Super Century [Open]

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Orph
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Re: Super Century [Open]

Post by Orph » Mon Apr 23, 2018 1:32 am

Image

Night was falling, when Odin left his perch at the top of the Monument.

He'd spent about four hours there, in total. The morning had been dominated by his meeting with the DHS, and he'd left his position atop the monument exactly two times in the course of the rest of the day. Once, he'd 'foiled' an attempted burglary, but that had taken only seconds- subduing two unpowered criminals was trivial for him. He'd watched from afar as the police took them away, making sure they were treated fairly. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd interceded in an incident of police brutality. The second time, he'd placed a call to a local sandwich place, and had them bring his order to a quiet, anonymous spot in a park. When he was sure no one was looking, he descended, took it, and ate in private, above the clouds. He paid digitally, using money quietly drained from the bank account of a Russian oligarch. Despite having a 'secret identity,' he didn't have a day job, so he kept himself fed and clothed with Robin Hood-esque thefts. He donated most of the stolen funds to Amnesty International, or Against Malaria, but kept just enough to live decently.

After another hour, David decided to leave. He'd had a fairly eventful day, and the last few weeks, he'd deprived himself of sleep, instead spending hours in the Middle East, protecting refugees. With his temporary agreement of inactivity in foreign affairs, his days were about to get quieter.

Being a public figure, and easily recognizable in his bright white clothes, Odin could hardly just descend on his apartment, and change inside. His eyes could project a field that hid him from cameras, but if the government decided they wanted to find out who he really was, they could simply look where they couldn't see, and investigate every apartment until they found David's. Instead, he flew down, into a subway station, where satellites couldn't find him, and onto the tracks. He used the eyes to make sure no trains were nearby, and retrieved a change of clothes from a rarely-used service area. Getting out was harder, but he could use the eyes while no one was looking, even out of costume. He simply waited for a train to go by, and remotely opened the doors of the last, empty car. He stepped inside, dispersing the eyes, and got off at the next stop. From there, it was a short walk home.

David's apartment building was fairly nice, though he'd selected it for its affordability. He greeted a neighbor as he passed her in the hallway, held a door open for an elderly gentleman he hadn't seen before. He did his best to do small, good things like that- as a reminder than fixing big problems wasn't the only way to do good in the world. At home, he dropped the Odin outfit- kept in a nondescript shopping bag- in his closet, and sat down at his computer. Almost as an afterthought, he sent a signal to his eyes, to slowly return to him. He guided them through a ventilation shaft, one by one, and let them float around, after he made sure the windows were shut.

A notification flashed on all of the eyes at once- highest priority. He usually saw this kind of thing on the news, but he had been disconnected from the eyes for about an hours, between removing his costume and getting home. It always bothered him- David hd gotten very used to having a constant stream of information whenever he needed it, fed directly to his brain, from the cybernetic side of the O.D.I.N. implants. Being without it, for however long, felt like being blind. When David and his partner had built it, they'd added two different settings to the information influx. Besides 'off,' that was. The first only fed him as much as his brain could normally handle. The second let his enhancements do strange things to his brain, letting him take in just about as much information as the eyes could take in. Which was a lot. Unfortunately, this had the side effect of causing hemorrhaging in the brain if used for more than ten minutes.

The alert had been for a report of a new meta-human. Some kind of 'monster,' all yellow and red, looking almost wholly inhuman. Several FBI agents dead, and no leads on where it'd gone. David laughed. A real super-villain. Maybe Thundermachine and I can team up to stop him.
A myth where ultimate evil turns its gaze on humanity and humanity gazes right back and says "Gotcha."

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Re: Super Century [Open]

Post by IronCurtain » Mon Apr 23, 2018 2:51 pm

ЯЏSSЇД
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It had seemed that Russian involvement in the affairs of the West had died down for the moment. Odin had ceased his grip on the nation's capital - at least temporarily - and the Freedom Brigade had been absorbed in their own pursuits. Thundermachine himself trickled out of the news, but that did not mean that all had become completely quiet.

The same negotiator from the house of the Russian President came down to a quaint cabin between Moscow and Volgograd. Here, he would find the hulking mass of Dmitri Gregori Kosokov once more, though he would be attempting more subtle and productive activities than casual drinks and conversation. The Hulking Communist Manifesto held an ax that would have been easily a two-handed chopping implement even for above-average humans. Instead he used it as little more than a kitchen knife, slicing through logs with contemptuous ease - one after another after another. He sat comfortably on the remains of a mighty Siberian pine tree, overturned for use as his bench.

