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.
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LET THEM KNOW WE
WONT BACK DOWN
a marvel/dc roleplay
We All Fall Down [Plot Thread!]
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Post by The NPC on Nov 26, 2012 18:19:59 GMT -5
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[/color] Who: Amelia Smith, Norman Mars, Darkhawk Where: Metropolis What: The Attack Threads. Clyde Angeles's final part of phase one is now underway and SHIELD is now at risk of falling. When: After the interrogation of Dominique Falcone, it is revealed that something wicked was coming. Notes: There is to be no killing of the main players. For the people who are coming to the aid of our heroes it is up to you to decide how and when they come into the thread to help. Let the games begin! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/color] History. It held events of the past though only major. In different locations but at the same exact time separate happenings would occur. While those who slept were cradled in their dreamland across the globe there were people that moved about, buzzing like the drones they were. It would be foolish for one to think that in a sea of billions they actually mattered. For each good deed a person could muster it was often times turned a blind eye. Those who lived lavishly in their millions were recognized for their sin. It was such a twisted world Earth had played out to become. Minds quick to reform, to change, to try something new, bold, and daring revolutionized every single era of man. With century there has been something to marvel from the humans of Earth and it was quite possibly the one astounding feature. Today marked a day that was to go down in the history books, if all is not covered from the public eye. There was a man who had an idea. Clyde Angeles, real estate entrepreneur and scheming billionaire, thought of anarchy and power. He was a human who allowed his pride, greed, and vanity take hold. But he knew his time was short. When a man came forward with an idea of a revolution, it would be his life taken that shows the revolt. It would spread like wildfire soon after as those who were given the opportunity, given the mere thought, would carry it to the end. They would run those who were against them into the ground without a second thought. The Angeles Ball had been a success. Slowly the heroes of the world gathered into one large mansion in Washington DC, either in attending or for the rescue mission. Loki Laufeyson, the demi-god of Lies; Bane, Gotham's cerebral assassin; and Jonathan Crane, the holder of nightmares. Three villians who were involved in the plot to destroy SHIELD from the inside out. After questioning by Malaki Amherst, he had the locations provided by Dominique Falcone to which something terrible would be happening. There was no explanation, just the warning of what she had heard through the grapevine. The Avengers Mansion, an area in North Carolina, Manhattan, New York, Metropolis, and Gotham City. Fury dispatched Captain America to North Carolina, a top secret building laid underground which contained many dangerous objects and people. Loki's scepter was currently housed in the facility. Amelia Smith was dispatched to Metropolis, home of Superman. Natasha Romanov was dispatched to Gotham City. Clint Barton was dispatched to Los Angeles. Danii Washington was dispatched to the Avengers Mansion. Sharon Carter, Michael Morbius, and Johnny Storm remained on the Hellicarrier. Bradley and Vaughn had been dispatched to one of the main research areas in Manhattan. Jerry Tucker was currently present in Texas, servers went down at another SHIELD location the night before. Zara was still present in Gotham's Arkham Asylum. So far everything seemed normal. Their orders were to investigate every inch of the location they were given, look for anything that seemed out of the ordinary and if something did occur then they were to report to Fury immediately. [/blockquote][/center]
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Post by ameliaraven on Dec 11, 2012 19:29:01 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true] we were born we are strong
i may be able to see your future
Her eyes flickered, scanning her surroundings. She was here on a mission for SHIELD and she was trying to pick out where her attacker was. Her body was tingling with the excitement of adrenaline, but deep down past all that was the growing sense of fear. Agent Smith had no idea if she'd make it out alive, she had to walk into every mission knowing that it could very well be her last considering many of her attackers were much stronger then she was.
So far she'd been blessed with luck, never once had her powers come up when in a fight. However, little did she know, that luck would run dry today. Today she would be left disoriented after a vision took root in her body, seeping through her veins and spreading cold tingles of fear throughout her entire soul. It could very well be her last day on earth and she knew it.
The thought sent torrents of fear and worry through her body. She didn't want to die, who did? She didn't want to leave all her friends, although if it came to that she wouldn't want them to be sad. She wouldn't want them to cry, oh no Amelia wanted them to just move on.
However Amelia Raven Smith, wasn't Amelia Raven Smith right now. She was Sparrow, agent of SHIELD and she was ready to do what she had come out here to do.
Kick some serious ass.
