“Quit lying, look at me; you knew I was royalty” She teased, taking another sip. “Eden today, was once called Southern Venezuela. It’s a nice little place” she said, with a reassuring smile.
@the_assassin_: "That's fortunate for me, I wont have to use the sentinels" She said, smiling whilst taking a sip of her drink. Natrually she was kidding; but his work in the Monarch Invasion of Venezuela hadn't gone unnoticed. "Have you ever heard of...the Anti-Life equation?"
@the_assassin_: "That's fortunate for me, I wont have to use the sentinels" She said, smiling whilst taking a sip of her drink. Natrually she was kidding; but his work in the Monarch Invasion of Venezuela hadn't gone unnoticed. "Have you ever heard of...
@catalina_liafador: Leaning back in his seat, the master archer chuckles softly. "That reassuring." Smiling across the room at her. Looking away from her for a short, ponderous moment before looking back towards the Liafador Queen. "I can't say that I have, but it doesn't sound pleasant, whatever it is."
“It’s not, but the Anti-Life Equation is an artifact that presents itself in the quality of life: Right and Wrong, Black and White, good and evil, Yes and No” Cat folded her arms and, leaned forward lowering her voice to a whisper. “Think about all the things achievable with a power like that I your hands?”
@catalina_liafador: "And would I be correct to assume that you, Miss Liafador, pardon, Queen Catalina, are seeking said power? Which you wish to posses in your own well manicured hands." His smile not fading in the slightest as the two discussed the item of unimaginable power.
@the_assassin_: "What if I told you it was already mine? And, all I had to do was retrieve it?" She said, glancing at her french tips. "The world only cares about select places, but with this...this power; I'll make everyone relevant again."
@catalina_liafador: "Interesting... so you've got it careful stashed away somewhere..." Thinking to himself that Catalina was someone he certainly wanted to keep on his side. "If I'm not over stepping any boundaries, how exactly did you manage to acquire such a powerful item?"
@the_assassin_: "The Europeans like to steal information from Africa and India; all the text of that time mention something called Tanis, but the European description and, the African description are different. After a bunch of deciphering I was able to pin point it's location"
@giovanni_giasoni: [Don't blame me! I'm not good with initial posts!]
Post departing a plane from New York City, and prior to boarding that which would carry her home to London, Abigail made a stop in the beautiful city of Malaga, Spain. Made aware of a musical performance by her favourite singer of the opera taking place in the city, she took advantage of a layover period at the airport to change her flight plans and to try to treat herself to some entertainment. After a satisfying night at an open air theatre, culminating in the performance of a number from the musical, The Phantom of the Opera, “The Music of the Night,” and an overall brilliant performance evoking an effusive display of tears, Abigail filed out of the building with the rest of the night’s patrons, out to the street where, unlike most, who had valeted their vehicles, she began to walk through the parking lot to the street, hoping to catch a cab back to her hotel room.
Following the symphonically harmonious opera performance, the individual, the man behind the enigmatic guise of Venenoso, the onyx spider, Giorgio Benedetti, emerged from the luxuriant interior of the culturally grandiose musical theatre. Scrolling through a clustered succession of text messages on his alabaster iPhone 5s, a tersely distracted ocular survey of his immediate encompassment caught sight of an unacquainted yet recognized face. Abigail, a virtuoso archer present during the vehement political conflicts in Venezuela, and a relatively iconic vigilante, or rather, former vigilante of the architecturally somber Gothic City. Sliding one of Apple's premier technological innovations into his right pocket, a faint, inconspicuous smile of moderately expressed intrigue festooned the Puissant Predatore's comely facial features.
"Hmm", calmly maneuvering himself through the congested collection of pedestrians, genetically aggrandized ocular clarity discerned a readied clique of crudely armed thugs lying in the pictorial concealment of an alleyway's obscuring shadows. Preying on the entertained wealthy ladies and gentlemen emerging from the opulent theatre, Abigail, having attended the same performance, had been rendered a target. Athletically transposing himself in direct approximation to the prowling thugs, Giorgio, exercising a copulation of reflexive rapidity and transitional fluidity, encased the criminal collective in an enveloping cocoon of Darwin's bark spider web, ten times stronger than kevlar, twenty five times stronger than steel. "Abigail, yes?", he knowingly inquired, extending his right hand towards for a civilly obligatory greeting, an affably portrayed smile meeting her as he did so.
