Monsters. They're just like you and me. At least they are in the steam punk imagination of Necrotic_Lycathropy. Today I had the pleasure of re-reading, and reviewing Horror Inc.: My Name is Frankenstein (one-shot)
Rated "M"
'My Name is Frankenstein' takes place in a dark, nightmarish world. Though the exact time period is unclear (On purpose I'm sure) the feel is kinda retro. This is definitely one for fans of the new weird. It stars a cast of (possibly) the most unique characters ever conceived. From Freakinstein to stitchpunk, each character has they're own shape, and personanlity. Necrotic_Lycanthropy takes your hand in her claw, and introduces you to each of her creations in careful, loving detail, until you can see them vividly. Heck, you can almost feel the tortured, scarred flesh. What makes this different from standard monster stories? These monsters are trying to make it in a world inhospitable to humans, and in-humans alike.
Overview:
Good: Original characters are always good. The story contains humor, and tragedy. Love and loss. Characters are easy to imagine though abundance of details.
Bad: Several grammar/spelling typo's. Ironically, the biggest problem is the best part of the story. The details. To many of them at once. It would have been better if some of the physical details had been spread around a little better.
Some people like N52 Harley. Others, (myself included) lament for old Harley.
Almost everyone agrees she is a changed character. In fact, there is mounting evidence she is not the Harley we love and miss. Its Really Not Her. In a recent debate with another user, it was suggested Harley was a clone, or perhaps a brain washed "shell" person. I have another theory. N52 Harley is a bizarro clone.
Evidence:
Super white skin. Like a bizarro clone.
No powers at all. Pre52 Harley had enhanced physical strength, and healing factor. However, since these powers were natural enhancements, maybe they didn't carry over in the cloning process.
She doesn't act like Harley. She acts like someone acting like Harley. Also, the color scheme. Old Harley wore red, and black. New Harley wears red, and blue. Coincidence? I think not.
Its over DC. We know the truth. Now bring back old Harley. Joygirl has begun a petition to bring old Harley back. Your support is appreciated. Bring back the old Harley Quinn
Lightning cracked the sky, and thunder shook it. The window pane under the Hoods shoes trembled from the concussions, like an negative afterthought of the storm. Even used to English summers as he was, this one was rather unpleasant.
'Bloody right night for climbing down a skyscraper' Hood thought to himself.
The rain beat down even harder, and the wind howled its outrage, as if in response to his miserable thoughts. His costume was mostly waterproof, and his cloak was water treated. But it could still only handle so much. And having long since breached its resistance limit, clung awkwardly to his back and shoulders.
Having cut a suitably sized hole in the window, he slipped into the dark room, dripping wetly as he paused. His eyes adjust slowly to the darkness, He had left off the night vision built into his mask, so he wouldn't be blinded in the lightning flashes. The office was beyond posh. Worthy of royalty. Well, almost. Rhicine Mckency evidently had excellent decorative tastes. Or, much more likely, had hired someone with decorative tastes. He could certainly afford it. His designer drug, Sloe, had spread through the streets like flu germs on the tram. And since no one could reproduce it, he got to pocket all the revenue.
Sloe jacked up the senses, and reflexes, making everyone, and everything seem to be moving in slow motion. Hence the name. Addicts of this vile substance needed to up the dosage each use. But too much, too close together, resulted in the heart literally exploding. Word on the street was, a milder version was in the beta test stage. If it got out, it could take years to rein it in. If ever. The Hood had to find the evidence tonight, to shut Rhicine down. Failure was not optional.
"Eveni'n." A voice said from the shadows. The Hood hears a gun being cocked.
'Bugger all...'
"Now don't make with any funny business, les you can dance around bullets, yeah?" The light switch is clicked, flooding the room with light. Six men in black op uniforms, and holding machine guns, stand in a semi-circle around the Hood. "Helluva welcome committee eh? The original speaker (Rhicine himself) commented, tucking the handgun into his waistband. "If you wanted to see the laboratory, you could have just asked." He grinned with a mouthful of perfect teeth. Two of the guards cautiously cuff the Hoods hands together, while the other four keep their guns trained on him. Then he is marched to the elevator.