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[/color] [/div] but only you can change it to be Fighters! we are survivors • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
tagged: open ~ 593 words ~ outfit: c l i c k y ~ notes: i can always write more or less template made by alaya @ CAUTION 2.0 [/td][/tr][/table][/center]
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Hope is the Last to Die
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Post by "Mad Dog" Norman Mars on Dec 12, 2012 12:03:34 GMT -5
As Agent Sparrow walked down the streets of metropolis she was unaware that her every moment was being monitored. Despite Supermans best efforts to clean up the city there still remained a large amount of homeless people, littering the streets, as with most large city the normal everyday folk do there best to ignore these poor unfortunate folks. One such man was a quite elderly man dressed in rags who was staring at the agent with wide eyes before leaping to his feet and moving as fast as he possibly could. He moved from allay to allay deep into the heart of a metropolis. High winds howled down the narrow passageway, growling down like a pack of wolves. Police sirens could be heard ringing in the background, and not just 1 siren, but multiple ones singing together like a beautiful opera. Gunshots rang somewhere off in the distance, but since no screams of terror can be heard afterwards, we assume nobody is afraid of them; they are….accustomed to it. A dim light glowed in the center of the landscape, and upon further inspection it can be seen that a large metal barrel, open on top, has been set ablaze near some of its inhabitants. Luckily for them, it’s not a cold winter night, but rather a somewhat mild afternoon… Among the crackheads, the whores and the homeless of the town is a man leading up against the wall. He is faintly seen because of the glow of the cigarette dangling from his mouth. His face, however, cannot be seen as it is looking down and covered by a black hood. The hood is attached to his black jacket. He barely even acknowledging the presence of the old hobo. "She's here..." At these words his head lifts up revealing himself as Norman Mars With clear excitement on his face, When personal files on the one known as Sparrow arrived outside his makeshift den, Mars knew that now was time to strike first blood against shield and it was so important that he strikes early so that their house of cards begins to crumble to the ground and. prepare Mad Dog did, he's been sharpening his knife and practicing knife thrusts and beating the tar out of several punching bags for many days with out sleeping, In fact on that faithful morning he broke into a local drug store, stole every bottle he could lay his hands on and pored every single bottle down his throat, not caring about the contents of said bottles, he woke up several hours later in a pool of his own vomit, he felt good. He felt ready to fight, He felt ready to kill... Mad Dog made his first move by utilizing the local homeless community, In recent months Mad Dog has become somewhat of a mythical figure to the homeless, and why not? He was their champion, the patron saint of the unwashed masses and now they have proven useful.... Mad Dog cracked his neck side to side and tossed his cigarette aside and approached the hobo "Are you sure?""Absolutely, she was exactly as you described her." Mad Dog nods his approval "...Good" Without another word Mad Dog pushed past the hobo and goes to leave but before he does he stops seemingly in deep thought. Before seemingly deciding something and turning back to the hobo. "Spread the word. I want every single member of the Metropolis homeless Community on those streets causing mayhem! I want looting, I want fires, I want muggings, I want the decay of western society out on show...and most of all tell them I want Sparrow found and brought to me Sparrow...alive...The person that so much as to lay a finger on her head...will never stop screaming... Is that understood?"The hobo looked somewhat confused at this request but after a moment nods his head in agreement and fades into the allay. Mad Dog began to impatiently paced back and forward in his allay...The die was cast. Soon Mad Dog's command would travel like a virus to every piece of human scum in Metropolis until a plague breaks out on the streets. What was the point of him tracking Sparrow down, when he had practically an army at his disposal to deliver her gift wrapped at his feet? Would they be successful in the task Mad Dog delegated to them? He doubted it. But that wasn't the point. If Sparrow finds him or dragged to him was irrelevant. What mattered was that Sparrow knew that she was standing at the gates of hell, that she knew she had no control in this place and she was fighting on Mad Dog's battleground, in the grime and dirt. It was just a matter of time... Come out, come out where ever you are...
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Post by ameliaraven on Dec 18, 2012 19:57:58 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true] we were born we are strong
i may be able to see your future
Sparrow was appalled at all those left homeless, but despite that when the old man’s eyes, wide, met hers she was filled with suspicion. He had run from her, and she wondered why. She had been dispatched here, to Metropolis; too look for anything out of the ordinary and so far, there wasn’t a thing that seemed odd to Amelia, besides the old man. To be honest, Agent Sparrow thought about following, but didn’t. Those weren’t her orders. She was just going to do what she was told and if something was out of the ordinary she’d report to Fury, simple right?
She bit her lip; they were dry and now wet with blood, the ruby liquid shining in the dim light of the fading sun. It would be dark soon and Amelia would feel a lot better if she wasn’t caught wondering the alley ways of Metropolis in the dark. Although she had looked over several maps and nearly memorized the shape of the town and where streets were, she wasn’t sure she trusted herself to remain completely calm in the dark in a strange place.
Her reserved, calm, blue eyes caught the light of the sun as she tilted her head to the side as she heard shuffling feet heading towards her. She whirled around, honeysuckle blonde hair fanning out behind her, her knife flashing as she whipped it from up her sleeve. She held it in a defensive stance as she stood, statue still – alert for any signs of danger.
In the fading light, slightly blood red from the clouds mixing with the setting sun creating a sort of smeared orange, gold, and scarlet palette of paint, her eyes glittering seeming to catch on fire in the strange light. If this had been any other situation she would have marveled at the artist’s work of art in the sky but now, now as the setting sun glinted off the steel blade of her knife, her thoughts were only on the moves she’d been practicing. She was ready to fight off whatever creature sprang at her from the dark depths of the shadows lining the sides of the alley bathed in the dying evening light.