"Hello again," the minister said, huddled in his coat. Dmitri glared at him, his wall of muscle barely contained by the taut skin it resided within. He only wore a pair of black pants.

"I... I am sure you know why I am here,"

The Iron Curtain did not answer at first, but merely went back to chopping the indiscriminately small portions of wood. Each log held the circumference of a human torso. Some even had fledglings of limbs.

Then and there, the politician considered walking back and leaving. If Dmitri would not help, then it would come to a war of words between the two nations. But he continued to stand there, and did what he did best: converse.

"Your country needs you, Dmitri. Odin has siphoned funds from - "

"I will stop you there," the Red Tsar flicked the enormous ax into the trunk he had been working with. "Firstly, you tolerate my existence. I refuse government checks. I do not work for the president. This is not my country, not anymore. What Odin has presumably done, from what I can infer, has only cut a hole in the pockets of people like yourself, like others who delegate and argue in marbled domes while families starve,"

He stood at length, dwarfing his visitor by order of magnitude.

"I am willing to work out a deal, however."

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ԠФSҪФЩ
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Gulag camps were functionally obsolete following the second World War, yet the name continued to be applied to the worst prison systems in all of Russia even well into the 80's and 90's.

One such prison sat underneath Moscow, in an unmarked section of the city blocked off by massive walls and hydroelectric dams. This would be known as Gulag-88 to some, while most others had memories of the place taken by either brainwashing or a bullet. It housed the worst metahuman criminals of the age, hiding them in bleak cells from which no light could be seen. Strung and held to the walls, stripped of their abilities of cognitive reasoning and locomotion through intensive drug therapies.

Here would belong the targets of the Iron Curtain's current scheme, sentenced to life internment until death or insanity claim them. One such psychopathic villain had belonged to the walls of Gulag-88 for the better half of the century, locked away for obscene and unspeakable atrocities. As Dmitri stepped towards the door, the rattling of his chains could be heard from across the derelict room. The cocktails responsible for keeping him sedated had to be increased tenfold with each passing year, and now they were concerned that he would be killed outright if they continued upping the dosages.

"Sasha Romonov, powers considered to be solar-vampiric in nature. Superhuman abilities. Requires sunlight to gain power, functionally immortal,"

"I killed his brother, crushed his skull. Just have to make a show of this one,"

Dmitri entered with his armor not for protection, but more for the sake of convenience. Grasping the beast by the throat, he ripped the chains necessitating hundreds of tons of force to even move from the walls themselves. Sasha in tow, Dmitri casually walked outside and raised him up like a rag doll. He snipped and bit, but could not do anything in his current state.

"Do svidaniya, Sasha," he said with a mild interest, letting go with one hand and driving home with the other in a clenched fist, sending the vampire into the air with a calculated strike similar in force to a nuclear bomb going off - the translation of energy meaning Sasha was now flying at high speed over Europe and the Atlantic Ocean.

"Heh, it's been a while," he lowered himself to the ground, three-point stance.

And disappeared into a jump.

Aiming himself precisely as Sasha came over Washington D.C., the last continuous sighting of Odin according to surveillance that could actually track him, he landed on top of the vampire mere meters away from the Washington Memorial.

"Cyka blyat, my aim is off. Perhaps next time I'll get to smash that phallic idol," he muttered, reaching down at Sasha's crumpled - but still very much alive - husk of a body. That was, until he started absorbing the photons around him.

Swelling up like a plant with water, Sasha started foaming at the mouth as he heaved Iron Curtain off his body in a show of monstrous power.

"Alright, let's make this a bit more theatrical than when I killed Arkady in '89,"

He took the charging tackle of the feral beast head-on, stopping the otherwise juggernaut-like power in its tracks. The Red Tsar did not budge, but instead raised Sasha up and brought him back down on the back of his skull straight into the pavement.

"That's the spirit!" Dmitri roared proudly, taking heavy fists to his face as he laughed heartily in the face of battle.

He could only assume that somewhere, Odin and the others would be watching. It only made sense to give them a show of what Russian heroes truly were.
Death is a preferable alternative to Capitalism.
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Re: Super Century [Open]

Post by Chevron » Wed Apr 25, 2018 6:37 pm

Virtue wasn't expecting that. He expected a counter offer of some kind like a demand for a bit more freedom but, trying to get him to pimp out one of the other Freedom Brigade Operatives was something he hadn't expected which was an oversight on his part. He was dealing with a billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist he should've expected something along these lines.

