AKA Nixer
She-Venom: The Docks
A pitch black, vaguely feminine-shaped shadow leapt between buildings as the gunfight on the docks began to pick up, occasionally swinging from thin tendrils of a substance unidentifiable from this distance. The shape zipped onto the very top of a sturdy lamppost, balancing perfectly as it surveyed the action.
To those with keen eyesight (or night vision, alternatively) the figure had large white almond-shaped lenses on its otherwise featureless black face; very much akin to a particular spider-themed superhero. This along with the large white spider symbol on the figure's chest suggested that they were at least thematically related. But as more and more of the gang members began to drop, the figure's ‘mask’ seemed to smile to itself.
An eerie, extraterrestrial shriek echoed throughout the docks as the shape dove down atop one of the gang members—whichever side it attacked it evidently didn't care for. The oily substance that seemed to make up its body rippled like liquid as it sprouted claws from its fingers and aimed a vicious slash at the poor victim of its aerial attack—its previous smile widening into an unnaturally broad grin with way too many sharp and misshapen teeth to be friendly.
“You're getting too brave...!” it hissed as it scratched brutally at the man in its reach. “Making a scene. You attracted us!”
Edited by Enirboreh on Jan 11th 2022 at 5:39:41 PM
bork
The Docks
From far off in the black night skies, something was moving. It sped past the moon, lit up for only a moment, and swung about on its way towards the waterfront. For you see, someone special had heard about the Wharf Rats and their little operation. He'd been wanting to pay them a visit for some time. What he hadn't expected was to find the place in chaos before he'd even arrived. White vans outside a warehouse, rapid-fire gunshots, civilians scattering in fear and panic? Oh no no no, this wouldn't do at all. Not yet anyway, and not with this pack of rats at the centre. Yet...this did present an intriguing opportunity, and the Green Goblin wasn't one to let an opportunity slip away.
"YAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!"
A lunatic cackle and the buzzing of a dozen propellers droned overhead as something green and purple swooped down over the white vans. This was followed by a number of orange balls being scattered about, which promptly went BANG and let off bursts of blinding light. As the airborne assailant arced along the roof of the warehouse, he let something else fly, and with a high pitched whine or three, spinning black shurikens with green lights at the centre sped through the air to lacerate anything that moved in that direction. Further bombs and bats would follow, but whoever was circling the air around the warehouse seemed more interested in the ones laying siege to it than anyone else.
"Man, you guys are really making a mess, you know that?" A voice came from the exit of the building, and if the mobsters and the innocent people in there turned towards the source of the voice, they'd see who that person was. A figure that combined armor and street clothes, wearing a advanced mask and a red hoodie. Interestingly, it seemed like he had a red symbol painted on his chest and on the back of his jacket, which to most people of Gotham, definetely was the one the Caped Crusader used. He was currently leaning on the wall, just staring at the mobsters.
"Thought Falcone was all about class, style and all that shit. Feels like y'all are just mediocre and average thugs with how you're making a mess, though. Funny."
Popcorn, Get Ya Popcorn!
Jason Blood— His Sanctum
Blood sat in a renovated cellar underneath his overly large, drafty old house. He flipped through thick books bound in dark leather from beasts mundane and magical, putting each book away one after another. He read by candlelight, the sound of wax droplets falling onto the brass candle holders punctuating his night. After some time, he let out a satisfied 'hah!' and sat down cross-legged, having already prepared a circle of salt (for protection) mixed with iron shavings (for clarity). He began incanting, reciting long latin-esque words, reciting what was written with a neutral, unwavering tone learned from years of practice. As he recited, the candleflames became to gutter and flicker, the color of each flame changing from purple, to green, to orange, then back again to purple, then to red, and on and on. The air seemed to be sucked out of the room, and an oppressive darkness gathered around Blood as his incantation ended. "You call me, Lowly One? What bring you in offering?" The deep, echoing voice rumbled like a storm through the house. Blood just smiled. "Azed, Samanta of the 67th Circle, I bind you by the strength of Word and Way, and remind you of your duties to the Lowest of the Princes Forever Damned." A little scarlet-skinned gremlin, maybe a foot tall, scuttled into the light. It had six limbs, a lizard-like body, and four golden eyes on its misshapen head. "Alright, okay, fine, I'll go, stop using your fancy magic words. I know my job." Azed, the gremlin demon, wagged one finger on a four-fingered hand at Blood. "Fifty more years of service, J.B., and then I'm out of this town forever." Jason waved a hand in mild annoyance. "Begone, demon. Ah, but first," He rifled around in his coat pockets, then drew out a Snickers bar. Azed's eyes opened wide, and he was drooling black saliva in no time. Jason tossed the candy to the hungry little demon from across the circle. The creature jumped up, caught it, and devoured it whole, wrapper and all. "You're not so bad, boss." the minion muttered, before scuttling away.His messenger checked with, Blood checked his scrying array. It wasn't precise, but it could give him vague senses of locations of