The SHIELD agent’s eyes flickered about, her body rigid her muscles coiled waiting to break like a rubber band when stretched too far, like an earthquake that sat for years without incident, coiling the energy from the earth and then snapping releasing hell and chaos from the deepest fiery depths of the core. It actually began to ache, her muscles screaming out in protest for her to relax and continue on her way. Any normal citizen would have done just that, but not Amelia. Not the woman who had lived on the streets for so long. She had been raised better than that; she wasn’t going to give in to her body’s protest until she was absolutely sure that there was no danger nearby. And right now, she was sure that there was danger, she could feel it in the air, the tingling in her skin.
Then suddenly, the adrenaline rushed through her body taking over before she was even sure what was happening. She was whirling around, catching a man’s arm before he could hit her to the back of the head. She shoved him back, shoving a well-aimed knee up between his legs. She spun in a circle, kicking his leg from beneath him, and leaping away, her chest heaving as he groaned, rolling on the ground.
Her amusement was short lived; a strong arm snaked in front of her, slamming back on her wind pipe. The leather bound hilt of the knife was ripped from her hand as she struggled, trying to shove her elbow back into the stomach of her attacker. Black splotches speckled across her vision as she struggled to stay awake. She managed to slam her elbow into her attacker’s stomach, causing his hold to weaken just enough for Amelia to escape. Anyone else’s instincts would have told them to run, but not Amelia’s. She was trained to stay and fight. She faced her attacker, not expecting him to recover as quickly as he did and taking a well-aimed hit to the jaw with the man’s scared knuckles. Her head snapped back, setting her off balance. Her teeth were jammed down into her lip, splitting open a nasty gash in her bottom lip.
She groaned as her head spun, and in her moment of weakness, the homeless man who happened to work for Norman Mars, Mad Dog himself, slammed the butt of Amelia’s knife into the back of head, rendering her unconscious.
About ten minutes later, the homeless men dragged her to where Mad Dog waited, dumping her to the ground and splashing her with cold water. She jerked awake, on her feet in a moment, searching for a weapon, but the ones she’d had, had been taken. She swore softly and glared at Mad Dog. “What the hell do you want?” She growled, clenching her teeth.
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[/color] [/div] but only you can change it to be Fighters! we are survivors • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
tagged: open ~ 840 words ~ outfit: c l i c k y ~ notes: i can always write more or less template made by alaya @ CAUTION 2.0 [/td][/tr][/table][/center]
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Hope is the Last to Die
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Post by "Mad Dog" Norman Mars on Dec 26, 2012 22:34:59 GMT -5
It was getting dark now. Not that Mad Dog was aware of course, in fact it would be fair to say he wasn’t aware of much of his current surroundings, after the old hobo has left him alone Mad Dog set about his preparations for the upcoming battle…which consisted of nothing more than bouncing up and down in place to warm himself…and returning to his original position leaning against the brick wall, closing his eyes…letting the voices take over… At that moment if everyone on planet earth screamed at the top of their collective lungs at the same time, Mad Dog wouldn’t be even the slightest bit aware, his world now consistence of the back of his eyelids and mummers in the dark…whispering to him softly at first but slowly getting louder and louder whose voices were they? Some were voices of the children that played such a instrumental part of ruining his youth. Others were the voices of the doctors and guards employed at the hospital where he was imprisoned for over two decades and others people that mars have had contract all screaming in one voice. Kill Mad Dog Kill, Kill Mad Dog Kill, Kill Mad Dog Kill, Kill Mad Dog Kill, Kill Mad Dog Kil-“Boss?” Irritably Mad Dog awoke from his trance to behold a surprising sight. There lying before him was Sparrow.. Well Well Well…Mad Dog certainly wasn’t expecting this, he was expecting a member of the worlds most advanced organisation to easily handle a couple of homeless cretins…but it seems he was mistaking…this revelation somewhat disappointed… Never taking his eyes out Sparrow he lights another cigarette before extending his hand towards the hobo… “Weapons.”Without a moment hesitation the hobo eagerly gave Sparrow’s knife to Mars, Mad Dog examined the knife with keen interest, being somewhat of an expect in knifes, he can see it was in fine condition, beautifully preserved, sharp…such a shame its owner will never use it again. After placing Sparrow’s knife in the back pocket Mars turns back to the hobo “Wake her up, then leave, do not interrupt no matter what you hear. Spread the word,”After the hobo did Mad Dog bidding Mars stood with disinterest at Sparrow’s apparent disorientation. “What the hell do you want?“Oh nothing much, a jackpack, my star on the Hollywood walk of fame…but that’s beside the point…Oh and don’t bother pulling out a weapon I made sure your all cleared out, so first things first: Did you really did get your ass handed to you by a hobo?! I mean that was some kind of clever ploy to get to me right? There’s no freaking way a trained SHIELD agent got beat by a drug addled hobo, right?"Mars pauses for a moment waiting for a response before unleashing a loud boat of unsettling laughter. “Oh- oh-no freaking way! You- You…AHAHAHA….Ohhh…That just warms the cockles of my black heart! Oh how pathetic can you be?! I mean are you even an agent?! Are you like the office slut that fucked Nicky fury to go on a mission? Wouldn’t be surprised..."
