- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
was talking about IRL but sure the comics have their idiot ball moments
Ain't No Mountain High Enough [Spectacular Spider-Man SI]
- Thread starter Duke William of
- Start date
- Action Superhero
Issue 2.9: Guy Fawkes-ing Oscorp
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
September 17, 2008
Toomes's Warehouse
"Lord, I come to you now as Adrian and I are about to do something very foolish and really dangerous which, if it fails, could see us thrown in jail or worse. Yet, we must still do it; not for our own sakes or for our glory, Lord, but for all the sakes of those affected by the crimes of Norman Osborn.
"Osborn and his associates have hurt so many people with their actions, Lord, and they will continue to do so unless men stand up to oppose them. I do not ask for safety, nor do I ask that you take away the hardships we shall surely face; instead, I ask that you give us the strength and courage to face those hardships and overcome them.
"In all of this, Lord, let your will, not mine or Adrian's, be done.
"In Jesus Christ's powerful name, of which there is no equal...
"Amen."
Later that night...
Long Island City, Queens
A very tired, extremely caffeine-deprived Grady Scraps yawned as he slowly backed the forklift up. It had been five long hours since his shift had started, and while he would have usually gone home by now, a cargo ship had needed to make an emergency docking last minute, so it was all hands on deck now. He'd been looking forward to dinner with his Lucy as well. And some actual rest.
He yawned widely, taking his glasses off before cleaning it with his plaid shirt, rubbing half-heartedly as he struggled to fight off the warm embrace of sleep.
"Excuse *Cough* me, good man." A slightly-hoarse voice called out from behind Grady. "Could you please tell me where I can find *Cough* Block C?"
"Keep going left until you bump your head on the big crane next to the yellow warehouse, buddy." Grady casually replied, not bothering to at the man asking the question.
"*Cough* Thank you." The man coughed again before walking off. These newbies needed to get some maps and a stupid compass already, that was the fifth time this week he'd needed to gkve directions.
Letting out another yawn, Grady rubbed his eyes with his arm before putting his glasses back on and getting back to work. Just another crappy night at the docks, just another time to let his insomnia grow even worse.
Little did he know, however, that if he had been actually paying attention, he might've noticed a slight bulge in the "newbie's" coat. And if he had decided to investigate, he would have discovered the bomb in the coat that was causing said bulge.
But he didn't.
The Silence had been right: a clipboard, construction worker vest, and hard hat were all you needed to get into a place. Though, as he made his way past several actual construction workers, Adrian was a little proud to say that the mask and faked coughing were his idea. No one wanted to get sick themselves, after all, and no one was paid enough to care, anyways.
Now, to figure out the best place to place a bomb that would cause a big-enough distracion for the whole of the Big Apple to see...
Around the same time...
The Sewers of New York City
I had no nose, yet somehow I still felt the need to retch. By Captain America's left middle finger, New York City sewers were utterly putrid! Rats and roaches scurried this way, and flies buzzed that way as the brownish-green sludge called sewer water tossed and sloshed about. In that sludge, all types of waste gathered into small islands of grossness: rotting meat, banana peels, newspapers, condoms, and the like were what I could see. Proverbially holding my nose, I shone my flashlight onto the map of the sewers I'd managed to get a hold of.
I had hoped that I'd just be able to use the map to navigate the sewers without doing anything else. Turned out that it was a bad idea, because I'd been in the sewers for only ten minutes yet I was already starting to get confused. And if I didn't get to the warehouse soon enough, Adrian will have blown up a bomb for literally no reason, and we would have terrified some poor construction workers with nothing to show–What was that?
The sudden sound of something skittering around caused me to freeze, and I spun around with my flashlight in hand, ready to–Ah, false alarm, it was just a rat, which was a bit obvious to see now both since I hadn't felt that strange tingle and since the steps were pitter-patters and not stompy-stomps. To be more specific, it was a brown rat with a white patch on its left eye that was waving at me?
Wat.
Wat.
I turned my head for a about three seconds befure turning back to find that yes, the rat was indeed waving at me. It then jumped up and down and pointed its finger(or was it a toe?) to the left hallway,
Was I a Disney princess now? Did I have some sort of magic ability that allowed me to befriend animals–Oh. Oh.......
I'm an utter moron, aren't I?
Wordlessly(not like I could do it with words anyways), I nodded before quickly following the rat through the sewers, being sure not to go so fast that I lost accidentally fell into the sewer sludge beside me. I would not subject my apartment's laundromat to the horror that was poo water.
BLAAWWURGH
Rounding around the corner, I followed after my little friends, making sure to keep my flashlight on him–Shoot, sewer worker!
A bead of sweat formed on Adrian's brow as he beat a hasty retreat to the dockyard's exit, his jittery hands in his pockets. Once he'd gotten into his car, he'd have to wait ten minutes before detonating the bomb and driving off. The Silence had better be ready by then; he'd spent too much time and resources for this to fail now.
He'd get his pound of flesh from Osborn, one way or the other...
This should be the place, right? I thought to myself as I looked up at the ceiling, having dodged three more sewer workers on my way here. It was the middle of the night, and the poor sops would still need to get back home and take a shower before finally being able to sleep. Unless they didn't mind the odor, but I highly doubted that they would, or at least, they'd have become numb to the stench–Focus, Michael, you idiot.
Shaking my head of my wayward thoughts, I looked at my new brown friend, who I'd named Sebastian, who had climbed onto a railing and was now pointing up to the ceiling above him. I was right, then. Nodding at Sebastian, I gave him a congratulatory petting, which he squeaked in delight at, before taking off my backpack. Unzipping it, I swiftly pulled out the bomb Adrian had built and the walkie-talkie Adrian had repurposed into a detonator. When I tuned the walke-talkie to certain frequency, the bomb(if I had activated it by then) would go off, with the vibrations from the radio waves causing a large enough explosion that would cause the concrete above it to be turned into the tiniest of tiny rubble.
In other words, magic; because I wasn't quite sure that was how radio waves worked. Then again, Spider-Man in the comics had created a device that somehow deactivated magnetism, so this hardly seemed like something too outlandish in comparison.
Grabbing the bomb, I then climbed onto the railing as carefully as I could, spreading my legs out in an upside-down V to stabilize myself. I then cautiously and hesitantly streatched my hands up to the ceiling before slowly attaching the bomb, my trust in the duct tape being rather limited. Once that was done, I then gingerly took my hands off and, stepping down, waited to see if it would fall, my hands ready to catch it if it did.
Fortunately, it didn't.
Letting out a mental sigh of relief, I hopped down from the railing and back on solid, steady ground that wasn't a threat to my dignity and health. Tossing my backpack onto my shoulder and grabbing the detonator off the ground, I then quickly jogged a good-enough distance away from the bomb as Sebastian followed behind me. While I was fairly confident in my ability to withstand damage, I was not about to test whether or not I could endure an explosion to the face.
Now, to wait for Adrian to set off the bomb...
Grabbing my earphones, I plugged them into my Zune and then put one into my right ear, tucking the other into my jeans pocket. I'd rather not miss my cue, after all. I then pressed play, letting the music flow–
BOOM!!
My surroundings shook and rattled as an explosion suddenly sounded from somewhere above, causing me and Sebastian to shake as well. Fumbling with my detonator slightly, I quickly steadied myself before I could accidentally drop the detonator into the poo sludge below me. In the back of my mind, I worried that Adrian might have slightly overclocked the bomb; it was supposed to be something akin to a fireworks display, not a successful reenactment of the Gunpowder Plot.
Regardless of what happened after this, I would be having a serious talk with Adrian regarding his views on "acceptable collateral".
Wait, what was I supposed to do again?
Hurry and activate the detonator while the distraction's still loud, you moron! A voice yelled inside my head.
Ah, right.
I pushed the button.
Click.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
Did you really think I wouldn't take the opportunity to tease you with a cliffhanger? What do you think I am, a good man? Perish the thought! You'll get your full finale next update.
More seriously, dang... 400 watchers already? I guess I've got to start preparing something special for when we reach the 500 watcher mark. Thank you all so much for being here, it's been a fun ride so far, and I intend to keep it that way.
For anyone interested in some fluffy superhero content without high stakes or drama, may I introduce Batman: Wayne Family Adventures! A webtoon that follows the adventures of Bruce Wayne and his many adopted children, including its newest member Duke Thomas, a.k.a. Signal. The first episode of the dub is down below, and you can find the rest of the episodes at the same channel. I had a blast going through them, they are genuinely so much fun to watch/read.
View: https://youtu.be/5u34-bobWw4?si=AGyYV7Jf_87yjJnG
Enjoy!
Toomes's Warehouse
"Lord, I come to you now as Adrian and I are about to do something very foolish and really dangerous which, if it fails, could see us thrown in jail or worse. Yet, we must still do it; not for our own sakes or for our glory, Lord, but for all the sakes of those affected by the crimes of Norman Osborn.
"Osborn and his associates have hurt so many people with their actions, Lord, and they will continue to do so unless men stand up to oppose them. I do not ask for safety, nor do I ask that you take away the hardships we shall surely face; instead, I ask that you give us the strength and courage to face those hardships and overcome them.
"In all of this, Lord, let your will, not mine or Adrian's, be done.
"In Jesus Christ's powerful name, of which there is no equal...
"Amen."
Later that night...
Long Island City, Queens
A very tired, extremely caffeine-deprived Grady Scraps yawned as he slowly backed the forklift up. It had been five long hours since his shift had started, and while he would have usually gone home by now, a cargo ship had needed to make an emergency docking last minute, so it was all hands on deck now. He'd been looking forward to dinner with his Lucy as well. And some actual rest.
He yawned widely, taking his glasses off before cleaning it with his plaid shirt, rubbing half-heartedly as he struggled to fight off the warm embrace of sleep.
"Excuse *Cough* me, good man." A slightly-hoarse voice called out from behind Grady. "Could you please tell me where I can find *Cough* Block C?"
"Keep going left until you bump your head on the big crane next to the yellow warehouse, buddy." Grady casually replied, not bothering to at the man asking the question.
"*Cough* Thank you." The man coughed again before walking off. These newbies needed to get some maps and a stupid compass already, that was the fifth time this week he'd needed to gkve directions.
Letting out another yawn, Grady rubbed his eyes with his arm before putting his glasses back on and getting back to work. Just another crappy night at the docks, just another time to let his insomnia grow even worse.
Little did he know, however, that if he had been actually paying attention, he might've noticed a slight bulge in the "newbie's" coat. And if he had decided to investigate, he would have discovered the bomb in the coat that was causing said bulge.
But he didn't.
The Silence had been right: a clipboard, construction worker vest, and hard hat were all you needed to get into a place. Though, as he made his way past several actual construction workers, Adrian was a little proud to say that the mask and faked coughing were his idea. No one wanted to get sick themselves, after all, and no one was paid enough to care, anyways.
Now, to figure out the best place to place a bomb that would cause a big-enough distracion for the whole of the Big Apple to see...
Around the same time...
The Sewers of New York City
I had no nose, yet somehow I still felt the need to retch. By Captain America's left middle finger, New York City sewers were utterly putrid! Rats and roaches scurried this way, and flies buzzed that way as the brownish-green sludge called sewer water tossed and sloshed about. In that sludge, all types of waste gathered into small islands of grossness: rotting meat, banana peels, newspapers, condoms, and the like were what I could see. Proverbially holding my nose, I shone my flashlight onto the map of the sewers I'd managed to get a hold of.
