"Stark, if I had known that you were coming I would have done my hair or at least gotten my shots for rabies". Mark smiled tauntingly to counter his menacing glare, to show that he wasn't afraid of the "Iron Knight". He was well aware of Stark's return and had kept a close eye on the situation should it escalate to Gothic. However, he wasn't expecting to have him in his doorstep anytime soon and most certainty not with an offer to join forces.
"Nice suit by the way, you should consider calling yourself Bluetooth man from now on though". The Modern Day Holmes jested as he sipped on his coffee.
After the whole speech about justice, ideals, truth, hope heroes, rainbows, and unicorns. The Crimson Rose thought about what he had heard for a few seconds with a reflective glow to his expressions, then he just laughed in Death Merchant's face. He wasn't buying what he was selling, he knew of Stark's shady past and an idealistic speech from him was just priceless. He had gotten a similar proposal from his Uncle, it was sincere, but Mark knew that men's hearts were filled with greed."Spare me the pep talk Stark, I'm not one of those gullible sheep that follows the herd based on a inspirational speech". In many ways, that the Inland Taipan wasn't even aware of they were of the same kin, he wasn't doing this for justice or to help people, there was no utter tragedy that motivated him to fight crime. No, he was in it for the glory, to get recognition, it was just a thrill to him.
"What are you really after? If you say redemption then you can just teleport yourself out of my property." It's in a detective's nature to be cynical about everything that he hears, they take what they learn with a grain of salt until there is a substantial amount of evidence in front of him to say otherwise.
"Humor me this question, why are you asking me to join your team and not the big man that runs this city?". There was a larger purpose to this question than to just lift his pride, he was trying to find out exactly how much the Ex-President knew about the New Dark Vengeance if anything at all.
Honestly. At least, a semblance of the word. Perhaps that would work. "I'm seeking heroes, and other beings, which are capable of assisting me in defeating my enemies." Blunt, and to the point.
"I'm seeking men, such as yourself, who are capable. You are capable, yes?" Rhetoric, Mark knew the answer to that, he knew, arrogantly, perhaps, that he was tough. Tougher than most his age and most above his age, even. Tougher than Stark had been at his age.
"The Gothic Knight is dead, and I tried to kill Vengeance once. He has no desire to assist me, and frankly, Mark, I have no desire to seek him out. Vengeance has a skewed vision of the world, one which bores me. He instills fear in criminals, and attempts to defeat them via those means. Useless. If one is fearful, they gear up, and prepare for a fight. I have no need to instill fear, I merely need men and women like you, alongside me, to defeat my opponents. A dead man doesn't fear death."
Honestly. At least, a semblance of the word. Perhaps that would work. "I'm seeking heroes, and other beings, which are capable of assisting me in defeating my enemies." Blunt, and to the point.
"I'm seeking men, such as yourself, who are capable. You are capable, yes?" Rhetoric, Mark knew the answer to that, he knew, arrogantly, perhaps, that he was tough. Tougher than most his age and most above his age, even. Tougher than Stark had been at his age.
"The Gothic Knight is dead, and I tried to kill Vengeance once. He has no desire to assist me, and frankly, Mark, I have no desire to seek him out. Vengeance has a skewed vision of the world, one which bores me. He instills fear in criminals, and attempts to defeat them via those means. Useless. If one is fearful, they gear up, and prepare for a fight. I have no need to instill fear, I merely need men and women like you, alongside me, to defeat my opponents. A dead man doesn't fear death."
"Now was that so difficult, Mr.Stark?" The Knightfall Heir was interested in getting involved on this task force to keep an eye on Stark and maybe even accomplish some of his objectives at the same time. He didn't need to think twice about it.
He apparently doesn't know anything about Rook becoming the new Dark Vengeance or the death of the previous one, there's also the possibility that he purposely chose not to reveal this crucial information but he chose not to keep fishing in the event of tipping him off, the truth would eventually reveal itself. It always did, one way or the other.
"I accept".
Mark clapped his hands together. "Now, I'm going to assume that not everything in that speech was bullsh*t and that one of those enemies is the Twenty Third Strigidae". His glare turned equally menacing as Stark's, he was wolf in sheep's clothing, a devil playing angel."I was there when she stuck her dagger into Chancellor and took the throne for herself, I tried to stop her but it was already too late by the time I got there. Like Dark Vengeance, I have a tendency to hold grudges, alone it would be impossible for either of us to put her in the grave but together?".
@_nox_: (Short, but this didn't have to be long, Mark and Anthony are cool)
Stark stood, his metal arms clasped behind of his metal back, and his blue eyes gazed towards the Knightfall. With a single step forward he spoke, gazing towards the boy. "You're more than just another vigilante, Mark " Stark smiled, "I didn't see it, but I can feel it... This alliance... Will benefit us both, I can guarantee that." The Knightfall Heir was a growing lion, still a cub, evidently, but in time he would grow to be a worthy adversary, into something, someone powerful. Stark hoped to direct the boy's energy and shape him into something. Together, the boy was correct. They would accomplish so much more. "Life is too short for long-term grudges, Marcus, far too short, I've learnt that after dying twice in one lifetime," he chuckled, "I'll be in contact." Instantaneously, the Mechanical Maestro vanished.