Mad Dog clearly displaying his ego, humorous nature suddenly cuts off like someone was flicked a light-switch, he trapped Sparrow with an intense stare. "I’m a busy man Agent Sparrow, so I’ll cut to the chase: Earlier today I was contacting by a man with a lot of cash and a LOT of plans to cut you in to little tiny pieces, and believe it or not despite my…aha…”Reputation” I’m a pretty accommodating guy when it comes to disembowelment, Especially when the disemboweling in question concerned a filthy whore with some seriously messed up views on morality…So I’m going to lie to you Agent Sparrow…"
Mad Dog pauses to run his hands through his hair and leans coolly against the wall once more and begins speaking to Sparrow in a tone that suggested the topic of conversation was the most normal thing in the world. "…You’re going to die tonight, In fact you would be die already if I considered you any kind of threat…which your not…but anyway like I was saying, I’m sure you’ll struggle, hell I’m sure you’ll fight to escape your faith, but that’s -ok because going against me is like swimming against the tide…sure you can swim as hard as you possibly can…but no matter what, your still going to be swept out to sea…and sooner or later in the next few moment I will beat your skull down on concrete until I feel it crack underneath my feet, and than maybe after I’ll just rip out your throat and speak through it…Because that’s the type of shit I get off on!...BECAUSE I’M NOTHING MORE THAN AN PISSED OFF HUNGRY MAD DOG!"
Mad Dog quickly pauses to gather his thoughts as he runs his fingers through his hair. He then turns to Sparrow with the most vile look on his face. No smiles, no sarcastic laughter, the Norman Mars of right now...is frightening, his expression on his face tells the whole story, Mars’s ego won’t allow him to see the murder of Sparrow as nothing more than a foregone conclusion, in his mind he might as well be snapping a puppy’s neck. No weapons? No special abilities he was aware of? Defeated by a hobo?This was less of a challenge to Mars and more of a warm up for when the big boys come out and play, This was play time to Mars, and apart of that fun was making her understand Exactly what was about to happen.She wanted to see her eye bulged, and her chest expand with panic breaths and tears at realizing her faith…he will make her fear him…Mad Dog slowly flicked his cigarette against the wall and slowly starts to advance on Sparrow “You can start screaming now…”
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Post by Chris "Darkhawk" Powell on Dec 28, 2012 4:43:25 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][style=float:top; width:260px; height:304; background-color:silver; padding:20px] Christopher Powell, the Darkhawk, stood quietly on the building's edge, staring down in absolute fury at the scene in front of him. He had seen the whole deal with the hobos. He had expected the blonde to come back, to kick and punch and get away when the time was right. But, she hadn't. Chris felt so strong a desire to help the woman that he had followed the party here, to Norman Mars, making absolutely sure that he stayed just out of the line of sight of the thugs. A sinister man, smoking a cigarette and clearly a scum off the streets, standing over a helpless blonde woman. Darkhawk was silent now, but with the anger and wrath swelling up inside he doubted he would stay that way for much longer.
It had been a strange occurrence that had brought him here, an occurrence that Christopher was certain, even the Darkhawk suit itself wasn't completely sure if there was a rhyme or reason to it beyond just instinct. At first, it was going to be just another night in the Back alleyways in Gotham City. Yet, for some odd reason, the amulet had impelled him to come to Metropolis tonight and patrol the dark streets. At first, it was just a bunch of homeless people that stared back up at him and wondered what a ordinary-looking, fancily-dressed white boy was doing in the slums (he had deactivated the Darkhawk suit for anonymity). Apparently, tonight he hadn't been the only one who was on a mission to clean up these back ways. Several times on his walk, he caught sight of an elusive blonde woman. Once he emerged about five feet behind her just in time to see her lock eyes with a homeless man. Raggedy Andy (There goes the nicknames thing again!) only held the gaze for a moment before scrambling away as fast as he could. There was obviously something very suspicious going on here tonight. It had everything to do with the blonde, though. Chris would have stepped right forward and confronted her- if he wasn't completely sure wether she was the enemy, bait, the victim, or what. It was probably best to put the suit of armor on again now. Geez, Darkie, thanks again for your Extra Sensory Perception. Chris thought to himself before stepping quickly and quietly into a corner to grasp the amulet and once again revert to Darkhawk form. Quietly he stalked the woman in the shadows. She was clearly becoming more and more scared; she pulled a knife out of her sleeve, standard military issue, Chris realized. His father had never been a good fatherly example. Yet, all of a sudden Chris found himself thankful for his old man. He had taught his eldest son a lot about tactical strategies and things and demanded that Christopher take kickboxing and martial arts. Then they emerged out of the shadows- the thugs. The woman had been expecting it yet it still came as a surprise. There were two. Chris was absolutely certain of the woman's innocence now yet he still held back. She could probably take them; his claw cables and strength wouldn't help any. As she put up her best fight Chris was shocked to see a SHIELD badge flash into the light at frequent intervals. What was she doing here, a lone SHIELD agent sent to patrol the alleyways in Metropolis? Surely Nick Fury would know that no one should be out here alone at this time of night... Much to Darkhawk's amazement and chagrin, the hobos managed to overpower her. If it hadn't been for a couple of lucky punches and the butt of that knife, the woman probably would have won.