people under threat. People thought he knew everything and could be anywhere, but honestly he spent a lot of time just scrambling to keep up, projecting an intimidating, in-control image that people wanted to see. He remembered the ad in the paper. Something about a missing person case. Then again, he could sense powerful dark presences gathering around the docks. Where do you want to go? He asked, figuring he'd be polite. ''To the docks we should go. My bloodthirst grows, you know." You could try to put more effort into the rhymes, even if we're in private ''I will make a show of wit when you let go of lit, sacrificing humanity to the flames, swimming into the depths of shame. When the occassion calls for it, that is when I shall spit great wit. "There's someone missing. I sent Azed out to look around, gather any information my scrying array missed, but I just... We can't be everywhere. ''I know of all that you speak. Do you think my mind is weak? I see and hear all that you do, lest I wake to pain and rue." Blood sighed aloud. ''I didn't mean to insult you, but you sometimes don't pay attention when I'm doing the usual rituals. You're the one who broke Azed's first summoning scroll in the first place just because you weren't paying attention." ''Shut your mouth and listen deep, you mortal pipsqueak." Genuine urgency had crept into the Demon's mental voice. Blood stopped talking to the Demon within his mind, and focused on what he could hear. He spun, hearing a great hissing sound coming from the scrying chamber. Bursting in in a hurry, he could see the half dozen orbs of scarlet energy floating above the large steel disk were sizzling, their surfaces bubbling like hot oil. "What..." He pushed aside to of the orbs— their surfaces scalding his hands— and looked at the one central orb, four feet across, its surface clearing. At the center of the grainy scrying orb's picture was a man Blood took a second to recognize— the baddest mob boss in Gotham, Falcone. Blood swiped a hand through the air, cutting off the linked scrying spells, and the floating orbs of quickly cooling scarlet energy crashed into the big steel disk below, splashing like bright red water onto the surface of the thing and draining into a central basin. Blood had Falcone's face fixed firmly in mind. "Things are changing, things are changing..." Blood muttered to himself hurriedly, hand running through his hair.
"I need to get to the docks..."
At The Docks
Jason Blood arrived by taxi, like any self-respecting oldest dark mage in Gotham would. He moved quickly, checking his ritual supplies, and then, making his way towards where he could feel the dark presences gathering, cleared his throat and spoke. "Change, Change O form of man! Free the Prince forever damned! Release the might from fleshy mire! Boil the blood in heart of fire! Gone! Gone! — the form of man—Rise, the Demon ETRIGAN!
Edited by Greydoom on Jan 12th 2022 at 11:10:58 AM
Anti-Gnosis Weapon
Fox Gardens, Outside VIP Room
"Good evening," in a rich baritone, the middle-aged Asian man in a fine black suit and black tie greeted the two also-suited gentlemen standing guard outside of the VIP room who, at six two and six four respectively, towered over him, "I'm here to speak with Mister Falcone."
"Mister Falcone isn't accepting visitors tonight," one of the mobsters rumbled in his own bass voice.
"Ah... That won't be a problem, I assure you." In what seemed like an instant, a dark aura washed over the first man's person, turning the light parts of his person black and the dark parts white. "You just need to adjust your perspective a bit." Vocals warping to something echoing and almost unrecognizable compared to before, he reached up to place his hands on the guards' shoulders...
Fox Gardens, VIP Room
"Gentleman, meet Fancy Dan, Montana, and the Ox. Super freaks are their specialty and they're at your disposal. I'm paying good money for 'em so use 'em. I don't want to hear any excuses this week on how you couldn't turn a profit."
"Bringing in men from out of town to clean up what you can't yourself? Not what I would expect from you, given your reputation, but wise."
The door to the VIP room slid open, and a very unusual man stepped in. He didn't just look like a black man with a white suit and tie; rather, he looked like someone had taken a photo of a light-skinned Asian man and turned his whole person photonegative. His irises were pitch-black, and pupils pure white.
"Good evening, Don Falcone, gentlemen," the intruder began, folding his hands at his back with a neutral frown, "I lead one of this city's many criminal enterprises, the one the papers have been referring to as 'The Demons'. You can call me Mister Negative. I come here tonight bearing a business proposition for you. Ah... and I wouldn't bother summoning your guards at this point. They're... indisposed at the moment."
Edited by darksidevoid on Jan 11th 2022 at 8:44:47 AM
GM of AGOG S4: Frontiers RP; Sub-GM of TABA, SOTR, & UUA RPs
Morpheus Mattresses
"Uh, excuse me, sir!"
A voice rings out from directly above a window in the store, seconds before a line of webbing as thick as a man's arm shoots through, straight for one of the thugs' heads!
"We've been trying to reach you about your face's extended warranty!"
From outside the window, the famous, Outrageous Spider-Boy
◊ can be seen gripping his Web Pistol, attached to the other end of the web line. With a single motion, he yanks down on the pistol to try and slam the thug's face into a store counter (assuming it connected, of course). Simultaneously, the cloned mutate leaps through the window, sticking to the ceiling upon entering.
"What kinda criminals rob a mattress store? What're you even gonna do, rip off all the 'Do Not Remove Under Penalty Of Law' tags?"
This post is sponsored by Amalgam Comics.
