@_stretch_: Oh yeah. SHIELD's opposing that so your presumption is correct.
S.H.I.E.L.D Helicarrier [CVnU: Mobile Location]
Agent Musashi reporting in.
@agent_musashi: Err... You should have asked me before you created the character. PM me, maybe you can be apart of it in some way.
"I will make you despise the life your God has forced upon you"
The petrifying bass of the utterer's menacing proclamation reverberating throughout S.H.I.E.L.D's premier helicarrier with monstrous vocal depth, the ominous words followed by a looming blackness, one that envelops the encompassing blue of the sky, the helicarrier seemingly venturing into uncharted aerial territory, radio-communications and electronic geographic discernment offering nothing of notice as luminosity fades. And from the darkness it emerged, a behemothic eye-less horse of rotting flesh and a hulking build, a mane of ghostly white complimenting it's complexion, the sickly pallor of corpses. Pulled by the Pale Horse, a large chariot of onyx, it's occupant, enshrouded, as the Pale Horse, driven across the helicarrier's surface by the Grim Reaper halts.
Vibrating quakes permeate through the fortuitous structure, the gargantuan frame of the globe's foremost terrorist emerging, a black silhouette complimenting the surrounding darkness. Eyes of incandescent redness, burning with hellfire, emerging with the returning Gothic City Nightmare, the Harbinger of Death, the Horseman known as 'Death'. Larger he seemed, his large, bloodstained, black-bladed machete, his Facao da Morte held by his left hand. And as the darkness faded, taking all supernatural phenomena with it into obscurity, the Brahma Bull's intentions were clear. To bring forth the destruction of S.H.I.E.L.D's helicarrier as a message, an insult to President Stark, to the United States, and a warning to all who dare oppose him, that the promised revolution his come, that his terror will be televised. That he will eradicate the weak men, the weak mutants, and forge a lawless, anarchic world of strong mutants, governed only by one solitary law, that of Survival of the Fittest.
Though his radical ideology would not be brought forth on his own. The other Horsemen had yet to come.
@amphetamines: After BB's raid I would like to pull a 'Gremlin' if you are familiar with WW2 myths
@shogunate Posted in your thread mano ;)
Will reply when my wifi kicks back in :)
@amphetamines: No worries :)
@amphetamines: Sweet thread. I'm trying to think of a way for Remus to get involved in this somehow, I can't think of anything yet but I definitely want to RP here at some point.
@amphetamines: Daemon had heard many things in the short time about SHIELD, but he knew one thing. That if he needed an unstoppable force to protect his school from anything short of a nuclear attack, they were the ones to keep it protected. Daemon knew Asher was a man of many things, trivial small talk may not be one of them so he put his need out straight and forward.
"No I speak of demons Asher, I am not quite a one trick pony. My body is made up of many things, one of them makes for my lovely skin condition...the demonic part of me that is. But besides that, I am in need of your....equipment it would seem. I am a powerful man, and I am sure to meet many unkind people. I live and breathe the continued survival of those who believe in me Mister Asher. My school Serenity and Hope needs protection from those who deem me unfit. If I am not to be on the property, I need something or someone who will protect whats mine...." Daemon smiled to Asher slightly hoping the man was understanding what he was saying "And that protection is SHIELD..."
@brahma_bull: Tyrant had only come to the Helicarrier to see if he could get further training from some of the world's best soldiers. What he had found was... well, he wasn't sure. The form being pulled through the sky was far bigger than a normal human, almost as tall as himself. From the bloodstained blade it wielded, he doubted it was here on a friendly visit. Worse, he could see little way to stop them without damaging the carrier or putting himself at risk. Except maybe...
Putting his travel aura to full, he rocketed forward at twenty times the speed of sound. He would ask the creep what he wanted after he had rammed him a few hundred miles away.
"Sir?"
Wednesdays were always hectic for somebody with Director Asher H. Deadman's duties. Foremost, there was S.H.I.E.L.D. and all the responsibilities she forced upon him, and then his private life as a budding scientist with more ideas than time. Every second not utilized being a massive green monster was spent in the laboratory, looking for ways with which to impress the intellectual world, eating, sleeping, and socializing coming a close second to this. And as such, whenever there was a voice across his communicator or an agent at his laboratory door, he experienced an inward groan, cursing himself for rising to the top of his profession so hastily.
