#1 Edited by Legacy_ (10264 posts) - - Show Bio


On this cumbersome evening charcoal burns brightly.  Smokey blackness unable to escape a metallic entrapment.  Instead its bittersweet aroma infects lifeless air.  Petite nostrils inhale such uniqueness.  Content countenances plastered onto a most menacing face.  Loyalists of the progressive cause tidy up furniture for her graciousness.  And before she sits there's a superb seamstress at the door.  Knocking and knocking the lady will not quit.  She knows just how urgent this task really is.  "Come inside" spoke a voice so tantalizing and than the golden knob is twisted ever so gently.  Immensely payed security reassures their most esteemed guest all is quite well. 
"Madame Goodman" she said, accepting the wise woman's respectful bow.  "You have much to do."  She utters once more before standing as stiff as possible.  It than begins in quickened instances.  Silver needles effortlessly piercing an Olympian cloth as dark as the hellish domain.  Caught in an embrace of sheer selfishness thee breathing Queen cackles rather manically.  Crimson colored hair tied upward lets all who see, notice how evil she can be.  In forty-seven seconds flat the elderly lass has finished a tangible masterpiece.  Conceitedly pushing her worker aside there is another human who's caught her eye.  In the mirror she happily gazes.   
"Thank you.  I look absolutely flawless."  She can't help but compliment herself.  Heaven had done right by creating a figure very much divine.  As her ego corrupts many minds there's a peculiar screech on sensitive flooring.  A cart of sorts holding liquor of every flavor.  Each one far more lethal than the next.  A wicked grimaces stretches as an object namely called a golden cup is tightly grasped.  The bittersweet taste of the red wine lingers against her serpent tongue, sitting heavily in her belly as she stands before a vibrant fire.  Behind her is a mirror held by three tiny dwarfs whom savor the scent of fair skin.  Tonight is a special night of course.  Dressed for an occasion of absolute grandeur. 
"We all know my legacy grows by the day but..." she sensually spoke as diverse followers gather around their fearless temptress, "...America has renounced our company since its global expansion."  She stopped speaking for but a few moments.  Intent eyes pause and worry for a Queen so altruistic.  My oh my the sayings are truth.  Heavy is the head that wears the crown.  As the relapse slowly withers away the attention of she who knows all is easily captured.  Her violet eyes blankly stare at crackling flames, enjoying the way her skin flushes with comforting warmth, making the blood in her veins run sluggishly with pleasure.  
 "Ambrosia has been banned.  Made illegal in quite a few of the administration's allies."  Doors burst open as fourteen guests of honor involuntarily enter.  Their pudgy wrists are bound together by unbreakable material.  For a second she smugly chuckles at the sight of cowardice.  Wooden seats pressed against whitewashed walls.  Wooden seats made of Olympian trees.  Whomever sat here would be bound there until magic said otherwise.  No one knows why these seats lie there untouched.  Some believe their Queen expects more company in the near future.  Nevertheless this show must go forward.  Caressing the lips of multiple men the hostess shares her attention equally.   
"You see my dearest family the government is afraid to reveal my supposedly nefarious actions because they're incredibly afraid of innumerable ramifications."  Touche indeed for a malicious mistress.  She knew a myriad of information pertaining to various government operations.  Its why she's survived for so long.  No one would dare touch this sketchy femme fatale.  It'd grasp global catastrophe.  However, tonight will be a far more different occasion.  In the oncoming hours she'd test the boldness of the United States and its heroes because as she spoke Ambrosia gets compacted and packaged for global shipment.  As for her guests well they were prestigious upperclassmen of Great Britain.  They're here for something entirely taboo. 
"Tonight we push back against the propaganda and prove how progressive this world can become with Ambrosia."  Clarice Michelle looks down to her kneeling patrons, mouth split in a wide smile, her eyes open and clear, a softness there underneath bizarre clothing.  She walks forward, her curvaceous hips swaying for the benefit of no one.  Her mind transferring vivid imagery of plentiful threatening enemies.  Her actions would of course catch attention so her warriors must be prepared.   
"You are either Romans, Greeks, or Al-Qasim enforcers.  Extremely trained fighters beyond average human standards.  Granted superior strength, agility, and intelligence.  Please use combat wisely in the face of danger.  Make our movement meaningful.  In order to do so we must work harder!  Think smarter! And live forever and ever to prove our righteousness,"  Clarice Michelle says, daring to gaze into the judgmental eyes of her most treasured nephew.  Even though these two share a bond unlike any other she wholeheartedly knows his alliance will once again be feverishly tested.  Part of her urns for the entirety of his heart.  Yet a piece of her soul begs of him to cut every tether shared between the two.  It would be a mistake to ask him to push the edges of morality.  He had to make decisions on his own.  All the while Clarice merely blinks as he quietly exits the scene.   


