath the knee and her right slightly above, and she sustained heavy burns to her thighs and some of her torso. She returned to Boston, hailed by most to be a hero, but was met with cold indifference from her father who considered her injuries an inevitable consequence of her misguided foray into the Air Force. A dejected Carol broke contact from her father once and for all and recognized that his approval would never be hers and that she didn’t need it anymore. Carol found her own place in Boston and set about trying to figure out what to do with the rest of her life.

Luckily for her, Abin Sur’s crash landing on Earth took that decision out of her hands.

| Attributes |

Carol is a Green Lantern. Everything that comes with being a Green Lantern: constructs powered by the ring-holder’s willpower, the ability to create force fields, flight. You name it, the ring can probably do it. Where once Carol relied on prosthetic legs to get around she now uses her Green Lantern ring to construct prosthetics that are infinitely more comfortable for her to walk on, though she is careful about her use of them.

Carol is also an incredibly proficient and well-decorated pilot.

| Character Notes |

She works out of Boston. Was friends with James Rhodes and Nathaniel Adams in the Air Force and potentially Hal Jordan should the need ever arise/someone wish to play him. As of the IC thread, Carol will have been a Green Lantern for a short period of time and Sinestro will have assumed mentorship of her, having seen her potential to be a great Green Lantern. I do not intend to get into the different coloured/emotion Corps if only because I'd like to be involved in the game as opposed to being a self-contained corner of it. Also and most importantly Carol's disabilities are tertiary to her character and hopefully I can write her without them or her gender being defining qualities.

| Character Goals |

I definitely have something of an arc in mind for Carol in terms of her progression through the Green Lantern Corps, her relationships with other Green Lanterns, and her personal life. I want to establish the Green Lantern Corps as a thing pretty early on and I'll likely start with a (fairly) lengthy solo arc on that and then try to bleed into the wider universe but hopefully Carol the person and Carol the Green Lantern will clearly be characters in their own right.

| References |

#1 - The Pickett County War - Gus vists Renee Hamilton.
#2 - Maximum Comics - Nathaniel Adam and Clint Barton have a drink.
#3 - DC: Gods Amongst Us - Even in the 21st Century, Booster Gold is still a loser.
#4 - Guardians of Infinity - Quill and Howard the Duck spoil a romantic dinner.

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

| Character Goals |
Using the character of Dr. Manhattan and the song ‘The Ballad of Barry Allen’ as inspiration, I intend to play a Barry that’s slowly becoming more and more disconnected with the world around him, getting faster and faster, and as a result, becoming less of a human and more a pure conduit of the Speed Force. I hope to explore how this affects every aspect of his life: his friendships, his marriage, his job, and his heroics. How does he interact with a world too slow to keep up with him?

@GreenGrenade

This sounds like a really cool direction to take The Flash. Given Wally's popularity, people often try to make Barry a Wally pastiche and lighten him up so watching him grow more and more disconnected will be an interesting take.

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

I'm still not sure who to pick up.

I had thought of playing Carol Danvers (Captain Marvel) as a Green Lantern but I'm not sure if there's a way to do that without stepping on the toes of anyone that might want to play Hal, Kyle, or Guy and I'm not sure what I want to do would work with other human GLs knocking around. I've never played a female character before so it would be a welcome departure from form.

I'll think some more on it.

Guardians of Infinity

Bucky Barnes took a glance at his wristwatch with a quiet sigh. In fourteen hours and forty-nine minutes it would be exactly a year to the day that Steve Rogers had been shot dead. Try as Natasha Romanov might to take Bucky’s mind off that fact it was hard for Barnes to think of much else. A single text message to Tony Stark had been enough to earn them a window table at a Manhattan restaurant with a waiting list a yearlong. Bucky had barely touched his food, nudging the slice of salmon around his perfectly square plate impassively, until Natasha finally decided to break through the silence.

“What’s wrong? Is the food not to your liking?”

Bucky shook his head and placed his knife and fork down, now conscious he had been playing with his food. “It’s not that.”

“Ah, the memorial service again.”

Natasha’s voice was a mixture of exasperation and compassion. Since Bucky had learned of the service he’d thought of little else. The pair had spoken about it several times over the past few days, Natasha explaining time and time again why it was unwise for them to attend, but it seemed like his mind was set. He looked up at her, the candlelight flickering in his face as he said as earnestly as he could.

“I have to go, Natasha.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Natasha said with a sympathetic sigh. “Norman Osborn and his so-called Avengers will be there waiting for us to show our faces so they can turn the whole thing into a firefight. There’ll be thousands of people there, hundreds of thousands even, we can’t risk them getting caught in the crossfire. It’s the last thing Steve would have wanted. You know that.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m not asking you to go with me.”