“Abigail Aensland… Blonde, sometimes brown hair, short, kind… Beautiful,” Aiden huffed, holding open a folder which contained many words and thoughts about… “Codename Arquitenens… What the heck does that even mean?” He thought, shutting the folder away and nervously tapping his foot upon the concrete ground, his green eyes, gazing all around as a stampede of nerves ate away at his stomach. “She obviously isn’t a villain. It didn’t say that, why am I scared?” He frowned, nervously biting his lip and absently looking at the ground. “What if she thinks I’m lying?” His attention was quickly upon the brown folder again, knowing it held information only Kurt would have known. That was his truth, at least, he hoped.
The day was strangely cold, his leather jacket hugging his sides as his red hair was partially hidden by a black baseball cap. Standing outside of a café, the first café were Abigail and the Emerald Archer had ever met. He had contacted the woman with an old number which had been stored away, asking for a simple meetup. He hadn't said who he was. Only to meet at the memorable cafe. The cafe where Kurt and Abby had decided to join as allies, and start their entire journey together to defeat the Supreme Chancellor, and assist Venezuela all those years ago.
Evidently it hadn't worked. With a tap, Aided hugged the brown folder close to his chest, as though it was the only thing which helped him feel closer to Kurt. Who was Kurt? What type of man was he? Neither Satomi nor Jackie really knew, they’d only known him for a little while…. But Abby? She seemed like someone closer, more meaningful to his father. Someone which knew him better than anyone else.
...Or at least, the ten full pages of notes said so. It was like Kurt had some kind of obsession. His father must have been… Different.
"You sure you don't want me to tag along? I mean, that's a pretty odd way to start a meeting."
"I can handle myself, thanks Anastasia." In spite of her refusal, however, Abigail agreed wholeheartedly with Nastya's judgement. As strange as it was the first time, meeting Kurt, having another total unknown request to meet her at the exact same spot under dubious circumstances was just too weird. Even for a probability manipulator. An open heroine operating overtly (which she often recognised as a potential mistake), she'd accumulated quite a few enemies that knew exactly who she was, and the veteran archer had no intention of walking into a trap.
As such, she observed the scene from an obscure spot on a rooftop before throwing herself into the situation. From that vantage point, the neural lenses allowed an enhanced view of the file, which she recognised as Kurt's. The boy's odd behaviour was a dead giveaway for her trained eyes. He was the one.
Harmless enough...so far. Hooking a line to an adjacent building she descended in the shadows, engaging the nanite bow's cloak and attaching it to her hip before leaving the alley for the cafe.
"You're the one who's looking for me," she said as she approached. Her voice carried every bit of its natural gentle benefit-of-the-doubt, a perfect mask over the wariness she still felt over the stranger, and not entirely false. She left it to him to confirm, and to elaborate on the details of his meeting request.
Comebacks. I hate comebacks since I was a kid, the literal ones and the momma ones. But this pain... it lingers on for days almost. My abdomen aches and it doesn't matter how much I heal, it still does. I can feel hands crawling all over my body, examining me, undermining my skin. Blood samples, urine samples and whichever samples you can think of. Are they really endeavoring to recreate me? If I could only poof again, I'd kill these bastards in no time. They're no biggie for me, I came back from friggin' Hell.
Actually, that's quite funny. I came back and used my powers to modify myself, to encounter a goal, even if so simplistic. To actually find a share in this crazy and damned world of fools. Still, I only play clown. I was the opposite of common, moss-hair, three swords style, Japanese translated quotes, and an incredibly abhorrent taste for sake. I mean, really? But, if I thought sailing would drag me far enough, I'd have to rethink my actions. I have tubes sucking me dry of blood right now and not in a vampiric way, all to force my healing... To adapt me to something and I can only get glimpses and hints. Then it's sleepy time again.
Today is different though, I can hear them mumbling in some weird language of sorts. They mention something about Kurt, because I can totally identify the words Gothic and Pendragon when I hear 'em. Are they really trying to use me to get Kurt? That's retarded, I'm way better than Mr. Green-bow. Being this locked do bring some bad memories for both of us, I suppose. To me, only to get nearby a chain is enough to flash my memories. When that bastard slit my wife's throat open right in front of me. F*cking Hell, I'll get this a-hole one day. He might strip me of my killer rank and of my immortality, yet he will pay in blood. Bead after bead.
Could I be going insane again? Twice in a lifetime? Dammit, I didn't even heal from the first time! You can clearly see the sequels in my behavior... Wait, was that a 'kill him' command in Mandarin? Do these dudes even know what they are getting into? Lucky me I used translations for something. Warning a target of their deaths was always a priority.
They unchain me. What a mistake. Still blinded, though. They don't take off my mask... Wait, why am I even in a mask?! Is that some... odd fetish, fangirl or one of those idiotic kidnaps? Oh, I can hearken swords buzzing. A sound I reckon firsthandedly. Wanna know a trick? Let they hit first. I believe he transferred the weight centered in his lower torso into a pivoting motion and slashed me open in the belly. Yeah, that's definitely my intestine gnawing its way out. Blood spurts everywhere.