* * * *
"I'm actually glad you dropped in. We needed a volunteer for Sloe 2.0, and here you are! Its almost too good to be true. Oh wait, it is too good to be true." Rhicine tapped the needle with a finger.
'Keep him talking...' Hood thought, as he carefully picked the cuff on his left hand. "You'll never get away with this Rhisine. The agency knows all about you. There'll be others after me."
"Brave last words?" Rhisine raised one eyebrow. "Oh! You think Sloe 2.0 is a drug? That what the agency told you? Its a performance enhancement, actually. But you are the test subject, just not in the way you thought. See, your agency sent you here" He taps his arm, seeking a vain "To me. Served up like the sacrificial lamb." He pushes the needle into his arm with a slight hiss, plunging the orange fluid into his vain. "All those people out there? In the streets? They were the beta tests you fool. And you will be the final test."
The Hoods shackles open automatically with a snap, and the Hood leaped off, and reached for his flare gun.
"Ah ah. None of that now." Rhisine was at his side in a flash, and batted the gun away effortlessly. "Now show me what you got." He slams his knee into Hood's stomach, driving his air out. Hood, swings a forearm at Rhisine's face, but it is easily blocked. The Hood sends a roundhouse kick at Rhicine's head, who caught his leg, and tossed him against a wall, shattering a row of beakers and, test tubes.
"Let him help you up." He sped forward, and kicked the Hood up into the ceiling.
'Its like fighting bloody Zoom!' The Hood thought as he barely ducked beneath a speeding punch. But caught the next one square on the jaw.
"I would say its a smash, wouldn't you agree Mr Hood?" He stood triumphantly over the fallen hero.
"Only one problem," Hood replied, as he coughed up some blood.
"Oh? Whats that?" Rhicine sneered.
"Dosage." The Hood groaned, slamming a syringe into Rhisine's chest, overdosing his system with Sloe. Rhisine didn't have time to scream before his heart exploded in his chest. "That quick enough for you mate?" Hood asked. But something did bother him. How did Rhicine know he was coming? Was there a traitor in the agency?
As I work my way through the back pages of the Fan-Fic forum, I occasionally run across something I simply have to check out. This story is one of those things. This week I reviewed Sora_thekey's "Poker Face" A Spider-Man/Deadpool Fan-Fic
Rated E
Now, at first I was a little put off. I am not a fan of scripted stories. But, as an objective reviewer, I cannot avoid a story, irregardless of personal tastes. And, script writers put just as much effort into their stories as story writers. But enough foreplay.
The story is about Deadpool kidnapping Spider-Man for a card game because he's lonely. That's it. The plot is as deep as a mud puddle. Here's why you should read it. Deadpool (and voices) and Spider-Man are spot on in character. And the simple stage is easy to envision. This story doesn't try to be anything but funny, and in that regard it does it in spades.
Overview:
Good: Characters are well depicted. Entire story is just so funny.
Pamela felt like she was in heaven. This part of the forest was so beautiful. One of the older trees had finally let go and fallen over, letting in a warm pool of sunlight, Flowers that had struggled to live earlier were now thriving, and new flowers had sprouted up almost over night. She gently touched one petal, then caressed a leaf lovingly with her thumb. She could almost feel their delight, as they absorbed the life giving rays. Oh what she wouldn't give to just lie here in the sun, to peel off this hot dress and just soak up the sunlight....
"Isley! I didn't buy you so that you could lollygag about in the flowers!" Dr Woodrue said shrilly, his eyes fairly bulged from his head. "Do you have the mushroom samples I sent you out here for!?"
The man was filthy. And more then a little rank. He had been in his lab for the last few days working on.... something. So it was possible that things like personal hygiene had escaped him. Pamela herself believed he simply detested being clean.
"It... I was about to but then I saw these flowers, and they are so beautiful to look--"
Smack!!