He lent forward in his seat, the flame of the candle flicking against the black of Bucky’s eyes as he spoke, and tried his best to find the words.

“I watched Steve die, Natasha, watched him bleed out on those steps in a pair of handcuffs like a common criminal. I couldn’t lift a finger to help him. And then I had to watch his funeral from a barstool in some Brooklyn dive. Steve, Toro, and Jim Hammond were the closest thing I ever had to a family and now all three of them are gone. I couldn’t save Steve, I was on ice when Toro and Jim died, and now I’m meant to miss my chance to pay my respects to Steve? It’s not going to happen. I’m going, Natasha, one way or another I’m going to be there. Even if it means being led out of there in handcuffs by Norman Osborn at the end of the night.”

Natasha opened her mouth to speak but Bucky interjected with a shake of his head.

“Nothing is going to stop me.”

An awkward silence settle between the two of them. Finally Natasha looked up at her lover and smiled. “Do you feel better now?”

Bucky’s face was red with embarrassment. He hadn’t intended to rant at Natasha but the thought of watching Norman Osborn and his cronies light candles to his friend’s memory whilst he watched on in hiding turned his stomach. He needed to be there. More than that, he needed Natasha to understand why he needed to be there no matter the cost.

“I guess so.”

“It doesn’t seem like I’m going to be able to change your mind,” Natasha said with a shrug. “So we’d better get with Barton and the rest of them to figure out what our play is for tomorrow night. The last thing we need to do is walk into Osborn’s trap unprepared.”

Bucky frowned. “I can do this on my own.”

A defiant smile appeared on Natasha’s face. It was the smile that Bucky had fallen in love when they had met all those years ago.

“Not a chance in hell, Barnes. If you think Luke, Clint, Logan, and Peter are going to stand by and watch you walk in there on your own you've got another thing coming. Steve meant as much to each and everyone one of them as he meant to you. If you're set on going to the service, we're all going. But we're not going to do it half cocked.”

Bucky smiled appreciatively. “Thank you.”

Natasha gestured towards one of the waiters wandering around with her head. “Should I get the cheque?”

“Sure,” Bucky said with a polite nod. “I’m going to the restroom, I won’t be long.”

Barnes stood up from his chair and kissed Natasha on the head gently as he made his way to the restroom. He took a glance back at her as he reached the door and smiled, allowing himself a moment to appreciate how perfect Natasha was, before walking inside. He made his way to the sinks and placed his hands beneath them, wiping his wet hands against his face and running one through his hair with a sigh. For a few moments he looked into his reflection and laid his eyes on the prosthetic arm that Stark had designed to look skin coloured. His metal arm reminded him of who he was before he picked up that shield and all the pain he'd caused. He'd make it up to them. One by one, day by day, he'd prove he was fit to carry the shield.

From behind Bucky there was a flash of light and Bucky looked in the mirror to see a man in a strange mask and a flowing burgundy coat stood staring at him. Beside him stood a duck barely three foot tall in height wearing human clothing.

“What the h…?”

The Pickett County War: A Rural Noir RP

A broad smile appeared on Dante’s face as he spotted Chew Lewis making his way towards him from down the block. It had nearly been a week since they’d exchanged words outside of Club 65 and Dante was beginning to worry about his old friend. When Chew called him that morning he’d been more relieved than he imagined he would be to hear from him again. When Chew asked him to find them a ride and some heat Dante had been ecstatic. He could tell by the sound of Chew’s voice that they were back in business. Whatever it was, whatever Chew needed, Dante was just glad to have Chew back. Not the one that had been talking that workingman shtick for the past couple weeks.

Chew opened the passenger side door to the silver Honda Accord that Dante had stolen that morning and sat down in the passenger seat.

Dante looked round and smiled at him smugly. “I knew it was only a matter of time.”

Without so much as a look in his direction Chew barked back. “Shut up.”

And that was it. No need for some lengthy discussion about things. Dante pulled away from the curb and the two men drove for a time as Chew directed Dante to wherever the hell it was they were headed. They didn’t need to talk much, they’d never needed to, but Dante felt reassured to know they were back on good terms. With anyone else he might have worried that they were carrying a grudge but Dante knew Chew better than that. If Chew had wanted him dead he’d have a hole in his head before he even knew a thing about it. There was a reason the little hoppers around Norman still told stories about Chew-motherfucking-Lewis, after all.