He could have helped her then, too. He questioned why not as he stood here, watching her grovel helplessly on the floor in front of "Mad Dog" Norman Mars. Of course, he had no idea that the filthy-languaged brute was any more than the leader of a gang, but at the moment that wouldn't have mattered anyway. This blonde- a SHIELD agent- was going to get pummeled soon, and perhaps even killed. Every word that Norman spewed added to the steam that was threatening to make Chris blow. Everything bad that had ever happened to the teenager rose to the front of his mind. His dad, selling NYPD secrets to the mafia. His mother and brothers changing with the merging of the time continuitum.
“You can start screaming now…” That was the last straw. Darkhawk roared into the night and, launching himself off of his little dark rooftop, went right for Norman. "That's not how you treat a lady." Chris snarled at Mad Dog as he crashed headlong into the scumbag. The Darkhawk's claws cut into the hard jawline of Norman Mars on top of the hard left hook the teen vigilante gave the villain. "You call her a slut and a pathetic woman, I think though that it's quite the other way around!" "Chris will speak like this." "Mad Dog will speak like this." "Amelia will speak like this." "Others will speak like this."
TAGS: Amelia/Sparrow :: Norman/Mad Dog WORDS: 826 NOTES: Let's do this!
Table layout by BRY, 2012[/style] |
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Post by ameliaraven on Dec 29, 2012 18:06:28 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true] we were born we are strong
i may be able to see your future
Amelia glared at him, his words sending anger rippling through her body. Her fists clenched at her side, “Call me a slut one more time and I will find a way to kill you with my own god damn bare hands.” She would be damned if this bastard got away with calling her pathetic and a slut. If she had become an agent the way he’d said she would have killed herself.
Oh how pathetic can you be?! I mean are you even an agent?! Are you like the office slut that fucked Nicky Fury to go on a mission? Wouldn’t be surprised…”
Are you even an agent? The words burned her, turned her blood to fire scorching through her veins. She trembled with anger. How dare he. How dare he! She was an agent of SHIELD and she was proud of it. She may have been overpowered, but they had been lucky. Luck. Amelia had never had a lot of luck. It was a lost cause for her. She didn’t believe in it anymore, it was just a word that she used to comfort herself in fights. Maybe luck would for once be on her side. Maybe she’d find a way to overpower this foul mouthed scumbag.
Her blood boiled beneath her skin. She snarled, “If I had a gun, I’d shoot you through the heart and make sure you choke on your own worthless supply of blood.” The old sense of violence bubbled through her and she felt the need to strangle the life from the man. She hated him. She hated his guts, no one got away with calling her a whore, a slut and a pathetic excuse for a SHIELD agent.
She wanted to shove a knife up to the hilt in his heart and watch as the life left his eyes. She wanted him dead, there was no simpler way to put it. It wasn’t all because he’d insulted her, it was also because he’d insulted SHIELD and Nick Fury. She would not stand for that. She snarled, her voice low and dark, “Do you think I didn’t know there was something going on when I came out here tonight, bastard?” Amelia rolled her eyes, setting her jaw. “Die is a bit of a harsh word. Beat up, maybe. But die, no.” She wasn’t going to die tonight if she could help it. “Oh believe me, I’m a threat. How do you know it wasn’t my plan to get captured?” She could hear the other man watching, the quiet sound of his breathing and the sound of his feet shuffling, she tuned into it. It gave her hope.
“I’d rather not, I might deafen you.” She told him, a sneer taunting her words as he towered over her. But Amelia wasn’t afraid. Not even a flicker. She had pushed that fear away from the beginning. She couldn’t afford to be afraid. But her father had taught her better. As long as she had faith in herself she had a chance of winning, but if she lost hope that she’d be able to beat this foe then she would. She would fail and lay wallowing in a widening pool of her own ruby life blood.
But Amelia was determined not to let that happen. She was a SHIELD agent and she was going to show this cigarette smoking ass how good an agent she really was. She was going to show him how a pissed off agent treated her foes.
When the other man jumped in, Amelia spun around. She attacked one of the hobos, one who had kept the other knife she’d been with. She grabbed it from him, easily slitting open a gash across his wrist. She whipped around, knife in hand. She shoved it up into the stomach of a well-built hobo who went towards her. Another lurched towards her and she ducked a punch, summersaulting and hitting the ground hard, bringing her foot up and slamming it into his stomach. “Get away from me you scum!” She snarled, leaping up and slamming her feet into his head, hearing the crunch of his nose as it broke.
