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One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

_{SEASON TWO One Universe: Unlimited}

SUPERBOY #1 Broken Boy

---

_{Daily Planet ♦ Metropolis}

ONE WEEK AGO

The sun had fallen behind the horizon and it was quiet in the Daily Planet's bullpen, save for the clattering of a single laptop's keyboard and the rumbling of a vacuum cleaner in the hallway. Tana Moon sat alone at a desk that wasn't hers, hair tied up in a loose bun and the sleeves of her Metropolis U hoodie rolled up to her elbows. She'd been slaving over this article for hours. Every detail that Superboy shared with her had to be triple-checked against the Planet's archive; even still- knowing all she did- it was a hard pill to swallow.

Cadmus was using Superboy to kidnap supervillains, like Knockout, so they could extract and replicate their powers to sell them to the highest bidder. The physical evidence for their crimes was paper thin. It was only the source of the allegations- a firsthand witness in Superboy- that gave them any water. But for God knows what reason that spandex-bound moron wouldn't let her print his name. Tana clicked her tongue in frustration. Nobody was going to give half a shit for claims this outlandish coming from an 'anonymous source'.

Her hands slipped down off the keyboard and onto her lap to fiddle with the hem of her coat. What would posting this crap do to her name? She was a nobody at the Planet. Some intern to pester about making copies and grabbing fresh coffee. Things were hard enough without being the office conspiracy nut.

'Seriously, Moon? People are getting hurt and you're worried about your career?' She chided herself, hoping the guilt would kick her back into gear. Her hands went back to the keyboard. Her fingers stumbled awkwardly across the keys. Slow, unsure. For every sentence she managed to string together she discarded three others. This was supposed to be her big break; it was going to be the story that put her foot in the door. Now, as she read back on her work she could feel only a growing disdain in the pit of her stomach. Mr. White was going to trash this the moment it hit his desk.

This wasn't going to work- not in its current state. She needed Superboy on record. She needed hard evidence of Cadmus's wrongdoing. She needed anything other than the scraps he'd dumped on her desk before running off to play hero.

"As if you can punch your way out of a corporate conspiracy theory," she sneered. Some terrible part of her hoped he'd get his clock cleaned confronting Westfield so he'd realize she was right. A shameful thought, she knew. But it gnawed at her mind irregardless.

After another half hour she gave up on the article, saving the draft to her computer before closing the laptop down. Tana Moon began to pack away her things only to freeze upon hearing something. Or, rather, not hearing anything. The janitor's vacuum had gone silent. She narrowed her eyes, drawing up her phone to flick on its flashlight. The custodian rarely finished his rounds this early. He was an old gentleman that took a half-century to do anything. She hoped he hadn't fallen or something.

Tana peaked through the door leading out of the newsroom and into the hall. The vacuum's power cord was plugged in just beside the door and snaked around to the opposite end of the hallway, disappearing around the corner. That checked out. But then, where was Briscoe?

"Everything okay, Ed?" She called, stepping out.

No one called back in response, though she could've sworn she heard feet shuffling.

"Briscoe?" Her heart beat faster in her chest. Ed Briscoe was never the type to ignore her. He was one of the few people she worked with that gave her the barest amount of respect. So if he wasn't the one making all that racket...

Tana started down the hallway with purpose, now. She moved the phone to her off-hand and reached the other into her pocket, gripping the taser inside. It seemed silly before to carry one before Superman disappeared; before everything started to fall apart.

She was just jumpy from all this Cadmus business. That was all. Just nerves getting to her.

Moon stepped lighter, the stun gun drawn partially from her pocket. The sound of shuffling feet got louder, and louder. It was right around the corner; the one she was rapidly closing on. Her heart bounded up into her throat, threatening to explode and fill her mouth with blood. The shuffling stopped. It was just Ed. He had headphones in, or-

Eddie Briscoe was slumped up against the wall, vacuum cord wrapped taut around his throat. His feet were weakly kicking against the floor as if he'd only just stopped struggling. A tall man she didn't recognize stooped over the janitor. He had the cool, uninterested expression of a bored professional, and his eyes were so cold they sucked the heat out from her chest with just a glance.