But I know how distant you are, imbecile.
I leap forth, should hit him w.... No, I completely overwhelmed him with a headbutt. His sword gyrates midair while the bottom of my feet press puisantly against his chest. Oh, he's collapsing fast enough. His back hits the ground, only if he hadn't held the sword... A proficient and professional adversary. Room is too dark to identify who he is, but vision is gradually returning. Obscure, luring me into the dark corners of this room devoid of life. Just two swords clashing. And also some blood throbbing all over the concrete. He raises his fist and passes all his speed into one swipe move. He's not in close-quarters distance, which means he's hurling something. Can't dodge, though. Too dizzy.
Snikt. Right through the right eye. I give one or two steps behind. He jolts in, arms protruding behind. Is he preparing a hadouken? Seems like he's doing it erroneously. Kid watched a lot of Naruto, I see. Well, what a surprise! Didn't go well, huh? Not cool when someone can actually hold your arms with the same might you dip your fingers in their closing wounds, eh?
"Three mistakes you and your experimental friends did, f*cker. One, you got a grudge with the wrong kind of guy, the one that has nothing to lose and I mean it, I'm going to hunt. You. Down! Two, you released me without any cuffs, that's amateur, do you even know how many bastards like you I slaughtered in my time? Being unarmed changes nothing. Three, you actually thought I'd fight fairly, but my way of doing things..."
Ouch. Ouch. That star digs into my skull as much as it digs into his. Thanks for explaining why, Newton. Action and reaction. I ain't used to this. Too long being drained, lost blood while still recovering a bit. Ugh... my knees give up, the rest of the body still lingers. Then my arms benumb. My head twists. All I can hear is a helicopter... and it's getting away... they're laughing at me... at the clown.
All goes taciturn. All goes black.
Thud...
Gothic City, now:
Got in my best tactical attire for this, he better be alright. As much as I'm a pest to his life, I suppose he can lend me a hand. I've been gluing he pieces and I've been seriously thinking I've been abducted so they can spread my mutation to some weirdos. Problem is: who and why? Quantum Manipulation can and will get you murdered if you can't control it. So that means a few selective groups would have to be chosen by finger. That buys me enough time to get to Kurt, and he's totally going to help himself.
The lonesome figure entered the edifice with that supercilious smirk crossed on his face. He didn't carry a gun, just a bulletproof vest. Precautions, just in case. That simper, though, was wiped off of his visage in the matter of seconds... "What do you mean he's dead? There must be a mistake here, he wouldn't... Damn..."
Well, f*ck. I'm so freakin' useless I can't even protect myself. Jesus, Kurt, what were you meddling with? Anti-mutants? I always deposited so much faith on you, and... Damn. I'd kill the bastard... You weren't supposed to die, man. Not you. The privileges can't go all to one of us! I have to stay here, while you can live a great life and die when you feel like it?! What's that, f*cking destiny playing karma? You weren't the one supposed to die! IT WAS ME, YOU HEAR IT?! ME?!
Now I have to clean up this mess. Find that German motherf*cker who did this to me. Then all I need is a way to wipe out this curse and get you outta there. Outta my glorious and well-deserved sleep.
It's not the last time I'll be hearing from you, Greenie. And that was not the last time we saw each other. Mark my words. After I get to them, I'm coming for you.
Time Siphon had left DC the moment the crises abated. She had her own crises to deal with. The animal inside of her had been released and it was always a significant ordeal to put it back in its cage. The little girl in her mind knew it would take weeks, maybe even months to get Raeyn back into reasonably nice shape. For now two sides of Raeyn struggled and the girl simply waited for both of them to grow weak enough to exert influence again and cage the beast.
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Time Siphon speed through the air going no where in particular, her anti-gravity armor catapulting her through the air at dangerous speeds. The war in her mind was constant, taking from her even the ability to focus on her flight path. She snarled as her vision flickered back and forth between real world and temporal lines. One moment she was seeing buildings and people, the next the time left to each individual structure or person, marking them as potential targets.
Even in the Time Siphon's twisted self-argumentative state though she recognized a Temporal Line without end...an immortal...the ultimate food supply. The animal snapped into focus and had a plan to approach the immortal almost immediately. It was a bit reckless but it would make her look vulnerable and that might lower his guard, eventually. Not all targets were equal. Immortals could be used as a constant food source for the rest of time...but they often had excessive amounts of combat expertise. They were as dangerous as they could be profitable. The best bet was to lower their defenses.
Hehe...and you're female this time. So much easier. Oh help, help I'm being oppressed.
The ancient predator instinctively raised her arms to protect her head as she crashed through steel and glass of a sky scraper and intentionally lost flight control. She tumbled through an entire office floor and exploded out of a huge glass window on the other side. The window shattered and glistening glass tumbled to the streets below, as did Time Siphon. She struggled to regain control of her momentum until finally she slammed through an apartment roof and into the floor below it.