Sparrow’s blonde hair whipped out behind her as she spun, feeling the warm feeling of blood trickling down her leg, but she didn’t stop to see if it was hers. She swung out her leg, catching another and not waiting to watch as his head slammed into the stone ground, cracking with a spine tingling bang. She turned to Darkhawk and Mad Dog. She was at Darkhawk’s side, knife in hand, ready to help him defeat this man whether or not it was her last day on earth.
but only you can change it
to be Fighters! we are survivors • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
tagged: open ~ 840 words ~ outfit: c l i c k y ~ notes: i can always write more or less template made by alaya @ CAUTION 2.0 |
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Hope is the Last to Die
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Post by "Mad Dog" Norman Mars on Dec 30, 2012 20:10:57 GMT -5
My, my, my…Agent Sparrow had quite the mouth on her, didn’t she? Shooting him in the heart and making him choke on his blood? Oh, how he would love to see her pull off that miracle! He would pay good money for a women who couldn’t even handle a group of this earth’s cretins to even lay on3 solitary finger on him?! The demigod of this world scum and the damned?! Yeah, Keep telling yourself that whore…. Though he must admit, despite himself he did feel a certain amount of begrudging respect at her even preset bravado, even so near to death…he wondered how much pain she could withstand before the tough girl act was dropped… “I’d rather not, I might deafen you” Mad Dog smirked to himself as he continued his approach, stopping only to spit forcibly on the ground at Sparrow’s feet. This was going to be therapeutic… “How kind…suit yourself whore” That's not how you treat a lady."Huh?! Confused Mars looked up sharply at the sound of the voice only to be greeted by what he could make out as some kind of large bird before his view was observed as he was forced to ground and felt something like talons tearing at his face. Mars screamed like a wounded animal as he tried to block the clawing of his face to no avail. Than suddenly his deep rooted survival instincts came into to play as he moved his head out of the way at the last possible moment leaving the masked figure punching nothing but pavement, not wasting a second Mad Dog quickly and franticly with the strength of a locomotive he delivered several punches to the side of the figure head before throwing him off Mars, Just who the fuck was this clown?! Why is it none of the hero’s just couldn’t help but to get involve in his business?! Who ever this guy was he was just some innocent bystander taking justice into his own hands, judging by the over the top outfit, he was a big player, and Mars simply couldn’t afford for what should have been a simplistic job get any more complex thanks to this faggot! He needed to be eliminated as quickly as possible, so he could finish this as soon as possible… Taking care to wipe the blood out of his eyes, he quickly picked up Darkhark and unitizing his extraordinary strength threw his attacker head first against the wall. The wall shuddered due to the sheer power of the collision, Mars lent down and spread eagling his arms and unleashed a primeval sounding roar of victory neither knowing nor caring if his attacker was dead or merely knocked out. Satisfied, Mars turns around to finish his mission….but the victorious snarl on his face quickly faded away as he saw agent Sparrow not only up and on her feet, but now armed and very dangerous Damn it! A frown of irritation crossed Mad Dog’s face, He specially instructed them to A) Make sure she was unarmed. B) Leave them alone. C) Make sure they were uninterrupted! And they failed, miserably. Heads will roll for this… For as a moment as Mars gazed at Sparrow time seemed to come to a stop before Mad Dog carefully and with eyes never leaving Sparrow he slowly discards his jacket, cracks his neck from side to side pulling out his very own switch blade and putting it at Sparrow. Practically daring her to make a move.
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Post by Chris "Darkhawk" Powell on Feb 18, 2013 2:35:19 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][style=float:top; width:260px; height:304; background-color:silver; padding:20px] At first it seemed like the Darkhawk was going to win this one. As he came barrelling in, the other man screamed and struggled for a grip, and several times Chris found his cable claws scar the other's face. It had been a perfect surprise. Again, Chris had found the Darkhawk to be the perfect predator of the night, and he, too, was becoming better at darkness-cloaked hunts. But then, just as he was starting to feel secure, a seemingly-primal nature overtook Norman Mars. Chris had no chance to even react. Three solid punches met his helmet, throwing his neck sideways and sending piercing pains all the way down his spinal cord. Thanks to his dad's tough genes and the fact that Chris had been frequently volunteered to be tased, the kid had a very, very high pain tolerance (any other person, even a full grown man, would have screamed) but it hurt like a nail gun to the temple nonetheless. Had the punches been any harder, or he wouldn't have been wearing the suit, he probably would have died, and that would be the end of his life for good. Though he knew it was very unmanly, Chris found himself running off a chain of swear words in his head, and the Darkhawk body gave a low growl as again, Mars caught him unguarded and almost relaxed and slammed him into a nearby brick wall. The ground and brick itself trembled at the force of the impact. It felt like every bone in his body was broken at first, and every inch of his body was bruised. Chris smiled grimly beneath the mask as he thought, Not even fights with the Senior bullies in seventh grade had hurt this bad. As Chris fought to stay conscious, pretend like he was not, and assess the damage to the Darkhawk host body, all at the same time, he wondered how he could have underestimated this guy. Who was he exactly, anyway? How in the heck did he have the strength to send Chris, a six foot one and a half, 230 pound teenager into this brick wall? It seemed almost wrong. impossible. He had to be superpowered himself, and greatly, too. Come to think of it, the places where Chris had punched with the claw cables weren't bleeding anymore, literally ten seconds after he had been afflicted. That must mean that he had a healing factor. The only hope that the little blonde SHIELD agent had against him, was to inflict as many wounds as she could in so short a period of time that his healing would be overloaded.