Docks
"What the f-!" one of the Wharf Rats shriek was cut short as She-Venom ripped into his flesh like a hot knife through butter. It was bloody, it was loud and it was violent. This, of course, attracted the attention of the four of Falcone's mobsters who were approaching the warehouse. Unsure as to whether or not this thing was friend or foe, the men held their fire but kept their guns trained on She-Venom.
"You with Hammerhead? Or Maroni?" one of the thugs asked incredulously. However, the man wouldn't get to hear the answer to the question as a loud goblin figure came out of nowhere from the skies and bombed the living shit out of the docks. Carmine's thugs were suddenly blinded and the Wharf Rats inside the warehouse, about 12 of them, took this as an opportunity. They charged out wielding guns, bats, and chains, trying to cut their way through the remainder of Carmine's forces to escape the bedlam that threatened to engulf the docks. Two of them were cut down by shurikens but as the forces collided, it was growing difficult to tell who was aligned with who.
Morpheus Mattresses
"God damn it, another carnie with a conscience..." the biggest of the three mobsters sighed as he leveled his pistol at the store owner. From his demeanor, it seemed this mobster had had run-ins with superheroes before.
"Funny. Now, get the hell out of the store before I put a hole in the Mattress King's head here." he warned Red Hood. Right after that, Spider-Boy came hurtling in and put one of the mobsters into the world of unconsciousness. The other mobster (without the pistol) swung his baseball bat at Spider-Boy's face. Startled, the biggest mobster fired the pistol at Timothy's leg, causing the mattress store owner to scream out in agony.
"The next one goes in his head. Let us leave and you'll have time to get him to a hospital to stop the bleeding." the big thug shouted.
Fox Gardens
As soon as Mr. Negative entered the room, the Ox pulled out a collapsible rope, Montana began unfurling his rope and Fancy Dan pulled out a derringer but Carmine Falcone waved them all down.
"What are you doing dad? Rip their heads off!" Mario Falcone asked incredulously.
"Siddown." Carmine warned.
"You're in charge here!" Mario whined.
"I am. So shut the fuck up." Carmine said, turning to address the strangely colored intruder.
"I know you. I think some of my boys caved in one of your guys' skull in last week, right? On Finger and 6th Street?" Carmine asked, a cruel smile coming to his lips.
"Say your piece."
Down at the Docks
Things were getting out of hand fast. The Goblin needed a new tactic to sort the wheat from the chaff. Tapping open a different compartment on his glider, he pulled out a subtly different kind of bomb and tossed a couple into the crowd. With a rasping squeal, bursts of thick green smoke puffed to life, until the brawl was engulfed in an impenetrable fog.
"This way, Wharf Rats!" cried the Goblin, skimming over the clouds to the other side. "Follow the pied piper!" Making a lame impression of a piper's tune in between fits of giggling, he tried to make enough noise for the Rats to be guided out of the fog and towards a distant alleyway. He also fetched out a few razor moons, relying on his own impeccable aim to swat any Carmine men that followed them out of the smokescreen.
Edited by LizardOfAus on Jan 12th 2022 at 6:54:53 PM
Of course they went into harming a person when it suits their convenience. Typical Gotham thug behaviour. The sudden arrival of this weird, spider guy atleast knocked one of the guys out and was busy dealing with the other guy, so he focused on the guy with the gun.
"Oh, I'll be sure to. He goes to the hospital, and you go to the morgue. Kill two birds with one stone!" He would then quickly pull out his pistols from his holsters, and fire four shots, attempting to hit the thug with them. One aimed at the man's hand holding his pistol so he could drop it, the other on his other arm, and the other two on his legs.
Unless he somehow missed or the bastard's pain tolerance was somehow high as hell, he betted that could knock him down for a good while.
AKA Nixer
She-Venom: The Docks
Initially opening her mouth to reply to the terrified mob, She-Venom only got so far as a breathy snarl before the Goblin's bombs cut her off; shrieking as she flung herself away in order to convulse momentarily behind a pile of boxes. Once the frightened symbiote had settled down from the trauma of the sudden heat, the two organisms growled in unison as they pushed the pile over and hefted themselves up.
“Fine first impression...” Venom hissed, stretching their limbs momentarily just as the Goblin's gas bombs erupted. The symbiotic pair didn't so much as twitch; as the suit immediately got to work in filtering out the substance before its host could breathe it in. “We'll return the favour. Green freak, come back here...!”
Amidst the green fog, the erratically-moving silhouette of She-Venom was like a scuttling monster from a horror movie—occasionally spearing a Wharf Rat or Falcone gang member with her protruding claws as she went by. But she soon leapt a good thirty metres upwards to vault over the ledge of a building, galloping on all fours to catch up with the Goblin before letting out a guttural bark from her throat to get his attention.
“You nearly blew us up! Return the favour! Let us have fun! Together! What do you say?”
Edited by Enirboreh on Jan 12th 2022 at 9:12:47 AM
bork
Popcorn, Get Ya Popcorn!
Etrigan roared with glee and rage. The Demon [1]
◊ lept forward into the air, falling to the ground with a TOOM. A grisly, expansive grin on his face, he sprinted forward into the mayhem. The green smoke he could peer through, his eyes twin pools of red light in the haze and darkness. He looked around, taking in the threats surrounding him. Mortal thugs, easy to take down. The strange shadow-creature, slippery to his vileness-sense. The cackling one dressed all in green oozed an aura of trajedy and malice that stood out like a beacon to Etrigan's sixth sense. So many choices.