Dr. Woodrue backhanded her across the face, knocking her to the ground. She licked at her trembling lip and tasted blood. She knew from past experience that speaking or getting up would infuriate him even more. "Beauty!!" He screamed, "Is a mask! Its a pretty wrapper for simple minds. Minds like yours Isley! Great minds of science rip away the mask and stare into the face of God! But you, You are as useless as these flowers." He began to stomp the delicate blue flowers, crushing them beneath his boots. As she watched those helpless flowers suffer, something in Pamela snapped. She had never even raised her voice to Dr. Woodrue, let alone her hand. But she couldn't just sit here and watch this.
"Stop it! You're hurting them!" She cried as she leaped at Woodrue, beating her fists on his shoulders and back.
"Rrrrrrragh" He snarled. Then grabbed her face, and shoved her to the ground again. "You would dare? Your insolence shall be punished!" Wham! He kicked her in the stomach. "This is your place Isley, On the ground..." Wham! "Looking up into the face of greatness!" Wham! "Greatness you will never know!" He finally seemed to tire out. "Get the mushroom samples to me within this hour." He stomped away, leaving Pamela gasping for breath and crying.
* * *
Woodrue's lab was a dirty home in the woods, littered about with various dead plants, many of them toxic. Woodrue was convinced that immortality could be coaxed from the right combination of plant extracts. The many dead rats, moldering to the bottom of their cages however, suggested he had not yet happened upon the secret to immortality.
"Of course it doesn't work. Why would it work on rats?" He scratched at his patchy beard, talking to no one. Rat testing, that had been her idea. She had been holding him back from the start! It was time for human tests to begin. And he was long, long overdue to get some use out of that sniveling little brat. Dying in the pursuit of science was a better death then she deserved, but there was nothing for it. Either she would be the breakthrough he needed, or he would be rid of her. Either way he came out on top.
* * *
Pamela staggered back to Woodrue's lab an hour later, clutching her bruised stomach, and willing herself not to throw up again. Her stomach was still convulsing slightly, and she was very late. But she had the mushrooms, so maybe she wouldn't be beaten too badly.
"About time you came back. I thought you were going to nap in that forest all day!" Woodrue grunted from a crude, handmade table, where something in a bowl hissed and bubbled. "Pamela, I need you over here." He snapped his fingers impatiently. She hurried to his side, despite the protests from her side. Something was wrong... he had never called her Pamela before.
"Here are the mushrooms--"
"Yes yes. Perhaps you're not completely incompetent. I have a new task even you can't get wrong," He pushed the bowl towards her, "Drink this." Pamela searched his face for the hint of a smile, or some other indication that Dr. Woodrue had developed a sense of humor. But no, his lips wore the same hard line they always did, and his eyes were blank, devoid of any gleeful shine. He was serious. He really expected her to drink this toxic brew.
"Uh... what happened to rat testing? I think you're, um, real close to getting it right doctor." She backed away from the table slowly.
"Closer then you know my dear." He suddenly grabbed her by the throat, and forced her back against the table. "Science requires sacrifice, are you ready to do your part?" He clenched her jaw, forcing her mouth open. With his other hand he poured the concoction in her mouth, spilling it down her front, and even on himself, as she thrashed and tried to scream, choking.
He leaned over her, brushing aside a stray hair off her face, and tossed the empty bowl aside, where it shattered against a wall. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" He actually smiled.
Her answer is spitting a mouthful of the brew into his face. "Aaaaaah, It burns!" He wiped desperately at his eyes. "Isley!" He swung his arms blindly, trying to find her, knocking over an oil lamp which explodes on the floor. Pamela's throat started seizing, and the room fairly well spun, but she knew she had to escape before the fire took the whole place.
As she fled into the forest, she thought she heard him screaming as he burned. It was a terrible sound....
* * *
"Where, where am I?" Pamela asked. Or thought.
"You've been brought to a higher realm. Your mortal body is dying." Someone replied with authority. "I am Gaia, Goddess of the earthy realm. I have use for you." The voice paused, as if waiting for questions.
