Welcome
It all started when a crystal dropped into existence, punched a hole in time and space and landed into the lap of one the most insane men to ever walk the Earth.
At first, the clown didn't know what he had been gifted with, stuck in his cell in Arkham, staring at the reddish purple crystal laying innocently on the dirty stone floor.
And then the voices started, telling him of another universe, talking of power and chaos beyond what he could have ever dreamed.
census
Heroes
Villains
SHIELD
Avengers
Justice League
X-Men
Brotherhood
Mutants
Anti-Heroes
Civilians
Neutral
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000 ♂
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000 ♀
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LET THEM KNOW WE
WONT BACK DOWN
a marvel/dc roleplay
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Post by Virgil "Static" Hawkins on Feb 16, 2013 20:21:52 GMT -5
This was both totally awesome, and really bad all at the same time. Ever since he had first started doing the super hero thing, Gotham City had been on the mind of Static Shock. Come on: Batman’s home turf? What could possibly be cooler than that? And while he had been to the place a couple of times, he had never really gotten a good look around, or done any decent crime-fighting in the place. It had been kind of a dream location to save people in, much like Metropolis or Coast City. Places where the big heroes worked- places where the true heroes worked. Sure, it had been great saving Dakota from Bang Babies, and helping out in New York was cool too, but somehow it just didn’t seem as epic as stopping some monster from going after the Daily Planet, or keeping the streets of Gotham safe from crime lords. No, he knew that getting to work in places like that meant really hitting the big league.
But this… was not what he had been expecting for his grand entrance into real heroism.
He hadn't managed to make any kind of name for himself, even with his attempts to help out the cops. They seemed entirely used to heroes saving the day, and hardly gave him a second glance, even with the currents flying. He had to wonder if it meant he was just kind of boring, or if it was because they already had a lot of super help in the city of crime. Either way, he was far from being a common name on the streets of Gotham.
Okay, that didn’t mean he couldn’t look on the bright side, though. Maybe he was trapped in a sea of obscurity, but it was still one of the coolest places ever, and he finally had his chance to make a difference there. He could fight crime with Batman! A dream come true. Or… a dream come true for the third or fourth time, but still. How could he be upset when there was a real chance to do good in the air? No pun intended.
Because he happened to be hovering over the city.
Sighing heavily, the young boy offered himself a smile, trying to boost his own spirits as he looked down at the streets below.
There was a reason he had decided to become a super hero after gaining in his powers, instead of running wild like most of the other kids, and he was going to make sure he figured out what it was, even if it meant taking a break from New York for a little while. Sometimes, there was no room to be a kid. He knew in his heart that this was one of those times.
He needed to get to work. Focus on finding out what he was meant to do there, not what fame it might bring him. Either way, he refused to sit around and mope about it.
Slapping his cheeks, young Static took a deep breath, sparks flying as he charged himself up. No time like the present to start figuring things out, he figured. So he lowered himself to the streets below, to see if he could gather some information. Or maybe stop a crime or to.
The latter seemed the winner of the day, as out of no where Static heard the loud, unmistakable bang of a gun. Clearly, he had come at just the right time. Or had been summoned. Whatever. It didn’t matter what he chose to believe, he just needed to get back to the grind.
Fists clutching at his wild currents, a smile emerged over Static’s face, his hover board directing him towards the gun fire.