The living shadow reminds me of you. Blood spoke snarkily in the back of Etrigan's mind as a scream of pain cut short rang out through the haze, the scuttling lightning-fast black creature in the fog difficult to track.
"Silence, and do not conflate our violence." Etrigan growled.
Why not? You're just more obvious about it. No grace or subtlety. That creature at least has style. Blood continued, happy to fuck with the Demon. Some things truly never got old.
"You lie, you-you- magpie! I have my own style, and have for a while! I can be subtle— here's my rebuttle!"
The Demon stalked forward, hunched, the darkness coalescing around him like a cloak.
Out of the shadows, Etrigan appeared behind an obviously panicked and confused thug who was shooting at the darkness. Reaching over, one massive claw gripping the back of the man's head. "Say hello to my father, you foul bother." He hissed in a low growl, and immolated the man's skull in a blast of hellfire, leaving dark ash falling to the ground attached to a charred skeleton.
"Am I not great, you ingrate?"
Blood was silent.
Just when I begin to like you, you remind me why we're both monsters.
Etrigan was silent then too, stalking around to smash bones and stomp on minions, but leaving them alive, even applying a very minor spell normally used for torture to keep them from passing on too early. He acted without his usual cruel smile, and moved quickly and in a businesslike way. You could almost feel an edge of guilt to the Demon's expression.
Edited by Greydoom on Jan 12th 2022 at 12:27:34 AM
Anti-Gnosis Weapon
Fox Gardens
Mr. Negative's expression didn't change in the slightest as Falcone referenced the recent death of one of his men, but he did nod, either in acknowledgement of the fact it had happened or in thanks that the Don was willing to hear him out. As he spoke, he began to surreptitiously charge negative energy in the hands he had folded at his back, in case he needed to lash out at the mob boss' new Enforcers and make a quick escape.
"I'll get straight to the point. Those costumed fools the media calls 'superheroes' are thorns in both our sides," he began his pitch, strange, inscrutable eyes boring into Carmine's own, "Rather than you and I wasting time and resources fighting each other while you attempt to eliminate them, I propose a truce between our organizations until the so-called 'heroes' are dealt with: I don't interfere in your operations or attempt to take your territory, and you don't interfere in or attempt to take mine. I'm also willing to go further and cooperate with you in your endeavor to bring those crusading annoyances to heel, either in coordinating our efforts or lending you additional manpower from my own enterprise... provided you pay my asking price."
Edited by darksidevoid on Jan 12th 2022 at 10:11:02 AM
GM of AGOG S4: Frontiers RP; Sub-GM of TABA, SOTR, & UUA RPs
Morpheus Mattresses
“Or-whoa!”
Crouched on the ceiling, Spider-Boy ducks the bat swing.
“Jeez, no wonder you turned to a life of crime - look at how well Little League worked out for you!”
Spider-Boy holds out a hand towards the bigger mobster’s gun arm, his personal gravity tugging the weapon out of the thug’s hand and sending it flying to Spider-Boy instead.
“Yoink! And whaddya mean, ‘another carnie,’ I hosted SNL a few months ago, pal! Introduced Dazzler as the musical guest and everything!”
This post is sponsored by Amalgam Comics.
Docks
Oh, what was this? A wriggling little creature with an axe to grind. Couldn't have any distractions while corralling the rats, now could we? No no no. The Goblin turned to She-Venom and fixed her with a glare and a grin.
"You want to play, little girl? Okay, let's play ball. GO LONG!"
A flashbang bomb lobbed in her direction ought to shut her up for now. With that done, the Goblin spared a glance back to see if any Wharf Rats were making it out of the bloodbath.
Edited by LizardOfAus on Jan 13th 2022 at 1:06:07 PM
AKA Nixer
She-Venom
Enraged by this hostility, the symbiote shrieked as the flashbang was hurled at them; barely managing to bat it away in time before it detonated. The light and loud bang still caused the bonded pair to momentarily convulse, but with an angered hiss they soon slipped back in amongst the Rats.
“If he wants to play that game...!” She-Venom hissed, hopping behind one of the Wharf Rats and picking him up by the collar with one hand. “We should quell the horde of rodents...!”
Their maw opening wide, the many rows of teeth within Venom's mouth were akin to a shark's as it began to envelop its victims skull in its jaw. Ignorant to its horrified host's muffled screaming from within it, it would only take a second for it to crunch down and swallow the gang member's entire brain.
But its form was rippling. The suit and its host were disagreeing. One could even see the face of a terrified woman pressing against the suit from the inside towards the rest of the gang; crying out a silent plea for help as she pulled with all her might against the symbiote's housing.
bork
Docks
Both a Wharf Rat and one of Falcone's thugs fell to She-Venom's claws. With the added green fog, it was now absolute chaos and police sirens could be heard in the distance fast approaching. The GCPD might be corrupt but they drew the line at bloody massacres out in the open. Falcone's thugs, what was left of them, decided to cut their losses and make their way to the van to try and jet away from the bedlam but not before delivering a cacophany of gunfire with their machine guns that thinned the ranks of the Wharf Rats significantly. However, the Wharf Rats also gave as good as they got and one of Falcone's men fell to gunfire himself before being able to reach the van.