Raeyn's temporal armor absorbed most of the impact and was soon covered in spider web fractures, but the fractures began to heal within seconds of impacting the ground. Raeyn groaned and opened her eyes, staring up at the sky through the shattered roof and then at the immortal she'd been surprised to find when in the air. She reached out with her mind and coiled around his temporal line like a python...but something stopped her. Two things actually.
First, she was laying on the ground in a small crater. Second...you can't feed off an Immortal until you detain it.
Third...wait, three? Oh...this room smells like death.
The Time Siphon slowly picked herself out of the floor and stood across from the immortal. "I can normally fly better than that." She assured him. The look in her eyes was not a good one, it was predatory and unnatural. This one could fix everything.
Slowly opening his eyes, the man started to look around the room. Wh... where am I? An even better question would be who am I? He looked down at his wristband. Kyle... Clore? What kind of last name is that! He continues looking around and came to the conclusion that he was in a hospital room yet he still has no idea where. A tingling sensation began to encompass Clore's skin. He looked over at the wall and started to stare. What... is that? He started to slowly move his hand towards the wall and he could hear a slight creaking noise. CREEEEAAAAAK! (I didn't know how to write what metal sounds like when it is moved) A metal pipe broke through the wall.
"What is going... did... you do that?"A young nurse inquired.
"Umm... I think so?" Clore says as he looks at his hand with disbelief.
"Stay right here." The nurse says as she rushes off into the hallway.
Clore looks around the hospital room and sees a wooden chair. He reaches his hand out but... he feels nothing. Clore looks back at the pipe and reaches his hand out. The feeling is back. He then moves his hand around the room looking for what else he can feel. Moving too fast he passes over something so he slowly moved his hand back in the direction. "There..."Clore felt it again. A small metal pen on the counter. He clinched his fist. It feels like... I have a hold on it. Clore then pulls his hand back to him and the pen moved! Coming closer to Clore he begins to disassemble it. This is remarkable! Hmmm...? He reassembles the pen with complete ease. Clore then clinches his fist again but this time he crushes the pen. He begins rolling an imaginary ball in his hand which in turn smoothened the ball into a perfect silver sphere. Astounded by his gift Clore stares blankly at the ball as it floats above his hand.
"PUT YOUR HANDS UP NOW!" A police officer exclaimed as he aimed his pistol at Kyle's head.
"Wowowowowo! Whats going on? Did I do something?" Clore says as he dropped the ball due to lack of concentration and raised his hands.
"SHUT UP! You are under arrest for public endangerment!" The officer yelled as he came closer to Clore.
"Umm... Okay? Can you sto..." Before Clore could finish the metal ball he made fell to the ground and startled the Officer. BAM!The officer mistakenly shoots his gun. People on the floor gasped as they heard the shot. Kyle extremely calm put his hand up as he heard the gun's trigger click. The bullet shot out of the gun but stopped right in front of Clore's hand. "I know you were frightened but... you also infuriated me." Clore then launched the bullet right through the man's head and brought it back to his hand. The remainder of the patrons on the floor began screaming and shouting as the man's lifeless body hit the floor. Kyle then looked down at the ground and saw the metal ball. He rose it and then combined it with the bullets metal. Clore then put the metal on to his wrist and molded it to look like a simple silver wristband. He took out the nasal tube and put his feet on to the floor. As the remainder of the people on the floor rushed towards the elevator Clore stood up and walked slowly in the same direction. As he got closer and closer the people began screaming for their comrades to hurry up. The last person got in and the doors were closing but Clore rose his hands and held the elevator doors open and walked inside the overly packed space. "Hmm. This is catchy." Clore comments on the elevator music. A young lady in the back weaps loudly as she tries her hardest to get as much space between her and Clore. "Madame... I am going to need you to shut that sh*t up. You are becoming an annoyance." He said in the calmest tone possible. "DON'T YOU TALK TO HER LIKE THAT!" A young man shouts at Clore. As the elevator doors close Clore puts a smirk on his face.
DING!The elevator doors open and blood runs on to the floor and bodies spill out. The only thing standing is Clore. Attaching the metal ball on to his wrist Clore walks out. He sees that the lobby is completely empty. As he nears the main entrance he sees that there is a large blockade of policeman waiting for him just outside.
"Let the hostages go and come out with your hands up."A policeman said over a megaphone.
Clore walks outside with his hands up. "It seems we have a problem?" He says with a smirk.
"Where are the hostages Mr. Clore?" The policeman inquired.
"What hostages? There are a few bodies in their but... I am sure they are going to get the best medical treatment Gothic can provide." Clore says with a hysterical laugh.
"Do they have the shot Jenkins?"The policeman asked another officer.
"Yes sir. Shall we take it, Sir?"
"Yes..."
Already knowing how the situation was going to turn out Clore raised his hand. As the bullets started to fly they all stopped right in front of him. As the last shot rang out and the final bullet getting caught Clore launched each bullet back at it's shooter head. Bringing the bullets back and taking the metal off of his wrist Clore formed a large sphere. He walked slowly up to the policeman that called for the shots with the sphere floating above his shoulder. "Goodbye." Clore says as he commands the sphere to turn into a mesh like substance and cover the man's face. Suffocating him Clore watched as he struggled to tear the metal off. The officer reached for his gun possibly trying to finish it all but Clore held it in it's place. "Ah ah ah. You get to suffer."