"Okay, why me? And what use?"
"You have shown to have a heart for all things green, this makes you unique among humans. I cannot make you a Vessel of the Green, as you were not predestined. I can make you a guardian of it though. I will imbue you with some of my power, to be used in the service of the Green. Do you accept this power?"
"What is the Green?"
"The Green is the life force of all plant life on earth. It is vast source of power, but also delicate. It needs earthly protection."
"Goddess, I humbly accept this responsibility."
* * *
Pamela awoke in the forest where she had fallen the night before, not far from the charred remains of Woodrue's former lab. She breathed deeply, feeling a new sense open inside her. She tapped into this sense, and felt the grass growing, felt the flowers opening to receive the sunlight, felt the decades old patience from the trees. She reached toward a flower which, to her surprise, leaned into her hand like an kitten, eager for attention. She is also mildly surprised to see her skin has become a lovely shade of green. She stood up, and ripped away her hot, scratchy dress. She would never dress in the way men demanded again.
"Come here baby." She cooed to a vine with suitably sized leaves. It required very little imagination to coax the vine plant into a garment of sorts. Concealing enough to be modest, but still allowing the life giving sunlight to bath her green skin.
She felt, different. Stronger, more confident. No man would ever sell her, or hit her, or even look at her funny again.
But, before she could start her new life, she had to bury the old one. Woodrue's remains were a blackened, twisted mess. In death his mouth had retracted in to a hideous grin, like he knew some great secret. She no longer feared this man. Or what was left of him. Still, she was loath to touch him. Planting a seed from her outfit, she willed a large, strong vine to grow up, and lift Woodrue's remains. Two vine offshoots parted the ground, more of a ditch then a grave. But it would suffice. She willed the grass to grow over his grave, then happily disappeared into the forest.
* * *
That night.....
The full moon shone brightly over the grave of the madman, and a slight wind blew over once, then fled away. The earth heaved gently as something pushed from beneath. A dirty, green, misshapen hand broke through the surface...."ISLEY!!!
Scientist, and other smart types, say there could be undiscovered creatures all around us. Not like Bigfoot or Nessie or whatever. Those guys are pretty well established with a million blurry, black and white photo's. Nope. I'm talking about the unknown creatures invading the urban environment. My name is Wildvine, I'm an investigative journalist. And I'm out for the truth. And good ratings, but mostly the truth.
As far back as the eighties, these things have been sighted....
Clip:
Old Hunter: "I heard something like, Ohhhhhhhhh Yeeeeaaahhhh. Then something came crashing thorough the woods. I only got a glimpse, but it was big. And red..."
They've been seen across America, from laundry rooms, to fast food restaurants....
Clip:
Lady: "We...we just wanted a pizza. But the Noid held up the delivery guy. Why? Why did he care about our pizza? Why did this happen to our family?" She begins crying.
From breaking into kitchens to bake rolls, to outright theft of hamburgers. Not only have they infiltrated society, they've lost the fear of man. Join me each week as i divide fact from fiction, and uncover the dark truths behind these sightings. These are...
The missing tapes.
Coming soon to the Wv channel. Check your local listings.
Hello, my name is Wildvine and I am trying (with moderate success) to be a writer. And today I am going to offer some free advice for people thinking of getting into writing. Think again. I know, i know. Looks real easy, just put words on paper, nothing to it. Wrong. There's a lot to it. But, if you're simply Hellbent on writing, then here's a few things i learned the hard way.
1) The devil is in the details. Or, Details details details. Stories need details to be interesting. (Who knew?) Seems obvious right? But trust me, when you're caught up in a fit of inspirative writing, the final product on your computer screen, or on that paper, won't look anything like the masterpiece in your head.
2) Writing by inspiration is fun, and intoxicating to a degree. And i will say that some of my most popular stories were written under inspiration. But know that inspiration is a fickle lady who will leave you hanging more often then not. Do not count on inspiration. Ever.