One of the Wharf Rats had actually managed to fight his way to a decent vantage point behind the white van, using a shipping container as cover. He was leveling the pistol at the Falcone van, preparing to headshot the driver when Etrigan appeared behind him and blasted his head with a burst of hellfire. The pistol dropped to the ground uselessly. The van's tire started to burn rubber even as Etrigan managed to rip one of Falcone's thugs out from the van and eliminate him as well. As he was doing that, one of the Wharf Rats fired six shots from a revolver at Etrigan's form and he was close enough that missing wasn't really a concern.
Of the dozen Wharf Rats that had been inside the warehouse, five were left still alive and they had decided that fighting off Falcone's men as well as a demon, some twisted shadow creature and a flying goblin were well above their pay grade - especially with She-Venom now eating one of their own's brains. The Wharf Rats were fleeing the green smoky area, ducking in between the labyrinth of shipping containers that littered the docks. Only one Falcone thug and the van driver were still alive and they were already trying to speed away in the van. The police sirens grew closer as the chaos continued to erupt.
Morpheus Mattresses
Spider-Boy's gravity pull messed up Red Hood's first shot towards the big mobster's hand and the gangster was able to squeeze off one shot before the gun was torn from his hand. The shot didn't go through Timothy's head as intended but it did tear through a part of the mattress store owner's ear. Timothy howled in pain and so did the big mobster as the other three of Red Hood's bullets found their mark and downed the guy. He wasn't quite dead yet but unless he was taken to a hospital, he probably would be soon.
The mobster with the baseball bat, wanting to avoid an ass kicking himself, wisely dropped the bat, held his arms out and surrendered. Whether or not the two heroes accepted the surrender was up to them.
"You interfering fucks! I'd have rather been robbed!" poor Timothy screamed as he clutched his wounded ear and leg.
Fox Gardens
"I'll be frank - you ain't the only game in town gunning for me, kid. Are you a kid? You look like a freaking Great Depression photograph." Carmine got off-topic once he took in just how bizarre Mr. Negative truly looked.
"I can list off a half dozen gangs that are gunning for the top dog spot, yours included. Honestly, it'd be nice to cross one of those names off the list in a partnership like you're offering. From what I can see, you got a good operation going. But one of the perks of being top dog in this town is you don't pay others to work with you. You want to work with me, that's fine and dandy but I won't be paying you for the privlege." Carmine stated firmly.
Docks
The Wharf Rats were dwindling, the police were on their way, and those frightful costumed freaks were taking no prisoners. If the Goblin hoped to salvage his original plans, then there wasn't a moment to lose. Gliding over the shipyard, the Goblin flung a few more smoke bombs behind the fleeing rats, to cover their escape. Drifting up higher, he scanned the labyrinth from above, making sure he alone could see where the rats were headed.
Popcorn, Get Ya Popcorn!
The Docks
Etrigan looked around, sneezing a cooling bullet out of one nostril. The knights of Gotham, the blue law-keepers were closing in with their incessant noise. The green one was fleeing with many of the Rats. That was something he should take care o— Help her. Blood spoke in his mind, saying it as a statement, flat and direct. Etrigan looked on the obviously distressed female human coated in the shifting and viscous dark ooze. A threat and a victim, all at once. The Demon spat to the side. "I've manhandled mortal hogs, now you want me to 'save the dog'? I have no investment in her saga." By the seven names of the Merlin, I implore you. Help her. The two of them are trapped like us. The Goblin is too far distant to economically do battle with. But her we can help. '''"Foolishness, ghoulishness, muleishness, all of it. Your righteousness is more bitter than the Pit." For the second time that night, the Demon sighed and lept down off of the building. He was going soft, going along so easilly with all this. "When we return to the house, I desire for us to watch the films of Ghengis Khan, and you shall not grouse." Blood groaned and said: Agreed. The pact is struck. Etrigan prowled closer to She-Venom, perhaps fifty feet away, and murmured: "Gone now, O Etrigan. And rise once more, the form of man!" She-Venom could see a great lurking shadow, a figure drawing closer. Then, as the green haze cleared around him, a tall, lean man with dark hair and a streak of silver through his hair wearing a long dark coat strode out of the dark. He raised his hand, and pink light glowed from around it, a soft, mellow glow to chase away nearby shadows. "Hello, Ms. Shadow-Creature. My name is Jason Blood. In the Olden Days, I was Jason of Norwich, Jason of the Blood. I sympathize your plight, the plight of both of you. And while I don't know the specifics of your situation, I have some experience with these things. So." He paused to light a cigarette. "The police will be here soon. You're confused, and scared, and injured. A hospital isn't really an option. You likely don't have many people you can trust, if any at all. So, why don't we get you stitched up. I have a house further into town that has numerous empty rooms. And, since the parasite creature part of your ensemble likely detests me, here's an offering of peace." Blood drew out a long black tentacle, like something from a octopus, purple veins of light running through it."This is a delicacy from a little corner of Hell called the Barber's Row. It contains the pure nutriotional value drawn from the dying breath of some great athlete or other. I had to trade two imp binding contracts for it. I was planning on using it in a pinch, but you seem like you need it more." He dropped the strange dark tentacle on the ground and kicked it over towards She-Venom, then just stood there patiently.