Right now he knew three things and each one would influence his choices in someway or another. Firstly, he knew that if this meeting went south his family would be the first to suffer followed by himself. The second was that Capacitor would most definitely not agree to go on a date with a guy like this, and the third was that this meeting was their best chance to start backing Odin into a corner which meant he couldn't pass this up. He made his way to the edge of the building and held his arms outwards. SHWINK Two red wings expanded from his back as he tilted his head towards the mechanized hero. "I make no promises but, if you can get Odin there tonight than I'll do whatever I can to get her to consider it and thats the best I can do." With the slight nod of his head he stepped one foot off the ledge plummeting down below before swooping back up and heading into the sky.

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"Virtue I don't know what the fuck went wrong with you out there and quite frankly you're lucky we're still letting you wear that getup. I never expected you to be the type to push the boundaries laid out in front of you to their limits like that and I wanna give you the benefit of the doubt so...start explaining"

Virtue sat in the room across from a large man wearing a green service uniform covered in medals of all shapes and colors. The gentleman was older, his hair was starting to gray along the sides and his face was gaining a leathery texture. His uniform suggested he was a man of high rank with more influence than someone should and based on the way Darryl looked that assumption would be correct.

"With all do respect sir...the decision handed down by you and the others in Washington wasn't the right one. I've seen..."

"That's not your call to make son...thats why we make the decisions and you follow them. You don't seem to get that the public isn't really all about government regulated super weapons policing the streets and even if Odin did destroy government property the second we brand him an enemy of the state without a damn good reason we'll be facing a crucifixion of biblical proportions."

"I didn't get to finish. I've seen with my own eyes the type of thing Odin wants. He may talk like he wants reform but, he wants control. I agree that we can't cuff him yet but, if we let him just get away with destroying a drone than what else is next. How long until he marches on Washington with his eyes ready to blast anyone who tries to stop him from seizing control. We need to use this moment to tell Odin that he's gone too far and to issue a public warning that actions like his taken in Syria will not be tolerated again. We tell him that if he takes aim at the U.S. military again we won't hesitate to slap a set of cuffs on him."

The man opened the door to the room and stepped through it leaving Virtue with only a single parting statement. "You're lucky we like you in Washington but, don't let something like this happen again or it won't be Odin in handcuffs." It was ominous but, expected given what Virtue had done. Still though he just remembered a quote from Rear Admiral Grace Hopper "It's easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to get permission."

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Hellicarrier Command Center 1900 Hours...One Hour Till Meeting

"I know you're against the idea but, it's just one date. We need this meeting to go down and if you agree...I'll tell Washington I'll take the Jimenez case."

There was an hour until this supposed meeting was going to start and Virtue wasn't a man who broke his word. He called Capacitor into the command center looking to try and give convincing her of the idea a shot. He knew she would say no and he didn't blame her for not wanting to spend time with that pompous son of a bitch. His own opinion didn't change the facts though and right now those facts said that he needed to try and convince her.

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Re: Super Century [Open]

Post by illirica » Wed Apr 25, 2018 9:48 pm

Freedom Brigade Military Adjunct Base, Washington: : Briefing Room 8C, 1300 Hours

"So, we have yet to see any manifestations of ability outside the link with the eyes, but that doesn't mean-" The briefing broke off abruptly at the interruption of an alert. Teja pulled a phone from her pocket, one among many in the room to do so, glancing down at the text on the screen. Of all the fucking times...

Apparently a couple meta-empowered idiots had decided that DC was their playground. Why they hadn't been shot down on entering US airspace, Teja had no idea. Presumably someone over at the Air Force or Army Air Corps was being ripped a new one right at this moment. Really, those people had ONE job...

For a few moments there was silence, as people reviewed the updates. Something about meta-speed that the Air Force was claiming as a reason for the laxity of their defense. Teja scoffed at its flimsiness internally - there was no way that was going to hold up. It wasn't her place to debate the blame of the situation, though, that would be adjucated in much higher courts.

"All right. Get out there."

Teja looked up from the screen at her commander. "Sir?" As an inquiry, it was better than 'Me, sir?', but not by much.

"They're practically in our backyard, you're the closest. I know we've got this potential meeting backup, but you're the hero, this is what you get paid for. Gear up and get on it. Don't get yourself killed, I still want you babysitting that meeting tonight."

She jerked a nod, briefly. She might not have liked it, given that she was trying to plan for another potentially dangerous mission, but the fact was that he was right. This was precisely the sort of situation she had been designed and trained for. She stood, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "Yes, sir. Any instructions?"

"Use your discretion, and I want them gone. Neutralize if possible, but if not the primary goal is to get them out of DC and make them someone else's problem. We've got other things to deal with."