I had hoped that I'd just be able to use the map to navigate the sewers without doing anything else. Turned out that it was a bad idea, because I'd been in the sewers for only ten minutes yet I was already starting to get confused. And if I didn't get to the warehouse soon enough, Adrian will have blown up a bomb for literally no reason, and we would have terrified some poor construction workers with nothing to show–What was that?
The sudden sound of something skittering around caused me to freeze, and I spun around with my flashlight in hand, ready to–Ah, false alarm, it was just a rat, which was a bit obvious to see now both since I hadn't felt that strange tingle and since the steps were pitter-patters and not stompy-stomps. To be more specific, it was a brown rat with a white patch on its left eye that was waving at me?
Wat.
Wat.
I turned my head for a about three seconds befure turning back to find that yes, the rat was indeed waving at me. It then jumped up and down and pointed its finger(or was it a toe?) to the left hallway,
Was I a Disney princess now? Did I have some sort of magic ability that allowed me to befriend animals–Oh. Oh.......
I'm an utter moron, aren't I?
Wordlessly(not like I could do it with words anyways), I nodded before quickly following the rat through the sewers, being sure not to go so fast that I lost accidentally fell into the sewer sludge beside me. I would not subject my apartment's laundromat to the horror that was poo water.
BLAAWWURGH
Rounding around the corner, I followed after my little friends, making sure to keep my flashlight on him–Shoot, sewer worker!
A bead of sweat formed on Adrian's brow as he beat a hasty retreat to the dockyard's exit, his jittery hands in his pockets. Once he'd gotten into his car, he'd have to wait ten minutes before detonating the bomb and driving off. The Silence had better be ready by then; he'd spent too much time and resources for this to fail now.
He'd get his pound of flesh from Osborn, one way or the other...
This should be the place, right? I thought to myself as I looked up at the ceiling, having dodged three more sewer workers on my way here. It was the middle of the night, and the poor sops would still need to get back home and take a shower before finally being able to sleep. Unless they didn't mind the odor, but I highly doubted that they would, or at least, they'd have become numb to the stench–Focus, Michael, you idiot.
Shaking my head of my wayward thoughts, I looked at my new brown friend, who I'd named Sebastian, who had climbed onto a railing and was now pointing up to the ceiling above him. I was right, then. Nodding at Sebastian, I gave him a congratulatory petting, which he squeaked in delight at, before taking off my backpack. Unzipping it, I swiftly pulled out the bomb Adrian had built and the walkie-talkie Adrian had repurposed into a detonator. When I tuned the walke-talkie to certain frequency, the bomb(if I had activated it by then) would go off, with the vibrations from the radio waves causing a large enough explosion that would cause the concrete above it to be turned into the tiniest of tiny rubble.
In other words, magic; because I wasn't quite sure that was how radio waves worked. Then again, Spider-Man in the comics had created a device that somehow deactivated magnetism, so this hardly seemed like something too outlandish in comparison.
Grabbing the bomb, I then climbed onto the railing as carefully as I could, spreading my legs out in an upside-down V to stabilize myself. I then cautiously and hesitantly streatched my hands up to the ceiling before slowly attaching the bomb, my trust in the duct tape being rather limited. Once that was done, I then gingerly took my hands off and, stepping down, waited to see if it would fall, my hands ready to catch it if it did.
Fortunately, it didn't.
Letting out a mental sigh of relief, I hopped down from the railing and back on solid, steady ground that wasn't a threat to my dignity and health. Tossing my backpack onto my shoulder and grabbing the detonator off the ground, I then quickly jogged a good-enough distance away from the bomb as Sebastian followed behind me. While I was fairly confident in my ability to withstand damage, I was not about to test whether or not I could endure an explosion to the face.
Now, to wait for Adrian to set off the bomb...
Grabbing my earphones, I plugged them into my Zune and then put one into my right ear, tucking the other into my jeans pocket. I'd rather not miss my cue, after all. I then pressed play, letting the music flow–
BOOM!!
My surroundings shook and rattled as an explosion suddenly sounded from somewhere above, causing me and Sebastian to shake as well. Fumbling with my detonator slightly, I quickly steadied myself before I could accidentally drop the detonator into the poo sludge below me. In the back of my mind, I worried that Adrian might have slightly overclocked the bomb; it was supposed to be something akin to a fireworks display, not a successful reenactment of the Gunpowder Plot.
Regardless of what happened after this, I would be having a serious talk with Adrian regarding his views on "acceptable collateral".
Wait, what was I supposed to do again?
Hurry and activate the detonator while the distraction's still loud, you moron! A voice yelled inside my head.
Ah, right.
I pushed the button.
Click.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
Did you really think I wouldn't take the opportunity to tease you with a cliffhanger? What do you think I am, a good man? Perish the thought! You'll get your full finale next update.
More seriously, dang... 400 watchers already? I guess I've got to start preparing something special for when we reach the 500 watcher mark. Thank you all so much for being here, it's been a fun ride so far, and I intend to keep it that way.
For anyone interested in some fluffy superhero content without high stakes or drama, may I introduce Batman: Wayne Family Adventures! A webtoon that follows the adventures of Bruce Wayne and his many adopted children, including its newest member Duke Thomas, a.k.a. Signal. The first episode of the dub is down below, and you can find the rest of the episodes at the same channel. I had a blast going through them, they are genuinely so much fun to watch/read.
View: https://youtu.be/5u34-bobWw4?si=AGyYV7Jf_87yjJnG
Enjoy!
This calls for a musical intervention! 🎶 Cliff Hanger hanging from a cliff and that's why he's called cliffhanger🎶
Boooo, get off the stage.
You can try to get me off the stage, but my cane dodging skills are great, so be forewarned!Boooo, get off the stage.
Friends (Canon)
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
September 16, 2008
Midtown High School, Queens
As Brendan chuckled along with the rest of his fellow jocks, which even included Flash and Kong for some reason, he felt a light tap on his shoulder.
"Hey, Brendan, could I talk with you a sec?"
Brendan turned to see his beautiful, if a little nervous, Anne staring at him, holding her books close to her chest and tucking one of her brunette locks behind her ear. Her smile melted him.
"Sure, Anne." He grinned, turning back to yell at his buddies. "Gotta quickly talk to my GF, guys! I'll catch you in class later."
"Sure, Brenny! We'll wait while you get so–Gaack!!" Flash hollered before unceremoniously quacking as Randy suddenly "patted" him on the back a bit too hard before shooting Brendan a thumbs-up. Shooting a grin and two thumbs-up back, Brendan than followed Anne until the two of them were in a relatively isolated hallway.
"Alright, what did you want to talk about?" Brendan began, leaning against a locker with his arm.
"You remember my friend Michael, right?" Anne asked.
"The guy who got you that tacky friendship bracelet?" Brendan asked right back, fighting the small urge to start being jealous. Anne wasn't the type of girl who'd just ditch him for some new guy she'd met just a few months ago.
"I swear I'll find a way to get back at him for that." His girlfriend darkly muttered, though her quivering lips betrayed her amusement, and he couldn't help but laugh as she looked up. "But yeah, Michael is that guy."
"What about him?"
"He wanted to know if you and I wanted to accompany him to the zoo." At Brendan's surprised look, Anne hurried to explain. "He wants to spend some time with his first friend here as well as get to know you."
"Me? Why?" Brendan questioned, a bit confused as to why this Michael would want to meet him.
Anne flushed in embarrassment, her cheeks turning a cute hue of pink. "Because he says I talk about you... A lot."
"Oh..." A smirking Brendan teasingly replied as he winked at her. "Only good things, I hope."
"That'll change if you push this any further, mister." Anne teased back, shooting him a flirtatious smile. The two then chuckled lightly.
"So when is it?"
"We settled on Thursday as a good time, since none of us are really busy then, but we wanted to get your opinions before we decided."
"Thursday's good." Brendan quickly said. It'd be rude to say no, and he was admittedly rather curious to meet Anne's new friend.
"Great! I'll text Michael about this later, then." Anne smiled. "We should probably get to class before our teachers get all pissy, though."
"Of course."
And so, with Brendan's arm wrapped around his petite girlfriend, the two quickly made their way to class, walking as fast as they could without crossing the line that would turn it into running.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
Please enjoy some fluff while I continue working on the next chapter!
Midtown High School, Queens
As Brendan chuckled along with the rest of his fellow jocks, which even included Flash and Kong for some reason, he felt a light tap on his shoulder.
"Hey, Brendan, could I talk with you a sec?"
Brendan turned to see his beautiful, if a little nervous, Anne staring at him, holding her books close to her chest and tucking one of her brunette locks behind her ear. Her smile melted him.
"Sure, Anne." He grinned, turning back to yell at his buddies. "Gotta quickly talk to my GF, guys! I'll catch you in class later."
"Sure, Brenny! We'll wait while you get so–Gaack!!" Flash hollered before unceremoniously quacking as Randy suddenly "patted" him on the back a bit too hard before shooting Brendan a thumbs-up. Shooting a grin and two thumbs-up back, Brendan than followed Anne until the two of them were in a relatively isolated hallway.
"Alright, what did you want to talk about?" Brendan began, leaning against a locker with his arm.
"You remember my friend Michael, right?" Anne asked.
"The guy who got you that tacky friendship bracelet?" Brendan asked right back, fighting the small urge to start being jealous. Anne wasn't the type of girl who'd just ditch him for some new guy she'd met just a few months ago.
"I swear I'll find a way to get back at him for that." His girlfriend darkly muttered, though her quivering lips betrayed her amusement, and he couldn't help but laugh as she looked up. "But yeah, Michael is that guy."
"What about him?"
"He wanted to know if you and I wanted to accompany him to the zoo." At Brendan's surprised look, Anne hurried to explain. "He wants to spend some time with his first friend here as well as get to know you."
"Me? Why?" Brendan questioned, a bit confused as to why this Michael would want to meet him.
Anne flushed in embarrassment, her cheeks turning a cute hue of pink. "Because he says I talk about you... A lot."
"Oh..." A smirking Brendan teasingly replied as he winked at her. "Only good things, I hope."
"That'll change if you push this any further, mister." Anne teased back, shooting him a flirtatious smile. The two then chuckled lightly.
"So when is it?"
"We settled on Thursday as a good time, since none of us are really busy then, but we wanted to get your opinions before we decided."
"Thursday's good." Brendan quickly said. It'd be rude to say no, and he was admittedly rather curious to meet Anne's new friend.
"Great! I'll text Michael about this later, then." Anne smiled. "We should probably get to class before our teachers get all pissy, though."
"Of course."
And so, with Brendan's arm wrapped around his petite girlfriend, the two quickly made their way to class, walking as fast as they could without crossing the line that would turn it into running.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
Please enjoy some fluff while I continue working on the next chapter!
Randy is such a best wingman for Brendan.
Issue 2.10: Domestic Terrorism for the Win!
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Last time on Ain't No Mountain High Enough...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wait, what was I supposed to do again?
Hurry and activate the detonator while the distraction's still loud, you moron! A voice yelled inside my head.
Ah, right.
I pushed the button.
Click.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 17, 2008
Long Island City, Queens
For a split second, nothing happened.
I held my breath, for I had no nose to actually breathe with. Or mouth.
Then, suddenly, a great rumbling seized the ceiling as Adrian's bomb frantically beeped and whirred, thunderous waves emanating from it and through the concrete as great, big rifts and cracks formed. Clouds of dust began to appear, twisting and weaving due to all the nearby chaos. And after a moment...