Down below where pure souls wouldn't dare go are creatures from centuries ago.  Minotaur and serpents, even deceased soldiers march to and fro.  Little do pedestrians know these magical incantations are lead by one of their own.  Deep in the bowels of abysmal soil roam mechanical devices belonging to you know who.  Her grip may be intimidating by have no fear for death is near.  No one will step down steep steps, frightful of their fate being sealed shut.  Understandable for the inexperienced.  Heroes on the other hand must act accordingly.  Publicity can be a horrid thing if the unspeakable is not halted.  Ding! Dong!  Who will end her tyrannical tirade?   
In due time maybe the innocent will cry on each other's shoulders.  Cry until its all over.  Can't this madness just be over?  No it cannot because the Queen has her violet eyes set on a box of mythical proportions.  It is why monstrous mysticism guards entitled excavation.  She believes what underneath belongs only to her and her alone.  She knows in her hands the world can finally realize how wondrous she really is.  For those who enters ballsy and proud, beware of the dragon who's evil knows no bounds.  In the mean time there's a man who dials ten digits whilst listening to the soothing breeze of nothingness.  His name is Noah Rochelle and he'd hate for the world to end so abruptly.  "Bishop its me...." he said, hitting the first domino down for what's sure to be fantastic.  His alignment feels transparent but with the Zeraz family, no one can ever tell for sure.


Fabulously wicked is Miss Michelle.  She had everything in check but her own flesh and blood.  A variable she should of been accounted for.  He tips his hat back and forth.  Feet as fast as Hermes following the movements of stealthy foes.  He than pulls an arrow from his quiver.  Stopping fluid movement without the slightest of disruption.  Taking him does he crack a smile.  Bishop and his friends would be here within hours.  All he needed was to figure out the location of his fiendish aunt's airplane.  His love at times has clouded his judgement on numerous occasions.  Tonight however delivers him an odd inclination.  Whatever she is planning is wrong without a doubt.  Yellow eyes want the best for everyone but sometimes even family must take a back seat.   
"Time is of the---"  He falls to his knees quite suddenly.  An apple as red as blood circles around his still breathing body.  A distress signal emits from his pocket but will the heroes find him in time?  "My little warrior how disappointing you really are..." she said solemnly watching as his heavy weight is dragged away.   Her face hidden from view but her words are still staggering. 
Life is full of beauty.  Notice it.  Notice the bumblebee, the small child, and the smiling faces.  Smell the rain, and feel the wind.  Live your life to the fullest potential, and fight for your dreams ~ Ashley Smith
#2 Posted by Surkit (11081 posts) - - Show Bio

Sitting in his reconstructed office Bishop cracks a racket ball against the steel triple enforced wall, a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other hand, "Something's heeere in the room with me, I can feel it but no one-" a red indication bar emblazonment on the paper thin 1260p screen.

"Zeraz Level Threat"

The ball bounces on the wall with no palm to return to and rolls on it's own as Bishop engrosses himself in the files. Skimming through to find the deceptive mastermind Clara Mass had been upto not her old tricks, if only it were that easy, but drug trafficking of exhaustive proportions. He slides out of the desk and walks in front of a large tv screen above his book case "Darnell" The screen pinches on showing the face of a man in a faceless mask standing with New York in his background, "Sir?" Surkit paces with a freshly printed file in his hand, "Glad to have you Face-off; I hope you understand why we couldn't *hic* Take new members directly. Tell m what you know about a shipment of something called Ambrosia " Darnell Clemens shows a shades smile underneath his flesh toned mask, "Finally got that far huh? It's a super drug, apparently it makes you everything you wish you were and then some....obviously I call bullshit, nothing comes without a price. I saw a cargo ship dock a month ago, but it wasn't on any manifests. There's a reason it's banned in the States Sir, that sh!t will cripple the economy as well as cause a damn bold uprising."