"Very good, sir." She snapped a salute, and allowed herself to be dismissed down to what was officially designated Armory 9C, and unofficially Capacitor's private equipment locker room. It was well-guarded and well-staffed, but everyone there knew who she was, and given that the news was picking up the rustle about outside and command had called ahead of her, it was merely the quick countersign before she stepped in, looking around. She stopped in front of one display in particular, a set of gunmetal-gray plates that looked entirely uninspiring - at least, until she ran her hand over them. Then they jumped, spinning around her as she stripped off her usual uniform, down to the highly conductive bodysuit she wore beneath it. More like an old Union Suit than anything else, it was designed so that she could have something to wear that never interfered with her equipment, and still not be running around in the proverbial chainmail bikini. Regular uniform tossed aside, she pulled at the plates as they fitted themselves around her. The "helm" she left in pieces, laying flat in a mantle against her shoulders and back, ready to be snapped up in an instant should she need it.

Unlike the sort of suit that Thundermachine and some of the other heroes wore, there was nothing holding Capacitor's armor together but the electric current she emitted. It allowed her to move the various plates at will, each plate capable of absorbing an immense amount of shock or damage, as long as she could hold it together - and each plate capable of discharging a high-voltage electrical shock, as well. She didn't often choose this equipment given that it didn't work well with any of her other gear, limiting her to defense and very short range countermeasures, but that was precisely what she wanted today. On home territory, she didn't need to be firing off shock rockets - she just needed to make sure that the place was reasonably defended until whoever these two were could be persuaded to take their argument elsewhere.

It wasn't long before she stepped out of an armored vehicle into the sunlight in front of the Washington monument.

1325. I have four or five hours to wrap this up. She snapped a quick salute at the vehicle as it retreated, and pulled the helm plates into position over her head and face, a transparent bar across her eyes the only view of her features. Two individuals, both male, both meta. Currently engaged with one another, although that could change. The Red Tsar was unmistakable - even among superhumans, he was a giant of a man. She wasn't sure what he was doing out of Russia, though. Most intelligence had him content to maintain his presence in the motherland. Not so, today. Whoever he was fighting, she didn't recognize. She did nothing to attempt to hide her presence, but didn't move to engage either. The more intelligence she could collect, the better.

That, and she didn't particularly want to tackle the Red Tsar, even armored. He was probably three or four times her body mass. The images didn't really do him justice, she didn't think. He was faster than she'd expected, as well, for someone so large. She'd have to play it carefully. Behind the mask, she hinted at an almost smile. Any other day, this might almost be fun.


Hellicarrier Command Center 1900 Hours...One Hour Till Meeting

Teja folded her arms, as aware as the man to whom she was speaking that they really didn't have time for this discussion right now. Part of her wanted to tear into him for even asking, and likely she would have if it hadn't been so evident that he felt so guilty about it in the first place. She'd always respected Virtue - both as a hero and as a man. The fact that he was in a lasting and stable relationship and one of the few men in their line of work who didn't seem to think of her as someone to ogle had always helped immensely. Being a woman in a male-dominated field had its drawbacks, maybe especially so for conventionally attractive women. It was one of the big reasons she kept dyeing her hair. Green-haired women had enough trouble getting taken seriously, but there was no chance at all for platinum blondes. She'd noticed that as soon as she'd enlisted - look like a Barbie doll, and people treat you like one. It was one of the main reasons she'd pushed so hard for the green palette when they'd been crafting Capacitor.

Virtue didn't need to hear the lecture any more than she needed to give it, though. He already knew her history, and they'd worked together enough that he knew how she felt, which was why he was feeling so bad about asking. Still, she sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry. But... Capacitor just can't." She wasn't really speaking about herself in the third person, but rather about the hero identity she maintained. "She's too much of a 'girl power' role model. If word ever gets out that she's being used as a bargaining chip, it'll destabilize the entire notion of her as a hero - and maybe even further destabilize the notions of all our heroes." She offered Virtue a wry smile, amusement in dry humor, "And with him being in bed with the media so much, there's no chance it wouldn't get out. He might even tell them himself. I'd say it was an act of political brilliance if I thought there was any chance Thundermachine was thinking with his head when he asked about it." From what she'd seen of him, though... well, it was far more likely that he hadn't even considered the political implications at all, and was just running off the ever-prevalent I'd hit that.