3) Just a little snippet. If you get an idea in the middle of the night, get up and write it down. You will not remember it in the morning. Trust me, a couple good ideas were lost because i didn't want to get up.
4) Write everyday. Doesn't matter what. Writing well requires practise. So write often. Always record a good idea, even if you don't have a use for it now.
5) Ideas. Where do ideas come from? Well, if i knew i would milk that cow dry. As i said, if you get a good idea, write it down. Some ideas are very insistent, they follow you around insisting on being made into stories. Other ideas grab you by the collar, get in your face, and says "Write me". Really good ideas though tend to be fragile and disappear quickly. Again, have an idea? Write it down.
6) Listen to your characters. They are more then cardboard cut outs to move about your story. If they aren't talking to you, then you need to start over. What do i mean by talking? I mean that naggy voice that whispers, "He wouldn't do that" Or "That's not like her". Listen to that voice.
7) Last but not least. Never get down if your story doesn't take flight. Our stories are like our children, and we want them to succeed. But like real children some will be popular, and some will not. And you may never know why. This is most important thing i will say here. Write stories you like. If you enjoy it, then it has served its purpose. If other people like it, well, all the better. We are our own worst critics, so if you like it, then you are already a great writer.
Edit: This bit was left by DarkxSeraph
"I agree with this wholeheartedly. However, there are somethings I would also recommend:"
Do NOT force it to flow. When a story freezes in your mind, and you want finish it, but come up blank, do NOT force the situation. This can be -felt- when read. It is noticeable.
Suggestions to help break this is stream of consciousness writing, thinking about the following scene and how it will unfold, etc. Things of this nature to help get something on track.
And, if you ever feel as if you have written yourself into a corner--going back a few scenes and re-drafting is very much allowed.
Oh, and read your preferred genre OFTEN. Absorb what is out there. See where the trends and cliches are. Learn from the mistakes others have made.
Here's another piece of early CV history, another story by NightHunter, the same guy that wrote the Superman story I reviewed earlier this month. This is a Batman story called Batman: Gotham Spirits
I have a few notes, but lets cover the story itself first. The story is basically A Christmas Carol, but with Batman in the place of Scrooge. While chasing the Scarecrow over some roof tops Batman gets dosed with a new Fear toxin, which induces a hallucination state for Batman. This is an inventive explanation for Batman experiencing the supernatural plots of the story. Except characters in the story claim its really happening, which kills the realism vibe it was going for.
The story is pretty by the numbers. The Ghost of Christmas Past is Bruce's mom, showing him times he had experienced happy Christmas's, one scene in particular is of young Dick Grayson giving Batman a scrapbook of thank you notes from various people to Batman collected over the years.
Then he meets Superman who is the Ghost of Christ Present, showing the Gordon's and even the inmates of Arkham celebrating Christmas. The message of course being that Batman is working too hard, you know, fighting crime and saving people and stuff.I swear, the analogy with Scrooge is seamless.
And the final spirit is the Joker, which makes no sense if this is real or just in Batman's head. He show's Alfred's grave to Batman, but never explains what his death has to do with Batman. I mean, yeah, people die. And Alfred is a old timer. Batman getting home in time for Christmas isn't going to stop that. And only two people come to his funeral. Because the Justice League are all super touchy and Batman didn't keep up on Facebook
There does exist a Christmas Carol/Batman story, and I don't know if that inspired NightHunter or not, but it also had Superman as the second ghost, and Joker as the third. If you haven't experienced that comic, then this might seem fresh to you, but for me it just felt rehashed.
Next, its not absolutely clear if this is really a supernatural vision or just in Batman's mind or something else. And why would Batman be presented with these visions anyway? His crusade isn't selfish. He's trying to eliminate crime and save people. On top of that, in his first vision his gift was a book of letters, remember? So is the universe/his mind saying he should find joy in his job, or that doing his hero job will result in misery? Or that he needs to be a jollier Batman?
And finally there are several typos, and some serious alien syntax going on here. Far, far from the worst thing I have reviewed this month, but in a lot of ways the most disappointing.