BOOM
The bomb exploded, a great deluge of noise ringing out as I was momentarily forced to turn away and cover my ears. I'd probably need to invest some heavy-duty headphones sooner rather than later. When the dust had settled and the ringing in my ears had ceased to be, I quickly turned back to see just how effective the bomb had been.
In short? Better than anything my wildest dreams could have concocted. Besides the one about me having an unlimited amount of pet puppies, of course.
The ceiling–or floor, if you were in the warehouse instead of under it– had ceased to exist, an installation of a lovely, new hole having taken its place. The floor that had disappeared had been vacated to the the sewer, the large chunks of concrete forming an inpromptu dam that, while it didn't clog the sewer fully, caused the sewer sludge on one side of it to come dangerously close to spilling over onto the sidewalk.
Bloody gross, man.
And with all that floor had also crashed a motherload of crates of Oscorp equipment and technology into the sewer, some breaking open and spilling their contents here, there, and everywhere. I even saw a forklift tip into the sewer, its prongs stuck on the edge of the hole. Which proved to be very useful as I used it to climb up from the sewer and into the warehouse proper. Peering my head above the hole slightly, like you'd expect a Saturday morning cartoon to do, I looked around for any security cameras. There were two on each side of the warehouse, which made sense given its relatively small size, but, rather fortuitously, they were both facing away from where I was.
Unzipping my backpack, I reached into it and grabbed the two bricks I had also brought with me. Then, before some could even blink, I got out of the hole and, under the cameras, chucked a brick at each of them. With the force I used, and how they were right in front of me, I couldn't possibly miss. The cameras each were decapitated from their wiring and sent crashing to the ground with satisfying crunches.
Crunch, crunch.
Pleased with my work, I dusted my hands before running over to some nearby crates and picking their locks. While I'd managed to convince Adrian that destroying Osborn's stuff was a better objective than stealing most of it, I'd figured that I'd throw him a bone and get at least one crate.
Medicinal drugs, syringes, biological science stuff neither me nor Adrian would be able to use, mechanical parts and gadgets–Here we go!
While it wasn't much in terms of quantity, it more than made it up in terms of actual quality. Adrian would have a field day reverse-engineering the gadgets and recycling the parts for his suit. After closing that crate and carefully bringing it down into the sewer tunnel, I then pantomimed cracking my non-existent knuckles, doing a few stretches and hopscotch-style hops as well. Then, I blurred.
WHAM-BLAM!!
BAM-VAM!!
CRUNCH-MUNCH!!
POW-WOW!!
INSERT-YET-MORE-ONOMATOPOEIA!!
By the end of this night, I'd turn this place so wrecked it'd make the homes featured on Hoarders seem like five-star villas the freaking Kardashians owned. In the process, I'd honestly lost track of how much time had gone by. It couldn't have been all that much, though, given how I'd only entered the sewer about an hour and thirty minutes to two hours ago. In the middle of my Rhino-style rampage, I'd decided to take a small break so that I could think over some random stuff that had suddenly appeared in my mind.
...I'm really scatter-brained, okay?
Looking toward a nearby skylight, I could see the night's sky illuminated by the many lights of New York City and the immediately recognizable webbing of Spider–Oh, crap.
For a split second, my stomach dropped right to the bottom of my foot(the left one) as I realized there was a very big chance of me and Kid Arachnid coming to blows. My stomach quickly crawled back up to its original place in my body, however, when I saw that the Spectacular Web-Slinger wasn't looking at the warehouse and was instead swinging toward the big cloud of... smoke... a cloud of dark black smoke that seemed to be rather nearby...
Wait.
What... What the utter and everliving shit did you freaking do, Adrian?! I thought in utter gobsmackedness as I struggled to comprehend the sight before my eyes; I didn't even know if that was a real word.
I didn't usually swear, but I couldn't help myself at the moment. For goodness' sake, Adrian, I'd asked for you to create a distraction, not an act of destruction that could be unironically labeled domestic terrorism! Bloody hell, I'd be having a very severe talk with him later about acceptable collateral and the necesity of not going too overboard, for the love of everything good in this world.
Please, S.H.I.E.L.D., do not come and kick our butts? It was all just a big mistake, honest!
Wait, what was I doing again? Ah, right, making Osborn have a very bad, no good day. A worthwhile activity for me to waste my time on.
Sending a silent apology to God for my foul-mouthed lapse and making a note to rip Adrian a new one by the end of the week at the very least, I shook my head and got back to work, ripping open crates and smashing what ever was inside. I didn't particularly care about what I was smashing, only that Osborn would lose at least some money by me smashing it. After a few more minutes of just crunching and bashing anything my grubby little hands could find, I looked around and was satisfied with the fruits of my labor. My work here was done.
Reaching into my backpack again, I grabbed the map of the sewer layout and a plastic bag full of Crayola crayons, setting the map down on the floor as I sifted around in the bag for the right color crayon to use.
Green? Nah, too grass-like.
Pink? Not really feeling the vibe of it.
Blue? Same shade as the map, so I wouldn't be able to read it given how dark it is in the tunnels. Even with my flashlight.
Yellow? Oh, hell no, I couldn't ever make out what that light mode nonsense said even if you gave me Superman's vision!
Reliable old red? Perfect!
Holding the red crayon up in the air triumphantly, I quickly scribbled the way from the warehouse to the manhole I had entered the sewer from. Just an arrow here, then another arrow there, and... done! Triple-checking the map, I then tucked it and the crayons back into my backpack before rushing back to the big, gaping hole in the floor and climbing down into the sewers. Dropping to the raised platform, I hefted the Oscorp crate I'd left there into a bridal carry, taking the time to make sure it was nice and steady in my firm grip. On the railing to my side, a very giddy Sebastian waved at me one last time before scurrying off into the night.
Thanks for the help, Sebastian. I thanked my little rat friend with a mental smile as wide as the sky. Then, hefting the crate up by just a little, I made my way back into the maze of sewers.
A few minutes later...
The Sewers of Queens in a place other than Long Island City
I'd had to pause a few times in order to read my map and get my bearings straight a few times, but thanks to me finally having the good sense to actually map out which way I needed to go, I was finally confident that I was going the right way. Crayons for the win!
So, since I was feeling a little cocky after having successfully pulled one over Osborn's smug little goblin face, I decided to use some of my super speed the rest of the way there. I'd already covered four-fifths of the distance, and it wasn't like there were that many risks. I just hoped that I didn't pull a B-Locomotive on the way there. The workers already put up with so much garbage doing their jobs, they didn't need me throwing another mess at them. So, once again, I got into a running stance and blurred.
I–
Someone sees you, and they're peering at you from that open manhole above you.
The sudden, unnerving tingle that signalled someone had seen me hit me like a truck, and I tripped, dropping the. Then the ground hit me.
Or, more accurately, I hit the ground.
Scraaapeee...
It didn't really hurt, but it was still annoying having to pick myself up like that. Transforming back into my squishy human self, I grabbed the suddenly heavier crate and made my way over to the open manhole my power had helpfully informed me of.
"Silence!"
Adrian's voice called out to me, and I looked up to see my partner-in-crime staring down at me with wide, anxious eyes.
"We've got to go, before the authorities show up!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming, don't get your knicker in a twist." I groused back as I lifted the Oscorp crate up, waiting for Adrian to take it from me. Once he did, I scurried up the ladder like a whooping gibbon high on adrenaline before running over to the desert sand pickup truck Adrian owned. I hopped into the passenger seat, slammed the door shut, and slapped my sestbelt on.
"Drive!" I hurriedly said, and not a second later, we were racing through the street. We would take a few minutes to drive around aimlessly like a blind duckling before returning to Adrian's warehouse, just to throw off anyone that decided to tail us. Then I'd rush home and fall asleep on my couch; after I changed my clothes, of course. I was not going to wake up to the stench of bad life choices and horrible regrets.
Okay, we've done it. I thought as the adrenaline began to slowly drain away. We stuck it to Oscorp and made them lose some big bucks, people probably didn't die from the distraction bomb, and no one knew it was us behind the whole thing. Everything is going to be–"YAAAARGHH!!!"
Oh, come on! Not again!!
"Silence!" A suddenly startled Adrian exclaimed as he turned to look at me, actual worry showing on his face. "Are you alright?!"
"I'll be fine, Adrian, just keep your eyes on the road, please!" I all but shouted back as I clutched my head and tried my best to massage it, Adrian flooring it as he switched between staring at me in shocked worry and watching the road so that he didn't hit anyone. All the while, one faithfully persistent thought raged within my mind.
SCREW YOU, OBAMA!!!
A few hours after the fire had been put out, and when all the firefighters, police officers, and Spider-Man had all left the scene, a tired Oscorp worker decided to unlock the warehouse one last time to see if everything was in its proper place. The moment that man walked into the warehouse and saw what was inside–or rather, what was not inside, he fainted on the spot, needing to be caught by a fellow coworker.
It made headline news the next morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
New skills will be revealed... in a later update! Suffer, my peons!! Suffer for my pleasure!! Nyehehheheheheheheheh!!!
Anyways, our fanfic of the day is Ember and Ash by Masterweaver, a RWBY and A:TLA crossover where Azula and Cinder Fall are able to communicate throughauthor fiat a magic mirror. The premise sounds dumb and should not theoretically work, yet somehow it not only works, but it's absolutely amazing. Reading the great chemistry of these two psychopathic, egotistical children is an utterly hilarious treat, and somehow, their interactions are somehow driving them to be somewhat better people over time. The fic hadn't been updated for a while, but it's just been updated recently, so I highly recommend you all go check it out. I give it four stars out of five.
This update has been sponsored by a vertical purple lead arse. It's a plumb plum plumbum bum.
Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wait, what was I supposed to do again?
Hurry and activate the detonator while the distraction's still loud, you moron! A voice yelled inside my head.
Ah, right.
I pushed the button.
Click.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 17, 2008
Long Island City, Queens
For a split second, nothing happened.
I held my breath, for I had no nose to actually breathe with. Or mouth.
Then, suddenly, a great rumbling seized the ceiling as Adrian's bomb frantically beeped and whirred, thunderous waves emanating from it and through the concrete as great, big rifts and cracks formed. Clouds of dust began to appear, twisting and weaving due to all the nearby chaos. And after a moment...
BOOM
The bomb exploded, a great deluge of noise ringing out as I was momentarily forced to turn away and cover my ears. I'd probably need to invest some heavy-duty headphones sooner rather than later. When the dust had settled and the ringing in my ears had ceased to be, I quickly turned back to see just how effective the bomb had been.
In short? Better than anything my wildest dreams could have concocted. Besides the one about me having an unlimited amount of pet puppies, of course.
The ceiling–or floor, if you were in the warehouse instead of under it– had ceased to exist, an installation of a lovely, new hole having taken its place. The floor that had disappeared had been vacated to the the sewer, the large chunks of concrete forming an inpromptu dam that, while it didn't clog the sewer fully, caused the sewer sludge on one side of it to come dangerously close to spilling over onto the sidewalk.
Bloody gross, man.
And with all that floor had also crashed a motherload of crates of Oscorp equipment and technology into the sewer, some breaking open and spilling their contents here, there, and everywhere. I even saw a forklift tip into the sewer, its prongs stuck on the edge of the hole. Which proved to be very useful as I used it to climb up from the sewer and into the warehouse proper. Peering my head above the hole slightly, like you'd expect a Saturday morning cartoon to do, I looked around for any security cameras. There were two on each side of the warehouse, which made sense given its relatively small size, but, rather fortuitously, they were both facing away from where I was.