She didn't stop thinking though, just because she'd refused. "Tell you what..." she said, slowly, "You tell him that if he can convince me that he's someone worth dating, and then come up with the testicular fortitude to ask me himself, I'll do it. But not like this, and not because of this. That's as far as I can go. And I want to know what you're planning, with all this," she added, staring at him intently. "I know you're planning something, but going so far outside Command... I don't know if anyone else could have gotten away with it. I don't want to go to your funeral, Darryl. And I don't want to be the one who caused it. I think we both know who they're going to send after you, though, if they have to send someone." Her tone, as always, was calm, but it carried the weight of decision. It wasn't really a threat so much as... a courtesy, she supposed. He almost certainly already knew she would stand with the government, but she wanted to make sure of that. Make sure that he knew how things were going to stand, between them, if need be.

She'd stood up for him in her meeting earlier - told them that she trusted him. She did - that hadn't changed. If the government decided that they didn't trust him, though, Teja wasn't going to be one to let her personal feelings get in the way of their decisions. She would do what needed to be done, no matter how much she disliked it.

It wouldn't be the first time.

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Re: Super Century [Open]

Post by Quirbles » Thu Apr 26, 2018 1:47 pm

Long Island, New York
Greenport— near Montauk Peninsula
Jensen Security Warehouses
7:00 PM


"People have taken to calling it the 'Scarlet Demon' after photos of a red humanoid surfaced on the internet and various social media sites earlier this morning. Due to the nature of the threat this unknown human— or animal— possesses, Atlanta police are encouraging citizens to—"

"— and they think it has something to do with the wave of killings in Mexico that happened a few months ago. I mean, the blurry photos aren't much, but the comparisons are there, right? You can't just—"

"Let me tell you something: we can't just let these meta-humans walk around like they own the fuckin' place. Look at what happened with this thing in Atlanta, and look what happened earlier with the incident at the Washington monument! The government is not prepared for dealing with these people, and putting justice in the hands of people the same as these criminals is—"

"— the location, as well as identity, of the meta-human dubbed the 'Scarlet Demon' is currently unknown. We'll be supplying updates as they come through. Stay safe, Atlanta."

— — —

Armed security guards' bloodied corpses littered the spacious area of the Jensen Security lot, a private firm that dealt with the safe storage and guarding of refrigerated storage units. Jiménez had arrived at the unassuming compound for a very specific reason, and after his arduous battle with the security guards stationed at the lot he was free to finally claim what was his: the research he'd worked so hard to produce and keep from anyone else's hands. He'd have to work quick, however, seeing as his entrance wasn't exactly quiet; he gave himself a few minutes before additional units responded.

The doctor stepped over bodies and pools of blood, quickly making his way to Storage Unit 4F; the unit in which his wife had told him his research was stowed away. The casualties were an unfortunate result of Jiménez's confrontation with the armed personnel of Jensen Security, and their unwillingness to end the conflict peacefully proved to be their undoing. He frowned to himself as he approached the large shutter-gate that served as the entrance to the storage block. Had a part of him begun to grow accustomed to killing?

Death had been present around him ever since birth, that much Jiménez knew. During his time under the Medéllin Cartel, as well as the United States, the threat of execution had always hung over his head like the blade of a guillotine; only he wouldn't have thought that his death would have been that humane had the cartel considered him a liability. But in all his time, he had never been responsible for the death of his fellow man. And yet, looking down at the corpses littered around him... it came easy, too easy for his conscience to simply ignore. Had he truly become a monster?

Let them think that I am.

Jiménez's mood turned sour, jaded by the lies that the media spread about him because deep down, he knew they were true. No human would do this, no person with morals would ever shed blood so carelessly. If he was to become a demon, he'd embrace it.

A tendril shot from the doctor's back, ripping yet another hole among the many he'd gained in the outfit since his arrival at Jensen Security. Blood-stained bullet-holes and gaping tears in his shirt and pants were proof of Jiménez's brutal showdown with the security personnel, and he was lucky that the cancer within him allowed for rapid regeneration. The sharpened tendril easily pierced the lightweight metal of the shutter and traveled downwards before more shooting tendrils joined it, pulling backwards and allowing for an easy doorway for Jiménez to enter through. The doctor entered the unit, shuddering slightly at the remarkable drop in temperature once he entered. His eyes scanned the room's contents before settling upon an unassuming briefcase tucked in the corner of the room, almost completely hidden by the body and wheel of a bicycle. He smiled to himself, grateful that his contacts had followed his orders. The junk planted in the storage unit served well to hide what he really wanted secure as well as give an unassuming appearance.