@venenoso: Always in something of a state of alert, but not particularly so when surrounded by such a large crowd, Abigail gave a start, jumping backwards, as the group of men in the alley were suddenly caught stuck to the wall. Arm quickly shooting for the pack on her back, she became at ease upon catching the genial demeanour of the apparently preemptive hero. Resuming non-defensive stance, she was yet unable to mask her surprise at being recognised, although it had been more common in that hemisphere. Casting another glance back to the men on the wall, then again at him, "Yes...That's me," she confirmed with awkward hesitation, softly extending her hand in acceptance. "I'm sorry, have we...met before?"
"I'm afraid we have not", Giorgio nonchalantly confessed, "But", the left corner of his mouth subtly curling upwards with slyly expressed winsomeness, "I do know who you are. You are the archer that was in Venezuela. I remember in the television's last footage of the war, you were there", his relatively fluent English conveyed by a phonically faint Italian accent. Genteelly shaking her extended hand with respectful firmness and cordiality, he continued, his hand retreating to the interior of his midnight blue, Hugo Boss jeans' right pocket. "You are a bit famous in Gothic City in America. They say you were the partner of another archer there", he paused, gesturing for her to stroll alongside him, positioning himself several inches behind her, a gentlemanly mannerism absent from his predatory Venenoso identity. "Please, walk with me. Why did you leave Gothic? And why.. Spain of all places?".
@venenoso: Finding herself in ways at east, but in others, even more unnerved by his confession, Abigail spread a nervous smile with an equally nervous accompanying laugh. "Oh, yes. I suppose that's right. Most vigilantes cover their faces. Guess it shows how smart I am," she lightly joked, belying the true feelings kept under the surface. She was right. The fact that she didn't cover her face left open quite a few dangerous possibilities, should she accumulate enemies, which, in her line of work, would only grow with any fame and further ventures.
Even if he didn't know it, his questions were quite personal, much to her disappointment. She offered a vague response, so as not to be rude with a complete dismissal. "Personal problems. I was missing home. I only stopped here for one night, because of the show." Directing the flow of questions from herself, she gave a nod in his direction. "What about yourself? Are you from here? I haven't even caught your name yet."
"Heh, well in an age of telepaths and people with all kinds of abilities, wearing a mask is not as effective", meeting her nervously voiced joke with a light jest, Giorgio averted his attention from her statement regarding personal dilemmas. While acquiring information about her would be a fruitful endeavor, should it be accomplished while simultaneously rendering her uncomfortable, it would disrupt his enigmatic objective of cultivating a degree of fabricated trust. "Only for one night? Malaga, she is a beautiful city, Abigail", he paused, "One night is not enough to enjoy its culture".
"Myself? No no, I am from Milan", consciously separating his identity as Venenoso and Giorgio. "But I was told of the opera show and", lightly shrugging, "I could not resist. As for my name", he was initially hesitant, but complied. "Giorgio Benedetti". Resuming conversational indulgence, he softly smiled, "Your accent. You are from England?".
@venenoso: An agreeable nod of the head signalled concession to the point, a slight tingle running through her spine at the thought. Although quite a secretive person by nature, Abigail had no means of defence against such telepaths, thankful that she had met but one, and that one had been friendly.
"I can't stay any more than that," she admitted. "I don't mean to be rude or unappreciative, but I'm really not here for the culture of Malaga. I've got to get home." Smiling lightly at the particular pointing of her rather distinct accent, she nodded. "Yes, I'm from England. Although, I rarely ever get to be back home. You start to miss it, after a while."
Her lamentation regarding her inability to visit her native England coupled with her insistence on not being able to remain in Malaga any longer piqued the Italian's curiosity. "Oh? You cannot stay here because you want to get back home as soon as possible, yes? And you want to get back home because you do not get to do so as much as you would like?", he knowingly inquired. Smiling somewhat benevolently, masking his inherent calculating nature, Giorgio offered, "Well, I have kept you here longer than you may have liked. Allow me to take you to your hotel or wherever you are staying. It will be faster than any car, and you will have a great view of the city. It is harmless. I promise", gallantly extending his hand, his disarming smile never wavering.