Waiting for a moment after the man stopped struggling Clore took the metal off of his face. He went down to the man's neck and checked for a pulse. "Yeppers." Kyle then molded the metal into a thin circle and stepped upon it and floated off into the Night sky.
Gothic City was the lowest of the low. A nexus of criminal activity and a city forsaken by the country's most recent presidents. Many have called it hopeless, while others have described it as beyond salvation. Whatever the adjective or phrase chosen to define what Gothic City was, the leading murder capital of the United States was nothing, nothing compared to the anarchy and horror that the Black Baron had witnessed since day one in the future. No matter how disturbing the murder, how vicious the killer, it was nothing the German super soldier had not seen magnified beyond quantitative measurement. The Black Baron however, the Hound of Justice had come to Gothic City to seek a man.
A man who embodied the spirit of the prototypical vigilante. Dark Vengeance. One of the few men that the Hound of Justice believed had some sort of vision of how grim the future could become should the mutant terrorism that has since become so prevalent not be brought to an end. And he was certain the man would know. After all, Gothic City has been a frequent target of the likes of the Brahma Bull, and once a home to the 23rd Strigidae turned Shogun of Venezuela, Ivana. If there was one city, one place in the world that offered a glimpse of what the future held for the globe, it was Gothic City. This was, in Bastian's words, "The diet version of what cities have been reduced to in my future".
He had reached out to him before to arrange this fated encounter. The Hound of Justice's technopathy proved invaluable in enabling him to, in the most unorthodox of ways, use high-frequency transmissions passed between speakers and microphones to transmit information to whichever computer system Dark Vengeance left open to communication from other vigilantes in Gothic City, those that may require his aid. The information, which contained the details of the encounter, was sent across non-networked laptops using just their speakers.
Employing high-frequency transmissions to also transmit viruses to expendable computers and cellphones in Gothic City and instructing the viruses to reside in the basic input/output system of the computers, enabling them to remain in the system despite removal attempts (e.g. reinstalls, system erasing, reconfiguration etc.), Bastian ensured that the range of the non-networked laptops could further extended by linking the other infected devices together into a network similar to Wi-Fi repeaters. It was necessary.
The uncontaminated information was certain to have reached his acquaintance. And so, Bastian waited on an empty rooftop in the blackness of midnight. His emerald gaze was measured and gelid, his formidable form oozed a cold confidence that put the swagger of apex predators to shame, and the controlled expression of cool on his comely, roguish visage spoke of a silent intensity that warned his enemies of the fatal consequences of getting in his way.
Time Siphon had left DC the moment the crises abated. She had her own crises to deal with. The animal inside of her had been released and it was always a significant ordeal to put it back in its cage. The little girl in her mind knew it would take weeks, maybe even months to get Raeyn back into reasonably nice shape. For now two sides of Raeyn struggled and the girl simply waited for both of them to grow weak enough to exert influence again and cage the beast.
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Time Siphon speed through the air going no where in particular, her anti-gravity armor catapulting her through the air at dangerous speeds. The war in her mind was constant, taking from her even the ability to focus on her flight path. She snarled as her vision flickered back and forth between real world and temporal lines. One moment she was seeing buildings and people, the next the time left to each individual structure or person, marking them as potential targets.
Even in the Time Siphon's twisted self-argumentative state though she recognized a Temporal Line without end...an immortal...the ultimate food supply. The animal snapped into focus and had a plan to approach the immortal almost immediately. It was a bit reckless but it would make her look vulnerable and that might lower his guard, eventually. Not all targets were equal. Immortals could be used as a constant food source for the rest of time...but they often had excessive amounts of combat expertise. They were as dangerous as they could be profitable. The best bet was to lower their defenses.
Hehe...and you're female this time. So much easier. Oh help, help I'm being oppressed.
The ancient predator instinctively raised her arms to protect her head as she crashed through steel and glass of a sky scraper and intentionally lost flight control. She tumbled through an entire office floor and exploded out of a huge glass window on the other side. The window shattered and glistening glass tumbled to the streets below, as did Time Siphon. She struggled to regain control of her momentum until finally she slammed through an apartment roof and into the floor below it.
Raeyn's temporal armor absorbed most of the impact and was soon covered in spider web fractures, but the fractures began to heal within seconds of impacting the ground. Raeyn groaned and opened her eyes, staring up at the sky through the shattered roof and then at the immortal she'd been surprised to find when in the air. She reached out with her mind and coiled around his temporal line like a python...but something stopped her. Two things actually.
First, she was laying on the ground in a small crater. Second...you can't feed off an Immortal until you detain it.
Third...wait, three? Oh...this room smells like death.
The Time Siphon slowly picked herself out of the floor and stood across from the immortal. "I can normally fly better than that." She assured him. The look in her eyes was not a good one, it was predatory and unnatural. This one could fix everything.