“You were right about that thing with Topher,” Dante said with a smile. “Heard that meet of his with the Dominicans was a fucking massacre.”

From beside him Chew shrugged a little and continued to stare out of the window impassively. “Yeah, well, didn’t taking a fucking rocket scientist to see that one coming. He make it out of there alive?”

All Dante had heard was that the Cubans had been waiting there for them armed to the teeth with AKs and had made mincemeat out of the crew Topher had taken down there. As much as Dante hoped that Topher had got out of there alive, he didn’t think it was very likely, those Cubans didn’t sound like the type to take prisoners. Though he’d been spitting feathers at Chew for walking out that night the doubts he’d placed in Dante’s mind had stopped Dante from signing up for it too. Guess that meant Dante owed him one.

“Fuck if I know, man.”

Finally Chew gestured to Dante to bring the car to a stop and Dante scanned around for a few moments as he tried to figure out what he was meant to be seeing. There was nothing around other than Roland Spencer’s tire place and what possible business Chew could possibly have with him was lost on Dante.

He looked round at Chew to work out why the hell they were there and found his eyes fixed on the glowing neon sign above it. “You going to explain to me why we’re staking out Spencer’s place?”

Chew reached into the pocket of his track pants and threw a balaclava into his lap.

“We need to send a little message.”

About twenty-five questions ran through Dante’s mind but he shrugged and pulled the balaclava over his head instead.

“Alright, can’t believe you worked at a fucking bowling alley when we could have been out here making bank,” Dante smiled. “Doing what we do best. You feel me?”

Chew pulled on his balaclava and stared at Dante, his face deathly serious. “This is a one time thing. Once this is done with I go back to the bowling alley and you do whatever the fuck it is you do, Dante.”

Dante flashed his smug smile and pointed beneath the dash.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that. Heats in the glove compartment.”

Chew gave it a punch and it fell open to reveal the fourth generation Glock 17 that Dante liked to use and a silver Colt 1911. To the best of Dante’s memory Chew had used a Colt before they went inside. It was a touch that his friend seemed to appreciate as he reached down for the Colt and handed Dante his Glock. They sat in the car for a few seconds checking their weapons until both men were satisfied and they left the car behind and began to walk towards Roland’s business.

Antwan could feel his heart beating as they approached it. “This something to do with you going to Alicia’s boy getting shot?”

Chew nodded.

“Something like that.”

*****

Roland Spencer sat in his office staring at the stacks of paperwork that lay on his desk. Get into the tire business they said, there’d be stacks of money in it they said, but no one had told him how much paperwork he’d have to shift through on a nightly basis. Things were hectic enough between Jayson being shot and Antwan staying at his for the past two nights. That he’d spent every day since trying to scale the mountain of never-ending paperwork that wasn’t exactly helping. With that being said, Antwan seemed to be coping with things better than Roland had expected and had even braved going to school. Most importantly he’d stopped talking that nonsense he’d been talking the night Jayson was shot which left Roland’s arrangement with Billy Brown on much surer footing.

Without warning Yolanda Thomas popped her head around through the doorway of Roland’s office, smiling like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “Is it okay if I head home for the night, Mr. Spencer? It’s getting late.”

Roland had only hired her because of the way her curves shook as she walked. Why the hell would a tire business need a receptionist? He hadn’t known at the time that Yolanda had a long-term boyfriend and that piece of news had been particularly unpleasing. Nonetheless she was nice to look at after a long day’s work, even if she did tend to treat Roland like a doddering old man at the best of times.

Roland smiled. “Sure, I can close up here tonight, Yolanda.”

Yolanda thanked him and disappeared from sight. He heard her footsteps echoing out of the showroom and allowed himself a moment to picture her behind as she walked. If she’d give him a chance, Roland would show her he still had some life in his old bones. He had enough at least to see to it that she wouldn’t be able to walk straight once he was done.

Roland laughed to himself a little at the thought and stepped out of the office for a second, mindful of being in the back room with the door unlocked, as he approached the doors he saw two figures appearing out of the darkness approaching him at speed.

One was tall and muscular and clad in black track pants and a white t-shirt. The other was average height with a white dress shirt and cheap black pants on. Both men wore black balaclavas and had weapons trained on Roland before he had a chance to lock the doors and keep them out. The taller of the two men kicked the doors open and they smashed against Roland and knocked him to the ground.

The man in the dress shirt bounded through the open doors and brandished the Glock in his hand at Roland. “Put your fucking hands up.”

Roland felt a trickle of blood from his lip where the force of the doors hitting him had reopened the cut on his lip, he pressed his hand against it slowly, and then looked up at the two men with his hands in the air.