"What is it, agent?"
"Sir, we have a situation."
Director Deadman gave his massive supercomputer one final longing stare before he pushed away with both feet, swivelling across the room upon his repulsor tech operated hover chair with both arms folded across his wiry, lab coat covered chest. He peered over his glasses at the man expectantly. After a beat the operative realized he was supposed to start talking and covered up his blunder with a bright red face and a clearing of the throat that mimicked a chainsaw's death rattle.
"The Helicarrier is suffering from some peculiar technological irregularities, sir. The engineers are - "
"And you couldn't just radio it in? Why waste my time with a personal call?"
"Uh, sir, the communicators are also down. The engineers - "
"What? That's not possible, I designed them myself."
He made to turn back towards his computer screen when with a sudden flash of light, it shorted out and the entire Heliccarrier was forced into back-up power. Deadman's face remained impassive, nothing but his brow moving, furrowing in quiet bewilderment at all of the viable factors that could cause such events. The agent continued, eager to finish off his objective so that he could retreat.
"The engineers are preparing the self-reliant powering systems, reports indicate that the engines are - "
"I will make you despise the life your God has forced upon you."
The entire airborne structure trembled for a moment, the atmosphere seeming to press down upon 67 and all of her occupants, oxygen suddenly uncomfortable to take in. An onyx blanket threw itself across the sky and day became night within a matter of seconds, leaving S.H.I.E.L.D's largest headquarters stranded and unable to contact the outside world. Almost some twisted Bermuda Triangle, the air space seemed inhabitable, an ominous aura wrapping itself around the Helicarrier and whispering sinister nothings into the ears of her operatives.
"Ha! I knew it wasn't possible. Don't worry agent, it's just an otherworldly entity, my tech is still spotles - "
The agent lay in one corner of the room, whimpering to himself with a baseball card of the Champion cradled desperately within both palms.
"... Well, you're fired."
Director Deadman rose from his seat and placed his spectacles upon the workbench, loosening his tie with a single hand whilst with the other he partook in Angry Birds, whistling quietly to himself, a set of violet armour revealing itself just beneath his shirt.
Thirty Seconds Later.
The darkness had begun to retract, but the bizarre effects wrought upon 67's technology continued to wreak havoc, sending technicians and scientist scurrying about the underbelly of the beast with desperate hopes of keeping their city sized fortress airborne. Operatives sat within their respective quarters, gear applied to their trained forms, weapons at the ready, waiting upon their commander's word. They prayed it would never come.
An elevated platform rose up out of the centre of the Helicarrier's surface deck and from it stepped Amphetamines, both S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most capable mind and her most dangerous weapon. The violet armour across his indestructible form glistened nonchalantly as a result of the few returning sun beams, reflecting the massive green face above it, strong set features offering the unwelcome Horseman of Death little reprieve for his dramatic entrance. Amphetamines stopped approximately fifty metres away from the theatrically garbed bogeyman, spreading both tree trunk sized arms apart and shrugging questioningly, his equally thunderous voice resounding throughout the sky.
"I don't think it's Halloween for at least a few more months, buddy."
And so the Jade Colossus had come to confront him. The Brahma Bull's masked features betrayed no emotion, yet the soulless vermilion glow of his menacing eyes spoke of his desire for power, his desire to destroy and bring forth destruction, his willingness to tear apart all who oppose him, and his ambition to realize his radical ideology through promised revolution. Tauntingly twirling his ebony-bladed machete, his Facão da Morte, in a circular motion, the Gothic City Nightmare mutely examined the S.H.I.E.L.D. constituent's physical frame. Only several inches shy of the Brahma Bull's height, and several pounds lighter, Amphetamines was for all intents and purposes, the Militant Mammoth's virtual physical equal. Prowling forward, bold and fearless, eyes unwavering from his opponent's, predatory and petrifying.
Halloween? A yearly celebration, one characterized by humans indulging in costumed practices. A celebration organized by humans, the foulest and most repugnant of God's hominids, complete and utter wastes of useful DNA. "You government dogs claim innocence, play victimless. But your history of slavery and theft will bring your pathetic nation's end!", the Brahma Bull growled, growing ever closer, his ruthless offense to begin, his path of destruction to commence. "A hairless troll will not stop me. At the end of my global revolution, I will stand above the grave of more dead presidents. The first will be yours". An inch from violently swinging his supernaturally ensorcelled machete across his adversary, intent on mercilessly cleaving through the Jade Colossus' torso, a high-hypersonic entity collided against his midsection.