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Drake waded down the street nonchalantly, the news impacted him greatly and his already aloof and uncaring countenance was marked with even more callous frowns and occasional sighs. Kurt didn't earn a peaceful death as Drake did, he was quintessential to Gothic just like Dark Vengeance was. He was an admirable Damage-Reducing Agent for Killing Employments, only that fully working and with a better score against life. Hardships? Both met many, yet Kurt overcame those and found his happiness, while Drake was forced to be overwhelmed and lost his mind. He was the killing-machine, the uttermost weapon...
The Kurt that went wrong.
"Why him... Why all that life? Happy and sad moments, just wasted. A whole legacy that will just fade." He didn't give attention for any eavesdropping ears, nor did he watch the sky. And, abruptly, chunks of stone simply burst everywhere. A single motion of his katana and stone was shattered in debris. So was his might and prowess with those honored and sacred blades. A woman erected from the crater, simpering as if she just found something... As if Drake was prey... Either carnal or literal, he didn't pay much attention, yet he acknowledged better than anyone that look and sentiment of finding prey. Even better if he was to kill it after.
"Good for you, lady. Now, if you excuse me, I have my tombstone to visit... and my mind to clear." Although a nigh taciturn state domineered his mostly joyous persona, this time there were no prompt jokes nor mad laughter. Pivoting his feet toward the cemetery, he just beckoned and continued on his way.
There were moments answering outer questions weren't as near as important as answering the inner inquiries he had now.
The Time Siphon smiled a viper's smile and followed after him. She caught up swiftly and was soon walking by his side. "A clear mind is a dangerous weapon, use it wisely." I can't remember who told me that. "It's also an unfortunately difficult thing to attain, clear minds." The debris behind them faded into dust as she fed on it for the simple fact that she could. "I have found that at times it is easier with company, particularly company with a listening ear. I happen to be quite good at listening." What was the old saying? She shook her head, apparently the saying on the tip of her tongue was not currently part of her memory pane.
"Why should your grave matter? It is empty, clearly." Unless... "or was someone else put there in your place? I find that Humans have a strange desire to fill graves, even if the person they belong to is alive and well." A grave danced before her mind and her smile faded. The image danced and danced, just beyond her mental reach until at last it vanished like a thief. Need more food. I've lost too much, that ignorant child has kept me locked away for too long.
Don't say that, she's not ignorant.
Oh great. Another one.
Just a part of yourself you don't like listening to.
Shut up!
"What troubles you immortal?" She asked her new companion after a moment.
Jesus, Drake, look at you... Just sprawling inside, whispering to yourself. Recompose. Rise from the ashes. Death isn't something you're unacquainted with... You can't pick those to love and those to hate, you can't relate. People tend to end up dead when coming close to you... To us. We're deadly, we're bad luck. We're the endless reminder to why humanity is miserable yet comforted in their selfish ignorance. We show how time isn't worth all that value. Did you really think Kurt would last forever? He may be your identity, but is he Drake? Is he truly what you are supposed to be?
His tombstone has a corpse, so does your wife's... But do yours even exist? You stand as firm and strong as the last few years. Why do you even do this to yourself?
Every time. Every. Whenever melancholy overtook his head, voices could be hearkened chit-chattering inside. Why? Was he regaining insanity? Perhaps. But who knows what it actually signifies? Maybe a constant reminder, a comforting one, to show he's never alone, to show all he needs is himself, to impose his freedom over the time-slaves of this plane and the next one.
"A clear mind... But it's not for a weapon. I already am the weapon."Great, now you sounded just like the bastard that cursed you in the first place. Do you even regret it? "Nothin' troubles me. It's just this tinglin' sensation of guilt. I am dead, you see? And I wasn't there to protect myself. The good part of myself. Now that part's legacy goes to rubble while I'm still steady, waitin' for the same fate... A fate that may never come."
And now we're opening up to some weirdo. Great. Pull yourself together, you're sounding and looking pathetic.
"But that's none of your business, anyways. And I really wanna be alone. Been doin' it all my life. So, just ask whatever you have in mind, do it and be done with it."
The animal slipped to the back of Raeyn's mind for a moment, there was a different voice more suited for this, at least for now. No longer caged though the animal lurked in her mental shadows, ready to take over again when it suited. It also urged certain instincts forward and restrained the voice it allowed to speak, lest it lose control again.
"I know how that feels." Raeyn said, her voice now lacking that strange cruelty and whispered tone. It was more human now, soft and gentle. "The guilt. It clings to the back of your mind, it lingers there and never quite lets go. Sometimes you may think its gone but then it comes back again, it crawls and slithers into her brain and makes a nest."
The girl, you have to get rid of the girl. The animal whispered.
First of all, I don't have the power to do that just now, second of all, I don't want to. There is more to me than animal cruelty...she's taught me that. Time Siphons can be more.
We're predators, you're delusional.
"My name is Raeyn, I'm a Time Siphon." She smiled a little, doubted he'd know what the name meant, really meant. "I know a little something about losing parts of yourself and lingering guilt. I've lived with it for longer than you've been alive, far longer in fact. Losing part of myself constitutes the core of my existence, my memories come and go and there is always a monster lurking in the shadows. I'm not here to ask you a question, I'm here because you're immortal."