Bishop strokes his chin and peers into the screen dazedly with red conjunctiva, "When's the next shipment from that company meant to arrive"

Darnell's eyes slits become pencil lines, "Tonight"

Surkit was enamored with the boldness of the Zeraz demoness. "You'll have back up this time." The screen blips out as he circles the desk to call on a few spare members, before he gets patches a video feed of Clarice herself on the daily BBC news, the camera's of most news outlets fitted with JLI facial recognition software, "Son of a b!tch...I know just who wants to see you..."

Pressing three buttons at once on his intercom, "All available members report to the Hangar double time! Angeni, report to my office for briefing, I just found a way to get you in a room with, 'HER' " He knew the goddess of Justice was so ingrained with the stained memory of Clarice, the mere tone would would be enough to convey the identity.

Hangar bay

"Alright alright alriiight, here's how this is going down, you've all been briefed so now we're branching out to tackle this war in three groups."

"Angeni- take Strafe, Spitfire, Falsify, and Construct. She's in London"

"Edwards team, he's already in his home in London so land and he'll be there in a flash of a second. His team will be as follows: Brynhyld , crimson eagle,Impero and spaceman. Dock bay 2 black jet. It'll get you there on Auto"

"And my team, we're hitting the states to nip that. Doubt it'll take long. Lady Liberty, Akube, Metalcore Clo- where the fck is Noah! Gah, my team board up. "

As every one takes their separate Winn Jets Bishop's ill used wrist band lights distress green, he hold the link of it to his ear, "Bishop it;s me..."

"C-lo? Report calmly, any information you know about where you are, smells sights what you hear all of it" He's nervous having not seen Noah in months. A crackling static carries his voice, and with it an ominous nature that relays to the pit of his stomach

"I hear...horns like clockwork....smells like oil and foot and ass...everything else is *click!*"

"Noah? Noah?! Damn!"He throws his arm down as the team stares at him "Noah's in trouble, captured...b y his own sister. Akube if you're good on a keyboard an know the systems I need you to check every sewer system on the eastern board for new installations of panic rooms, disturbed manholes, all of it. Our boy is under a street somewhere with the rats"

They board the plane and Bishop turns to give Angeni a stiff nod, "Do whatever you have to Hel... the gloves are off"

The three jets shoot out of the bay doors with the speed of unparalleled technologically advanced thrust. The Goal; stop a goddess from building a church in the wild.

#3 Posted by Lady_Liberty (8211 posts) - - Show Bio

So it was Clarice again. That woman was annoying. Really that was the best word for her. Annoying. Most of the people I faced I could at least muster up some respect for, but Clarice was simply a pest. She behaved like a child with Impero, and now she was making some kind of drug or something.

Whatever. The whole thing struck me as rather pathetic. A drug dealing deity. Please, have some respect for yourself woman.

To be honest I felt this was a waste of the team. We did need to do something, but this team could smash a small empire. Clarice wasn't going to be much of a challenge. But then again maybe this was more about us then her, a way to help the team learn to work together.

Clarice was a person who would self destruct as soon as she got the first taste of friction. She was governed by her emotions. If we gave her a little rope she would hang herself. Well, she already had. Her temper tantrum with Impero had cost her the only remaining ally she had, and now she had annoyed Surkit as well. Very poor grand strategy.

There was a reason I didn't have much respect for the old Pantheons. Too often they produced people like Clarice, people who let their feelings rule them. Such people had no place at the helm of divine powers. Such gods were outdated, and unsuitable for the modern world. Clarice was one of the worst, the woman was entirely caught up in her own image. How she was seen, and how she saw herself absorbed all of her attention.

Really it was disgraceful that she held the title of Goddess. She disappointed me.