Edited by Greydoom on Jan 13th 2022 at 12:13:19 AM
Anti-Gnosis Weapon
Fox Gardens
"Hmm..."
Mr. Negative took a moment to think. On one hand, outright cooperation would eat up resources and manpower he could be using elsewhere, and he had hoped to get a certain something out of the deal as payment. On the other hand, cooperating on Falcone's terms might lull the mobster into a false sense of security, and allow Negative to learn more about the mob's operations and infiltrate them through the use of his particular brand of persuasion. On top of that, the objective of getting rid of the 'capes' was more likely to be accomplished if they worked together than separately. But would it be better to have the 'heroes' around to keep Falcone occupied while Negative pursued his own plans?
"...Very well," he eventually agreed with a nod, withdrawing the energy he'd been building in his hands back into his body, "For now, I'll instruct my men to be on the lookout for any encounters yours have with those heroic vermin and assist where possible. We can work out the rest of the details at a later date, after we have more of a basis for mutual trust."
"There was certain information I was hoping to obtain in return, but I have other avenues for pursuing that. Or perhaps I could persuade you to part with it yourself? Your construction company built a number of properties for Norman Osborn." The photonegative man's lip curled into a sneer at the name, before he schooled his features back into a mere frown. "What would you ask for in exchange for their blueprints?"
Edited by darksidevoid on Jan 13th 2022 at 5:38:41 AM
GM of AGOG S4: Frontiers RP; Sub-GM of TABA, SOTR, & UUA RPs
AKA Nixer
She-Venom: The Docks
Anne, in her desperation, has actually been making some progress in escaping the creature. But by the point she was just about to get free, the symbiote had finished ingesting the Wharf Rat's grey matter; allowing it to return its attention to her and attempt to force its way back over her body. This only caused her to thrash about even more violently, until the demonic man approached her in an almost suspiciously calm manner.
Wary of the threats around, the suit fully enveloped Anne again, whispering to her that escaping it would mean nothing if she was immediately shot and killed. As the two listened to Jason's offer, they visibly relaxed, and once he kicked over his ‘offer’ the alien part of the duo cooed in appreciation.
“...We... have no place. We only have our goals,” they eventually admitted, before the suit's mask receded just enough for Anne's teary face to be visible alongside the symbiote's more feral grin. “We... the suit hungers. Anne doesn't. She wants to control us—”
She shook her head, the suit receding entirely as she forced it back. She immediately dropped to the ground, scrambling back into cover as the symbiote crawled away to feast on the tentacle that Jason had offered. Hugging herself, she hid behind a random dumpster; partially due to the fact that the suit leaving left her entirely naked as a result.
“...sh-she... she comes with me...” came Anne's small voice from behind the dumpster, directed towards Jason as the suit began to drag the tentacle into cover alongside her. “L-Lady... she comes with me. That's all... that's all I ask...”
Edited by Enirboreh on Jan 13th 2022 at 10:59:21 AM
bork
Fox Gardens
Falcone closed his eyes briefly and carefully measured this man's words. One didn't get to the position he was in by squandering opportunity and this certainly seemed like an opportunity. True, Mr. Negative's operation wasn't as big as Falcone's, not by a long shot, but the man was certainly a major player in the city and had resources that Carmine could take advantage. Martin was trying to be coy but Carmine could tell these blueprints meant something to him and he bet that Mr. Negative would pay a good price for them.
"Guy by the name of Keen
." Carmine said at last to Martin. "He's a fat fuck with a loan shark operation that does the occasional heist or two with his crew. Lately, a lot of those heists have been impacting my bottom line. I'd very much like him gone."
"He hangs around at Club Noir most nights. You get rid of this problem for me and you'll get those blueprints." Carmine said, extending a hand for Mr. Negative to shake with a shark-like smile on his face.
Docks
The Green Goblin was able to successfully cover the five remaining Wharf Rats' escape and they all began regrouping in a narrow alley once they'd gotten sufficiently far enough away from the scene of the crime. What was left of Falcone's forces, unchallenged, were able to speed away from the warehouse as well, leaving behind a massive pile of nine bodies behind them, both mobster and Wharf Rat alike.
"Hands up!" a voice from behind Etrigan and Anne broke their bonding moment. The police had arrived and, seeing the only two people still around and a whole lot of bodies, they weren't taking any chances. Right now, only a couple squad cars had pulled up to the warehouse but from the sounds of sirens, more were coming fast. Four cops had their guns drawn on the naked woman and strange-haired man.
Popcorn, Get Ya Popcorn!
Blood froze. He thought fast. What he lacked in physical prowess, he made up in wilyness. He could escape this situation if he played his cards just right. There was no need to let slip that he, well, didn't really have any. He raised his hands slowly, placatingly. He turned slightly to face one of the officers, a 30ish freckly-faced man who looked more sleep deprived than anything else. Through the dark, he recognized the officer's face, and said a small internal prayer for the lucky coincidence.