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Post by Cole "Grifter" Cash on Feb 17, 2013 18:26:52 GMT -5
Don't ask Grifter why he was hiding here, in the most unlikely of places, because even he really didn't know. All that he would tell you was that a friend had tipped him off to a gang fight going on nearby this hiding place tonight, and it was the only thing he could see that even provided effective cover. Plus, the other one was completely full. He may not be the most sanitary of people, but he would not have spent as long as he had stuck in a place permeated with maggots and flies. Anyways, Cole Cash had been lurking in this empty dumpster for about five hours now, since three in the afternoon. You couldn't really count on tips to be exact, so that's why he had come here and stayed for so long. He wouldn't ever be able to forgive himself if he missed the big event. Cole had simply decided to wait until the action started to hop out of the dumpster and jump in with both guns blazing. It was supposed to be a major fight between not two or three, but no less than seven rival gangs. Cole had at first been daunted by the sheer number prospect but later had been determined to do it, especially when he realized that he had been outnumbered and outskilled worse before. Cole reeked of old Italian food and banana peels, but he really didn't mind. The veteran had been in places a lot more disgusting and smelly than this. Even just being in Iraq and Afghanistan was an ordeal that would make one's nose wrinkle up in disgust at the stench. There was one time that his special ops group had stumbled onto a building that had been the site of a sniper battle. The actual fighting had happened right around a week previous, and the bodies were just lying there in the clearing, rotting to the flies' content. The heat didn't make things better, either, and that the five had eaten just about two hours before. They had to pull out the rarely-used gas masks for that one, and though the blond was already used to severe stenches and nerve gas bombs by then, that time he nearly threw up. Not the best situation to be in, that's for sure. They ended up staying and burying everyone, but not before Maryann had frozen the bodies to get rid of the stench that permeated everything.
Checking his watch and seeing that it said eight-thirty PM, Cole sighed and rubbed his hand on his hair. Trying to make as little noise as possible, he stretched his cramping legs out and pulled one of his Desert Eagles from his holsters, flipping it in his hand by the trigger Good thing the safety was on, or he would have shot himself in the leg. It wasn't usually a danger to flip a magnum, but we were talking heavy firepower here. A Desert Eagle was three times the size of a standard pistol.
Not long after he started playing with the gun, the first voices started to be heard. Jim had said this was all going down at eight-forty-five, and it seemed that he was right on the money this time. The noise of switchblades being pulled out became prevalent as well. Quietly, Cole put the huge pistol back in its place on his hip and craned his neck around to peek out a hole in the dumpster. Yup, he could count several distinct gangs gathering in the alleyway. They were staying in their own, distinctive cliques and muttering grim prospects among themselves. From listening to the conversations of the nearest one to the dumpster, it was clear that the one who had started this whole rivalry was a tall, brawny kid standing by the organized, military-like gang to the far North. He was a monster. No wonder everyone was nervous to start the fight. Also, some in the group didn't expect to survive the night. They seemed sad and dismal. Cole, on the other hand, was excited. This was going to be a good chance to check out how good he was at hand-to-hand yet. Lately, all he had been getting was sniper and small jobs. It was satisfaction to be able to sit here and anticipate feeling the heat of masses of gang kids. A few more minutes, which would have been waited in grueling expectation by anyone else than this experienced former Special Ops Black Beret, ticked by slowly. The last few groups straggled into the clearing, and the tensions got high.
Then, the first shot was fired. It hit the dumpster, making a clang that nearly scared Cole to death. It wasn't fired his way on purpose, he knew, but it was a scary experience nonetheless. Good thing that the dumpster was still sturdy in most places and the place where the bullet struck wasn't as weak as the place where the peep-hole was. As soon as the sound had died away, the gang members that hadn't already pulled knives did so, and all seven distinct groups threw themselves in the fray, attempting to stab whoever didn't bear their mark.
This was going to be fun. Pulling and unlatching the safety on both of the DEs, Cole spun them over in his hands and burst out of the dumpster, pausing a moment to perch on the edge. Two fighting leaders stopped to stare at him. "Dudes, You have to settle this all in peace. That, or get better switchblades for your guys." He managed to quip before those who had noticed his presence threw themselves on him. Help would be greatly appreciated, he thought.
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Post by Virgil "Static" Hawkins on Mar 3, 2013 12:58:35 GMT -5
Static had been expecting something small. Perhaps a robbery or some kid dicking around with a gun when he wasn’t supposed to be. He hadn’t been anticipating what turned out to be a massive gang fight. Hovering above the scene, he watched as all hell broke loose below him, people going at one another like they had nothing else left for them but a violent fight to the death. No doubt that was exactly how many of them were feeling.