“What’s going on here?”

The tall man strode in and placed his hand on the lapels of Roland’s suit and dragged him away from the entrance and out of sight of anyone that happened to walk past. The ease with which he moved him was terrifying. At least it might have been if anyone but Billy Brown owned this place. One mention of his name and these punks would be gone in a second.

The man in the pants strode forwards and pushed the muzzle of his Glock against Roland’s cheek. “You don’t get to ask questions around here anymore, motherfucker.”

A titter emerged from Spencer’s lips as he thought about what Billy would have done to them once he tracked down whoever these amateurs were.

“You stupid sons of bitches,” Roland said, blood dripping from his lip. “You know who owns this place?”

His laughter seemed to anger the man in the black pants and he brought the butt of his Glock down against the top of Roland’s skull so hard that it almost knocked Roland clean out. There was a burning pain from the top of his head and he could feel the blood trickling down the back of his neck, but he was conscious.

The man in the black pants smiled. “I don’t give a fuck who owns this place.”

From behind him the huge one in the t-shirt stepped forward, directing the man in the black pants to get behind him, and then knelt beside Roland. He placed his Colt in Roland’s face and cocked it to show him that he was serious.

A deep voice emanated from behind his balaclava.

“You and I are going to have a little chat about Antwan Dixon.”

Roland could feel the man’s breath on his face and he tried his best to maintain eye contact with him but the pain in his head made it almost unbearable. What did they want with Antwan? Maybe Brown had cut a deal with someone else and he needed Roland dealt with. No, that made no sense, Brown could have put a bullet in him in the middle of town and every person there would have sworn they’d seen the ghost of Custer do it if he told them to. Who were these people?

Before the hulk of a man knelt beside him could pick his point back up there came a tinkling sound as the doors to the showroom opened.

Roland identified Yolanda’s footsteps before he heard her voice. “Sorry, Mr. Spencer, I left my purse in the back.”

The man in the black pants looked round at Yolanda and raised his Glock in her direction. She froze, dropping her phone to the ground as she put her hands into the air without a word.

The man in the black pants shook his head and looked at his colleague. “What do we do, man?”

Yolanda raised an eyebrow as if she recognised the man’s voice. “Dante? Is that you?”

Dante took a glance at his muscular friend.

“Don’t do it.”

Before the words had even finished coming out of the brick-house’s mouth his friend had pulled the trigger and blown Yolanda’s brains clean out. She landed with a dull thud and Roland’s gasped in shock as he watched her twitch around on the floor for a few seconds. If they had killed her, what were they intending to do to him? He tried to crawl backwards away from the man in the t-shirt without him noticing but the man’s hands were on him before he knew it.

With a heavy sigh the man slapped Roland across the face with his weapon hard enough that Roland was sure he felt his nose break. It wasn’t the blow that knocked him out but the impact of his head bouncing against the hard floor in the showroom. As he drifted out of consciousness he could still make out the silhouettes of the two men stood over him. The last thing he heard was the tall man’s deep voice.

“Fuck.”

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

Also, @Gowi I think posting references to former posts is a really good idea. Should be more widespread, so well done for going with that instead of laborious sample posts.

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

I'm inclined to get involved in this as I've said in the interest check thread.

One thing I think everyone should be very, very cognisant of is not tying other people's hands. It's best it's said early and often so that it resonates with people. Please try not to tie other people's hands in regards to usable characters unless you really, really have to and be aware that someone else might wish to play a character after you too.

Too often people steam in, fundamentally change a character, and then leave them after a month and it creates problems for other people. Just try to be aware when you make changes and/or expand on your character's history or supporting characters that doing so creates ripples within the game that other people have to observe. Make those ripples sustainable.

Guardians of Infinity

I think that may be me, right? Presuming I've skipped forward out of necessity.

Wasn't sure whether there'd be some back and forth between Quill and Howard. My post is ready either way.

Maximum Comics: Reboot

Tempt me not, Satan.

@Byrd Man

I just want to hop through time and space as the Johnny to your Reed, Byrd. Is that too much to ask?

Maximum Comics: Reboot

What few issues I did have with the game have were already brought up in an earlier post. My issues for losing steam had nothing to do with the game was personal. I put myself in a corner and only play a few characters because those are really the only characters inside the comics universe that I can muster character ideas for. My tastes have shifted and it's harder to tell certain stories with certain characters without radically changing that characters DNA. So, I guess... it's me, not you. Turns out, I was the sumbitch all along.

@Byrd Man

My Hider