"Fuck." Tana breathed, stumbling backwards over her own feet. Frozen in a shocked stupor, she could do nothing but stare dumbly as the stranger rose to his full height and wiped the blood from his hands on Ed's old handkerchief. She didn't react even when he started toward her, a hand outstretched to take her by the arm.

It wasn't until his fingers brushed against her skin that Moon jolted into action like a spooked deer. She threw a kick into the man's ankle so so suddenly that he was caught utter unaware. There was a sharp, weighty thud as her foot smashed into his leg. He stumbled, too, catching himself against the wall with an arm. Tana used the moment to take off down the hall. He only grunted.

Faster than she'd ever run during high school track Moon bolted down the hall until she made it to the stairs. It was a long way to the first floor where the Planet's security guard was but she wasn't going to risk waiting for an elevator. She started down the stairs, clearing three floors before the sound of a door opening below her stopped her in her tracks.

Another two men stepped into the stairwell, pistols and flashlights in hand. Tana froze, shutting off her own light as quick as she could and shrinking down against the wall to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. It was only when she had a moment to breathe that she realized those men were cops. The first guy had a badge on his belt, too, she recalled, remembering that flash of metal as she ran by him.

What the hell did they want with the Planet's janitor?

With her?

Pariah Online: A Voyage into the Intangible Aether

Location: City Streets -- City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

Pain rippled through every facet of his being. Body broken. Blood flooded freely from the tears in his chest, his arm, his face. He'd lost his footing somehow, landed several feet away from where he'd started. Couldn't place how, or why. Thumping in his head like a jackhammer was tearing out of his brain and trying to get through his skull next. Taste of iron and vomit filled his mouth. Scent of blood- so much blood- overwhelming his nostrils. Vision was blurred from sweat, tears, other shit he couldn't place.

Graves was drowning in sensation. The magic in his veins was working overtime to block out the intense pain; to replace it with exhilaration and a need for continued violence. Those feelings tore at his attention until he felt like he'd split in half- tear straight down the center until there was a sickening snap of his halves coming apart.

He saw something in front of him. A shape, dark, impossible to place. His brain screamed threat. Urged him to act when he could barely keep breathing. Felt hands on his body and fear forced him to move. Reaching out, Graves grabbed their arm and attempted to yank them down to the ground with him. Squeeze, break the hand, twist it til their vision goes white.

'Stop stop stop stop-'

_{'You'll die if you don't.'}

Then he felt the ground shift underneath him. Heard the air twisting, bubbling, turning in ways it was never meant to. Dozens of shapes in his vision, even less defined than the person he'd grabbed. Ephemeral, phantom things, dragged up from the depths of hell to take him there. He'd never been particularly religious but if someone told him this was how the sinful were delivered to the lake of fire he'd believe them. It took Graves a moment to recognize something approaching speech in his ears. Whispers, a voice unfamiliar, growing louder and louder as something wrapped about his form and pinned him to the ground. Cold iron appeared around his wrists, heavier than anything he'd ever felt before.

'What the fuck? What the fuck?!'

The voice in his mind screamed, anguished and desperate and pleading. Terror seized his throat as he screamed, too, thrashing in a vain attempt to escape whatever tormentor had wished this upon him. He dropped whoever he'd grabbed and wrapped his good arm around himself, as if it might somehow shield him from the cacophony in his mind. The thundering of waves against the cliffs swam in his ears. Water filled his lungs yet he could not drown.

_{we deserve this}

He bucked, thrashed, fought with all his draining might to break free from his shackles. He must've looked a madman the way he bashed his skull against the ground, the way he kicked and tore and screamed. Oh how he screamed. Every terrible dream he'd had since the Glitch came roaring back into his head. Memories of all the people he'd failed. The family he'd hurt. The strangers that had died under his watch. Enos' body sanguinated. Will, lying on his back with vomit in his throat.