Unzipping my backpack, I reached into it and grabbed the two bricks I had also brought with me. Then, before some could even blink, I got out of the hole and, under the cameras, chucked a brick at each of them. With the force I used, and how they were right in front of me, I couldn't possibly miss. The cameras each were decapitated from their wiring and sent crashing to the ground with satisfying crunches.
Crunch, crunch.
Pleased with my work, I dusted my hands before running over to some nearby crates and picking their locks. While I'd managed to convince Adrian that destroying Osborn's stuff was a better objective than stealing most of it, I'd figured that I'd throw him a bone and get at least one crate.
Medicinal drugs, syringes, biological science stuff neither me nor Adrian would be able to use, mechanical parts and gadgets–Here we go!
While it wasn't much in terms of quantity, it more than made it up in terms of actual quality. Adrian would have a field day reverse-engineering the gadgets and recycling the parts for his suit. After closing that crate and carefully bringing it down into the sewer tunnel, I then pantomimed cracking my non-existent knuckles, doing a few stretches and hopscotch-style hops as well. Then, I blurred.
WHAM-BLAM!!
BAM-VAM!!
CRUNCH-MUNCH!!
POW-WOW!!
INSERT-YET-MORE-ONOMATOPOEIA!!
By the end of this night, I'd turn this place so wrecked it'd make the homes featured on Hoarders seem like five-star villas the freaking Kardashians owned. In the process, I'd honestly lost track of how much time had gone by. It couldn't have been all that much, though, given how I'd only entered the sewer about an hour and thirty minutes to two hours ago. In the middle of my Rhino-style rampage, I'd decided to take a small break so that I could think over some random stuff that had suddenly appeared in my mind.
...I'm really scatter-brained, okay?
Looking toward a nearby skylight, I could see the night's sky illuminated by the many lights of New York City and the immediately recognizable webbing of Spider–Oh, crap.
For a split second, my stomach dropped right to the bottom of my foot(the left one) as I realized there was a very big chance of me and Kid Arachnid coming to blows. My stomach quickly crawled back up to its original place in my body, however, when I saw that the Spectacular Web-Slinger wasn't looking at the warehouse and was instead swinging toward the big cloud of... smoke... a cloud of dark black smoke that seemed to be rather nearby...
Wait.
What... What the utter and everliving shit did you freaking do, Adrian?! I thought in utter gobsmackedness as I struggled to comprehend the sight before my eyes; I didn't even know if that was a real word.
I didn't usually swear, but I couldn't help myself at the moment. For goodness' sake, Adrian, I'd asked for you to create a distraction, not an act of destruction that could be unironically labeled domestic terrorism! Bloody hell, I'd be having a very severe talk with him later about acceptable collateral and the necesity of not going too overboard, for the love of everything good in this world.
Please, S.H.I.E.L.D., do not come and kick our butts? It was all just a big mistake, honest!
Wait, what was I doing again? Ah, right, making Osborn have a very bad, no good day. A worthwhile activity for me to waste my time on.
Sending a silent apology to God for my foul-mouthed lapse and making a note to rip Adrian a new one by the end of the week at the very least, I shook my head and got back to work, ripping open crates and smashing what ever was inside. I didn't particularly care about what I was smashing, only that Osborn would lose at least some money by me smashing it. After a few more minutes of just crunching and bashing anything my grubby little hands could find, I looked around and was satisfied with the fruits of my labor. My work here was done.
Reaching into my backpack again, I grabbed the map of the sewer layout and a plastic bag full of Crayola crayons, setting the map down on the floor as I sifted around in the bag for the right color crayon to use.
Green? Nah, too grass-like.
Pink? Not really feeling the vibe of it.
Blue? Same shade as the map, so I wouldn't be able to read it given how dark it is in the tunnels. Even with my flashlight.
Yellow? Oh, hell no, I couldn't ever make out what that light mode nonsense said even if you gave me Superman's vision!
Reliable old red? Perfect!
Holding the red crayon up in the air triumphantly, I quickly scribbled the way from the warehouse to the manhole I had entered the sewer from. Just an arrow here, then another arrow there, and... done! Triple-checking the map, I then tucked it and the crayons back into my backpack before rushing back to the big, gaping hole in the floor and climbing down into the sewers. Dropping to the raised platform, I hefted the Oscorp crate I'd left there into a bridal carry, taking the time to make sure it was nice and steady in my firm grip. On the railing to my side, a very giddy Sebastian waved at me one last time before scurrying off into the night.
Thanks for the help, Sebastian. I thanked my little rat friend with a mental smile as wide as the sky. Then, hefting the crate up by just a little, I made my way back into the maze of sewers.
A few minutes later...
The Sewers of Queens in a place other than Long Island City
I'd had to pause a few times in order to read my map and get my bearings straight a few times, but thanks to me finally having the good sense to actually map out which way I needed to go, I was finally confident that I was going the right way. Crayons for the win!
So, since I was feeling a little cocky after having successfully pulled one over Osborn's smug little goblin face, I decided to use some of my super speed the rest of the way there. I'd already covered four-fifths of the distance, and it wasn't like there were that many risks. I just hoped that I didn't pull a B-Locomotive on the way there. The workers already put up with so much garbage doing their jobs, they didn't need me throwing another mess at them. So, once again, I got into a running stance and blurred.
I–
Someone sees you, and they're peering at you from that open manhole above you.
The sudden, unnerving tingle that signalled someone had seen me hit me like a truck, and I tripped, dropping the. Then the ground hit me.
Or, more accurately, I hit the ground.
Scraaapeee...
It didn't really hurt, but it was still annoying having to pick myself up like that. Transforming back into my squishy human self, I grabbed the suddenly heavier crate and made my way over to the open manhole my power had helpfully informed me of.
"Silence!"
Adrian's voice called out to me, and I looked up to see my partner-in-crime staring down at me with wide, anxious eyes.
"We've got to go, before the authorities show up!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming, don't get your knicker in a twist." I groused back as I lifted the Oscorp crate up, waiting for Adrian to take it from me. Once he did, I scurried up the ladder like a whooping gibbon high on adrenaline before running over to the desert sand pickup truck Adrian owned. I hopped into the passenger seat, slammed the door shut, and slapped my sestbelt on.
"Drive!" I hurriedly said, and not a second later, we were racing through the street. We would take a few minutes to drive around aimlessly like a blind duckling before returning to Adrian's warehouse, just to throw off anyone that decided to tail us. Then I'd rush home and fall asleep on my couch; after I changed my clothes, of course. I was not going to wake up to the stench of bad life choices and horrible regrets.
Okay, we've done it. I thought as the adrenaline began to slowly drain away. We stuck it to Oscorp and made them lose some big bucks, people probably didn't die from the distraction bomb, and no one knew it was us behind the whole thing. Everything is going to be–"YAAAARGHH!!!"
Oh, come on! Not again!!
"Silence!" A suddenly startled Adrian exclaimed as he turned to look at me, actual worry showing on his face. "Are you alright?!"
"I'll be fine, Adrian, just keep your eyes on the road, please!" I all but shouted back as I clutched my head and tried my best to massage it, Adrian flooring it as he switched between staring at me in shocked worry and watching the road so that he didn't hit anyone. All the while, one faithfully persistent thought raged within my mind.
SCREW YOU, OBAMA!!!
A few hours after the fire had been put out, and when all the firefighters, police officers, and Spider-Man had all left the scene, a tired Oscorp worker decided to unlock the warehouse one last time to see if everything was in its proper place. The moment that man walked into the warehouse and saw what was inside–or rather, what was not inside, he fainted on the spot, needing to be caught by a fellow coworker.
It made headline news the next morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
New skills will be revealed... in a later update! Suffer, my peons!! Suffer for my pleasure!! Nyehehheheheheheheheh!!!
Anyways, our fanfic of the day is Ember and Ash by Masterweaver, a RWBY and A:TLA crossover where Azula and Cinder Fall are able to communicate through
This update has been sponsored by a vertical purple lead arse. It's a plumb plum plumbum bum.
Enjoy!
Special Issue II
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Last time on Ain't No Mountain High Enough...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few hours after the fire had been put out, and when all the firefighters, police officers, and Spider-Man had all left the scene, a tired Oscorp worker decided to unlock the warehouse one last time to see if everything was in its proper place. The moment that man walked into the warehouse and saw what was inside–or rather, what was not inside, he fainted on the spot, needing to be caught by a fellow coworker.
It made headline news the next morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 18, 2008
Parker Residence, Queens
"Good morning, Aunt May." Peter softly smiled as he walked into the kitchen, letting out a small yawn and stretching his arms as he did so. He'd lost a lot of time due to the explosion at Long Island City, but he'd fortunately made it just before curfew and before he'd have tolie explain stuff to Aunt May.
"Good morning, Peter." His aunt lovingly smiled back as the delicious smell of homemade blueberry pancakes wafted into his nose.
Mmm... pancakes...
Taking a seat, he quickly poured a generous amount of maple syrup on his pancakes before digging in. "Thanks for making breakfast, Aunt May." He gratefully said as he chewed on his breakfast.
"Any time, dear." She smiled back as she took a bite of her own. As the two continued to eat, however, Peter finally noticed the Daily Bugle issue on the table.
SEVEN INJURED IN EXPLOSION AT LONG ISLAND CITY DOCKS: IS IT CONNECTED TO THE OSCORP WAREHOUSE BREAK-IN?
"Wait, there was a ro-explosion?" Peter asked in confusion as he picked up the newspaper, quickly skimming over it.
"Apparently so; thankfully no one was hurt. Would you kindly pass the maple syrup?" Aunt May asked, and Peter absent-mindedly handed her the bottle of maple syrup as he continued reading, this time with a more critical gaze. The two had to be connected, he was certain of it; a large explosion happening at the same time as a robbery that happened right next to said explosion? The timing was far too suspect to be a coincidence. It would have been certainly audacious(read:utterly reckless), given how the warehouse was just a few yards away from where the explosion had taken place, but clearly fortune favored the bold that night.
As his mind then drifted to the police and firsr-rssponders, Peter sighed as he cut off another piece of pancake and ate it. Sgt. Carter had been as charming and energetic as ever, that much hadn't changed. It had hurt, however, when he noticed Cpt. Stacy being more curt and guarded than usual around him, and Lt. DeWolff's glare was even more distrustful and disdainful of him than before. He hadn't even thought that was a possibility until now. Ever since that stupid walking piece of modern art had brutally wiped out the Rivals gang, the police were even more wary of him, as if he was a rabid dog about to snap at people. And it wasn't just them; many of the firefighters and paramedics had tensed up around him, and a dockworker he had saved from the fire had literally spat at his face. For every one guy that was grateful for his help, three others seemed to hate the very ground he stood on.
Perhaps he should ask Cpt. Stacy if he was fond of Picasso... He probably deserved a gift after putting up with good old Spidey's quips for so long, after all.
"Do finish up your breakfast sooner, Peter. We wouldn't want you to be late to school, would we?" Aunt May kindly reminded him as he snapped back into reality.
Peter inwardly groaned at the reminder of the greatest bane of both aspects of his life, and he was also so not looking forward to tutoring LIz aLlaN, one of the popular girls at Midtown High and–ugh–Flash Thompson's girlfriend. She definitely though she was doing him a favor by letting him spend time in her "glorious presence" or whatever.