Through sheer muscular power, the Brahma Bull counteracted the collision's monstrous force by moving himself in this unacquainted adversary's opposite direction. Prior to being slid back several feet across the helicarrier's surface, from his militaristic garb, two MK3A2 concussion grenades were reached for, set to violently detonate, capitalizing on the close distance between the two, the grenades' concussive force and expelled fragments seeking to bombard his nameless opponent. Relatively unscathed by the high-impact force of his opponent's high-hypersonic attack, the Gothic City Nightmare bursts forward, eyes set on Amphetamines. Exercising one of his acquired supernatural abilities, he began.
With eye contact for ten seconds as a prerequisite, the Militant Mammoth sought to trap his victim's consciousness in an illusionary realm, almost entirely under the terrorist's control. Altering his victim's perception of time, what were seconds in the real world, would seem like days in the victim's mind. Casting a black endless plain festooned by an eerie red hue, the Brahma Bull attempted to exercise his supernatural illusionary capabilities first to force his adversary to witness a gruesome hypothetical of his loved ones' deaths, and a subsequent vision of the fear-inducing realm of Hell, all designed to psychologically torture and break the will to battle. Optimistic that the vivid illusion had distracted him, the Harbinger of Death executed a vehement, horizontal slash, his bloodstained machete's blade seeking to graphically cleave into his opponent's midsection.
His opponent took the blow like a solid mountain, barely even shifting. Well, if they weren't an enemy before, they were now.Tyrant danced back from close combat, hoping to buy time and think of a better strategy. His foe obviously didn't want him to do that and tossed two grenades that quickly closed the distance. Tyrant managed to raise his battle aura just before they went off, bathing him in force and shrapnel. His aura deflected the majority of the blast, with the rest only managing to crack his armored skin. Painful, but survivable.
He quickly went over his options. Close combat was obviously out. Chi blasts might wreck the ship. He wasn't sure how the arrival of Amphetamines altered things. All of these were problematic, but they were close to the clouds... Tyrant reached his power into the clouds above, leading a few million excited lines of ions to the adversary. The next instant, dozens of lines of lightning hurtled down to bathe him in light.
Normally, Amphetamines was the tallest person in the room. He was quietly impressed by the Bull's size, but possessed little doubt that by the end of this battle he would dwarf his opponent. It was inevitable. The Behemoth of Brutality's only response to harm was to grow stronger, larger, faster. The more damage done, the better. He almost smiled. This was going to be fun.
"The government? You're absolutely right, they're assholes. The UN has me running around 24/7, in fact, I can't even remember the last time I was home." The transformed Director grinned cheekily at his dissatisfied customer, folding his arms across his chest, one hand stroking his square chin thoughtfully. "You're an ambitious fellow, my friend. Good luck with all that." He chuckled now, characteristically condescending his foe, accustomed to being both the most intelligent and most powerful figure in situations at all times. He realized he was underestimating the foreboding predator before him, but it did little to slow his roll. "That bit about the slaves definitely hits home, though. I really am becoming exhausted." Amphetamines' grin grew larger and he brought one fist down upon the other menacingly," I should take a break."
An anti-climactic sequence of events ensued, handled by the Bull with dismissive prowess before he set his luminous crimson eyes upon the Jade Giant and charged with haste that surprised the Deadly Director of Destruction, his body already moving to respond, but mind snatched away by some unseen force that momentarily blinded him.
Both his grandfather and his father stood before him, over him, regarding the tiny Asher with a disdain that tore his innards apart. They fell out of his stomach and they sneered at him, voices morphed into some horrific parody of the originals. Asher tried to scramble up at them so as to explain himself but the more he seemed to move the further they distanced themselves, all the while muttering how he had failed the family name. And then, there was Amphetamines, his twisted alter-ego, tearing into both fathers and roaring with a rage that turned Asher's innards to liquid. The wiry scientist reached out a single arm and tried to cry out, but the monster continued, destroying the only two people Deadman had ever loved.