According to Surkit we were headed to the USA. With a nod to him I take off under my own power, there's no sense in wasting jet fuel, and besides I was pretty useless inside a plane. But to fly ahead or stay with the group? If I flew ahead then I could clear out whatever trouble there was on the ground, and send a early report back. That, however, would leave the jets exposed to attack in flight, and many of the team members were vulnerable to missiles.

I stayed with the jets, keeping my eyes out for trouble as we crossed the ocean.

#4 Posted by Akube (846 posts) - - Show Bio


From the skies above, the capitol of the refugee nation seemed peaceful and silent, just as one would expect a country such as Bandari to be. Ushundi had one of the lowest crime rates of any major metropolitan city. Any of its inhabitants could explain why. Indeed, it was a peaceful night when watching from On High. But not all men had the privilege to view the world from On High.

From the streets, from the jungle of concrete and grass, reverberating off the trunks of palm trees and the harsh walls of brick and stone, there was an incessant thumping, a rhythmic tone that left the inhabitants of the block tossing and turning all into the night. The sign out in front of the upscale two story building read 'MOTO', the most sensational nightclub in Ushundi. What most would describe as calm and tranquil, others would call monotonous, and so, Moto had come to be. Every night, people lined up around the corner in the vain hope of being granted entrance. Tonight, as always, the club was stuffed to maximum capacity. Every window and skylight spewed flashing technicolor lights.

Inside, patrons danced shoulder to shoulder on the floor, or drank and watched from the broad walkway that covered the second floor. The dancers moved with such precision and speed, a controlled fury that consumed the dance floor. From time to time, dancers would casually drop a strange pill into their mouths and continue their dance. It was as if the music was a rapidly beating heart, and Moto was a body in frenzy, raging out of control.

That was soon to end.

With a deafening crack, one of the skylights caved in and glass rained down. The dance floor parted almost instantaneously as a dark figure fell from the sky, landing gracefully in their midst. Anyone beyond the borders of this small African nation would identify him as the bodyguard to it's leader. Any of Bandari's inhabitants would call him by his true name, "Akube!"

Everyone froze, dumbstruck. Shouts descended into whispers, and whispers, to silence. A moment later the silence came to an end, a guttural cry shattering the eerie tranquility. It was not something the man in black was expecting, "Kill him!"

Within seconds, the crowd moved in on him from all sides, hands grabbing and bludgeoning their leader and protector. He managed to break free, applying minimal force to stem the tide of attackers. Still, they came. Wrestling off a new pile of attackers, he managed enough freedom to press a device built into the shaded fabric around his waist that constituted a belt. It blinked white twice and a gray fog descended through the broken skylight. The aggressors began coughing, and within moments, the dance floor was empty, only broken bottles and discarded shoes left behind, and the man in black wondering what had happened.

"A man of power is not defined by his deeds, but by the deeds of those he inspires." called a voice from above. Akube's eyes pierced through the thinning fog, focusing in on the rough-hewn face of a man, skin as dark as the night sky, eyes as cold and restless as the sea. His wiry black hair was bound tightly behind his head in three descending knots down the back of his neck. He smiled half-heartedly, seemingly in amusement at the Bodyguard's presence. He rubbed his dry, calloused hands together as he leaned over the railing of the elevated walkway. "Do you remember who said that?" he asked, slowly walking down the walkway, toward the staircase. A number of guards stood at attention all around the walkway as the stranger made his way down the stairs. "You did." he continued, pointing down at the Bodyguard, "You, our shepherd, our father, our brother... Akube. Such an inspiring man. By your own logic, you are responsible for some of the greatest accomplishments of the last ten years. But you have chosen to ignore the less favorable deeds you are responsible for."

"What are you talking about?" Akube snarled, "Who are you?"

The man held his arms wide and smiled as he replied proudly, "One of your greatest discarded creations. More directly, I am Erik Mkembo, the most powerful and, thanks to you, ONLY drug distributor in Bandari." He reached the bottom step and slowly approached Akube on the dance floor. "You tried to rid your country of our filth, but in the end, you've only streamlined the process. I have my needle in this country's heart, and it doesn't want me to remove it as much as you, our all-knowing protector." He was cut short as Akube's hand seized him by the throat. Within a split second, every guard up above had their rifle trained on Akube, but held their fire.