3 coal/ 2 presents.
Tomorrow, we finish the Santa Hamster saga. Will we finally get his promised origin? Probably not.
Authors note: This is more fantasy then actually historical. So, ya know....Its just a fun story.
Sir James Gordon, commander of the city guard, paced about the bell tower of the church impatiently. The Knight operated on his own schedule, but usually came when summoned. And he was most assuredly needed in this time.
"I got your message James. Communication by hawk has proven quite useful." The Knight said as he materialized from the shadows. If it were not for them being on holy ground, James would have thought the Knight were a demon. Indeed, it seemed as though the Knight strove for such an image, with his black armor and horned helmet. His cape flaps in the wind, creating the illusion of wings.
"Took your right time getting here. Got a proper nasty situation happening in Gotham." James grunted. Trained hawks had indeed facilitated speedy meetings between himself and the Knight, but it was still damnably slow. Especially in times of emergency. And he had been tempted more then once to follow the bird one day to wherever it called home. But some instinct told him he was right proper off not knowing who the man under the helmet was.
"Apologies Commander. Mireface recently reared his unpleasant face and was ambushing riders in the Forrest. Took more then stern admonishment from myself and my squire, Robin, to stop him." The Knight replied gruffly. Gordon suddenly noticed the the smelly brown "mud" streaking the Knights costume. Gordon had heard rumors of the Knight taking on an apprentice, but this was the first confirmation of it.
Mireface was a seemingly unstoppable, recurring menace to any unwary riders. Since his appearance in the kingdom, every muddy road had become suspect, and travelers were incouraged to carry extra water to fend of the creature. Thunder audibly cracked the sky above, and the ensuing peal of thunder booms like the end of days.
"Great. We could always use another devil." Gordon muttered angrily. Gotham seemed to attract monsters and criminals for some reason.
"Not a devil Commander. At least, not always. Mireface was a man once." The Knight replied, the slight touch of sympathy in his voice is lost in the noise of the storm. "But i'm sure you didn't call me here to swap nightmares."
"In a manner of speaking, yes. The Jester is back in Gotham. Him and...."
"Harlequin." The Knight interrupts. "I've heard. Their both as mad as hatters."
"Indeed. The Jester has poisoned the city wells. The doctors are baffled at the symptoms. Perhaps you could--" He looks around, and realized he was talking to himself. "Fellow moves pretty quiet to be wearing all that armor." Gordon commented as he started down the stairs.
Harlequin busied herself about the hideout, clearing out the Jesters failed experiments, and dusting his collections of poisons as she hummed a song to herself. She had been a healer once upon a time, that's how she had first met the Jester. She had been assigned to leech him, to bleed the madness out.
But what the others couldn't see was that he wasn't mad or possessed. He was creative, and brilliant, and funny. And sweet! Like the time he gave her a pair of wild hyenas he had 'bought' from some merchant. Actually, he had probably just killed the merchant and taken the hyenas. Puddin just wasn't no good at negotiating a price, She giggled at the thought.
Not that her beloved clown had laughed much lately. The damned Knight had stolen the mirth from him. Always interrupting the Jesters wonderful pranks. And Lord J played the best pranks. Like the time she woke up with a lepers arm in her bed. How funny! She had laughed all morning about that one. Then there was the time he dropped her in the crocodile moat. With her hands tied behind her back. That had been a fun night, she sighed to herself.
It was good to be back in Gotham. They had taken a brief vacation to the city of the star, but they had their own maniac there. Called himself The Green Archer. He had about as much humor as the Knight. Maybe less. They hadn't stayed there very long, Lord J said the Archer wasn't worthy of his time. She suspected (though would never say) that Lord J couldn't move on just yet. Not till he put a smile on the Knights face. If she was a good girl, Lord J might even let her help with that.
"Hmhmhm...You wear those boots and i will...wear that dress....Mmmm...Kiss me...Beneath the dusty twilight...Lead me...Out on the moonlit floor....Lift your open hand, Call forth the band...and make the glowing bugs dance...Mmhmhm....Silver moon sparkling...Mhm..."