One of Amphetamines' knees hit the deck, a massive arm wrapped across his sternum. Green blood fell from a wound perfectly exacted upon the Mountainous Man, spilling through his brick sized fingers and littering the violet armour, previously thought of as as indestructible as it's wielder. Deadman struggled back to the forefront of his consciousness and instantaneously realized what he'd just experienced, the thought of this barbaric Neanderthal violating his cognitive fortress one that turned the temporary uncertainty within his belly to pure, hot rage. The wound had already began to close over, but it's agony did little to restrain the Titan, who now leaped at his antagonist with a force that shifted the trajectory of the colossal Helicarrier for a split-second, the Behemoth scorching through the space between both beings with a strength that threatened to rip the flesh from his bones as he soared.
Both arms came round to wrap themselves around the Bull with the intent of interlocking his fingers behind the Horseman's spine and exerting a physical might capable of shattering diamonds. Conscious of the Boi's blade, both elbows came down across Death's reincarnation's forearms so as to deny the combatant the room required to manoeuvre his weapon upwards and into Amphetamines' form. The Mountainous Man of Magnitude would allow his momentum to carry them both forth, so that the now 1500 lbs Titan could body-slam the Bull into the Helicarrier's deck, the force behind such an antic enough to take them both through her flesh and into the innards of the airborne vehicle.
@amphetamines: Badass shit man, that was really engaging.
@pyrogram: It felt pretty good to write. I experienced the powah!
@web_flotsam: Ey brah, I think I'd rather handle this one solo, if you don't mind. Just Amph & Brahma going at it.
The Jade Colossus spoke of exhaustion, with a taunt of twisted mercy, the Gangster of Guerrilla Warfare laughed, looming over his adversary's wounded frame, readying his machete to ruthlessly behead he who dare engage him in this bout. "Ha! Then I shall make you rest in peace, boy", he derided, his machete's blade inches from his victim's malachite flesh, "There is no heaven for capitalist attack dogs". It was then and there, that Amphetamines, speedily recovering from the graphic cut across midsection's bloodied tissue, showcased explosive power and acceleration. Entrapped by a constricting body-lock, his arms restrained so as to not allow him to butcher his opponent with his blade, the Brahma Bull subtly struggled, the 'hairless troll' as he'd mocked, boasted mountainous strength, comparable to his old physical power.
Since his reincarnation as the most feared of the Four Horsemen, he had returned much much stronger. Though ebullient feats of strength would serve only to accelerate the production of fatigue toxins, despite his now virtually boundless physical power, the Brahma Bull was still, first and foremost, a tactical mind. Blitzed into the helicarrier's deck, infrastructural debris and metal remnants flinging into the high-speed winds of their high-altitude environment, the Militant Mammoth's elephantine back blasted through wall after wall by his adversary. Though this was exactly as intended, to toy with Amphetamines rage, to draw him into a destructive frenzy facilitating the helicarrier's inevitable destruction. Quickly, the Brahma Bull's gargantuan frame found itself enveloped by jet black flames, hellfire. The scent of brimstone commencing an aromatic invasion, the flames, flaring from the Brahma Bull's physique at 2,500 °C, 2/5 the temperature of the Earth's inner core, threatened to sear the flesh of the Jade Giant's very bones.
Cosmetically bruised, his spine damaged, though the battle's end was nowhere in sight, now more than ever, as thee Fourth Horseman, the Brahma Bull was unstoppable. Relying on a terse burst of unmitigated physical power, breaking free from his opponent's hold, the Gothic City Nightmare, his frame still radiating the scorching black fires of Hell, was quick to follow-up, thrusting his machete's flame-engulfed blade towards the approximated Amphetamines' injured midsection, intent on viciously driving it all the way through the emerald behemoth. The irate flames enveloping the blade, threatening to reduce his adversary's internal makeup to unrecognizable biological paste. Independent of this initial attack's success or failure, the Gothic City Nightmare jerked his head forward, his robust forehead seeking to fulminantly smash into his opponent's nose with a ruthless headbutt, unleashing the monstrous force to blast the Jade Colossus across the helicarrier's surface, to it's opposing side.
Commanding the black fires, instructing them to commence their engulfment of the helicarrier, to burn and melt the aerial structure to nothing. Though he did not boast his opponent's regeneration, as told by his sustained bruises, miniscule cuts, and partially damaged spine, the Brahma Bull's overwhelming combination of physical power, supernatural abilities, and psychological warfare would function as his trump-card. He wanted to anger his adversary, to unleash the rage within his opponent. "After I use your severed head to dishearten your family, I will burn their home with all of them tied to their chairs, and slit their f*cken throats so when they scream, only blood will answer".
