ult_portrait's forum posts

#1 Posted by ult_portrait (143 posts) - - Show Bio

@anthony_stark: @pyrogram

"Right, sorry, I got a little sidetracked. I came to deliver a message, as I said." she cleared her throat. "Um...I delivered the actual message-y part of the message, but I guess I can explain a little bit. I guess as President you have better things to do than look at research reports. So over at Oracular R&D, a government contracted foundation, they've built this thing called the Uroboros Continuum. It kind of mushes up space/time to retrieve samples from dimensional pockets and the far ends of the universe. And while there have been some cool things that didn't quite follow the rules of physics, they recently picked up...well...a visitor."

A visitor who looked distantly familiar, an ancestral memory perhaps? Or an old friend? "Way out beyond the known universe. We can't get the coordinates to line up again. The visitor says...well, he says he found God. But not the God we know with heaven and clouds and things. This one's a machine and the whole world is its simulation. He told me the name actually, and I almost punched him because I thought he was just being lewd, but uh, yeah." She was rambling. She was frightened. Something was bubbling in the back of her mind, memories she couldn't quite access. And something more. The visitor (she made herself not even THINK his name, because he would be able to read her thoughts, her soul) had an air about him of...of...what? Corrupted divinity? No, that wasn't right. Sickness. He had a sickness about him, more powerful than anything Project Picasso had felt in her (admittedly brief) life. "His God's called-"

She froze. Static sounds replaced her speech. A pink light infused her eyes, and a voice, distorted as if it came through a voice changer, came from her: "You took something from me, Stark. I've been away, but I want it back. I'm willing to talk, but if you do not do what I want, I will tear your whole world down. It's only quid pro quo after what you did to me. To us." The pink light was dripping now, becoming a paint too vibrant to look at. "I guarantee you safety for our first meeting. I would request you come alone, do not draw others in to this. If it would make you feel safer, you can take the Gray clone. She is sworn to the US government, not to me. If you agree, you may pick our meeting place, as a sign of my...good intentions. If you do not, well...you can fill in the blanks"

That strange static again.

Then Project Picasso resumed talking, as if she had never been interrupted. "VALENT or MALUS, something like that."

#2 Edited by ult_portrait (143 posts) - - Show Bio

@anthony_stark: @pyrogram

Persephone followed the guard, a flutter of trepidation in her chest. Unlike the previous model, she had not been designed to work with the higher echelons; the registration movement had faded into the background of the political hubbub, and Project Picasso was just another soldier.

Upon entering the office she saluted, standing at attention. She pretended not to see the guard gesturing at the chair. The president was busy not noticing her, so she figured it was only fair. One of the pictures in the newspaper winked at her. She shook her head slightly. Her powers were supposed to be switched off right now. She shifted her weight and a stray paintball in her boot squished all over her foot. She could have done without that right now.

"What can I help you with, Miss Gray?"

Persephone cleared her throat. "Sir! Message from Director William Keller of Oracular R&D."

"He'll remember you", the haunted man had said, static crackling in his voice. "He'll remember what your death began. And now that you're back..." he stopped talking, but the static remained. William Keller could no longer hear his own thoughts.

Persephone shook off the memories. "Uroboros Continuum has begun testing. A guest has been retrieved from the other side of the universe. And there was a card, but I'm not allowed to have pictures right now...it said you stole something?"

A voice from the back room, where the generators hummed. A pale hand passing along a pack of cards, each saying the same thing. Keller entered the room and shut the door.

"That's all...unless I can be terribly rude, break protocol, and ask you a question." How did I die?

#3 Edited by ult_portrait (143 posts) - - Show Bio


She had been dead, she was still dead. The knowledge tickled her cortex, that incessant mantra. She had died in the line of duty. And now she was back. But she was someone else entirely. She wanted to say she was Persephone Gray, but was she really? Did she want to follow in her old self's footsteps, or forge a new identity? She didn't even know how she had died. There were whispers that it had been dishonorable...some imp of the perverse that made her think what if, what IF she teamed up with the OTHER Persephone Gray, the thief. But that just didn't seem right.