Was it too late to go back to when Flash and his cronies gave him swirlies in the gym bathrooms?
...It was too late, wasn't it?
September 19, 2008
Oscorp Tower
Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp, was a man neither easily excited to irrational emotions nor one to be controlled by them. He did not painstakingly build Oscorp into America's foremost pharmaceutical manufacturer because of a bleeding heart, after all.
"They've found nothing?"
At the present moment, however, he was sorely tempted to ransack his office in a fit of furious rage.
"Besides the massive hole in the warehouse floor and the broken cameras, they haven't been able to find anything regarding the thieves." His assistant Menken informed him, a subtle shine of fear appearing in his eyes for but a second. "They have sent their apologies and promised to keep searching for now, but as of the moment, they don't have any leads for us to follow."
"The Big Man apparently knows nothing either, which means that Silvermane is free from retribution... for now." Norman stated as he forced himself to calm down, his fingernails scraping the hard wood of his desk. It was a laughably obvious act of sabotage, but the identities of the saboteurs, much to his chagrin, were far less so. And the list of possible masterminds didn't make it any easier to sniff the culprit out.
Reed Richards, that arrogant and self-righteous blowhard, was immediately out of the question as he probably considered himself above such "despicable methods". Stark Industries would also have been non-suspects under Howard Stark, but now that the parasite Stane was in charge, they were not above suspicion anymore. The list only went on from there: Sebastian Shaw, Carlton Drake, Justin Hammer, and all of Roxxon's cronies, to only name a few others.
"Call in one of the exterminators the Big Man referred to us. Offer them double their usual pay for an exclusive contract with Oscorp." Norman ordered Menken, his tone brooking no argument, and Menken nodded before swiftly walking out of the office. As Menken closed the door behind him, Osborn took the moment to steady himself, smoothing over his hair and adjusting his tie.
Regardless of who had insulted him and why, Norman Osborn would collect his dues.
September 21, 2008
Manhattan, New York City
As the day turned to night, and as the the many lights of New York City began to flicker on, the creatures of the night began to prowl. Rats scurried from the sewers in search of whatever scraps they could feed on, and cats stalked said rats to feed on them. Above all these other cats, however, one particular cat was interested in much greater prizes.
A young, lithe girl with flowing white hair strutted atop the roof of one of the Big Apple's many lesser skyscrapers, her black jacket ruffling with the wind. Pushing some loose strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear, the cat burglar's eyes twinkled with greed as she eyed up her targe: a condo belonging to one of New York City's many rich couples where priceless necklaces and other riches were kept on full display. Clearly, the couple has compulsory-spending disorder; perhaps some sudden and shocking therapy could help them.
"Look out, New York City." The figure purred, a throaty chuckle following after. "There's a new kitty in town, and she wants to play."
With that, she fired her grappling hook and swung off into the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
I'm not too happy with this, but I didn't want you all to wait too long for a new update, so hopefully it's alright enough.
Also, I've got an idea for a future fic where, after the events of this fic, an older Michael gets dropped into Marvel's Spider-Man (the 2017 Spider-Man show), where he becomes a mentor to that version of Peter. I know it's generally considered to be the worst animated Spider-Man show, but I like a good challenhe. That's for the future, though.
Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few hours after the fire had been put out, and when all the firefighters, police officers, and Spider-Man had all left the scene, a tired Oscorp worker decided to unlock the warehouse one last time to see if everything was in its proper place. The moment that man walked into the warehouse and saw what was inside–or rather, what was not inside, he fainted on the spot, needing to be caught by a fellow coworker.
It made headline news the next morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 18, 2008
Parker Residence, Queens
"Good morning, Aunt May." Peter softly smiled as he walked into the kitchen, letting out a small yawn and stretching his arms as he did so. He'd lost a lot of time due to the explosion at Long Island City, but he'd fortunately made it just before curfew and before he'd have to
"Good morning, Peter." His aunt lovingly smiled back as the delicious smell of homemade blueberry pancakes wafted into his nose.
Mmm... pancakes...
Taking a seat, he quickly poured a generous amount of maple syrup on his pancakes before digging in. "Thanks for making breakfast, Aunt May." He gratefully said as he chewed on his breakfast.
"Any time, dear." She smiled back as she took a bite of her own. As the two continued to eat, however, Peter finally noticed the Daily Bugle issue on the table.
SEVEN INJURED IN EXPLOSION AT LONG ISLAND CITY DOCKS: IS IT CONNECTED TO THE OSCORP WAREHOUSE BREAK-IN?
"Wait, there was a ro-explosion?" Peter asked in confusion as he picked up the newspaper, quickly skimming over it.
"Apparently so; thankfully no one was hurt. Would you kindly pass the maple syrup?" Aunt May asked, and Peter absent-mindedly handed her the bottle of maple syrup as he continued reading, this time with a more critical gaze. The two had to be connected, he was certain of it; a large explosion happening at the same time as a robbery that happened right next to said explosion? The timing was far too suspect to be a coincidence. It would have been certainly audacious(read:utterly reckless), given how the warehouse was just a few yards away from where the explosion had taken place, but clearly fortune favored the bold that night.
As his mind then drifted to the police and firsr-rssponders, Peter sighed as he cut off another piece of pancake and ate it. Sgt. Carter had been as charming and energetic as ever, that much hadn't changed. It had hurt, however, when he noticed Cpt. Stacy being more curt and guarded than usual around him, and Lt. DeWolff's glare was even more distrustful and disdainful of him than before. He hadn't even thought that was a possibility until now. Ever since that stupid walking piece of modern art had brutally wiped out the Rivals gang, the police were even more wary of him, as if he was a rabid dog about to snap at people. And it wasn't just them; many of the firefighters and paramedics had tensed up around him, and a dockworker he had saved from the fire had literally spat at his face. For every one guy that was grateful for his help, three others seemed to hate the very ground he stood on.
Perhaps he should ask Cpt. Stacy if he was fond of Picasso... He probably deserved a gift after putting up with good old Spidey's quips for so long, after all.
"Do finish up your breakfast sooner, Peter. We wouldn't want you to be late to school, would we?" Aunt May kindly reminded him as he snapped back into reality.
Peter inwardly groaned at the reminder of the greatest bane of both aspects of his life, and he was also so not looking forward to tutoring LIz aLlaN, one of the popular girls at Midtown High and–ugh–Flash Thompson's girlfriend. She definitely though she was doing him a favor by letting him spend time in her "glorious presence" or whatever.
Was it too late to go back to when Flash and his cronies gave him swirlies in the gym bathrooms?
...It was too late, wasn't it?
September 19, 2008
Oscorp Tower
Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp, was a man neither easily excited to irrational emotions nor one to be controlled by them. He did not painstakingly build Oscorp into America's foremost pharmaceutical manufacturer because of a bleeding heart, after all.
"They've found nothing?"
At the present moment, however, he was sorely tempted to ransack his office in a fit of furious rage.
"Besides the massive hole in the warehouse floor and the broken cameras, they haven't been able to find anything regarding the thieves." His assistant Menken informed him, a subtle shine of fear appearing in his eyes for but a second. "They have sent their apologies and promised to keep searching for now, but as of the moment, they don't have any leads for us to follow."
"The Big Man apparently knows nothing either, which means that Silvermane is free from retribution... for now." Norman stated as he forced himself to calm down, his fingernails scraping the hard wood of his desk. It was a laughably obvious act of sabotage, but the identities of the saboteurs, much to his chagrin, were far less so. And the list of possible masterminds didn't make it any easier to sniff the culprit out.
Reed Richards, that arrogant and self-righteous blowhard, was immediately out of the question as he probably considered himself above such "despicable methods". Stark Industries would also have been non-suspects under Howard Stark, but now that the parasite Stane was in charge, they were not above suspicion anymore. The list only went on from there: Sebastian Shaw, Carlton Drake, Justin Hammer, and all of Roxxon's cronies, to only name a few others.
"Call in one of the exterminators the Big Man referred to us. Offer them double their usual pay for an exclusive contract with Oscorp." Norman ordered Menken, his tone brooking no argument, and Menken nodded before swiftly walking out of the office. As Menken closed the door behind him, Osborn took the moment to steady himself, smoothing over his hair and adjusting his tie.
Regardless of who had insulted him and why, Norman Osborn would collect his dues.
September 21, 2008
Manhattan, New York City
As the day turned to night, and as the the many lights of New York City began to flicker on, the creatures of the night began to prowl. Rats scurried from the sewers in search of whatever scraps they could feed on, and cats stalked said rats to feed on them. Above all these other cats, however, one particular cat was interested in much greater prizes.
A young, lithe girl with flowing white hair strutted atop the roof of one of the Big Apple's many lesser skyscrapers, her black jacket ruffling with the wind. Pushing some loose strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear, the cat burglar's eyes twinkled with greed as she eyed up her targe: a condo belonging to one of New York City's many rich couples where priceless necklaces and other riches were kept on full display. Clearly, the couple has compulsory-spending disorder; perhaps some sudden and shocking therapy could help them.
"Look out, New York City." The figure purred, a throaty chuckle following after. "There's a new kitty in town, and she wants to play."
With that, she fired her grappling hook and swung off into the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
I'm not too happy with this, but I didn't want you all to wait too long for a new update, so hopefully it's alright enough.
Also, I've got an idea for a future fic where, after the events of this fic, an older Michael gets dropped into Marvel's Spider-Man (the 2017 Spider-Man show), where he becomes a mentor to that version of Peter. I know it's generally considered to be the worst animated Spider-Man show, but I like a good challenhe. That's for the future, though.
Enjoy!
Issue 3.1: What is Love?
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Last time on Ain't No Mountain High Enough...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Look out, New York City." The figure purred, a throaty chuckle following after. "There's a new kitty in town, and she wants to play."
With that, she fired her grappling hook and swung off into the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 18, 2008
"You okay there, dude? You look like you got up on the wrong side of the bed."
"Ugghhhh..." Letting rip another groaning yawn as I stretched my arms wide over my head, I turned and flashed a confident smile at Brendan, the lovable lugnut of a jock sending me a concerned look. Our mutual acquaintance had needed to go to a washroom, so we'd had to stay and wait for her at the red panda exhibit. And let me just say thag if he wasn't Anne's boyfriend, I'd probably have snatched him up for myself. Although, me being as straight as an uncooked spaghetti noodle would probably have been a hindrance to that course of action as well. Just a tad, though.
"I'm fine, man, but thanks for asking." I reassured him as I lightly rubbed my eyes with my hoodie sleeve, the red pandas lazing about in the exhibit in front of the two of us; you know, the better version of the larger, more moronic regular pandas. You know, I do wonder how those zebra-colored balls of fluff have managed to not drive themselves into extinction already. They only eat bamboo despite being able to eat a whole coterie of other foods, they abandon the weaklings of their children despite them being endangered, they–Stop wandering thoughts and talk to Brendan already before I make myself look weird.
"Like you said, I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. And fell asleep on the other wrong side of the bed as well."
"I feel you there." Brendan replied. "You sleep, like, one angle off, and the next thing you know, you're waking up with back pain in places you didn't even know existed."
"Oh, I freaking hate when that happens." I moaned in pained agreement as one baby red panda crawled all over one of those fancy wooden climbing platforms all zoos have. "It's so annoying having to push and massage those knots out, and just when you think you're done–"
"Another one pops up?" Brendan politely interjected.