Jiménez bolted towards the briefcase, tendrils shooting from his arm and forcefully throwing the junk covering his research in order to quickly retrieve it. He grabbed the handle and casted it over his shoulder, producing small strands from his own body to wrap around the briefcase and secure it to his back. The doctor moved to the hole he'd created in the unit and stepped through it, his tuned hearing picking up the low beating of helicopter blades among the silence in the night. He had little time to leave the scene. Jiménez began bounding towards the exit of the warehouse-filled lot, jumping onto the fence and starting to scale the remainder of it.
Last edited by Quirbles on Thu Apr 26, 2018 8:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Super Century [Open]

Post by Orph » Thu Apr 26, 2018 3:47 pm

In all fairness, I did manage a good two hours at home. Ate dinner, too.

David had fully intended to be done for the day, when he got home. He'd allotted himself an hour to rest, turning off alerts from the eyes for all but highest-priority messages, and watching a late-night comedy show he'd taped from the previous day. Then, he'd eaten dinner, leftovers from a few days ago, and spent a while working on the eyes. The improvements were mostly efficiency-based, attempting to improve energy consumption and reaction time. If he wanted to build more, or make more serious upgrades, he'd need to talk to certain people, and acquire certain materials, which he wasn't terribly eager to do.

Then, he'd sat staring at his computer, upgrades half-finished, unable to concentrate properly. Sighing, he accepted the inevitable, and put his costume back on. He'd figured out a more efficient way to get out of the house in costume a while ago, his usual method taking too long, if being somewhat more secure. He accessed every camera and satellite that had his apartment complex in view, and fed them a loop. Just for a few seconds, but time enough for him to get out of range. David made extra-sure no one was outside, ready to take a picture on their phone of him flying out the window, before he did just that.

It only took a thought- the mental command transmitted from a piece of metal in David's brain to the his mechanical eyes- to place the call. The person he was calling picked up almost immediately. "Hello. This is Odin."

"Hey! Are you coming by? We've got two dozen new patients, and you'd really expedite the process if you did."

Odin was calling a hospital in D.C., where he volunteered just about every day. He was an engineer by trade- someone else had put the O.D.I.N. implants in his brain, despite that he'd designed them- but he had his uses in a hospital too. The eyes functioned as deep-tissue scanners, as well as weapons- faster, and more accurate, than an MRI or X-ray scan. He could detect abnormalities faster than the hospital could usually, meaning treatment would get to them that much quicker. The hospital was quiet about his visits- blinds were closed, families ushered out of the room, and even patients had the curtains closed on their beds. He wasn't doing it for publicity, but the hospital's board of directors would likely fire everyone involved, if they found out they were letting a 'Stranger' like Odin into the ICU.

"Yeah, I think I--"

A rather loud noise cut David off. He turned towards it physically, mid-air, and his eyes shifted around him as well, moving with eerie, perfect synchrony.

"I'm sorry, something's just come up. I'll call you back."

David raced towards the scene of the battle, using the eyes' telescopic vision to pick out the combatants. An unknown metahuman, engaged with Capacitator, and... wait.
Image
It seemed impossible, but all the news channels verified it. The Red Tsar- here in D.C.

Not quite sure what to make of a genuine relic of the Cold War here in his city, Odin simply resolved to do as he always did- save as many people as possible. He arrived at the monument in under a minute, and chose his target. It would be... unwise, to fire on Capacitor. Agent of the U.S. government, and at least in this case, the 'good guy.' However, to shoot the Iron Curtain would be a foolish move as well- he's a representative of a foreign power, and I don't want to make an enemy of him, or all of Russia, because he might be the aggressor here. The unknown third party seems to be the 'villain,' though why Red Tsar chose to fight him here, of all places, is bizarre to me.

Odin fired a single, red-hot beam from one of the eyes- not directly at the man whose name he didn't know was Sasha, but at the ground between him and the Red Tsar. He burned a line into the ground, between the current combatants- an effective way of announcing his presence, and hopefully halting hostilities for the moment. He made sure it didn't touch concrete, only the grass- it would be much easier to simply cover it up in the dirt than to replace the concrete around the monument, and it didn't provide right-wing talking heads on the T.V. more talking-points about 'property damage.'

"All of you, stop! If you fight here, you'll only endanger civilians. These people are under my protection."
A myth where ultimate evil turns its gaze on humanity and humanity gazes right back and says "Gotcha."

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Re: Super Century [Open]

Post by Thundermachine » Tue May 01, 2018 2:50 am

"By tonight? No can do, chief. I'll see about getting him to this lighthouse on...let's say...Friday afternoon," he said, raising a metal thumb upwards at the winged wonder. What kind of timetable was this man working on?