@amphetamines: I'll let his next move take me out.
@amphetamines: we still doing our rp?
Further and further they went, the Malicious Mountain of a Man driving them both directly into the Helicarrier, several floors passing within a matter of split-seconds, their momentum finally dissipating with Amphetamines' initial rage, Deadman struggling to control his natural instincts regarding fury. The violet armour upon his form pumped medicative properties into his blood stream, regulating his heartbeat and allowing him to think clearly whilst transformed. He realized his mistake nigh instantaneously, not only bringing the Titanic Tyrant into an area swarmed by hapless scientists but delivering him to the heart of the airborne structure. It was too late. The only hope Amphetamines possessed now was to terminate the Mammoth before he could implement any serious damage to the Helicarrier, the likes of which was suspended over the Indian Ocean. It would not be the first time a Helicarrier had fallen out of the sky, but it would certainly be the first time 67 had.
"CODE ICARUS! WE HAVE A CODE ICARUS!" Amphetamines' voice drowned out all else, reverberating throughout nigh the entirety of the structure. Agents and scientists alike, frozen in place by the sudden appearance of both titans, were forced into action, scurrying about the place, alarms kicking in and casting forebodingly flashing red lights as all power was directed towards the back-up protocols. Operatives had already begun moving, sprinting towards the point of contact when another roar bounced off of the Helicarrier's walls, also from their indestructible commander. A holographic projection, recorded by dozens of cameras in the laboratory, showed Amphetamines' grip being broken by his opponent, Hellish flames licking at the Jade Giant's torso. The roar was continuous, their Director suffering from immeasurable agony.
Brahma Bull, the Horseman of Death, did not waste time. Before the Biological Behemoth could adjust to the affliction wrought upon his body, a blade wrapped tightly in pure heat slipped through his invulnerable armour and green skin, annihilating several organs and mutilating the structure of Amphetamines' spine, delivering a blow that would instantaneously terminate the life of even the most powerful beings ever born. But not the most powerful being ever born. Once more, Deadman was swallowed within the cognitive clutches of his monstrous alter-ego and the Titan reigned over his consciousness, responding to the indescribable pain the only way he knew how.
With his body.
Sheer inches separating them, the Bull brought his forehead down with a blow capable of launching even the 1600 lbs Giant across the Helicarrier, ebullient crimson eyes leaving red wisps in the air as it ate through it. Utilizing reflexes comprised of speed itself, the Behemoth of Brutality sacrificed a few more centimetres of his innards for a manoeuvre that threatened to knock the Bull's skull right off of his shoulders. His upper body torqued to one direction, titanic elbow coming across his form to intercept the Boi's facial blow three quarters of the way towards it's destination, designating the point of impact to just off the side of the Tyrant Terrorist Titan's temple, a position upon the Horseman's skull that would ensure maximum velocity met maximum area, every ounce of the Mountainous Man's strength ebbing into the strike.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was left to the mercy of it's operatives, Deadman trapped within the confines of his infuriated partner's consciousness.
@darkchild: Certainly, I'll respond soon.
@amphetamines: That was f'n badass mano :)
Met with a thunderously executed counter-strike, the Brahma Bull's surging head found itself viciously pulverized by an earth-shattering elbow, his intended headbutt violently intercepted, the point of Amphetamines' elbow bombarding the the right side of his temple, it's world-breaking power blasting the Fourth Horseman across the helicarrier's surface, his temple cracked, and his consciousness nearly departing. If not for the recent augmentation of his power, the Gothic City Nightmare most likely would have succumbed to the knockout blow. Agonizingly rocked, the Brahma Bull struggled to both feet, knees buckling, vision blurred, a toothy grin of contentment garnishing his masked features. "Hehehe..".
"Is that all, boy?", he taunted, his hand instinctively clutching the cracked side of his skull, "Heh, I thought you were going to prove a challenge, dog! You're weak, just like the rest of them! All talk and no action", perpetually taunting, deriding, ridiculing his powerful adversary. And as his growling bass reverberated across the aerial structure, the Brahma Bull could see, Amphetamines boasted a rare breed of power, power contended only by the likes of Atum, the likes of Doom, the likes of The Champion. Returning his previously clutching hand to his side, the Gangster of Guerrilla Warfare, gradually recovering from the viciously rocking blow, commanded his black flames, ordering them to rise as towering walls of hellfire, their temperature rising, otherworldly heat burning up the surrounding oxygen, threatening to burn the helicarrier from the sky, plummeting it to the city below.