"You're Barny Welker, right? We worked on a case involving a madman eating the hearts of house cats six years ago. You were just starting out on the force. You know me, I know you. I know a lot of guys back on the force. I know you guys might not put a lot of stock in a dark wizard's legitimacy, but I promise you. This specific situation falls under my... specialties." He placed extra emphasis on that last word.
"I've been helping Gotham P.D. in some shape or form for decades. You look the other way one time. I swear on my Word and my Way, I haven't killed anyone here, and the truest culprits have long since vanished." Technically correct, given that the only murders commited here had been either by Etrigan or another person. His vow was to protect innocents, not be honest when it didn't suit him. "Allow me to take this woman in for special medical treatment. She's like me, and our folk have our own hospital." One truth and two lies, all in a row. His face projected nothing but openness and honesty. "All I want to do is help her, and you all for that matter." Two truths. Same expression. Did they notice the difference in his gaze when he lied? He was told their was certain insincerity that crept into his eyes. Hopefully the darkness helped disguise his admittedly narrowly percievable tell. He kept his hands raised, his demeanor steady and calm. No-one needed to see his internal panic. Etrigan was reveling in it.
"All I want to do is help." A taxi cab pulled up at the edge of the docks, with Blood's phone vibrating in his pocket right on time. He'd given his favorite taxi driver, Bernie, the heads up that he should circle back around in 20. "I even have a ride prepared not far from here. Just let us go our seperate ways, and I'll come in peacefully for questioning tomorrow."
Edited by Greydoom on Jan 19th 2022 at 8:09:33 AM
Anti-Gnosis Weapon
Fox Gardens
"Club Noir... Tso's place, eh? Fine. You can consider Keen a dead man." Without a single hint of hesitation, Negative reached forward and shook the Don's hand. His grip was strong, but not crushingly so - it wouldn't do to break the old man's bones when they had just sealed a business deal.
"And with that decided, I'll leave you to your own plans." With a sense of finality, the weirdly pigmented man nodded once to Carmine and then once more to the others in the room. "Don Falcone, gentlemen, I bid you all farewell, and fine hunting in our new joint venture."
Negative turned on his heel and exited, closing the door behind him and subsequently stepping over the bodies of the two guards seemingly crumpled on the floor, who, having been swayed to his will by his powers, were feigning unconsciousness per his own instructions. As he made his way out of Fox Gardens, he paused at the entrance to pull out a phone and send brief orders to his men through a secure, encrypted messaging app:
To aid any of Falcone's men they saw engaging a 'hero', and to put an end to the man named Keen at Club Noir.
Morpheus Mattresses
The squealing of tires could be heard outside as a black town car pulled up on the street next to the mattress emporium. As Red Hood was standing at the entrance, if he turned to look, he would be the first to see three men in black business suits and Chinese demon opera masks emerge from the back and passenger side, two of them cocking Kalashnikovs, and the other toting an honest-to-god jian. He might recognize them as members of the up-and-coming gang the media had been calling "The Demons" after their masks.
The gun-wielding Demons leveled their rifles at the entryway as they advanced toward the store, and opened up on the Hooded Crusader (if he hadn't moved) or laid down some suppressive fire (if he had ducked behind cover).
"Tonight is the night you die, heroes!" the swordsman goon yelled a challenge with a noticeable accent, running his hand along the edge of his blade and leaving it crackling with black-and-white energy as he took up a ready, defensive stance behind his comrades and the three of them moved forward.
Edited by darksidevoid on Jan 14th 2022 at 12:42:12 PM
GM of AGOG S4: Frontiers RP; Sub-GM of TABA, SOTR, & UUA RPs
Morpheus Mattresses
Spider-Boy quickly webs up the surrendering thug before looking out the window at the commotion.
"...What is this, a gang convention?!"
Spotting the Demons, the webbed superhero knocks the store's phone off the hook and quickly dials "911" on it before leaping back out of the window he came in from. Kicking off the wall of the opposite building, the arachnid-themed hero quickly winds up on the store's roof.
"C'mon guys, leave Red Riding Hood alone! He's just tryin' to get to Grandma's on time!"
Spider-Boy takes aim with his Web Pistol for one of the gun-toting thugs, hoping to web him and fling him into the other gunman.
"I mean there's no way this trick's gonna catastrophically backfire twice in one day, amiright?"
"Hey, Red! Can we try not to kill these guys? I've got a reputation and everything!"
This post is sponsored by Amalgam Comics.
Arc 1 - Mob Madness
Fox Gardens
New York City aka Gotham City - 8 PM
Fox Gardens was a posh restaurant, typically used as the default spot for Gothamite boyfriends to propose to their girlfriends. It served a wide menu cooked by some of the biggest names in chefdom and the place was frequented by celebrities and the wealthy elite looking for a riverside view and some excellent view.