Frowning, he stalled a moment, just observing the crazed fighting of the proud, stubborn men below him. He knew gang violence well. Dakota had been full of it, and his own mother had died during a riot. Hell, he’d gotten his powers during a gang fight. It was probably the one good thing he could attribute to gangs. The only good thing. Though it was somewhat diminished by the fact that tons of super powered villains had been made that night, too. Oh well.
It was still something he was thankful for, circumstances aside.
Finally regaining himself, the young boy swooped into the action, noting another guy in the area who didn’t seem to fit in. It was that he was sparking with live electricity or anything, but he seemed to be the only one not sporting any kind of gang colors or wear. That, and he was probably ten times better at fighting than anyone around him. Grinning, he sent his sparks all around him, zapping some of the man before hoisting a few into the air and tossing them away from the only other man he felt he needed to help out in the fray. Everyone else probably needed to go to prison.
“No one told me there was going to be a party tonight,” laughed the young boy almost merrily, shooting balls of electricity at the members lucky enough to have guns. If there was one thing he hated, it was a gun.
So they needed to be disarmed first.
As he worked, he took a moment to peek at the man nearby, offering him a friendly wave despite all the chaos. Like they were meeting on the streets without everyone trying to rip their faces off. “Name’s Static- you come here often?”
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Post by Cole "Grifter" Cash on Mar 20, 2013 1:34:00 GMT -5
As he felt the first switchblade edge slice at his red and black mask an then the skin under his eye, Cole brought a fist up into the knofe wielder's soft stomach. With a hulp, there was one down. If there was one thing Grifter could do, it was fight. Soon, there as a heap of hurting gang members collecting around him. Multiple times Cole took on one of the guys from the tough guy's group, and they made themselves look like little boys trying to learn karate from an abusive sensei. Dude, they considered themselves militarized? Their tactics was nothing compared to Cole. Of course, unlike them, he had actually been in the military.
Suddenly, a flash of- lightning?- caught Cole's eye, and he glanced up for a second to see another, definitely hero, swoop in and knock off some of the men that Cole had gotten backlogged around him. Saluting his helper, he turned and put down another who had come up behind him from around the dumpster. “No one told me there was going to be a party tonight,” A laughing voice called from the direction the lightning-man had went. The voice sounded fresh, reckless, and excited. No doubt it was one of the younger types. Grifter, having started out as a lad himself, always tried to support teenage vigilantes' causes. "Well, I suppose that the guest list was sort of limited. You know, VIP-only." A roundhouse kick finished off two more lackeys. "I just had to be the one to crash it." With the wounded, unconscious, or out-of-commission count getting higher and higher, he found himself having to deal with less and less attackers. Yet, he hadn't come across tough guy yet. That was the battle that he would have to pay close attention to.
Seeing that the newcomer was disarming the ones with guns, Cole glanced down at his own and made sure that they were still there. He wouldn't kill any of the gang members unless they had rabies and were raving insane or something. His fists were enough of a weapon to use effectively. On the same note, he didn't need his telepathic powers, either. Ever since that last fatal mission with the berets, he had been determined not to ever need them again unless it was a dire emergency.
Cole snuck a peek at his helper, and found that they both were interested in the other. Grifter caught Static's gaze but then immediately released it again. He had never really been comfortable with eye contact. One of his worst traits, Lady Zannah had said. “Name’s Static- you come here often?” Ah, so Lightning Lad had a moniker. "Grifter. Pleased to make your acquaintance." When one of the lackeys tried to stand they just got an elbow to their heads or faces.
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Post by Virgil "Static" Hawkins on Mar 20, 2013 13:12:03 GMT -5
Static grinned. So the guy knew how to make a joke- he liked that. A lot of the fist-only types seemed to be kind of dark and brooding, which made it difficult for someone like him to befriend them. Being energetic and young, he was usually someone that could either make friends fast, or really piss off the person he was talking to. There didn’t seem to be a lot of room for middle ground. Still, he couldn’t complain- there was something amusing in making brooding people angry, even if it wasn’t his intention.