"RAGH!", the Militant Mammoth roared, swinging his left arm in a horizontal arc, his hand relinquishing it's grip over his supernatural machete, the black-bladed weapon vehemently hurling towards Amphetamines. His previous statements and taunts challenging his adversary, daring him to showcase his toughness, his durability by brushing the flung blade aside. However, as the machete approached several feet within the Jade Colossus' range, a swallowing vortex tore open, threatening to temporarily consume Amphetamines and temporarily flinging him to the depths of Hell.
Independent of the success or failure of his tactic, the Brahma Bull conjured his Facão da Morte, wielding it with his left. Increasing the temperature of the rampant hellfire even further, intent on burning the behemothic aircraft to the ground, crashing it into the streets of the city bellow, as a message to S.H.I.E.L.D., to the United States Government and the world, the terrorist began, the deep, monstrous registers of his menacing voice echoing throughout the dismantling helicarrier, conveying figurative speech.
"Soon, the Devil will creep into Heaven, your God will oversleep on the sixth, and my New World will be born on the tenth". He was the Devil, the United States Heaven, God their president, and his 'new world', an era of mutant supremacy. And as a geyser of black flames engulfed his person, bursting from beneath him, the Brahma Bull vanished.
@thee_champion: Hehe likewise my man. I'm going to enjoy crashing the Helicarrier down somewhere. I need to pick a city though, where do you suggest?
@amphetamines: Your writing man, gives me the goosebumps every time we write hehe ;) Minneapolis, Minnesota.
@la_espada: Damn, thanks brah that's an ego booster and a half :D Specific eh? Okay sounds sick I'll get started.
@amphetamines: I only speak the truth :) LOL sounds good.
Rage sat upon the Mountainous Monster's shoulders, beating upon his head as if it were a bongo drum, it screamed at him to tear the Bull apart. Rip him to shreds! Feel his bones crumble to dust in your palms! It drove Amphetamines, giving him the power to override the ridiculous amount of medication pumping through his anatomy, struggling futilely to subdue the beast so that Director Deadman could regain control of this particular horses reins. Mindless fury was the only item upon the Jade Giant's agenda, the only thing that supplemented his twisted mutant genes and reacted to the incredulous damage done to his organs by healing it and making him bigger, stronger. Within seconds he'd put on hundreds of pounds, as if he were some sort of balloon sucking in conflict around him.
Still, the wounds hindered any hopes the infuriated beast had of assaulting his foe once more, forcing him unto one knee again, both arms wrapped across his torso in an attempt at keeping his torso upright whilst the spine regenerated itself. Never for a single moment did Amphetamines' bright emerald eyes leave those of the Bull's crimson's, conveying primal hatred through an otherworldly stare instead. It would only be a few more seconds, the time consumed by the Boi's fearless words, allowing the Mindless Mountain opportunity. He countered Brahma's roar with one of his own, dwarfing the Terrorist Titan's warcry with terrifying potency, the Helicarrier trembling as a result of the aggressive sound waves, several of the airborne structure's missile proof window panes receiving minuscule cracks, retreating scientists and operatives doubling over in agony, more than a quarter of the ship's personnel without an operational eardrum. It would hinder their escape, but it did not matter to Amphetamines. Only destruction did.
He straightened up, power forcing itself into his legs as he prepared to pounce, the machete spinning through the air towards him dismissed up until the point where it opened up a horrific black hole and sucked at the 1700 lbs beast's form with enough attraction to eat a moderately sized building up in split-seconds. Reacting with nothing but instinct, two unimaginably large palms shot out and cinder block sized fingers bit through the floor, fighting against the incredible force pulling at the Director of Destruction, the gathered strength in both legs directed instead towards the initially opposite direction, armour, and then flesh, tearing off of his frame and disappearing to Hell, a testament to the immeasurably powerful might with which Brahma's deity like abilities threatened to terminate Amphetamines.