"Another one pops up." I nodded sagely.
This guy... this guy bloody gets me. We're brothers from different worlds–Wait, not, that made my previous joke about making him my boyfriend even weirder.
...
...Don't think about it, don't think about, please don't think about it, happy thoughts, happy thoughts...
"So!" I clapped my hands, desperately trying to steer the conversation, as well as my wayward thoughts, in a direction that wasn't so awkward. "How's school, Brendan? I'm a homeschooled kid, so I don't know how that stuff usually works."
"It's been good." He replied. "Since I'll be leaving high school next year, the coach wants my help in picking out a new team captain. So far, I've–"
"I'm back!" The excited blur that was Anne glomped her boyfriend in a big hug from behind, startling me slightly but not fazing Brendan in the slightest. "Sorry I took so long, guys, the line was way long."
How did she get here without me noticing? I thought to myself before smirking slightly. "And that's another point to men being superior: we can use urinals."
"Be quiet, you." Anne deadpanned as she flicked my nose, earning a manly yelp from me and a chuckle from Brendan, the utter traitor. Anne and I soon joined him in laughing, however, and we continued to talk for an amount of time I'd honestly never be able to remember.
We talked about everything: life at home, hopes for the future, annoying neighbors, lovely neighbors, favorite foods, and everything we could talk about. Anne and I did trade a few It was fun just getting away from the stress of everyday life, and seeing the joy radiating from Anne and Brendan's faces, as if it were beaming rays of the sun, I smiled widely as I thought of how much I loved this.
I paused, the outside world fading away as I thought over and chewed on that one word. I'm pretty sure the red pandas were creeped out by my sudden staring into their souls, but I didn't mind them. All I could think about was that one word.
Love.
I loved Anne like a sister and, despite having just met him today, Brendan as a brother-in-law. He was special like that. I loved Sophia and Mr. Schultz as well, though to somewhat lesser degrees. I wouldn't say I loved Adrian, but after spending some time around the old coot, I'd grown fond of his temper and irritability. I loved spending time with them, talking with them. It grounded me, made me realize that for all my power, I was still human. I would burn entire armies and nations to see them safe.
Because I loved them that much.
"You wanna go see the snow monkeys, Anne?"
And that love was dangerous; at least, it would be for the bad guys.
"Eh... I think the penguins are better."
In my opinion, the apostle Paul put it best in 1 Corinthians. If I had faith that could move mountains and knowledge that could shake the world, but did not have love, then it was nothing. If I were able to speak with the most melodic of voices in any language I wished, yet did not have love, I was but a parping trumpet.
"I mean, the monkeys are closer to us. If you want, we can go see the penguins after we see the monkeys."
And I had a lot of love.
"I guess that works. What do you think, Michael?"
I blankly nodded my assent to the idea, not noticing my friends deciding that meant we were going to leave.
Love for myself, love for my friends, and love for my city. The first was a matter of self-preservation, of not wanting to live in fear for my life. The second was because I treasured those close to me, wishing to protect those behind me. The third was for the people in general, from the street urchin to the valley girl and the humble construction worker to the overworked accountant. And I would be damned if I let that which I loved and held close to me be brought to ruin by the Big Man, Osborn, and all the vermin like them. Let them scheme and plot from their ivory towers, let them sneer at those below them; it would only make kicking out the foundation from under them all the sweeter to enjoy.
Love made men reckless like that. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
"Yo, Mike! You coming with us or what?" Anne called out to me, her voice shaking me out of my miniature monologue.
"Yeah, I'm coming!" I yelled back as I quickly rushed over to where Anne and Brendan were, hurriedly weaving through a small crowd before I lost the two.
September 20, 2008
Toomes's Warehouse
"You want to make a translator app?" Adrian drawled as he processed the idea his partner-in-crime had just suggested. "Why?"
"Not just a translator app, but I'm so glad you asked that." The Silence grinned under his mask as he adjusted his sunglasses. Standing up, the kid then began to gesticulate wildly as he paced around the warehouse. "To put it plainly, we do not have the funds to keep going as we are. Sure, we can keep salvaging junk and buying cheap equipment, but it's not sustainable in the long run and our pockets are already starting to turn up lint. So, if we want to keep up the good work, we need a legitimate and reliable source of money to fund our operations."
"Pray tell, if it's free, how are going to earn money from it?" Adrian doubtfully questioned as he crossed his arms.
"Advertising, of course!" The Silence clapped his hands. "And not just that, my justifiably concerned amigo. While the translator part is free, we can also sell courses on learning new languages. I'm perfectly fluent in French, Spanish, and American Sign Language, and we're both American, so that's four courses we can sell–Actually, on second thought, we should probably make English free. Make us seem less scummy in English-dominated nations."
Adrian sighed as the Silence. It was a good idea in theory, and he was admittedly very a little excited about the prospect of having more funds to work with. However, an app was more than just coding, it was also graphics, user friendliness, bug fixing, and other stuff that they'd need more people to help with, and that also cost money. Not to mention they'd also need lawyers if any lawsuits were brought up against them for whatever reason, and as the Silence had put it earlier, they were low on funds at the moment. All in all, it was good but overly ambitious plan.
"...And I've got some ideas on the mascot including an owl, mythological creatures, a cute little school teacher called Miss J–"
"We'd need a lot more time to hammer out the details if we're going to commit to this, Silence." Adrian suddenly interjected before the Silence could continue any more. "I like the idea, but we just don't have the time and resources to do it as of now, so let's shelve it until we can fully agree on how it'll work. In the meantime, why don't you do some freelance work and get some experience coding? You'll get money either way."
"Ughhhhhh, I hate that that's a logical and reasonable thing to do. I want to start the app now!" The Silence groaned impatiently, throwing his hands up in the air, and Adrian was once again reminded that the vigilante was still a child. After a few seconds, the Silence sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll see what I can do with that. Since I'm not needed elsewhere at the moment, can we discuss those gauntlets I suggested yesterday?"
Now that was something Adrian more keen to discuss. He grinned eagerly as he pulled out some blueprints. "With your ideas and my engineering knowledge, I'm sure I could make you these by the end of the month. I will need some more equipment and supplies to build them, however."
"As long as it's within budget, I'll be able to get it for you."
"Oh, it will be."
"Excellent..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
You know, I was initially going to just pick the next two skills Michael got so that I could write it in a certain way, but I decided to just roll it and hope it went okay. The two exact skills I wanted were gotten.
Also, just a head's up, but there will be a brief, not too long timeskip so that I can get things moving without rushing it.
Also, also, here's our usual fanfic recommendation section. This time, I bring to your attention the lovely fic that is Of Demigods and Wrackspurts by @Firewillreign, an HP/PJ crossover where Luna Lovegood is transported into the world of Percy Jackson and all that entails. Now, HP and PJ fanfics get a lot of flak that is... somewhat justifiable. However, I can assure you all that this not the case with ODaW; it is a delight to not just see the ever quirky Luna is interact with the PJ world and characters but also as witness the glorious derailing of canon.
This update is sponsored by a rope that keeps out vultures and is owned by the star of Gavin and Stacey and the Late, Late Show. It's James Corden's Condor Cordon.
Oh, wait, it seems to be have been a scam, they don't actually work.
So it's actually James Corden's Condor Cordon Con.
That cheeky bugger.
Sufficient Velocity Notes:
And with that, we're caught up with the main story over on SB !
Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Look out, New York City." The figure purred, a throaty chuckle following after. "There's a new kitty in town, and she wants to play."
With that, she fired her grappling hook and swung off into the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 18, 2008
"You okay there, dude? You look like you got up on the wrong side of the bed."
"Ugghhhh..." Letting rip another groaning yawn as I stretched my arms wide over my head, I turned and flashed a confident smile at Brendan, the lovable lugnut of a jock sending me a concerned look. Our mutual acquaintance had needed to go to a washroom, so we'd had to stay and wait for her at the red panda exhibit. And let me just say thag if he wasn't Anne's boyfriend, I'd probably have snatched him up for myself. Although, me being as straight as an uncooked spaghetti noodle would probably have been a hindrance to that course of action as well. Just a tad, though.
"I'm fine, man, but thanks for asking." I reassured him as I lightly rubbed my eyes with my hoodie sleeve, the red pandas lazing about in the exhibit in front of the two of us; you know, the better version of the larger, more moronic regular pandas. You know, I do wonder how those zebra-colored balls of fluff have managed to not drive themselves into extinction already. They only eat bamboo despite being able to eat a whole coterie of other foods, they abandon the weaklings of their children despite them being endangered, they–Stop wandering thoughts and talk to Brendan already before I make myself look weird.
"Like you said, I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. And fell asleep on the other wrong side of the bed as well."
"I feel you there." Brendan replied. "You sleep, like, one angle off, and the next thing you know, you're waking up with back pain in places you didn't even know existed."
"Oh, I freaking hate when that happens." I moaned in pained agreement as one baby red panda crawled all over one of those fancy wooden climbing platforms all zoos have. "It's so annoying having to push and massage those knots out, and just when you think you're done–"
"Another one pops up?" Brendan politely interjected.
"Another one pops up." I nodded sagely.
This guy... this guy bloody gets me. We're brothers from different worlds–Wait, not, that made my previous joke about making him my boyfriend even weirder.
...
...Don't think about it, don't think about, please don't think about it, happy thoughts, happy thoughts...
"So!" I clapped my hands, desperately trying to steer the conversation, as well as my wayward thoughts, in a direction that wasn't so awkward. "How's school, Brendan? I'm a homeschooled kid, so I don't know how that stuff usually works."
"It's been good." He replied. "Since I'll be leaving high school next year, the coach wants my help in picking out a new team captain. So far, I've–"
"I'm back!" The excited blur that was Anne glomped her boyfriend in a big hug from behind, startling me slightly but not fazing Brendan in the slightest. "Sorry I took so long, guys, the line was way long."
How did she get here without me noticing? I thought to myself before smirking slightly. "And that's another point to men being superior: we can use urinals."
"Be quiet, you." Anne deadpanned as she flicked my nose, earning a manly yelp from me and a chuckle from Brendan, the utter traitor. Anne and I soon joined him in laughing, however, and we continued to talk for an amount of time I'd honestly never be able to remember.
We talked about everything: life at home, hopes for the future, annoying neighbors, lovely neighbors, favorite foods, and everything we could talk about. Anne and I did trade a few It was fun just getting away from the stress of everyday life, and seeing the joy radiating from Anne and Brendan's faces, as if it were beaming rays of the sun, I smiled widely as I thought of how much I loved this.
I paused, the outside world fading away as I thought over and chewed on that one word. I'm pretty sure the red pandas were creeped out by my sudden staring into their souls, but I didn't mind them. All I could think about was that one word.
Love.
I loved Anne like a sister and, despite having just met him today, Brendan as a brother-in-law. He was special like that. I loved Sophia and Mr. Schultz as well, though to somewhat lesser degrees. I wouldn't say I loved Adrian, but after spending some time around the old coot, I'd grown fond of his temper and irritability. I loved spending time with them, talking with them. It grounded me, made me realize that for all my power, I was still human. I would burn entire armies and nations to see them safe.
Because I loved them that much.
"You wanna go see the snow monkeys, Anne?"
And that love was dangerous; at least, it would be for the bad guys.
"Eh... I think the penguins are better."