With one last howl Graves lifted his head as high as he could and brought it back down against the stone. The voice went silent.

Pariah Online: A Voyage into the Intangible Aether

Location: City Streets -- City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

Graves' skull was a pressure cooker seconds from exploding. A high-pitched, piercing wail filled his ears. It felt like someone was pressing their thumbs into his eyes from in his head. Every inch of his body shook from the overdose of adrenaline flooding his veins. When his assault began the look on his face was one of indignant rage: a desire to get one back on someone that had hurt him. Now, as he wheeled on Seele, marching toward her with malicious intent, his face was a mix of confusion and sheer, unadulterated rapture. Every strike from Siegfried sent a pulse of delight through him. Every time Graves blade kissed flesh he was practically giddy with glee. The smell of blood filled his nostrils, urging him onward.

It was the best high of his fuckin' life.

This was how Graves' magic worked in practice: he needed to either cause or endure pain enough to make blood flow. No sane human being would ever throw themselves into harms way like that without radically altering their natural instinct toward self-preservation- so that's precisely what Graves' mentor taught him what to do. Dark magic turned what ought to have been pain to pleasure. It sent waves of dopamine and serotonin into his brain every time it registered the scent of blood. Most pedestrian drugs with this level of intensity would've fried his nerve clusters eventually.

Most of those drugs didn't come packed with a healing factor.

The strength was stripped from his arms as Seele desperately worked her magic. He could hear the unnerving, unintelligible whispers that came with her hexes. That ravenous thing in his chest saw it as further excuse to...neutralize her.

Somewhere in the depths of his mind Andrew knew this was wrong. He needed to stop himself. Needed to fight the urge to fill his base, ugly needs before he hurt someone. Before he hurt Missy.

'Please, God, stop. Please.'

_{Let it happen.}

'Just fucking stop yourself already.'

_{It'll be over sooner if you just let go.}

"P-please..." Graves managed the barest of whispers, stiffled between sucking coughs.

_{Not like they'll forgive this anyway. Might as well let it ride.}

For the briefest moment Graves stopped swinging down at Siegfried. He held the knife in the air over him, staring down into the boy's eyes with a glassy, indeterminate ecstasy. His hand shaking nigh-uncontrollably, he turned the blade around in his palm until it was facing inward- and jabbed it down into his chest, just under the clavicle. A pained roar ate at his throat as he pulled the weapon free only to slam it back into place in the same place again, and then a third time, until finally he struck the right section of nerves for his fingers to go limp. The knife clattered to the floor and Graves stumbled onto a knee.

He couldn't even look Siegfried in the face as he muttered to him: "E-end...it."

Pariah Online: A Voyage into the Intangible Aether

Location: City Streets -- City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

Graves fought with the speed and ferocity of a feral animal. He flung himself at Siegfried without a moment's hesitation- no prodding at his defenses, no harsh words, no final chance to solve this amicably. Sig had his chance to back down. Had his chance to swallow that last barb and walk away. But he'd known just where to shove the knife to piss Graves off and he'd taken the stab. Now it'd cost him, perhaps dearly.

The blade danced in the air in wild, unpredictable arcs. It would dash forward as if to strike only to flutter away and leave an opening for a gaunleted fist to slam into whatever opening it had exposed. Never let up. Never give him a moment to breathe. Keep stepping forward into his space, always forcing the retreat. If Sig stopped he'd get a knife in the gut.

There's a tight cluster of blood vessels just above the eye. A quick, surface level slash would send a gush of crimson flowing into a man's eyes. The shoulder socket was a ripe target, too: a good few inches in and he'd sever the axillary artery and damage the nerve cluster that controlled the arm, paralyzing it. Stab through the inner thigh, targeting the femoral nerve to lock his hips in place. Graves knew every inch of the human body. Knew just where to cut to break it. If he'd wanted, he could kill Siegfried right there with one flick of his wrist.