He smiled and watched as the other fought, deeply impressed. When it came to fighting, hand to hand was not his forte. He was much better off at a distance, using his power to subdue the people around him. Like the man who had been attempting to make a leap at him right at that moment. Pulling back, Static held out a hand, using his powers to zap the man and send him flying back into a couple of other thugs. They would find getting away from one another a bit difficult, as his powers had stuck them together like a sock to a balloon.
One of his favorite things to do.
He looked back at the man, who had just introduced himself as Grifter. Strange name, but he liked it. Somehow, it felt very fitting. “Nice to meet ya!” He hooted, watching as the thugs started to reconsider their positions. It looked like the ones that weren’t stuck to things or out cold on the floor would be trying to make an escape at any moment. Maybe they were scared by two awesome heroes. Two versus multiple gangs was a bit unfair, all things considered. For the thugs, anyway.
“You fight like a boss!” He hummed, “I can’t believe you can move that quick! Are you a meta human? Or a ‘mutant’?” He knew there were a lot of mutants from the new dimension. Maybe he had been from that kind of dimension? “Or are you just a good, old fashioned master of the fighting arts?” He didn’t seem too worried about things, since it already looked as though they had things well in hand.
“So, you think we should keep those guys from getting away? Might be a heck of a lot of the cops to wrap up,” he laughed, “they’re going to need a bigger truck.”
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Post by haze on Mar 20, 2013 20:03:30 GMT -5
The gangs started running back towards the two, but why? A huge billowing form of smoke chased after them. It was a horse, flying in the air, made of black smoke, the streetlights shining through the empty eye sockets like fire. The steed from hell trotted along the air as it sped towards them, more smoke coming from its nostrils. All of a sudden, the giant smoke horse, split into two, then three, then four cornering a few of the men. They tried to fight back, but their blades and bullets went through the smoke. When they tired themselves out, the horses formed into the shapes of a man. The smoke men then grew solid and gave right and left hooks to the men. A bullet hit one of multiple men, which then dissipated into smoke and disappeared. One of the many smoke men turned back into smoke, sped towards the gunmen, materialized and disarmed him.
David didn't normally go out looking for trouble, he preferred trouble to do the legwork for him if need be. But his home was not too far away, and the constant noise made it hard for him to catch up on his reading, and more importantly his drinking. He was glad he was not alone; it would make things go by faster. He did not recognize them, but there were new ones every day. Metahumans, mutants, or just people with a mask and a good punch sprang up even more now that reality had completely bent over and got together with some other one. He let out a loud yawn and stretched a little as the remaining two Dave’s kept fighting. The yawning one walked over to the two men.
One was a child; well actually both of them were compared to him, though they would likely not believe that, not that it was a big deal or anything. The younger one had the more traditional aesthetic to his ensemble. He had a clear theme, and his own color scheme. The other pretty much wore a mask and called it a day. That kind of costume bugged Dave, it was not committing to anything. Full on costume or full casual, not in between, is what Dave preferred. But maybe he was just old fashioned in that regard, it was a minor nitpick that just seemed to bother him for no good reason.
“Evenin’ boys. “ he said, his trench coat swaying in the breeze slightly.
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Post by Cole "Grifter" Cash on Apr 22, 2013 1:32:04 GMT -5
One of the last standing gang members, after a moment in locked eye contact and standoff, decided not to take the risk of losing to Cole and bolted off down the alley. As he disappeared into the darkness, the old veteran looked around, glancing through all the unconscious bodies that had piled up through Static and his hard work. He didn't see that big leader guy. Then, never mind, if he ran off, that would be one less person for Cole to worry about. He made a mental note to ask his friend (the one that gave him the tip-off) about the husky kid, see if he couldn't be tracked down by himself later. Cole was sure that if he were as great a leader as he thought, that the leader would be an amazing candidate for the Army. Sometimes Cole wondered why peiople turned to fighting like this when there were so many other, more useful things to do with one's abilities.