The piano player tonight was playing a soft, light melody that the patrons seemed to enjoy although seven particular patrons weren't able to hear it as they were meeting in the back of the restaurant in the coveted VIP room. Whether your name was Leonardo diCaprio or Bruce Wayne, the VIP room in Fox Gardens was hard to reserve yet somehow these seven men had managed to do it. Their names were Carmine Falcone, Sal Maroni, Don Rigoletto, Roscoe Sweeney, Hammerhead, Mario Falcone, and Alfonso Vincenzo Giuseppe and they were all about as hardcore as it got when it came to hardcore Gotham gangsters. The mob owned Fox Gardens and it was often used as a meeting place between Don Carmine Falcone and his captains.
"...and the casinoes and boxing arena is still bringing in dough but not as much as it used to. Our audience is getting too old - kids these days don't want to gamble or watch fights - they want to play Pokemon or whatever the hell it is they do." Roscoe Sweeney told Carmine Falcone, the current head of the Gotham mob. The brutal mob boss held up a hand with a perturbed look on his face
"Forget it, okay? I don't need to hear all of this. The bottom line is that we're losing money every fucking month!" Carmine suddenly was shouting and smashed his wine glass against the wall, causing the waiter next to him to look agahast at the thought of having to clean that up later. But of course, the waiter enjoyed having both his legs work so he wisely said nothing.
"New gangs are trying to muscle in on our territory every day, these costumed freaks are derailing our operations, and what money we do make, I'm blowing away every day bribing that fat fuck Loeb and the rest of the GCPD to get them not to arrest us!" Falcone continued to rant. Commissioner Loeb had long been in the mob's pocket but thanks to Batman and James Gordon's early efforts, had been forcibly removed from office and even served jail time. However, many years had passed since then and Jim Gordon was no longer the police commissioner. Thanks to the new mayor
- who was also in Falcone's pocket - Loeb had been reappointed as commissioner. He wasn't a popular choice but, then again, in a town like Gotham, when had the will of the people ever really mattered?
"Frankly, I'm depressed and ashamed at the state of this family today. We need big scores and we need em yesterday. I've contracted out a few big hitters to help us out with the masked do-gooders. But until they all get here, you all need to step up and show these two-bit gangsters muscling in who really run things in this town. And I mean now!" Carmine said. His other capos nodded in approval and Rigoletto even clapped.
"Dad, these hitters? Who are they?" Mario Falcone piped up, prompting well-hid sneers of derision from the other captains who had long thought Mario had been made capo because of who his father was and not from his earning potential.
"One of them is flying in later this week but I got three here today. Come on out boys!" Carmine called out. A small door opened up in the VIP room and a small man, a cowboy, and a giant emerged from it.
"Gentleman, meet
Fancy Dan, Montana, and the Ox. Super freaks are their specialty and they're at your disposal. I'm paying good money for 'em so use 'em. I don't want to hear any excuses this week on how you couldn't turn a profit." Carmine said. The other mobsters surveyed the three men before them.
Docks
As Carmine Falcone berated his captains and bemoaned how many gangs were trying to overthrow the Gotham City mob, some of his underlings were actually doing something about it. Some of Hammerhead's men, under orders from their boss had driven up to an abandoned warehouse in the Gotham City docks to confront a new gang that had risen up.
The Wharf Rats
were small-time but aggressive and had recently emerged to put a serious hole in the Maggia's smuggling operations. Declaring the docks "wharf rat territory", they had already killed a top soldier in the Falcone organization when he'd tried to make a pickup. No more.
As two Wharf Rats were taking a smoke break outside the warehouse, the white van pulled up to them and slammed on the brakes suddenly. Looking curious, their curiosity was soon shattered as four men wielding tommy guns leapt out of the van and turned them into Swiss cheese.
"Oh shit!" a voice from inside the warehouse shouted and a rifle popped out of the window and took a shot, nailing one of the Falcone soldiers in the shoulder. A gunfight was about to occur and innocent sailors, dockworkers and passerbys began sprinting away keeping their heads down.
Morpheus Mattresses
Timothy Thomas was a bespectacled, balding man who was slight of build. He knew a lot about many things - mattresses, croquet, how to be a loving husband, and sports trivia. What he did not know very much about was how to fight so he was quite flustered when three big men walked into his mattress store and demanded he pay protection money to the Falcone crew every week.
At first, Mr. Thomas had refused but once they'd begun beating his cashier with baseball bats, he pleaded for them to stop. As Timothy tended to the cashier, the mobsters were looting the mattress store, wanting compensation for the trouble they had to go to.
Slam Bradley's Office
Slam Bradley, hard-boiled detective sat in his dingy office above the Chinese restaurant smoking what must have been the 12th cigarette that hour. He hated being cooped up in here - he'd much rather be out busting heads and collecting clues - but he had to. He'd put an ad in the Daily Bugle asking for any super-powered beings or investigative individuals to come to his office at 8 PM if they were interested in assisting him finding a missing mailman. The guy wasn't married but apparently was popular enough in his building to warrant someone wanting him found.
Normally, Slam hated sub-contracting his work out to others but with how bad Gotham had gotten recently, he was, pardon the pun, slammed with work and he needed some help.
Edited by FantasyLiver on Jan 11th 2022 at 2:43:00 PM