In my opinion, the apostle Paul put it best in 1 Corinthians. If I had faith that could move mountains and knowledge that could shake the world, but did not have love, then it was nothing. If I were able to speak with the most melodic of voices in any language I wished, yet did not have love, I was but a parping trumpet.
"I mean, the monkeys are closer to us. If you want, we can go see the penguins after we see the monkeys."
And I had a lot of love.
"I guess that works. What do you think, Michael?"
I blankly nodded my assent to the idea, not noticing my friends deciding that meant we were going to leave.
Love for myself, love for my friends, and love for my city. The first was a matter of self-preservation, of not wanting to live in fear for my life. The second was because I treasured those close to me, wishing to protect those behind me. The third was for the people in general, from the street urchin to the valley girl and the humble construction worker to the overworked accountant. And I would be damned if I let that which I loved and held close to me be brought to ruin by the Big Man, Osborn, and all the vermin like them. Let them scheme and plot from their ivory towers, let them sneer at those below them; it would only make kicking out the foundation from under them all the sweeter to enjoy.
Love made men reckless like that. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
"Yo, Mike! You coming with us or what?" Anne called out to me, her voice shaking me out of my miniature monologue.
"Yeah, I'm coming!" I yelled back as I quickly rushed over to where Anne and Brendan were, hurriedly weaving through a small crowd before I lost the two.
September 20, 2008
Toomes's Warehouse
"You want to make a translator app?" Adrian drawled as he processed the idea his partner-in-crime had just suggested. "Why?"
"Not just a translator app, but I'm so glad you asked that." The Silence grinned under his mask as he adjusted his sunglasses. Standing up, the kid then began to gesticulate wildly as he paced around the warehouse. "To put it plainly, we do not have the funds to keep going as we are. Sure, we can keep salvaging junk and buying cheap equipment, but it's not sustainable in the long run and our pockets are already starting to turn up lint. So, if we want to keep up the good work, we need a legitimate and reliable source of money to fund our operations."
"Pray tell, if it's free, how are going to earn money from it?" Adrian doubtfully questioned as he crossed his arms.
"Advertising, of course!" The Silence clapped his hands. "And not just that, my justifiably concerned amigo. While the translator part is free, we can also sell courses on learning new languages. I'm perfectly fluent in French, Spanish, and American Sign Language, and we're both American, so that's four courses we can sell–Actually, on second thought, we should probably make English free. Make us seem less scummy in English-dominated nations."
Adrian sighed as the Silence. It was a good idea in theory, and he was admittedly very a little excited about the prospect of having more funds to work with. However, an app was more than just coding, it was also graphics, user friendliness, bug fixing, and other stuff that they'd need more people to help with, and that also cost money. Not to mention they'd also need lawyers if any lawsuits were brought up against them for whatever reason, and as the Silence had put it earlier, they were low on funds at the moment. All in all, it was good but overly ambitious plan.
"...And I've got some ideas on the mascot including an owl, mythological creatures, a cute little school teacher called Miss J–"
"We'd need a lot more time to hammer out the details if we're going to commit to this, Silence." Adrian suddenly interjected before the Silence could continue any more. "I like the idea, but we just don't have the time and resources to do it as of now, so let's shelve it until we can fully agree on how it'll work. In the meantime, why don't you do some freelance work and get some experience coding? You'll get money either way."
"Ughhhhhh, I hate that that's a logical and reasonable thing to do. I want to start the app now!" The Silence groaned impatiently, throwing his hands up in the air, and Adrian was once again reminded that the vigilante was still a child. After a few seconds, the Silence sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll see what I can do with that. Since I'm not needed elsewhere at the moment, can we discuss those gauntlets I suggested yesterday?"
Now that was something Adrian more keen to discuss. He grinned eagerly as he pulled out some blueprints. "With your ideas and my engineering knowledge, I'm sure I could make you these by the end of the month. I will need some more equipment and supplies to build them, however."
"As long as it's within budget, I'll be able to get it for you."
"Oh, it will be."
"Excellent..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
You know, I was initially going to just pick the next two skills Michael got so that I could write it in a certain way, but I decided to just roll it and hope it went okay. The two exact skills I wanted were gotten.
Audio Engineering
Coding
Coding
Also, just a head's up, but there will be a brief, not too long timeskip so that I can get things moving without rushing it.
Also, also, here's our usual fanfic recommendation section. This time, I bring to your attention the lovely fic that is Of Demigods and Wrackspurts by @Firewillreign, an HP/PJ crossover where Luna Lovegood is transported into the world of Percy Jackson and all that entails. Now, HP and PJ fanfics get a lot of flak that is... somewhat justifiable. However, I can assure you all that this not the case with ODaW; it is a delight to not just see the ever quirky Luna is interact with the PJ world and characters but also as witness the glorious derailing of canon.
This update is sponsored by a rope that keeps out vultures and is owned by the star of Gavin and Stacey and the Late, Late Show. It's James Corden's Condor Cordon.
Oh, wait, it seems to be have been a scam, they don't actually work.
So it's actually James Corden's Condor Cordon Con.
That cheeky bugger.
Sufficient Velocity Notes:
And with that, we're caught up with the main story over on SB !
Enjoy!
Last edited:
Issue 3.2: Baby, Don't Hurt Me...
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Last Time on Ain't No Mountain High Enough...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"As long as it's within budget, I'll be able to get it for you."
"Oh, it will be."
"Excellent..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 30, 2008
Throggs Neck, The Bronx
The cold night air nipped at Freddy's skin like thousands of annoying mosquitos as he adjusted his turtleneck sweater to cover more of his neck, a lit cigarette in his other hand. Letting out a few short coughs, he sniffled a little as he put the cigarette back into his mouth. Besides him, Charlie, and Luca, the outside of the warehouse was completely devoid of company and noise besides some stupid strays, the occasional rat, and a bird now and then. He choked a little on the cigarette smoke.
"Why the hell are we even here?" He groused to no one in particular, more than a little annoyed by the fact that he was once again ordered to patrol outside a building instead of inside it. The guys inside didn't know just how lucky they were to have some form of heating.
"To guard the warehouse, ya' idjit, what else?" The high-pitched, nasal voice of Charlie butted in, the ugly, one-eyed bastard smirking as he cockily messed around with a glock, aiming it every which way with absolutely no regard for gun safety. One of these days, Freddy would be able to laugh at Charlie's corpse after the moron shot himself in the head by accident, and he would cackle until his stomach ruptured from laughing so hard. Sadly, tonight wasn't looking like that time.
"I know that, stupid, I'm asking why we have to be here." Freddy growled back as he flicked Charlie on the nose. "We've already got two other guys inside the damn building, what the hell are we needed for? Kicking rats?"
At that, Charlie sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes darted all around, seemingly searching for a ghost or something. Once the guy was sure, no one else was around, he lowered his voice to a whisper and said, "Don't tell anyone I told ya' this, Freddy, but... the bosses are gettin' scared. Real scared."
Freddy's eyes widened. "What ya' mean?"
"I overheard it from the Rapier himself. Ever since those freaks Spider-Man and Silence showed up and started beating the everliving shit out of fellas like us, Silvermane's started uppin' security all over the Bronx, here included. Apparently, Miss Sable's even advising him to hire mercenaries to help snuff out the vigilantes before they can get too troublesome."
Freddy blinked. Then he blinked again, his brain refusing to process what Charlie had just told him. The Manfredis were stubborn bastards proud of doing things their way with their men; they'd sooner hang themselves than ask for outside help. To think that they were that scared...
"What the hell are ya' mooks muttering about now?" A deep, rumbling voice bellowed from behind Freddy. Startled, he and Charlie turned to see the giant of a man that was Luca Mother-Freaking Pappalardo stare down at them with an unimpressed glare, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes piercing their souls.
"W-we were just talking about our lives, Luca, no need to g-get your britches in such a t-twist." Charlie nervously stuttered in reply, and Freddy frantically nodded his head in agreement.
"Y-yeah, what he s-said–"
"Just quit your yapping already, you two." The giant grumbled, and the two quickly zipped their mouths shut. "We're being paid to stand around and be threatening, not gossip and giggle like little girls. If I catch you two–"
Before Luca could finish speaking, however, a brick suddenly soared from out of nowhere and smashed into his head, rubble and dust flying everywhere as Luca stumbled into the warehouse beside them. The giant gasped for breath as he leaned against the wall for support, a shaky hand reaching for his swiftly brusing cheek. Charlie let out a startled yelp as Freddy, the cigaretta falling out of his mouth, pulled out his pistol and aimed toward the alleyway the brick had come from. With how dark it was that night and the moon's shine dimmer than usual, Freddy couldn't see even a silhouette of anyone potentially in it.
"Show yourself, cazzo!" He yelled as Luca, quickly recovering from the shock of a brick smashing into his face, aimed his gun at the alley alongside Charlie, a bloody gash having formed in his left cheek. For what seemed like an eternity, all was silent.
Then...
Whoosh.
Another brick shot out of the alley toward Luca, its aim also true as it smashed into Luca's forehead. This time, the giant slumped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, no doubt dreaming about sheep and fences. Freddy cursed out loud as he opened fire, the shots violently echoing out as the bullets disappeared into the dark void. There was no sound, however, besides the sounds of hard rocks being chipped. There were none of the telltale sobs or screams indicating that someone had just been shot.
"Get the hell out here, you morons, we got a rat to smoke out!" Charlie yelled at the warehouse as he also opened fire, and soon enough, the three mooks in the warehouse stumbled outside, firing off a few shots of their own.
"Mikey, Charlie, follow me!" Freddy ordered as he reloaded his pistol, checking twice to make sure the magazine was in properly. "Moe, Benny! Watch our backs."
Upon his signal, Mikey and Charlie tentatively, very hesitantly went of him into the alleyway, Mikey grabbing and turning on a flashlight. Freddy kept a tight grip on his gun, all too ready to make the bastard inside it eat lead. After a few seconds, however, a very confused Mikey yelled out, "There ain't no one here! They're gone!"
What? A befuddled Freddy thought as he raced into the alleyway, yanking the flashlight out of Mikey's hands and searching himself. Yet, he found nothing as well. Not a trace of blood, no nothing to indicate that anyone had been there in the first place; only damaged bullets and whatever trash and dirt one would normally find in an NYC alleyway were present.
"What the hell?" Charlie breathed out, and Freddy couldn't help but agree. Where in the world was the dirty son of a–?
SMACK
CRACK
Whirling around at the sudden noises, Freddy's stomach dropped to his shoes, and his breath hitched as he saw Moe and Benny hit the ground, theur bodies all crumpled like pieces of scrap paper. A lone plastic bag crawled across the ground as a low breeze began to blow. Mikey paled as if he had seen a ghost, and Charlie fearfully muttered the Angelus as he made the sign of the cross.
"W-we're screwed, m-man!" Mikey feafrully lamented, his gun shaking in his grip as his eyes darted here, there, and everywhere. "I-it's the Silence, it's g-gotta be him!"
"Shut up, Mikey!" Freddy yelled half-heartedly, his adrenaline-addled mind racing with horrible thoughts as he slowly approached where Moe and Benny were lying on the ground. From what he could see, their eyes had rolled into the insides of their heads, and–A brick clattered to a halt in front of Freddy, which caused him, Mikey, Charlie to whip around and fire into the alleyway.
Only as he fired was Freddy, till holding the flashlight, able to recognize the Silence just standing there, leering at them as if a wolf eyeing up a flock of helpless chickens. And the bullets... they did nothing. Most missed, but the one that didn't simply flattened upon impact before falling to the ground with a tiny rattle.