@venenoso: With a succinct nod, she confirmed his inquiry. "Yes, that's all true." Although not completely at ease with a total stranger, he presented an amiable demeanour, and in a way, Abigail didn't want to be perceived as rude or come off as too untrusting. Although clearly hesitant, after a moment's consideration, she accepted. "Well, I suppose it would be alright." Pulling a paper from her back pocket, she read off the name of the hotel in which she was staying. "I'm at the...Molina Lario? I'm hoping I pronounced that right," she gestured with an uneasy shrug.
"Good", he mischievously smiled, taking her hand before abruptly pulling her towards him and hoisting her onto his back. Spontaneously vaulting into the air, unconcerned with any observant eyes, Giorgio acrobatically maneuvered himself onto an approximated rooftop with athletic rapidity and coordinated nimbleness. Transposing himself from rooftop to rooftop with transitional fluidity, he then, shot a string of web from the micro-spinnerets on his wrists, expertly swinging across the architecturally aesthetic city with cinematic maneuvers, swaying to whichever side was required, thrusting his legs outwards as he transitioned from web-line to web-line. Their breathtaking peregrination culminating with a gentle landing before her hotel's entrance.
"When, or if you return to Gothic, come see me, or rather I will find you. Much has changed since you left. There is now a family of heroes there, all of them possessing spider-related abilities...", he paused, cheekily smiling, "Like mine. They seem promising but they haven't been tested. I have been doing this so far. Teaching some of them under a fabricated identity, while testing the abilities of others in battle. They need to be better if they want to save Gothic. Without you there, the city is missing one fundamental hero". Quickly casting a dynamic wink, he bids her farewell, "Ciao", departing.
@pyrogram: Of course you didn't! That's part of my genius mofo! Everyone knows I got the skillz but they never see my unique brand of excellence coming :P Nah seriously though, I'm gonna have fun with this.
Your ego is showing again, m'dear
The warm ocean waters lapped gently against Malaga's white-sanded beaches, where a swirl of emerald-colored smoke cleared to reveal the statuesque figure of the goddess Amora. She had been resolved not to leave Asgard for the infinity less appealing Midgard, or Earth, but a certain whisper of mortal activity had sparked the of her indomitable pride and forced her to pay a visit to the mortal realm.
She walked just to where the beach broke into the ocean before her slender figure lifted gracefully off the ground and into the air, flying effortlessly over the vast expanse of Mediterranean sea while the warmth of the Spanish sun pressed mildly against her back and her mass of golden-blonde hair whipped wildly behind her.
Looking ahead of her, the goddess' green irises caught sight of the villa she had came to Earth to visit. Increasing her speed, she raced through the sky before drawing to a sudden halt in front of the beautiful Spanish villa, whose residence had no idea of her existence. Lowering herself elegantly to land in front of the home's front door, the Asgardian sorceresses placed two delicate knocks before extending her arm forward and blasting the door down with a burst of deep pink-colored energy. Wisps of smoke trailed from her hand, leftover from the searing heat of the energy blast.
Taking a single step through the doorway, Amora took a moment to glance around the lavishly-decorated villa before her voice rang out, its quality as equally alluring as haughty. "Is anyone home? I'm here to meet 'The Goddess'."
Though his senses hadn't alerted him of the Asgardian sorceress' deistic presence upon her immediate ingress, they were quick to detect the vibrant supernatural essence surging through her very being. Temperately emerging from the hallway, his expression poised, denim blue eyes instinctively meeting the Divine Temptress' as his archangelic features remained coolly earnest. The previously caught sight of the bombarded door lying across the floor, blemished by scattered fragments of wood making the situation unmistakably clear. The unacquainted goddess had come with the intention of confronting Ziccarra.
"The Goddess isn't here", Alexis informed, his stallion voice conveying his words with mannerly self-certainty and assurance. Taking a tame step forward, hoping not to incite any defensive reaction from the celestial sorceress, the New God continued, "What is it that you want with 'The Goddess'?".