Tell him the thing.
"My people have a saying." Raeyn said, glancing over at him. "It was over heard by a famous writer you might know the name of and he used it to great effect. It goes like this: and in strange aeons even death may die."
I love that phrase.
"Eventually everything dies, even the Universe has an expiration date. Your mind limits your perception, it makes you think you can never die because it doesn't understand why it's still going. As for your good side..." She shrugged. "Make a new one."
He didn't pay much attention, he was too troubled for that. What he did, though, was gathering enough pieces of the whole puzzle. Just enough so the missing parts would be useless to identify the panorama. She was there for his life-span, his gigantic immortal task. After all, that was all that mattered about Drake, piggybacking a story until he needs to jump out of it toward a new one. Sipping his drink just until the ice meets his lips and never ending it prior to asking the next round. "I met people who have lived long enough. I have met people in Hell from centuries back, from universes back. Trust me, an expiration date isn't the greatest of my problems. I am not an immortal mutant, nor am I an immortal ancient race, no possession of a relic did this. It was merely magic. Strong, God-like magic. And, even though I've tried everythin' to die, it just keeps remindin' me how I'm going to go. There's no choice. There's no universe endin'. I guess I would just have to sit through it and find out."
Make a new one. That one hit him in the gut. Kurt was dead, wasn't him? The hero, the legend... The Gothic's Knight? The Ying to his Yang? There was no equilibrium now, there was no teaching suffering, no vengeance to enact. Still, he envied how Kurt went swimmingly... no trail left underneath it all. A plain, respectful death, able to silence muffles of a grey town. How could Drake possibly live all his time without a counterpart? Someone to lessen his frustrations and his anger?
The answer was obvious: he couldn't.
So why not be his own Kurt, then? He was both, correct? Kurt and Drake? Maybe... Maybe she had a point. His mood was clouded, yet brightening up a little with an expeditious murmur.
"The name's Drake and I'm not from this time stream. Here, I was known as the Gothic's Commissioner and Knight, Kurt Pendragon. And now he's dead. Say... You said somethin' 'bout a siphon. I may be dumb, but I know what that means. You feed on time, don't ya?..... Guess that's what all this is about. So, uhm, I need some time to think on my own... So just do it, alright? If I can keep ya alive, that's a start already."
(*watches Shogun of Sarcasm open a massive can of worms* Holy crap)
"Some call me a Temporal Vampire." She nodded...then he dropped the biggest bomb she'd come across in a long time. He volunteered. The animal was stunned into silence, the girl smiled and Raeyn...Raeyn blinked. She opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it and walked around him, considering his form for a moment. "It's going to hurt." She warned him. "I could feed on you indefinitely...I was going to get to know you, make you fall into a trap and lock you away some where as a never ending food supply..." She looked at him and her eyes softened, the predatory gaze vanished...for now.
"Since you're volunteering, I'll just take what I can now." The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and a shiver ran down his spine as she mentally coiled around his vast Temporal Line. "Maybe we can work together some time." She added and then started...She was right, the process was horrifically painful, every cell in his body screamed in seemingly endless pain as she tapped into his life span and drank from it like a parasite. She closed her eyes, focusing on the effort, taking as much as she could in this one go.
Her cells flushed with power, her memory shards swirled around in her mind like debris in a tornado and then...they started to snap into place. The easy ones came first, locked into her memory pane as she regained her powers to the point of the Tokyo Event. She continued though, there was so much time available, so much power to gain. Another shard snapped into place...then another...memories of past lives came into view at long last and the universe trembled as Raeyn rose again.
Her eyes snapped open somewhere during the process, they glowed with magnificent power, the glory of a Time Siphon reborn. Another shard snapped into place, it took millions of available years, but it finally locked into her memory pane. The screams of a six year old girl.
Without warning she aborted the process, crying out in surprise and physically wrenching herself away from him, stumbling over the graves at their feet and dropping to one knee. The animal recoiled, the girl cried...and so did Raeyn. Her tears came unexpected and uncalled for, but they came none the less. At long last she had her answer. The guilt...she knew the reason for the guilt. An ageless predator that made the universe tremble at the mere mention of her name felt immense and undying guilt...not at the literally trillions of lives she had claimed in her time, nor at the civilizations she had brought to an end or the endless torments she had locked so many of her enemies into. The guilt came because of a girl, only six years old. One of the Universe's most powerful and remorseless beings brought to tears because of a child.
How many children had died at her hand, how many had she consumed and snuffed out without so much as a thought? What could possibly bring such a creature to tears about one...single...child.
A promise. Raeyn made so few of them. Now she remembered why. Because she had broken one once. "NO!" She screamed, it was a strange sound, a weird combination of human, alien and monster, a cry that came out at first as that of a woman, but ended as some sort of nightmare creature snarling at the unforgiving void. Memory Shards were dangerous things...