Anyways, once the pain died down, Chris slowly, carefully felt over his body. Hmm. Lets see. Five ribs broken, my tailbone must be too, from the way it hurts to sit like this, and one shoulder. Not bad all in all though. Realizing how lucky he was to make it out of it alive, Chris praised God and watched Norman and Amelia go at it. Only when the thug's back was completely turned did Chris shift back to his normal self. It took a lot of will and effort of the mind, but he managed. Once that was done, the pain was nothing but a memory. He didn't dare switching back to hero guise quite yet; Mothership would need a good few minutes to fix that body up... And plus, the little blonde agent would hold her own well. "Chris will speak like this." "Mad Dog will speak like this." "Amelia will speak like this." "Others will speak like this."
TAGS: Amelia/Sparrow :: Norman/Mad Dog WORDS: 578 NOTES: That's what I call a bashing x.o. And sorry I took so long.
Table layout by BRY, 2012[/style] |
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Hope is the Last to Die
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Post by "Mad Dog" Norman Mars on Mar 3, 2013 6:33:44 GMT -5
Time seemed to freeze in place as the two stared at each other neither daring to make to make the first move. Mad Dog loved these moments, he savours moments like this, The air he breaths seems shaper. He can feel his pulse quicken in excitement, he could practically feel the electricity in the air… It was time to kill. Mad Dog was practically forming at the mouth twitching every so often, practically begging her to cross the line. He got his wish. Sparrow rushed towards Mad Dog and he was glad to meet her. Sparrow threw a punch which Mad dog blocked but while he was distracted, Sparrow expertly pulled out her knife and thrusts it in Mars’s free arm. Mad Dog howled in pain as Sparrow looked to press on to the advantage throwing several hard kicks into his kidneys, However Sparrow got over zealot as he threw one kick too many as Mad Dog catch her leg pushed her against the far wall, and Mad Dog rushed towards her. *Bang* Before Mad Dog could meet her, Sparrow in an act of desperation pulled out her gun and shot Mars right between the eyes, like he was met with an invisible brick wall, Mad Dog was catapulted backwards and lay still. Amelia chest heaved taking in lungfuls of cool air thankful that she somehow survived the encounter, taking a few moments to collect herself before going to check on the masked hero that saved her, but as she leaned down to check on he. He suddenly felt a shape pain go through her head and then no more, Un beknowed to her Mad Dog had recovered from the bullet wound and have snuck up behind Sparrow and slammed her head repeatedly against the wall over and over and over with as much strength he could muster. At first he could feel her vainly struggle against his vice like grip, that was good…he liked it when they struggled…but soon he felt her body go limp and even when it was clear that the impact of the wall hammering against her head had collapsed her face, even when he could feel the red mercury starts to drip down his fingers, there was no sign of let up or any type of mercy until finally it was only when Mars’s arms began to grow numb did he finally toss her body to the ground. Another one on the body heap… Mad Dog took a moment to savour the victory, for all her talk for all her bravado in the end she was just like everyone else Mars was beginning to think no one could stop him… “I know you there, its done.”As if waiting for a cue several members of the homeless community lead by the old man from before walks cautiously into the area to bear witness to Mad Dog latest masterpiece, for a few moments there was nothing but stunned silent. Most of the gazed wide eyed at the sight of the gruesome remains of Sparrow. These were innocent men and women, most of them had no clue what Mars wanted with Sparrow, had they idea what he was planning. Most just stood there staring at the corpse, some looked at mars in disgust only one stood forward, the old man from before. “Mad Dog? A-“A moment later the old man was suddenly aware of Mad Dog leaping towards him and the sudden gasping of those around him at first he was confused but then he began to become aware of a metallic taste in his mouth but his confusion subsided as soon as he looked down. Mad Dog had thrusts his entire arm through his stomach and out through his spine, As his body began to grow cold he looked up at Mad Dog with an almost pleading look in his eye. To which Mad Dog replied coldly. “I told you to check her.”In one fluid motion Mars removed his arms and the old man collapsed, dead As if these events were as trivial as going to the store, he causally placed another cigarette in his mouth and took a draft from it with a satisfied grunt before walking over to where his coat lie and slinging it back over his shoulders. “Bring the bitch to the highest building you can find, dangle her outside the window by her neck, make sure EVERYONE can see her”
The group gave each other uneasy glances before beginning to drag her dead body. “Wait no, leave her.”