It seemed like an eternity later, but then it was gone and the Mountainous Monster's traction was instantaneously used against him, tumbling backwards head over heels in an almost clumsy act of oafishness. In his moment of recovery, Brahma Bull rendered a chilling speech with which he doomed America and all her people, dissipating into the air with a final sick flare of the eyes. Amphetamines' fury was amplified tenfold, his prey snatched from him by the unseen hands of fate. He reared back, and with a last unearthly roar, threw both arms out at his sides and -
Helicarrier 67 kissed the surface of Minneapolis, Minnesota, and instantaneously destroyed more than a third of the city, an explosion the likes of which was heard several states away coming a split-second later.
THWA - BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!
@amphetamines: Badass setup for a rivalry right there mano ;)
@thee_champion: Damn straight >_>
Tyrant shoved off some of the rubble. Half his body was wrecked, but from the smoke arising around him and the buildings in the distance, he knew he didn't have time to deal with that. He flickered his travel aura on and flew off, starting to heal himself on the way. He didn't bother trying to search for survivors in the crater. Anybody who survived that blast could get themselves out. Unfortunately, even outside of the crater it seemed there was no end to the destruction. He dove and dug through the rubble, but found nothing but bodies. Building to building he lept, finding nothing in each ruined shell. After hours, he found life, but not much. He left the city quietly, leaving behind rescue teams and a few confused, dust covered citizens.
He didn't know who to blame. He didn't know if he could have stopped it. He was going home, or at least as close to home as he could get. He would quiet his mind on missions and he would think. And then he would make sure this never happened again.
Whatever it took.
Followed by a dynamic succession of trailing sonic booms, the New God's herculean frame blitzes across the cloud-congested cerulean sky. "Doom isn't playing games. He's going to go through with this", concern-rousing thoughts regarding Emperor Doom's recent taunts regarding an impending cataclysm, The Champion, driven by his noble ideals, the motivation to maintain peace, seeks out the aid of S.H.I.E.L.D. Catching sight of the distant silhouette of the aerial megastructure, Alexis accelerates, propelling himself towards it, a tame smile of contentment bedecking his archangelic features, the sight of the repaired helicarrier following it's publicly undocumented crash warmed his heart.
Decelerating, the Herald of Hope aerially re-positions himself, temperately landing atop the elephantine vessel, the bottom of rubicund boots touching it's surface. Casting a cordial gaze towards an approximated operative, The Champion issues a mannerly inclination of the head. "I apologize for the abruptness of my arrival. If I'm not asking for too much, I'd like to please speak with Mr. Deadman".
@thee_champion: (ya know im thinking of aiding SHIELD as well but idk what character is deadman, im going to ask DOOM to set up the RP)
@agent_musashi: LOL then you should aid them. Let Doom do his thing nino, don't rush him ;)
@thee_champion: oh im not rushing him :)
@agent_musashi: Bueno, bueno.
@thee_champion: ?_?
"Dude, dude it's him."
Both operatives exchanged a quick, excited glance and quietly pleaded with the other to request an autograph. Neither budged.
"Uh, right, of course, mister Champion, sir."
One of them reached for their communicator, the other nodded, satisfied.
"I love this job, man."
His partner, having radioed for their Director, elbowed the operative in his ribs and hissed at him.
"Dude, he can totally hear you. Stop staring."
"Dude, he can totally hear you too. Like, he can hear everything on this ship right now. You know he didn't even have to ask us? Could have just torn his way through to Deadman."
"He can still hear you, man."
"Please get out of my sight before I have you thrown off of this vessel."
Director Deadman strode past them, shaking his head with evident irritation at the two rookies. He went up to the patient Champion and extended a hand, running the other through his unruly head of hair with a sigh.
"Lost more than a hundred agents in that last crash. Had to accelerate the recruiting process, give some kids a chance. Sometimes I regret that."
Both operatives, lingering, caught the comment and instantly busied themselves, slowly moving away from the pair of powerhouses.
"Keeping the media out of that mess was almost as traumatizing as waking up in a park several kilometres away with a homeless man defecating on my left ankle."
He shuddered a little before righting himself.
"I imagine you're here about Doom."
Kindly smiling at the starstruck S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives' showcased admiration and elated mannerisms, The Champion remained a figure of mannerly silence, all the while perfectly hearing the hushed words of the neighboring operatives' conversation. The sound of approaching footsteps however, soon drew his attention elsewhere. Turning to meet Director Deadman's austere eyes, Alexis cast an urbane smile of engaging affability, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Director Deadman". Shifting from the amiable introduction, a more earnest expression and disposition overcoming him, the New God lamented the grim circumstances of the helicarrier's recent crash.