Jove watched Virtue step over the ledge, gracefully gliding away with a maneuverability he honestly envied. Carter's armor was jet-like, and though he could control his basic flight functions fairly easily, there was no matching the silent flight born of superpowers. At least, for now.

He followed suit, lifting off from the rooftop they stood on to return to X-Tech. It wouldn't be a complete waste if he could get that date. Interesting women were rarer than unicorns these days.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"What kind of crimefighter needs this much firepower? You could raze a city in a half-hour. Don't lie, you want a war."

New York had been reduced to an apocalyptic hellscape, through which Carter marched. Each plodding footfall was punctuated by a spurt of machine gun fire from his wrists, or a white-hot shot of concussive force from his palms. His targets were only shadows, outlines of winged men and long-haired femmes fatales.

The Thundermachine device was coming apart around him as he stomped through a wall of thick black smoke, individual components known to him like the back of his hand. They hovered gently in place, tiny screws and bolts spinning at the periphery of his senses as he listed off weapon after weapon. A miniature nuclear reactor on his chest; machine guns on his wrists; nearly fifty rockets behind the red-gold panels -

The pieces came together again as if magnetized, the armor now a cohesive unit once more. It clung to him like muscles, each part a natural fit. He was just another piece, the skeleton of the skeleton, the brain of the being. More than just a man, but an idea. This was what they built it for, it was an inevitability.

Built to kill.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Carter's eyes opened with a start, oxygen hurriedly sucked in through his mask. Green fluid surrounded him, suspending him gently in a bubble of gel. He smacked his hand down on the release button, the dream juice receding from the hamster-ball he floated within. Yanking away the oxygen mask, he stumbled to a nearby shower, letting the green goo run off of his body.

INCIDENT LOG: FIRST LOSS OF DREAM CONTROL IN HAPTIC TANK; OCCURRED NIGHT AFTER VIRTUE MEETING.

He recorded the failure responsibly, but only in his personal journal. Carter wouldn't worry Hermes, and there was no chance he'd be denied use of the simulator.

Carter stood in the empty shower, composing himself as a message came over the intercom for him (had he slept into his office hours?)

"Sir, there's been an incident in D.C. Odin has engaged the Red Tsar and one other in battle. The Brigade appears to be on the scene."

He paused. Not a moment of rest between simulation and reality.

"...Great. Get...get Thundermachine ready for launch. I'll be down in five."

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Re: Super Century [Open]

Post by Chevron » Tue May 01, 2018 4:04 am

The Hero stood there listening to the exact response he had expected, she wouldn't want to do it. What he didn't expect was for her to question his judgement on the matter at hand. He had already told command exactly what he was expecting to get out of this but, he didn't expect them to keep other people, especialy operatives at her level, in the dark. He took in a deep breath before running his hand along the edge of the shield on his back.

"Teja...this shield, this symbol I bear, all of it has a weight. The stronger the force behind it the lighter it is but, the weaker WE get the heavier that burden weighs on me. I've torn down dictatorships in the Middle East just to watch those countries become nothing more than a rotting power vacum and all I see when I look at Odin is someone who wants to do that to us. This country only stands strong because of the people in Washington who make the hard choices and the people like us who enforce them."

He turned towards the large glass window that overlooked the New York City skyline. It was lit with thousands of tiny lights each illuminating some walk of life from the innocent to the unsavory.

"Odin wants us gone, he wants this whole country torn down and rebuilt in his own gaudy image. You heard him in Washington, we've let him run loose for too long. Its gotten to the point where he's forgotten that whether he likes it or not he works for us. We let him shoot down a government aircraft and acted like nothing happened. If we keep letting him push us without us pushing back than nothings stopping him from making his next target the White House."

He turned back to her and even from behind the mask his pain was visible. This country, these people, and everything they stood for was his way of life. It was the system that let him climb and, while it wasn't perfect, it didn't deserve what Odin wanted from it.

"I've been trained to locate and neutralize threats before they become problems. Odin is on a fast track to becoming a problem so if you want to know what I'm planning...I'm planning on doing my job and reminding him exactly where his authority comes from."
---------------------------To Be Continued----------------------------------



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New York Three Days Earlier

Virtue's wings collapsed silently as his red boots touched down on the scene of what he could only describe as vicious carnage than again his briefing on Jiménez should've prepped him for it. When they picked up the call over police radio was when they knew they had him and it was Virtue's case. He had been on it for a couple days and it was consuming his time, Jimenez was an interesting character. Did some time running with Cartels after a CIA operation went sour and, like it always did back then, created a black hole of power. Than he took a government deal and ended up becoming a family man before all this happened.