_{Feint with the knife. Draw attention away from other hand. Slash the jugular. Watch him fucking die-}

It took all his willpower to drown out that ravenous little thing in his chest. No killing blows. Nothing that would paralyze him. Just small, light cuts. Make him bleed. Make him hurt. Never more than that. The blade was more of a distraction, anyway; amateur duelists always focused on their opponent's weapon rather than their stance. You could always tell what someone was planning to do based on how they stood, how they planted their feet or rotated their hips. Graves had fought more player than Sieg had probably even seen. He'd danced with the masters of the art and proved himself worthy time and time again. Dungeon delving and slaying monsters was fun, to be sure, but this?

This was his profession.

_{'Not doing real damage. He's shielded. The girl.'}

Seele, still playing hero even now. It made his blood boil watching her protect the man that so obviously didn't give a shit if she lived or died. That so callously mocked her potential brutal murder. All she wanted was to help people. Save lives. And this is the thanks she gets from spineless, gutless little rats like Sig.

_{'Supports are the backbone of a party. Tear them apart and their allies crumble.'}

Why did she insist on protecting him? This was a lesson he needed to learn. He needed a dose of humility- of respect- beaten into his fragile skull.

_{'You can't stop him until she's dealt with.'}

How could he possibly convince her? She wouldn't understand. Couldn't.

_{'She trusts you implicitly. You'd be on her before she even knows what's happening. It'd be quick.'}

What?

_{'She's weak.} Why the fuck was he thinking- _{Strike the temple and she crumples.'} Couldn't get it out of his- _{'She won't even feel it.'}

He felt himself slipping further. The pounding sound of blood in his ears was rising to a crescendo. He cut deeper. Struck harder. His heart beat inside his throat. He hadn't realized he was losing control until it was gone. Until he shoved Siegfried back and rounded on Seele.

Pariah Online: A Voyage into the Intangible Aether

Location: Laughing Worg Tavern -- City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

That ravenous thing in Graves’ chest thrummed with anticipation at the coming feeding. It could taste the blood in the air before it’d even been spilled, drawing Graves toward Sieg like a mad dog pulling at its leash. The man was moments from bounding across the tavern and tearing into Siegfried’s back when he felt something pull him back. Something strong, determined. He was surprised when he saw Seele ‘round his arm.

Though her words were whispered they carried the weight of her intent in them. She all but pleaded for him to not go through with this. Sig shouldn’t be the focus of his anger. Graves shouldn’t rise to his taunts. Be the better person. It was all shit he’d heard before and gotten far too used to ignoring. But something about the look in her eye- the way she threatened to hold him down herself- gave him pause.

‘Maybe she’s-‘

That line of thought came to a violently abrupt halt when he heard the last of Sig’s taunts from across the room.

“Might be the last time you see her. Should probably think about that.”

Simmering anger turned to a boil. It filled his chest, his throat and his face with heat. Blood pounded in his ears, thundering like a drum. If Seele said anything else he didn’t hear it. His vision was darkening. Control slipping away. That little voice in the depths of his guts screamed in exhilaration, demanding its tithe of blood. And Graves was glad to indulge it.

The knife left it’s sheathe on his hip in a quick, fluid motion. He ran it along the length of his arm- careful to avoid Seele’s fingers- cutting away his sleeve and tearing a deep groove in his flesh until it was drenched in crimson. It flowed along his body, writhing like some living thing, until it came to rest around his fist like a bloody gauntlet. The pain only enticed him further.

Graves barely registered that he was doing anything as he lifted his arm to toss Seele away. His mind was consumed by the desire to tear Siegfried apart for- for what?- for everything. For everything he’d said. Everything he’d done. Everything he hadn’t.

Knife in one hand and red iron wrapped ‘round the other, he charged out the door and into the street.