"The media has formulated a lot of conspiracy theories on what may have caused the crash since the government won't publicly release information on it. I'm very sorry about all the brave men and women who lost their lives during the incident", Alexis sincerely stated, right hand firmly shaking Deadman's. "Yes, I'm here about Doom. Ever since my confrontation with him in Gothic, he has made it clear that soon he's going to try and force his reign over the world. And he intends to start with India. As powerful as we are, neither of us can stop Doom on our own. But together we may have a chance. I need your help to prevent what could become a global war".
Behind the quick-witted exterior, a conflicted Asher H. Deadman struggled to cope with the amount of stress thrust upon him in recent times, with the emergence of the Horseman and his terrifying capabilities, the loss of a large section of his finest troops, many of whom were not just subordinates, but friends, and the increasingly uncontrollable monster within his wiry genes. Doom had always been on S.H.I.E.L.D's watch list, the man was a walking time bomb, and now that he'd finally blown, they could swoop in and take him out. Were it any other time frame, the Director would have been excited. Now, he was just preoccupied and uncertain.
His eyes refocused and met the herculean man's before him, every word effortlessly absorbed even amidst his inner turmoil. Deadman nodded in agreement, relinquishing his hand and folding it across his chest with the other. He pursed his lips a moment before replying, nodding again, "The condolences are appreciated, Champ. And yes, Doom's agenda has always been one undesirable to the more mild minded half of any intelligent life on earth, the fact that he's actually acting upon it is something to be reckoned with. We've been rebuilding, and whilst we're not nearly as efficient as we used to be, S.H.I.E.L.D will be ready for him." He glanced around the Helicarrier's deck as if seeing it for the first time, a sombre air falling about him. "Ready enough? No. And that is why I need your help to prevent what could become a global war, Champ. We're both in bed with the United Nations, but for once, we're going to show the criminals upon this earth that we're far more than contraception." One corner of his mouth rose and he winked at the New God, his false bravado just managing to overcome his doubt for a second.
Director Deadman's expressed confidence and jocose charisma drew a reciprocating smile from The Champion, his right hand chummily patting the powerful operative on the back, "We'll do just that, Director. The world is in an era of grimness. Too many people have given up hope. Too many criminals call us false idols. But we are here to fight for the weak, and to make them believe. We gear our entire lives towards making the lives of others better, no matter how many times we're jeered or cursed", he continued, "Doom, and all the other criminals will know that until our last breath, we'll never yield, we will always be there to stop them".
Several hundred miles above the Pacific Ocean, Helicarrier 67 hovered in in stasis, the airborne structure's crew performing the fortnightly check-up to ensure that the architectural phenomenon didn't suffer any surprises as the small city sized machine travelled around the world. Director Asher H. Deadman, S.H.I.E.L.D's commander, sat within his laboratory, situated squarely upon the Helicarrier's left side with a massive, missile-proof glass pane allowing him full view of the world below. He'd specially requested it's instalment upon becoming Director several years earlier.
Deadman sat at his workstation, tinkering with a small orb in his lap, both feet resting upon the edge of his desk, one over the other.
"Jolene, call Anthony Stark."
His computer, named after a middle school crush of his, aptly complied and within moments was dialling up the President of the United States.
@amphetamines: want to do a ww2 gremlin type story sometime?
@amphetamines: Ah, I see this. I'll post in a few hours after this meeting (work rolls eyes) lol
@ult_nerx: WW2 Gremlin?
@amphetamines: yeah, gremlins, terror of the skies
@ult_nerx: Naaah. Thanks for the offer though.
@amphetamines: fine, just gonna gobble up some agents then
The President of the United Stated landed upon the gigantic carrier with an idol expression, his iconic suit covering his frame yet the mask removed. Briskly pacing through the impressive carrier and as per his role insisted he offered a few obligatory nods and salutes to some servicemen. Folding his arms across of his metallic red chest, the President spoke. "Is this how you greet the President?" A dry tone escaped his lips, "Go fetch me Mr Deadman" He was in a bad mood, a bad mood which had lasted an entire period of three months.
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