Seemingly struck by sudden inspiration, Mad Dog knelt down before Sparrows body almost examining her before reaching for his switchblade…but stopped, and a sly smirk came across his face as he’s grabs Sparrow knife. It seemed more poetic this way. With savage intent Mad Dog roughly grabbed her hair and slowly caved jagged letters in Sparrow’s once beautiful, now disfigured face. mAd DoG Was hERe“Now you can take her.”Eagerly as if they couldn’t wait to escape the man the group left with body in tow. Now it begins, Mad Dog thought savagely now it begins, now they’ll know his name. Tonight he lit a spark that would enflame an entire war, Mad Dog couldn’t wait. But now they’ll come for him, now that they fear him, Nicky Fury is going to send his entire army after him. Let ‘em come. It was then Mad Dog attention was redrawn by the unconscious body of the masked man, and Mad Dog ran his hand through his hair in savage delight. This was like Christmas… This time actually taking out his knife he slowly staked his pray safe in the knowledge compared to Sparrow this would be almost like strangling a kitten. “…And then, there were two just me and you.” Mad Dog said in a sing song voice in the manner of child. He was actually beginning to enjoy himself now.
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Post by Chris "Darkhawk" Powell on Mar 11, 2013 0:37:35 GMT -5
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Hope is the Last to Die
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Post by "Mad Dog" Norman Mars on Mar 29, 2013 7:28:35 GMT -5
Limp, loose, unconscious. As Mars advanced closer and closer to the body he got his knife ready, he tried to weigh up the pros and cons of where was the best plunge it, However his thought process was interrupted as the body in a sudden bust of energy jerked off the floor, went between his legs and popped up with his own knife raised. "Just me and you, hell yeah."Mars once relaxed stance instantly snapped into a fighting stance, his face grim with determination, yet his eyes were spanking with malicious anticipation of more blood to be shed. He licked his lips as he stood off against Darkhawk, “That’s a neat trick, would have been useful about a few seconds ago, you kind of suck at this hero thing don’t you?”A ghost of a grin appears on Mars face as childishly pokes at what must be raw nerve, just for the look on Darkhawks, In Mad Dog eyes he could afford to be arrogant about the situation, in Mars eyes Darkhawk couldn’t touch him, no one could. He already had done his job for the day. A job he enjoyed doing but a task he was delegated nonetheless. And this? This was his victory lap. An easy kill. “Let’s cut the bullshit. You saw what I’m capable, so you know you can’t stop me. So there’s two ways we can work this: You can just lie down, bite the payment and I’ll put you down the humane way. Or, you can throw a punch and see where that takes you…choice is yours.”As if knowing exactly what path Darkhawk wants to go down, he cracks his neck from side and side and jerks his knife in front of him as if he couldn’t wait to stab someone. You could only imagine the disappointment Mad Dog would feel if DarkHawk picked the cowards way out. But then again, he wouldn’t blame him.
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Post by Chris "Darkhawk" Powell on Apr 15, 2013 18:59:23 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][style=float:top; width:260px; height:304; background-color:silver; padding:20px] Mad Dog clearly thought that all of this was an attempt to defeat him, and that Chris was fighting for glory. Was everything a challenge to the slum child? No matter what the answer was, he had it all wrong. Norman had probably always been on the top of the fight, better than everyone else, and never on the bottom. Or, if he ever had, it had been so long ago that he had forgotten the feeling. That was the one advantage that Chris had over Norman: he knew how to act when he was the hunted. Adrenaline plays a huge part in it. Not to imply that attackers don't get that flash, too, but usually, when one is fighting for his life he tends to have a stronger surge of will and temerity than the one playing for sport or pleasure. At least it's that way for man, when it comes down to the line.
Norman militarily snapped into a fighting stance and sneered maliciously, preparing himself for an "easy" fight. Chris just kept himself limber, still crouching on the ground, ready to spring, like a panther- or a kangaroo, if one wanted a less heroic analogy. Slowly blocking all fear out of his mind, he focussed on how to circumvent this unbeatable juggernaut of a man. “That’s a neat trick, would have been useful about a few seconds ago, you kind of suck at this hero thing don’t you?” "Thanks." Naah, it wouldn't have been useful a few seconds ago. Then it wouldn't have been so effective and it probably would have ended in the loss of Chris's life. Another thing the kid's dad had told him- sometimes, the enemy was the most vulnerable when he was looking at you. If you read one's pupils right, it could be one of your best assets in a fight. "I try my hardest not to suck, but inexperience and things seem to set me back. Plus, injury doesn't help that at all." “Let’s cut the bullshit. You saw what I’m capable, so you know you can’t stop me. So there’s two ways we can work this: You can just lie down, bite the payment and I’ll put you down the humane way. Or, you can throw a punch and see where that takes you…choice is yours.” "I completely agree. I can't stop you." Chris put up his hands for a moment. "It's like a starving tiger hunting a plump rabbit. However, I cannot completely use that analogy, because unlike the tiger, you are not fighting for survival." Sidestepping once to the right, Chris leapt up and dove forward again, trying to score a hit low on Mad Dog's thigh. "Chris will speak like this." "Mad Dog will speak like this." "Others will speak like this."
TAGS: Amelia/Sparrow :: Norman/Mad Dog WORDS: 457 NOTES:
Table layout by BRY, 2012[/style] |
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FORUM SKIN BY KATYA OF GANGNAM-STYLE
do not steal
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