They had little information on Jiménez other than the fact that he was a ruthless killing machine with enough power to take on the New York City police which is exactly why they were being told to create a perimeter rather than go in. The goal was to trap the meta so that Virtue could do his job without anymore families being left in mourning.

"He's jumping a fence, take him down"

That was all Virtue needed to spring into action. His wings expanded again and his mutation took effect. He emitted a constant quiet whistle that moved the magnetic field that kept him afloat. He used his optics to spot the escaping doctor and with his free hand he hurled his shield towards the ground in front of him. Than he landed, letting out a sharp whistle to call the shield back.

"Doctor drop the brief case and come with us. I'm like you, I have a family that I would do anything to protect. Alot of those guys had families to so why don't you just surrender before one more family has to mourn another loss."

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Re: Super Century [Open]

Post by Quirbles » Wed May 02, 2018 9:28 pm

Jiménez cleared the fence with minimal effort, landing onto the ground and rolling to help with the impact before rising to his feet, making his way towards his car. He was only able to take two steps before a metal disc struck the ground before the doctor and stopped him in his tracks, an armor-clad man dropping before him and calling the shield back with a sharp whistle. Jiménez imperceptibly winced at the noise, the relative darkness of the night aiding his hood in concealing his identity. His bandana was torn, having been ripped by the passage of a bullet into his jugular; the doctor’s sunglasses were cracked in the right lens, glass having fallen from the frame and exposing the stark white of what could be considered his eyes. Bullet-holes were prevalent over the face of his blood-stained outfit. He looked as if he’d been through hell.

Jiménez cocked his head to the side at the man’s words, processing them for a moment before shaking his head in disappointment. The doctor chuckled to himself. He believes himself to be like me. That couldn't have been farther from the truth.

”We both know that isn’t possible.”

Jiménez studied the area around them for a moment, his tuned ears picking up on the sound of the helicopter’s rotors and the crying of sirens in the distance. His attention turned back to the man. Judging by attire, he was obviously sent by the United States government. How much information had they gathered on his life? They knew about his family, as evidenced by his run-in with the FBI in Atlanta. A peaceful resolution appeared to be the goal of this confrontation, but the doctor knew that situations such as these rarely resolved themselves without violence. Tendrils erupted from Jiménez’s back, curling in the air over shoulder and head as they swayed slightly in the air. Their sharpened endings were poised to strike but he would not use them. Yet.

”I am not handing over the briefcase, nor am I handing over myself,” The doctor rasped. He took a step backwards, looking for any sort of high structure that was within grabbing distance of his chitin appendages. There was nothing to help him besides light posts, seeing as there weren’t any skyscrapers or tall buildings in Greenport. He cursed himself internally for his lack of foresight. He hadn’t planned for such a quick response.

”Because the moment I turn myself over to the government, I will be repurposed. Experimented upon. I refuse to let the United States take my research, not when I’m so close. And do not lie to me with promises of safety. I know exactly what will happen to me... it happened in Colombia, and it will happen again.”

Finishing his small tirade, he now took a step towards the man who’d been sent to contain him.

”I do not want to have to use violence. But I am leaving with my research, alone, and I will go through you if I have to.”

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Re: Super Century [Open]

Post by Chevron » Fri May 04, 2018 8:34 pm

Darryl took no joy in having to fight someone but, if every conflict in the world could be resolved with just words he would be out of a job. He rolled his shoulders while the doctor talked, and even though he spoke like someone who didn't want anymore bloodshed, there was no way to make up for the lives lost in that compound. As much as he didn't want to admit it the doctor was right, he did know that the peaceful way was out of the question.

A voice came through his ear piece; his superiors wanting to make sure he knew his mission after his little stunt he pulled with Thundermachine. "Virtue remember, the suits in D.C. want this one alive at all costs. Stick to protocol and bring him in" The hero gently nodded his head as a way to confirm to base that he understood and to Jiménez that he was right about this. "Doctor Héctor Jiménez under the authority of the United States Government you are hereby..."
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"...under arrest"

His body rocketed off into the air wings folded backwards to help him slice through the air until he was about twenty feet up. Thwoosh He let his red, white, and blue shield fly through the air towards the doctors tentacles. He let out a low whistle that would cause the magnetic field carrying his shield to follow an arced path with the intent of severing the tentacles. While he whistled to control his shield he used a move he learned from watching RR hunt all those years ago. His wings pulling back as he dove towards the doctor building up momentum which would all explode into a swift kick aimed at the right side of his head.

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