The mall is crowded and noisy, and there were many places Priscilla Parker would rather be. But this was Anna's first Christmas with them, and Anna wanted to meet Santa Clause.
"Hello little girl." Santa burped a little. He smelled funny and his eyes were red like he was tired. In reality he was more than a little hung over. Anna was suspicious. "What's your name sweetie?"
"Santa would know my name." She retorted, folding her tiny arms across her chest.
"Right. Sure I do...Uh." He looks to the lady standing in line frantically mouthing 'Anna'. "Of course I know you Anna. Just um, testing." He added lamely. He hated smart kids. What happened to the days when kids just believed in Santa? "So what do you want for Christmas Ana?"
"I want a rhino for Christmas." She replied without hesitation.
"A what?" He couldn't help but laugh, despite his headache. "What would you do with a rhino?"
"I would ride it and yell--"
Present
"Wheeeeeee!!" Spider-Rogue yelled, as she gripped the horn on the Rhinonaut's helmet. "This is just as fun as ah thought it would be--Whoa, no hands on a first date." She flips backward off the huge brute as he groped blindly over his head with one massive hand, and tugged at the webbing glued to his face with the other.
"When I, -snort- "Get my hands on you I'm gonna-"
"Verbally illustrate an act of violence? Cause I get a lot of those." She chuckled.
"RRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH." The Rhinonaut roared as he charged like an angry train at Spider-Rogue, who barely leaped over the speeding monster. He kept going and ran though a desk like it was racing tape. Then he plowed through the concrete wall and out onto the street.
'Gotta wrap this up before someone gets hurt. Like me.' Anna thought grimly to herself. And it would be so easy to end this fight. All she had to do was remove a glove. Just touch this powerhouse and borrow his strength. But no. Not like that. Not again. She would finish this her own way.
* * *
"Hey chuckles, looking for me?" Spider-Rogue dropped from the ceiling behind the Rhinonaut. "Gotta a new game for you. Its called tag, and you're... it!!" She drives her fist into the Rhinonauts face, throwing everything she has into the punch.
CRAAAAACK!!!
'Oh jeeze. I think I just broke my freaking arm. What is this guy made of?'
The Rhinonaut grabbed the front of her costume, and balled it up in one fist. "How about baseball instead?"
'Oh... freak.'
Rhinonaut turned and tossed her over shoulder like she was a baseball. She just had time to throw her arms out over her head as she crashed though an eighth story window across the street, then through the ceiling, barely losing momentum.
'No time to aim this.' She thought desperately.
She tried to throw out web lines but her right hand didn't work right. One web line stuck to an A/C unit, but her momentum keeps propelling her upward at an angle, so that she swung over the edge of the roof.
She just managed to get her feet under her, before she smacked into the building like a bug on a wind shield. Her left arm screamed in protest at the sudden strain.
"Okay. No more miss nice hero." Spider-Rogue muttered to herself as she let the web line go and shot a fresh one at the next building over. Forcing her broken fingers to work, the middle two at least, she quickly swung herself back towards the bank.
* * *
"I say we give tag another try." Spider-Rogue yelled as she landed on Rhinonauts back, and pulled the glove off her injured hand with her teeth. Grabbing his arm she immediately felt his power flowing into her body. Spider-Rogue leaped off his back as he slammed himself backward against a wall.
"Arrragh!!! Crush you like a bug." Rhinonaut brings a massive fist down at Spider-Rogues head, but she caught with startling ease.
"Not tonight. Tonight you're the bug. Tag." This time the punch lifted the Rhinonaut off his feet and back through the wall. "Unlimited powah." Spider-Rogue yelled, drunk on the strenght within her, as she rained punches on the Rhinonaut with a berserker fury.
"Good. This will be an interesting hunt after all." Victor Kraven grinned from the shadows, as he watched Spider-Rogue's display of brutality with approval.
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