“You fight like a boss! I can’t believe you can move that quick! Are you a meta human? Or a ‘mutant’?” Static's voice caught Grifter's attention again. "Thanks. I was trained by the best there is." That was 100% of his ego in that area- that he could say that he had trained with the Coda. Almost no one knew about the secret organization of lady assassins, but it was pride nonetheless. Then, he had made it through hard, active duty as a Black Beret. He liked to brag about those days too, but really it had been a hellhole. "I am metahuman, though posthuman describes me better. Heroes from the other universe would consequently call me 'Mutant'. My stamina and strength are enhanced genetically: but other than that It's just experience and training." He didn't tell Static about his telepathic powers; he didn't consider them a part of himself anymore. Puffing up a little with a small burst of pride, Cole started to take bodies and line them up carefully for easy identification and swift organization for the police.
“So, you think we should keep those guys from getting away? Might be a heck of a lot of the cops to wrap up, they’re going to need a bigger truck.” "Yeah. True that. Well, don't owrry about the ones that get away. They've learned their lessons, and they need a chance to go home to their parents and turn their lives around."Wiping his hands, Cole loomed especially long at one handsome man he found among the gangies. It was true. Some tonight would probably go to jail and leave free, clean men, others would go back into crime, and still others would remain in the doghouse for the rest of their lives. Just as he was thinking, there came yells, gunshots, and muffled thuds from the street beyond the alley. If whoever this newcomer was could help them, he was welcome. Before long a new man came wandering in. If he had abilities, they weren't stand out. If it wasn't for the earlier noises, he could be easily paased off as a civilain who had accidentally strayed upon this soil. Upon seeing the two heroes, scanned them over before venturing a greeting: “Evenin’ boys.“ "Hey there. Thanks for the little bit of cleanup help." continuing to stack bodies, he still kept out on a lookout for friends, enemies, dangers, and one eye on the newcomer.
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Post by Virgil "Static" Hawkins on Apr 23, 2013 14:13:50 GMT -5
When the guy said he had been training with the best, Static automatically thought he was talking about only one person. "You trained with Batman?!" He gasped on instinct, looking like he had just been told that santa was the real deal. "Being a mutant must be kind of cool, too. I guess the other world would call me a mutant too, but I'm not sure if I am or not." He laughed and zipped around in the sky, enjoying the air and letting his sparks fly harmlessly.
Boy, did Static feel like he was in the wrong place! Bad ass heroes with their gritty looks and cool powers showing up out of no where, looking like total bad boys, while he looked like a silly kid in a bright costume, shocking people and sticking them to walls. Maybe he needed to get an outfit with a bit more black to it- something to make him look more cool and mature, too. Cole certainly had the look down, as well as the new guy who had shown up to help them out right at the end.
Did he miss a memo about the dress code?
"I guess that's a good thing to hope for," he laughed lightly. Maybe they would go and think about what had happened, but he wasn't so sure it would be that simple. He had seen plenty of gang violence in the past, and most of the guys involved didn't go home and reconsider their lives after a big fight gone wrong. Still, some did. Static was thankful to think that not everyone got too caught up in the bad to see the light at the end of the tunnel. It was probably better to think the cup was half full.
He was very good at that, thankfully.
"yeah man, thanks for that," he added brightly, "what's your name? You another hero, too? This is awesome! I didn't know there were so many heroes I haven't even seen before!" He thought he was pretty good at his hero knowledge. He read all the papers, did all the research, and kept as up to date as possible on the goings on of the super crowd. Even with the merging of the worlds, he was confident he had been keeping up with things. Yet, there were still so many out there who didn't get in the papers, or he just skipped somehow. A shame, really.
But also exciting.
"You guys like food? We could totally grab a burger or something."