Pariah Online: A Voyage into the Intangible Aether

Location: Laughing Worg Tavern -- City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

There'd been a lot of arguments since the group came back to Thorinn. Tensions were high. Voices were raised. Sometimes shit got broken. But at the end of the day Seele or someone would step in and ensure nobody crossed the line- nobody put their hands on each other, no friendships were broken beyond repair. Graves was ordinarily fine with that. He was fine getting his point across n' letting bygones be bygones afterward. But Siegfried always pushed too far. Always knew just what buttons to press. Was a lot like Kazuki, in that way, except Kazuki always avoided the one thing that'd get his throat wrung:

He never went after Graves' ego.

It didn't take much to shove passed Seele. She was short, maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. The only reason she'd ever stopped him before was because he allowed it. That last snipe from Sieg took hold of him like a viper. Graves stepped forward, one hand grasping Seele by the arm so she didn't fall on her ass. With determination in his step he followed after Siegfried, headed for the door. "Little goddamn brat. I can't keep 'em safe, is that it? Think you can do my job better n' me? You tell me somethin', Sig, who's party did we bury?"

A hand went down to the knife sheathed at his hip. "You got somethin' to prove. How 'bout we step outside n' fuckin' settle this?"

Pariah Online: A Voyage into the Intangible Aether

Location: Laughing Worg Tavern -- City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

"You won't allow it?" Graves scoffed. The idea that Siegfried had any goddamn say over what they did was laughable. He'd said his piece and they'd out-voted him; that should've been it. But Sig had the gall to stare Graves in the eye and pretend he could, what, intimidate him into changing his mind? As Graves thought about it, in fact, he felt a laugh broil in his throat. It was a harsh thing, one laced with contempt rather than humor.

He felt himself begin to rise to his feet, eye contact never wavering. "She knows the risk- we all do. Last time we discussed this I thought we'd settled on actually doin' somethin' instead of hidin' away in this tavern until it burns down around us." This was a simple thing in Graves's mind: if Thorinn was safe, his people were safe. So long as these assholes were running around there was always a chance Alex or Seele or any of the rest could get nabbed- and there wasn't a thing Graves could do about it. But this gave him agency. Here, he'd be right behind Seele. Here, he'd be able to look those bastards in the eye and give 'em what they deserved.

Emboldened by his own sureness in his beliefs, Graves' choler rose. "You think you get to decide what's allowed? All due respect, you can either get in line or get outta the fuckin' way."

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

S U P E R B O Y
S U P E R B O Y

^{"Truth and justice-- my way."}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Subject 13-B04 _________________________________________________________ Human/Kryptonian Hybrid Clone | Superhero _________________________________________________________ Metropolis | Delaware | United States C H A R A C T E R N O T E S C H A R A C T E R N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Superboy's status as a clone of Superman is a closely guarded secret. To the public, he's a successful subject of CADMUS's Superhuman Enhancement Program, which aims to give superpowers to ordinary people. His abilities are merely based on Superman's own. - P O S T C A T A L O G P O S T C A T A L O G _________________________________________________________ [+] - P O S T C A T A L O G ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ PULL MY STRINGS ◼ Superboy #1 ◼ Superboy #2 ◼ Superboy #3 ◼ Superboy #4 ◼ Superboy #5 ◼ Superboy #6 ◼ Superboy #7 ◼ Superboy #8 BROKEN BOY ◼ Superboy #9 -

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T ________________________________________________________________________________________ Six months ago, Superboy was created by CADMUS using the stolen DNA of the Man of Steel. Dr. Paul Westfield- an immortal genius from aeons passed- envisioned the boy as the first soldier in an army of genetically modified superhumans to act as a bulwark for humanity against the many threats bearing down on it from beyond the veil. Superboy was designed with the sole purpose of selling this idea to the powers that be and, eventually, the general public. His rise was meteoric. Guided by his handler, Rex Leech, he appeared on every form of media known to man: from interviews with the Daily Bugle and G. Gordon Godfrey to starring in his own reality TV show, Behind the S. Every moment of his life that wouldn't compromise CADMUS's secrets has been recorded for all the world to see: every battle, every date, every vulnerable moment- broadcast in high definition. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) ________________________________________________________________________________________ This iteration of Superboy is a semi-continuation of my previous run on him in Sensation & Wonder. I liked what I was doing with the character and still have plenty of ideas for future arcs. I'll still be touching on the same themes as I was before: portraying Superboy (and superheroes in general) as analogies for celebrities and influencers, and tackling the traditional struggle with legacy that's so central to Superboy's character. Given that some aspects of the previous game are no longer canon, one can look at those posts as painting a broad rather than specific picture of prior events. T H E A D V E N T U R E S O F S U P E R B O Y ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ S E A S O N 0 2 BROKEN BOY Superboy discovers just how little control he really has. Characters Involved: Guardian, Knockout, Tana Moon, Dr. Paul Westfield Desired # of Players: N/A