"W-what's the matter, Akube?" he coughed, continuing to mock the Bodyguard with his tone, "Not proud of how this one turned out?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... my deeds define you. Were it not for you, I would not be rich. I might not even be alive. But thanks to your divine intervention, Erik Mkembo is a name that is respected and feared more than yours."

"People do not fear my name."

"Come now, Akube." Erik muttered condescendingly. The Bodyguard let go of his throat and he took a deep breath, massaging the soar flesh around his trachea. "Perhaps it would make things clearer if I just showed you." he said, turning his back to the Bodyguard. He unbuttoned his white dress shirt and slid it down his shoulders, exposing three long parallel scars running diagonally down his back.

"Look familiar?" Erik laughed, rebuttoning his shirt, "Seven years ago, I was working for one of the fledgling underground drug cartels importing into Bandari. I was young and I wanted to be a man. I was weak and I wanted power, and I thought that I could climb my way up to the top from the bottom. I now know that in order to truly seize control, you must build a world where you are already at the top. It was an arranged pickup at the border. Everything was going smoothly until... you came. I escaped, and managed to make off with enough money to live in comfort for a few months. Since I could not go to a hospital, I did my best to clean and stitch your mark. I nearly died. When the fever finally passed, I realized what a mistake I had made by taking the money which rightly belonged to my employer. Thankfully, I learned that his operation had come to a swift end after a raid by the police and a familiar man in black. Within a year, it seemed the very prospect of a smuggling operation in Bandari was a ludicrous fantasy. That was when I came. With nothing but a machete and a handful of money, I brought the wayward servants of the old regime under my control. I had built my world, Akube, and like you, I had placed myself at the top."

Akube lunged at the drug lord, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and slamming him face first into a table. A bag of pills sat there, right in front of Erik's face. "What is this?!" Akube snarled, demanding an answer.

"Ah... now this is an intriguing product." Erik replied, "It's called Ambrosia. I have a supplier in Europe who has been shipping it in for weeks. I don't know what it does myself, but my clientele certainly enjoy it, and it seems to leave them very open to suggestion, as you saw earlier."

"Who is your supplier?"

"A good businessman does not divulge his sources."

Akube lifted the man up and slammed him back down on his back, leaning in uncomfortably close. They locked eyes as Akube's claws sprang from one of his gloves, hovering over Erik's chest. "I would be happy to mark you again. Now, tell me, who is supplying you with Ambrosia?"

Erik simply laughed. "Do you really think that a street rat could fight for control of the entire drug trade without being able to endure torture? Nothing your little claws can do will break me!"

"We shall see..." Akube whispered. Before he could continue, a low, soft ringing filled the air. He reached into his belt and drew a rectangular white device.

"Looks like duty calls elsewhere." Erik chuckled.

Akube read the small display on the face of the device showing who had made the call for his assistance. It was the International Justice League, a group to which he had sworn dedicated service whenever they needed him, but had thus far refused membership. He hoisted Erik up by his shirt, once again locking eyes with the drug lord. "The police are on their way." he said, catching the sound of sirens off in the distance.

Mkembo sneered as he replied, "And by the time they arrive, I will already be gone. I have safe houses scattered across this country that even you couldn't find. I have an army that would rather die then disappoint me."

Akube brought his face within inches of Erik's as he snarled, "You will need more than that to save you." With that, he dropped the drug lord to the ground and pressed the button embedded in his belt once again. A rope descended through the skylight with a foothold at the end. He took hold as it lifted him out into the cold night air. He hopped onto the seat of his hover cycle and tore off into the sky.

A short time later, he arrived at League headquarters, touching down in the hangar. Before he could even dismount, the hangar was flooded by the team. Their leader dispensed orders with decisiveness and clarity. He quickly jumped off of his hover cycle and ran off to carry out his orders, as if he were already in full service of the team. He sat down at a computer and began accessing databases, searching for any and all of the information Bishop had requested.

Within minutes, he picked up a headset and patched in to Bishop's jet. "This is the Bodyguard," he announced, "I have the data you requested. Sending it to you now. Give me your destined coordinates and I can catch up shortly. Bodyguard out."