It was irrelevant. She was not made to think, that wasn't her job. She was made to serve her country, and that's what she would do (and yet she still had flashes of a happier time, when she worked with a man whose face she could not remember)

She presented her ID at the door, snapped a salute. Once upon a time she wouldn't have waited, but they didn't trust her yet. They wanted to make sure she wouldn't go rogue. The painted world was blocked from her.

"Persephone Gray here with a message for the president. Top priority, research and development situation over in one of the areas numbered a whole lot higher than 51". Transfer of information was not her job. She didn't know why Commander Keller had sent her. "He'll remember you" he had said, but who was 'he', and why did it matter? How could someone remember her, when she had been alive for a matter of weeks?

Bu it was her job to serve, not ask questions.

#4 Posted by ult_portrait (143 posts) - - Show Bio

@anthony_stark: But if she died, how would they know where to find the President? Would they be able to get him out? Panic flared in her chest. There would be other Project Picassos...she had no illusions about that. But would they be ready on time? Would they think Stark had taken the President? She had to send a message. As the painted specters howled and swarmed around Stark, Project Picasso stumbled to the painting she had hidden the President within (she could feel her legs disintegrating, the chain reaction speeding up now. She fumbled for a paintbrush, but her fingertips fell away in multicolored powder. There was no time for this! She let out an anguished cry, and bit her index finger off at the knuckle. A trickle of crimson paint began to flow. Project Picasso scrawled out her message on the painting, sending it through to base. Then she collapsed to the floor.

The world ignited. It all went up in flames. No matter how timeless a piece of art is, fire is the destroyer. Fragile oils burn readily, leaving nothing behind.

Project Picasso was gone. The war spirits of Guernica were gone. Nothing remained but a sprinkling of colored dust in the shape of a woman.

And a primed paint grenade, ticking away.

#5 Edited by ult_portrait (143 posts) - - Show Bio


Batman Beyond Unlimited

Batman Incorporated

Batman L'il Gotham

Green Lantern

Green Team (maybe)



#6 Edited by ult_portrait (143 posts) - - Show Bio

@anthony_stark: Stark vanished, and Project Picasso cursed under her breath. She wasn't letting him just get away after what he had done. Not that it was really a relief when a claw dug into her back (tearing right through the 'I'm Registered, are You?' patch). It's not that it really hurt...Project Picasso's physiology was human only in appearance. She possessed minimal nerves, and only a pseudo-skeleton. It wasn't entirely clear to anyone how she kept her form or functioned. Even so, having a claw in the middle of one's back is not a pleasant experience. Nor was the blow to the throat. It tore out most of the tissue in her neck, and the sonic boom made her whole body ripple and shake. She'd have to be careful...if she lost too much of her body mass, she'd lose cohesion and that would be that.

Stark was on the other side of the room now. Good. That gave Project Picasso a moment to show him what it meant to mess with the US government. She smiled, ignoring the scarlet paint that dripped down from her throat. She engaged her mental database of paintings, quickly locking onto the one she wanted.

A beam blasted towards her, and she dropped to the floor, partially flattening her body. She extended her left arm, an electronic card clutched in her hand. Upon the screen was a copy of Picasso's painting Guernica:

She summoned the figures from the painting, and they swarmed out of the 'card' into the room. The painted ghosts of war now floated, crying their anguished cries. They would attack Stark with bites like grenade explosions and mental visions of the horrors of war. Their edges would cut like no knife ever could.

Project Picasso grinned. Until the second beam, the one she hadn't noticed, hit her. A tingling sensation began to start at the ends of her limbs. She looked at her fingers. They were cracked. When she wiggled them, flakes of paint drifted to the floor.

No. No, no, no. She was drying. Even as she watched, the network of cracks spread to the palms of her hands. Brittle. She didn't have long. She had to finish Stark. It was her duty.

#7 Posted by ult_portrait (143 posts) - - Show Bio

@anthony_stark: The emergency alarm was going off. Not the run-of-the-mill emergency alarm, this was the EMERGENCY alarm. As in, the president was in trouble alarm. Project Picasso's eyes snapped open, and she tore the electrodes and tubes from her scalp (modified cloning was still a work in progress, and she couldn't be away from life support for much longer than a day or two). In seconds she was geared up and ready to save the United States. But how to get from Arizona to Washington DC? That was the easy part.

