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4 yrs ago
Current Space: The final frontier. The womb: The first frontier. Somewhere between those two: the ocean.
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4 yrs ago
Lost? Confused? Lacking direction? Need to find a purpose in your life?
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I just haven't seen Legacies. Was thinking about creating a werewolf equivalent to the Originals.
How strict are you planning on being to the TVD lore?

The gentle barrage of warm water caressed Sasha's naked form as he knelt under the shower in the dark. "I am a good person." He said to himself. HIs mind flashed back to him kicking a guy's knee sideways before putting a bullet in his brain. "I do good things." He said to himself again. His meditation was interrupted by his phone dinging loudly. The screen lighting up the dark room. Sighing he stood up. Turned off the water ad grabbed a towel. Wrapping it around his waist, he picked up his phone. It was time to get to work. Sure he hadn't slept in over twenty four hours, but one didn't systematically fight crime by taking breaks. Aleksandr decided early in his career, that since crime never sleeps, neither can he. At least that's what he told himself every time he had a triple shot expresso and went out on patrol to save having to sleep. Definitely not because when he slept, he was forced to relive memories of his criminal days. Even if that's what his therapist said.
"Alexa, play Sasha's Get Psyched Mix" The bassy edm music began to play throughout his apartment. The russian stretched his fingers and rolled his shoulders. Getting ready for the night ahead. He moved from his bathroom to his wardrobe. Sasha picked out a pair of black dress pants and a white dress shirt. Putting them on, he put on a black leather belt and black dress shoes. He picked out a set of silver cufflinks that matched the silver chrome of his belt buckle. He turned his tie rack to view his collection of ties. Picking a burgundy one, he expertly put it on and tied it. He grabbed a black business jacket. He holstered a 9mm pistol in a shoulder holster under his jacket on the left side. Then walked out into the living room. Grabbing a guitar case from beside the front door. "Alexa, put the music through my headphones." With that, he put in one headphone into his left ear, double checked that he had everything. Phone Wallet Keys. With everything checked, he calmly left his penthouse apartment and got in the elevator that would take him down into the underground garage.
I had no idea this was getting any traction. I admittedly stopped paying attention to it with all the bumping, but if more people are down, Iโ€™m still in.

Aleksandr Vasilievich was a tired man. Singlehandedly fighting crime in New York felt like a never ending battle. It had been two years since he started systematically dismantling organized crime. Picking up where the Ronin left off. Yet he couldn't help noticing things weren't getting better. If anything, they were getting worse. He was tired. He stretched his fingers. They were tight. After a full day and most of the previous night, fighting in an underground fighting ring, run by the tracksuits. Everything was tight. He looked at his watch. It had been nearly twenty hours since he went out to infiltrate that fighting ring. He needed sleep. He took a swig of the vodka on his nightstand to numb his nerves. He poured a bit on a rag and dabbed it on the fresh cut on his forehead. The familiar sting causing him to wince.
Sasha took another swig and felt the alcohol clear his sinus. The strong Russian liquor reminded him of his father. He often liked strong Russian things. Like his mother, who often said you shouldn't drink. "You need a clear head for this kind of work." He would remember her saying. Aleksandr, or Sasha as he was called by friends, not that he had many left these days, walked into his bathroom of his expensive penthouse apartment. He washed his hands. Placed his phone on the counter. Turned off the lights and got undressed. Pushing his clothes into a neat pile in the corner, and moved into the shower. It was a large modern shower. With one of those rain fall heads. Turning it on, Sasha knelt down under the flow of the water. Feeling the warm water caress his body. He closed his eyes and focused on the now. In an attempt at what his therapist would call grounding or something similar. If he was being honest, he never really listened to his therapist. He was only seeing him because his parents were worried about him. Focusing on the sound of the water, and the feeling of it sliding over his skin, he was finally starting to relax.

Triborg would like to step up. He has a score to settle with the Sub Zero that turned his back on the Lin Kuei to serve outworld.

Krotar sat in the interrogation room of the NYPD. His fingers tapping on the cold metal table. The cuffs were a nice touch. Little more than an inconvenience should he decide to leave, but the alien left them on. He knew any attempt to leave would only make things worse. So, sat and waited. He waited and sat. It seemed for hours. The local law enforcement didnโ€™t come in to question him since he gave his statement when they brought him in, but he had no doubt they were watching him. Probably waiting for SHIELD to send the lackey.

A man in a black suit entered. โ€œAgent Smith.โ€ Krotar said in a joking tone. โ€œWe both know that you know my real name, Krotar.โ€ The shield agent said as he sat across from the alien. โ€œYeah, and I use humour as a defense mechanism to help cope with trauma.โ€ The alien retorted. The shield agent simply nodded. Krotar raised his hands to motion at the cuffs that had him attached to the table. โ€œNow Lance, are these really necessary?โ€ The shield agent chuckled and slid a handcuff key across the table. โ€œUse the key this time. Itโ€™s such a waste when you break them.โ€ Krotar picked up the key and started to unlock the cuffs. โ€œSo Lance, howโ€™s the wife and kids?โ€ Lance chuckled again. โ€œKrotar, we both no I donโ€™t swing that way.โ€ Leaving the cuffs on the table, Krotar stood up. โ€œNot so fast.โ€ Krotar paused. Halfway between sitting and standing. โ€œSHIELD is concerned about the increasing number of demon activity.โ€ The agent continued. โ€œSo? Isnโ€™t that a job for Wand or the sorcerer supreme?โ€ Krotar questioned. โ€œWell you know how these spy organisations work. Everyone trusts about as far as they can throw. With a global defense network in the works, everyoneโ€™s a bit on edge. After the Triskelion and the Insight debacle, the higher ups want someone to investigate without any known ties to SHIELD.โ€ Krotar sat back down. Leaned back and put his feet up on the table. โ€œSo another black bag op then. No flags. No support.โ€ Krotar said as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and lit it with a snap of his fingers. โ€œYouโ€™ve done it before.โ€ The agent said. Sliding a dossier across the table to Krotar. โ€œIโ€™ll want access to Starkโ€™s blueprints. The secret ones. I know shield wiped his latest stuff off the internet and Stark made his servers very secure. I also know that SHIELD likes to keep things it deems useful or of tactical value.โ€ This brought a frown to the SHIELD agentโ€™s face. โ€œI donโ€™t even know what schematics we have on file, though Iโ€™m sure I can convince them to let me give you something from R&D that will be worth your while. It might not be Stark tech, but it might help you get home.โ€
At this, Krotar put the cigarette out on the table and picked up the dossier. โ€œAlright.โ€ He stood up and made his way to the doorใ€‚โ€Youโ€™ll be wanting these.โ€ Agent Lance said holding up the holster with his two guns in it.
Krotar took his guns and left the NYPD precinct. His SHIELD friend making sure he was released easily.
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