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Post by Cole "Grifter" Cash on Apr 25, 2013 1:06:38 GMT -5
((If Haze isn't on by the end of the activity check, then we may just have to pretend as if he was never there.)) "The Best" Led to Batman? Honestly that wasn't surprising, it also was true that when Cole thought about the karate king of the world, he also thought of Batman. The man was better than anyone could ever be, including Cole. Years of experience and hard work had gotten the bat guy to the top and still holding strong after most humans would have given up or worn out physically. As much as Cole would have liked to say he did train with Batman, lying to this kid seemed like a mortal sin. "Naah. Not Batman. By a bunch of sexy warrior ladies. The Amazons' Russian division." His smile tipped up just a bit as he carried an especially bulky man over. It was a running joke between those who knew about the Coda and were outside the civilization that they were descended from the Amazon, and had migrated to the heights of the Russian Penninsula after Wonder Woman kicked them out. Everyine knew it wasn't true; but still it made the rounds, getting wackier and wackier every time it came around to tickle one's ears. "Zannah." Cole's face drooped for a second, picturing the face of his beautiful, white-haired maiden. That- and she- wasn't important now, though. He had Static to keep him company- and the other guy, who was being very silent at this point in time. Cole took a second to stop and watch Virgil fly around, admiring his playfulness and vitality. Now that he was getting a bit older, and being away from the mountains of Russia was taking a huge toll on Grifter's health and youth, he was starting to feel lethargic and restless, snatching up jobs and almost never sleeping. If he was to go to a doctor, they would probably say that he had hyperactivity and RLS and insomnia and everything inbetween. "Being a mutant must be kind of cool, too. I guess the other world would call me a mutant too, but I'm not sure if I am or not.""If your abilities are genetic, they can call you that. That's what I've picked up from them." Cole shrugged, waving off the other implied question. "Again, I'm used to being called Posthuman, so..."Honestly, Static's costume was cool. What the tenager didn't realize was that Cole was glancing upon it admiringly. Cole's costume wasn't really a costume, only one slapped together from whatever he was wearing and the mask, a mainstay in his wardrobe ever since the day he tore the piece of red and black cloth out of a swatch that Lady Zannah had in her room. Virgil's getup made him look like an actual hero, and was that amazing elastic to boot. Cole had known that there were other heroes like himself, but only after the whole fiasco about the time mesh did he really come to know how many. Others popped up everywhere, it seemed, and even the Krypton clan was growing larger with heroes and villains. Not to mention the Lanterns! They were all thrown into a jumble, and came in all different colors. Red, Green, Purple, Blue... What woukd be next? Yellow?* That would be the day. "Burgers sound perfect. You may haveto order though, I smell like rotting french bread and spaghetti." Curious, he lifted an arm and smelled his sleeve. "Yup, sure do."*- No Sinestro reference intended...
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Post by Virgil "Static" Hawkins on May 27, 2013 19:35:35 GMT -5
"wow, amazons?!" Static hooted. That was a whole different kind of cool from Batman. He was surprised that they would teach him, though, since he thought he had read that they didn't like men much. "Aren't the amazons, like, Wonder Woman?! That's so cool- you must have learned some really awesome stuff from them!" He learned his moves from how-to videos and old police records of Batman beating up bad guys. He really couldn't say he'd ever had training from anyone totally awesome.
Listening as he talked about his abilities, he nodded thoughtfully. "I'm not a mutant either," he chuckled lightly, "my powers aren't genetic- they came from an explosion after I was exposed to a weird chemical at the docks in my home town. Me and a bunch of gang members were turned into powers beings, and I pretty much spent the next year or so stopping the rest of them. If you had to call me something, call me a Bang Baby- that's what we were known as in my home town." Not that he had liked being called that much. to be associated to those thugs had always annoyed him when he was younger. now, though, it wasn't as painful to associate himself with the rest of them- it was how things were, and he wasn't going to complain. He liked his powers, so why deny where they came from?