Project Picasso took a running start, and leaped into a painting leaning against the wall for exactly such purposes. For a moment she was submerged in the color of the Painted World. Then she emerged in the Oval Office, jumping out of an abstract textured piece Ziev was fond of. In a moment, she sized up the situation: The President was unconscious on the floor, but he was still breathing. Stark was moving towards the fallen leader with murder clearly written in his...eye...things.

Project Picasso hit the floor, rolled, grabbed the President, and transfered all her momentum to him, hurling him into the painting on the other side of the room. He'd be safe there until Project Picasso could get him out. Now though, she was face-to-face with the oncoming Stark (it seemed an eternity, but her entrance had only taken a matter of seconds). Now, Project Picasso flicked her wrist, opening the paint container concealed within her sleeve. She passed it in front of herself, spilling the paint into thin air. It formed a colorful shield in front of her...one that Stark would find somewhat unyielding. As he crashed into it, Project Picasso would draw her paintball gun and fire a short burst. If the paint could get within Stark's armor, it would burn like acid under Project P's control.

#8 Posted by ult_portrait (143 posts) - - Show Bio
#9 Posted by ult_portrait (143 posts) - - Show Bio

Can you say ‘latest craze’? Military prowess and impeccable style fused like you’ve never seen before. Take a look at America’s new hero…this charismatic, chromatic, criminal-bashing young woman is the first line of defense against foreign threats. She’s registered…are you?

Register today and join the ranks alongside Project Picasso.

Send her in! Destroy the tower!” At the command, a small aircraft was launched from a field in the middle of nowhere. It was dappled with bright colors, and appeared as a prismatic streak across the sky.

Before long, the battlefield was in sight…it was absolute carnage. The ‘small war’, the ‘act of retaliation’, had escalated immensely. The President would have a hard time explaining this, and an even harder one trying to cover it up. Odd considering some of the things Project Picasso’s handler had said regarding the American leader…

Of course, all this was hardly Project Picasso’s problem. Her mission was simple: Fight for all she was worth and look good doing it. The latter was easy. Her aircraft split apart in a cloud of color. Project P dropped down, clinging on to the AI/camera Dali. It dropped her off on the ground and then switched on the video feature. Everything Project P did would be recorded and sent back to the base for editing.

Of course, when one is wearing garishly bright, multi-colored ‘camouflage’ they quickly become a target. That was the intention of course. Bullets passed through Project P’s body like nothing. “Alright...Project Picasso reporting. Fighting towards the tower.” Despite her test-tube status, Project P spoke with a Texan accent. PR reasons. Dali would make sure her communications went where they had to.

Project P drew a paintball gun from her back, and opened fire. Each ball exploded on impact, the splattered paint burning on impact. The original target died in an explosion of color. Project P looked directly at Dali. “I’m registered…are you?” she fired her gun over her shoulder, hitting her mark precisely.

#10 Posted by ult_portrait (143 posts) - - Show Bio

Secret Base of N.Y.A.R.L.A.T.H.O.T.E.P, 14:00

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Project Picasso, Persephone Gray looked anxiously at the small floating sphere.

"Preliminary testing has proved satisfactory. At this point field tests are the only way to work out any remaining kinks." His face softened slightly and he put a hand on Persephone's shoulder. "You'll be fine Percy. Dali and I will be with you every step of the way."

Persephone saluted. "Yes sir. I know sir." Her face told a different story. "At ease soldier. Activation in T-minus 30..."

There was a blinding flash of color, the sound of ice cracking in reverse, the smell of childhood dreams and everything faded out.

Earth-T, 14:02

Persephone fell to the ground, sparks fading around her. She quickly rolled to a crouch, paintball gun clutched tightly in her hand. But there was no one here. A single cricket chirped. "Picasso to base. I've arrived. No militants present." She got to her feet, her eyes darting between any places that could provide cover to potential enemies. "I repeat, I've arrived. Please confirm course of action." Silence. "Base?" Nothing. "Dad, where are you?"

And now she noticed the terrain, the rock formation that she had seen so man times before. "Where am I?"


So it's been a while since I last did this and well...come on, Earth Tangent is the best. The basic premise is I take your username, and based ONLY on that I reimagine your character. It doesn't matter if you're nU or Prime, this is non-canon and totally separate from both.

I will be updating the story in THIS THREAD so stay tuned! :)