The sky that blanketed Gothic was nearly pitch black, a rarity when the hustle and bustle of the nightlife normally glowed with bright neon and the flicker of worn down streetlights. The caped figure stood menacingly, the darkness of his cape and cowl blending in with the void of the sky did well to enlarge the sight of his broad shoulders. He was irritated if not angry at the method he had been summoned to this meeting. His computer and security systems in the Warehouse had been violated and manipulated to transmit a rather straight forward invitation.
The intrusion left the present Dark Vengeance uneasy as the technological barriers and cybernetic firewalls were to have been the best that Malcolm Press, The original Dark Vengeance, could afford and improve. His caller was no ordinary brawler nor foot soldier. His reasoning for agreeing to an audience wasn't a matter of privacy anymore, but of leverage. It was a grueling task to seek out the origin of the hacker and even more bothersome to attempt the removal of any unwanted spyware, but it was to no avail. The technological procedure needed a mind more capable than Alexander and his list of allies was relatively short. The lack of sources left him with little option other than meeting with the infiltrator face to face.
The crusader stared fiercely at the stranger with skepticism. The glistening arm of the suave man was the only source of light that mirrored the clouded moon in the sky as the rest of his visage was concealed by the dusk. It was well known in the vigilante underworld that the trust of Dark Vengeance is not garnered easily and neither is his companionship.
"I can safely presume that you're the one who arranged the spying and snooping in my security system..."
His voice emanated with annoyance as his eyes closely cross inspected the man, taking in every bit of detail as his eyes would allow and ready himself if this had all been an ambush waiting to be sprung. He didn't move, but Alexander remained still waiting for the conversation to continue.
Bastian responded to Dark Vengeance's accusatory words only with a glare, his emerald eyes gelid and emanating an air of cool and control that seized the atmosphere by throat. It was true, he had employed vicious, technopathic means to reach the controversial vigilante. It was entirely warranted, he believed. To Bastian, the Black Baron, preventing the future warring state of the world from which he hailed, held far greater importance than a clutter of outdated computer systems. "I will remove the infected data", the cold bass and formidable timbre of his voice began, carrying his words along with a thick German accent that held an intangible, predatory edge, one that warned any and everyone that getting in his way would result only in their untimely death.
Folding both arms before his chest, the Black Baron continued, conducting himself with an aura of silent self-assurance, of cold confidence and the inherent swagger of a no-nonsense, ass-kicking, taciturn antihero who does away with his enemies with a style and aggression that few could hope to mimic. "I do not need your trust or your friendship", his words were blunt yet always with a character of quiet intensity, an omnipresent gravitas. "Only your attention", at least so that he knew that the man he was dealing with now was one he could not afford to ignore. This was not a negotiation. It was an offer of choices. "And your assistance. Against the Shogun of Venezuela". His words were simple, and the implication was there. He would remove the virus and infected data from the vigilante's security systems, provided that he lend his assistance in the Hound of Justice's crusade against Ivana.
"I do not need to hear speeches or thinly veiled threats or anything other than either a 'yes' or 'no'. So, yes or no?". The answer would set the tone for everything. Should Dark Vengeance say 'yes', then the Hound of Justice would disappear then and there, the vigilante already in possession of the mission details from the initial attempt at contacting him. Should he however, respond with a 'no', the Hound of Justice's disappearance would still occur, of course however, along with the mission details. He had little time now, there remained one more recruit. Abigail Aensland.
It didn't take a master detective to deduce the annoyed reaction that stirred in the technopath. The feeling was mutual. After all, how can anyone offer a welcoming greeting after having their privacy violated. A simple nod was the only response from Dark Vengeance, his stubble chin touching the ebony kevlar that protected his collar bone. He had thought about the possibility of leaving Gothic City with aspirations of 'frying bigger fish', but always shrugged off the thought.
Alexander knew he was capable of doing something as grand as hunting a meta human, or even mutant, but his City was too important to leave alone for too long. With recent increase in vigilante activity to include his own sister meant he could at least play a part in the bigger picture of justice....But the Shogun of Venezuela? Her exploits and reputation for mutant supremacy did well to terrify the world. Now Alex could do what he can to strike that same fear into her, even if it meant teaming up with others that he had little knowledge of. He would be wary of course, but dedicated to the mission at hand.
"Yes."
The Gothic hero growled in his best Dark Vengeance impression he could muster. As if a single response was all he needed, the mysterious courier and commander vanished from the meeting and into thin air. The theatrical exit left a bit of an uncomfortable feeling in the acrobatic assailant, but time was short. He needed to make the proper preparations to facilitate what may be a suicide mission. Breaking into a mutant paradise with some of the planet's most dangerous and volatile criminals? A suicide mission may be an understatement.
You should read Year One and the Dark Knight Returns, people give the stories a lot of shit because they don't like Miller but they're really good imo.
I was supposed to attack Venezuela with Stark but he went MIA, I'm mostly going to focus on writing that thread that we talked about.
His early stuff was great, he turned Daredevil from a C lister into an A lister and brought Batman back to his glory days. The whole Batman rage that we've had for the past three decades is because of Miller. Even if you read All Star as a parody comic you will find it enjoyable.
I'm not even half way done with that, it's taking a lot of time.
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