He didn't mind sharing that kind of information with others- it wasn't a secret where his powers had come from, anyway. Anyone with a computer would have been able to look it up. It was his identity he had to keep secret.
If Cole found out he was some nerdy teenager, he would be totally humiliated.
when Cole sniffed himself, Static laughed. "Well, maybe that's a little weird, but better than smelling like burnt rubber after a long day of work." He didn't care much for how others smelled- he was just happy to be spending time with another hero. "I'm sure we'll get to eat for free if we go to a place that loves heroes," he laughed, "sometimes the gig has perks, right?" He hopped off his hover board, if only because he thought he might be acting a little rude to be flying above the other for no reason other than wanting to. With the fight over, it was time to save some energy.
He just had to remember not to take his costume off- no need to go spoiling his identity the first time speaking to another hero.
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Post by Cole "Grifter" Cash on May 28, 2013 23:12:06 GMT -5
"Yeah, along the lines of Wonder Woman. They don't usually train men but I was an exception, because one took a special liking to me." There was the mention of Zannah again. Man, it took all his strength to make his face remain neutral (of course with a hint of a smile) even underneath the mask, because if he even attempted a frown, he would probably burst into tears. "Cool tricks? Probably nothing better than someone who would be trained by Batman would get, though if I had my say in it, a Coda could beat him any day." Ehh, maybe, maybe not. Zannah could probably smash the Batman to pieces, but some of the younger Coda wouldn't stand a chance; they had no experience, and the black caped man had been roaming these streets for, what, twenty years now? Thinking back on the way he himself was trained, it was a good thing that Zealot was flexible enough to adapt the Coda's feminine fighting style for Cole's benefit. The actual Coda fighting style was very much like jinjitsu, Karate, and Judo, but a lot more involved and a lot flashier, requiring contortion abilities that Cole Cash did not have. Coda also were trained to sharpshoot, control what natural powers they might have, and use different traditional weapons. He had also recieved that training in full, though a bit of an accelerated program since he was fifteen when he came to the Russian Castle, and most Coda started at six.
"Hm. Toxic Chemical. I never would have thought that's how you got your powers." So the guy had turned his life around after the whole gang became superpowered? That was a great life story, and he didn't mean that sarcastically at all. It truly was heroic. Leaving a gang was a hard thing to do. What happened that made Static choose to be a hero? Perhaps Cole would ask someday but for now he'd leave the kid's story as what was just divulged. It made Grifter a bit sad that he didn't have anything to measure up to that. He had been a failure for most of his life. The source of his powers weren't secret, either, he just didn't like to mention them. "I have powers, too..." Finally, painfully, he forced the words out. "I was born with mine: telepathic and psychokinetic. I don't use them anymore, it seems that whenever I do, someone dies." Maryann, those bullies... All of the people he had helped to kill, it weighed on him like a ton of bricks. It had taken several visits from Marc Slayton to convince Cole to start heroing again. And every time he used his powers it was like he let himself down. No. He would stick to the physical abilities Zannah had honed in him.
"I would feel a lot better about myself if I smelled like burnt rubber. That's a great scent. No kiddin'." It's what Matt, the techie in the army, had always smelled like, and Cole had taken a liking to it over the three-quarters tour of duty he had spend with the man. It made Matt's alibi of being a pit crew mechanic a lot easier to swallow, too. No- it was not good to dwell on the past. It was all behind him. Now everyone was here in the present, and a new friend was on his doorstep. Food. The sudden switch of thought made Cole's tummy grumble. He hadn't eaten in a while; from time to time he had these periods where he was too busy to eat. They'd last months sometimes, until he would collapse or someone would forcefeed him something. "I bet that it wouldn't matter where we showed up, someone would either pay for our meal or the place would give it to us free. Yup, perks. I'd be glad to pay, though, if either one of those two don't happen." His money supply was kind of short, after all he was living on random jobs and what was left of his army assets, but something splurged like this would be a nice treat.
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FORUM SKIN BY KATYA OF GANGNAM-STYLE
do not steal
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