---

Sample Post

_{SEASON TWO One Universe: Unlimited}

SUPERBOY #0 Broken Boy

---

_{3,562 feet up ♦ Metropolis}

Superboy hovered three and a half thousand feet over the city of Metropolis. His city, ever since the big guy up and abandoned his post for reasons the world would never know. The weight of responsibility had never felt so heavy. Tension roiled all the way from his fingers to his feet. His back was knotted, stiff. An intense pain gnawed inside his chest. He let out a deep, unsteady breath, and tried to relax. Tried to let his limbs fall limp and his heartrate slow.

It didn't take.

The wind cracked like thunder as it whipped around his head. An airplane roared by a few thousand feet above him. And there was, too, the ever-present cacophony coming from the streets below. He could barely hear his own thoughts with everything ringing in his ears this close to the earth. Usually, if Superboy wanted a moment's peace, he'd soar far higher. He'd fly until and the blues, whites and greys of the sky turned to the stark black of space. It was quiet up there. It was the only place that was quiet, really.

But the thought of being that high up made his stomach churn. His wounds- barely a week old- seemed to tear themselves anew at even the thought of entering the thermosphere. That awful moment played back in his mind in perfect clarity.

" I want you to...fly up into orbit and let yourself fall."

All Westfield did was mutter a few, half-hearted words, and Superboy was gone. His consciousness arrested within his own body, severed from all control. Forced to watch from behind his eyes as he flew higher and higher to a place he'd once called his haven. He fought so goddamn hard to stay there. To clench his fist. To cry out for help.

But he couldn't.

And then he started to fall.

Superboy wasn't sure which was worse: the fall itself, or the impact. The latter brought the pain, of course. It broke him. Severed muscles in his back and snapped his arm in twain. Multiple ribs collapsed like twigs under a boot. A pierced lung. He could still recall the warm taste of blood flowing into his mouth and throat as he tried to breathe.

But the terror that had seized him on the way down- that choking fog of helplessness- is what kept him up at night. It was all he dreamt of now, and he couldn't fly any higher than four thousand feet into the air without fear dragging him back down to the earth.

'Coward,' He sneered. 'You think you can step up to the plate for Supes and you're afraid of frickin' heights.'

It took all his strength to hold back the flood of panic and anxiety. No time for this. No time to throw a pity-party for the poor little clone. Everything that'd happened was squarely his own damn fault. He'd gone after Knockout without a second thought. He'd torn Suicide Slum apart to sate his own ego. And he was the one who'd gotten the brilliant idea of bringing a civilian into all this.

Pain shot through his heart at the thought of Tana Moon, that brave, stupid intern at the Daily Planet he'd dragged into CADMUS's line of fire. He thought the Planet could help him uncover the heinous shit the company was up to. That paper had brought down titans of industry, mob bosses, supervillains- they were the only ones he thought he could bring his story to.

But he didn't talk to Perry White, or Lois Lane. He talked to an intern. He told her far more than was safe and then, when she wanted to take it public, he'd panicked. Clambered on back to Westfield because he thought he could figure it out himself.

He'd led CADMUS's cleaners right to her.

Because of him that girl was gone. Maybe dead. Maybe held in a black site somewhere.

'Gotta find out where they took her. My mistake, my responsibility. Better than sittin' here wallowin'.'

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Sample's up!