Crap crap crap crap–*Click*
That's when their guns ran out of ammo, and Freddy cursed as he hit his gun in a futile attempt to conjure up more bullets somehow. Seeing their panic, the Silence slowly stalked forward, taunting them to even think of attacking it.
"AAAARRGGGHHH!!!"
Charlie took the bait and, screaming his lungs out, rushed at the monster, raising his pistol over his head. He swung it at the Silence's head, aiming to bludgeon it, only for the monster to easily grab his hand mid-air and slam Charlie into the nearby wall with a sudden elbow to the stomach. As Charlie sucked in a sharp breath, trying not to scream, the Silence slammed his arm into Charlie's chest, pinning him to it, and lifting him slightly above the ground. Mikey, having gathered whatever little courage he had, let out a vicious war cry(more like a wet whimpe) before charging at the Silence, tossing his gun to the side as he wound his fist back in preparation for a punch.
CRACK
"GAAAGHH!" Only for Mikey to promptly break his hand on the monster's skin, and he staggered back in pain, clasping his hand as he fought back tears of pain. Seeing this, the unblinking Silence ripped the gun out of Charlie's hand and struck Mikey on the cheek with it, sending him crashing to the ground, before smashing it into the Charlie's face, who was struggling to get out of the pin. His nose promptly erupted like a blood volcano, and the poor bastard's eyes widened with shock for a second before they lolled into his head. As Charlie's body slid down the wall, the Silence stared at him for a second before, without looking back, chucking the pistol at Mikey, who was promptly knocked into unconsciousness as well. It then turned its gaze toward Freddy, tilting its head innocently as a few drops of blood stained its face.
It was then that Freddy's brain finally put two and two together and realized that he was still standing in place, knees knocking and breathing quickening, instead of running away. So, he turned around and, his legs shaking, began to bravely run away. Run from this creature, this unfeeling monster who'd break his everything if it got its hands on him. He'd only been running for a second or two, however, a hand clamped onto his shoulder and spun him around, bringing him face to face with a... spray canister–?
PZZZTTTT
"GGAREGARGEGHH!!" Freddy cried out in utter, unbearable agony and staggered around as he dropped his pistol, his fingers clawing at his face as it burned with the almost-sizzling sting of pepper spray; it was if someone had splashed liquid sun into his eyes. "It burns, it burns–!!"
A coarse, concrete hand yanked him by his hair, and before he could process what was happening–
S•CRUNCH•OUS!
WHEN IT CRUNCHES!!
THAT'S WHY I LOOOOOOVEEE... NESTLE CRUNCH!!!
CRUNCH
With extreme prejudice, I slammed the last goon's head into my knee, his face loudly cracking like a saltine cracker upon impact, and he swiftly slumped to the ground unconscious and bleeding. His face was, to put it mildly, as if two avocados has made sweet hate-love to each other. Two avocados in an unhealthy, toxic relationship where they could only receive a tiny hint of catharsis through mindless–Dang it, I'm getting sidetracked here. Kneeling down, I pushed the mook onto his back and pressed two fingers to his neck, attempting to see if he still had a–Oh, wait, right, I can't feel pulses when I'm a scary statue.
Well, this is awkward... Just gotta give it a few seconds...
I quickly detransformed and pressed my now fleshy fingers to his neck, almost immediately finding the pulse. Satisfied that I hadn't killed him by accident, I transformed back and, forcing the door to the warehouse open, began to check around for anything useful. All the tech and devices, despite how few there were, were immediately stuffed into my backpack. The gauntlets I wanted had to be perfect or at least have minimal flaws since every wire and piece of metal needed to be used to its most optimal, so anything I could get would help. I'd found two smoke grenades and three flashbangs, which was useful since I'd already used up all my grenades at this point. The drugs and guns I left for obvious reasons, and the... disturbingly illicit magazines and toys–what the utter hell were these guys getting up to in this place?!–I didn't touch for even more obvious reasons. The duffelbags of money I left mostly untouched, but I did grab two of them to drop off at Adrian's place. Why, you who exist only in my head might ask? Because I had plans for the future; very sneaky plans for a sneaky future, hee hee hee...
Carrying the duffelbag out of the warehouse, I giddily giggled to myself in my head. I'd gotten better at this whole scary vigilante thing, and watching the mooks pee themselves in terror before beating them up gave me no small amount of satisfaction. I was starting to understand why so many people wanted to be Batman: this was fun! In particular, you could hear the lament and fear of the Bronx's crooks from a mile away if you strained your ear enough. Fear me, you lowly crooks! MUAHAHAHAHAH!!!
But enough of my nonsense. It was time to get out of this joint. Adjusting my hold on the duffelbag, I blurred my way out of there. First, Adrian's tinker lab. Next, my couch.
October 1, 2008
Michael's Apartment, Brooklyn
I awoke on my couch to the sun warmly shining onto my face, a yawn escaping my lips as my bleary eyes slowly opened. Rubbing them gently, I pushed myself up into a sitting position and took in a long breath. It smelled like apartment, just the way I liked it. Clean apartment, mind you; I'm no savage.
Another beautiful morning, another day in my life. I smiled to myself as I stood up, the blanket I had been sleeping with falling to the ground. I'd pick it up later. I had about forty minutes or so before I needed to get to work, so I'd exercise for around ten minutes before making my breakfast–
Tap tap.
Definitely not letting out a little girl yelp, I turned to see who the hell was knocking on my window at twenty past six in the mornin–Ohmygosh, it's a kitty cat!
"Mreow!"
The ginger kitty greeted me with a gentle meow as it politely tapped on the window, asking me to let it in. As if I wouldn't have done so regardless if it had asked.
"Well, hello there, little fella." I grinned as I walked over to the window and opened it. "How are you doing this fine, swell day?"
The oddly-familiar ginger cat meowed happily as it climbed into my apartment, surprisingly well-behaved for a stray cat. Strangely friendly as well as it immediately begged for me to shower it with affection. It was if I'd met the kitty before... Wait...
Thanks for being so kind, little friend. But I need to go take care of some baddies right now. Stay safe, alright?
It was the same cat, I was sure of it! Did that mean...
"You've got a friend, don't you?" I asked, my best serious face on as I kneeled down and looked the cat directly in the face." A very special one. A human friend who's telling you to help me when I'm the Silence. Right?"
...
...
The cat just stared back at me for a few seconds before I facepalmed in realization. Of course it didn't understand me, I wasn't Sophia. As the cat rubbed its head against my hand and I blankly gave it all the pets it deserved, which was all of them, one thought raced through my mind: How on earth was I going to meet with Sophia and turn her into an ally without exposing either the fact that I was Michael Henry Harbor or the fact I knew her civilian identity beforehand? Secret identities were utter garbage to deal with.
"You're enjoying my pain, aren't you?" I sarcastically asked the kitty–You know what, I'm calling her Merida from now on–who simply purred. Typical cats.
And that's when I got a beautifully simple idea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
I may have gotten a little carried away because this update's a small freaking monster and a half in terms of the sheer amount of words I've written. Compsred to the other chapters in this story, of course. It's been a good while since I've written an actual fight scene, so I do hope you enjoy Michael dishing out permanent mental trauma and brain damage to fools in organized crime.
Fanfic recommendation time! This update, allow me to present to you all A Song of Sun and Stars by @OrangePanther01, a Superman and ASoIaF where the Man of Steel crash lands in the Reach where he's adopted by a peasant farmer couple. It's brand spanking new at only two chapters so far, but the chapters are delights to read. Harlon and Elyna are already delightful parents to their recently-adopted son, and the reader is immediately hooked into caring for them. I don't want to spoil too much, so I highly suggest you hurry up and read the fic already. Go, go, go!
Also, also, the Spider-Noir omake stuff is going to be posted on Sundays now instead of Fridays. Just a head's up for y'all.
This update is sponsored by a hellbound Ford Transit, previously owned by a Belgian action star, that's had a genetic copy made of its mandible. It's Jean-Claude Van Damme's damned clone-jawed van.
Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"As long as it's within budget, I'll be able to get it for you."
"Oh, it will be."
"Excellent..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 30, 2008
Throggs Neck, The Bronx
The cold night air nipped at Freddy's skin like thousands of annoying mosquitos as he adjusted his turtleneck sweater to cover more of his neck, a lit cigarette in his other hand. Letting out a few short coughs, he sniffled a little as he put the cigarette back into his mouth. Besides him, Charlie, and Luca, the outside of the warehouse was completely devoid of company and noise besides some stupid strays, the occasional rat, and a bird now and then. He choked a little on the cigarette smoke.
"Why the hell are we even here?" He groused to no one in particular, more than a little annoyed by the fact that he was once again ordered to patrol outside a building instead of inside it. The guys inside didn't know just how lucky they were to have some form of heating.
"To guard the warehouse, ya' idjit, what else?" The high-pitched, nasal voice of Charlie butted in, the ugly, one-eyed bastard smirking as he cockily messed around with a glock, aiming it every which way with absolutely no regard for gun safety. One of these days, Freddy would be able to laugh at Charlie's corpse after the moron shot himself in the head by accident, and he would cackle until his stomach ruptured from laughing so hard. Sadly, tonight wasn't looking like that time.
"I know that, stupid, I'm asking why we have to be here." Freddy growled back as he flicked Charlie on the nose. "We've already got two other guys inside the damn building, what the hell are we needed for? Kicking rats?"
At that, Charlie sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes darted all around, seemingly searching for a ghost or something. Once the guy was sure, no one else was around, he lowered his voice to a whisper and said, "Don't tell anyone I told ya' this, Freddy, but... the bosses are gettin' scared. Real scared."
Freddy's eyes widened. "What ya' mean?"
"I overheard it from the Rapier himself. Ever since those freaks Spider-Man and Silence showed up and started beating the everliving shit out of fellas like us, Silvermane's started uppin' security all over the Bronx, here included. Apparently, Miss Sable's even advising him to hire mercenaries to help snuff out the vigilantes before they can get too troublesome."
Freddy blinked. Then he blinked again, his brain refusing to process what Charlie had just told him. The Manfredis were stubborn bastards proud of doing things their way with their men; they'd sooner hang themselves than ask for outside help. To think that they were that scared...
"What the hell are ya' mooks muttering about now?" A deep, rumbling voice bellowed from behind Freddy. Startled, he and Charlie turned to see the giant of a man that was Luca Mother-Freaking Pappalardo stare down at them with an unimpressed glare, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes piercing their souls.
"W-we were just talking about our lives, Luca, no need to g-get your britches in such a t-twist." Charlie nervously stuttered in reply, and Freddy frantically nodded his head in agreement.
"Y-yeah, what he s-said–"
"Just quit your yapping already, you two." The giant grumbled, and the two quickly zipped their mouths shut. "We're being paid to stand around and be threatening, not gossip and giggle like little girls. If I catch you two–"
Before Luca could finish speaking, however, a brick suddenly soared from out of nowhere and smashed into his head, rubble and dust flying everywhere as Luca stumbled into the warehouse beside them. The giant gasped for breath as he leaned against the wall for support, a shaky hand reaching for his swiftly brusing cheek. Charlie let out a startled yelp as Freddy, the cigaretta falling out of his mouth, pulled out his pistol and aimed toward the alleyway the brick had come from. With how dark it was that night and the moon's shine dimmer than usual, Freddy couldn't see even a silhouette of anyone potentially in it.
"Show yourself, cazzo!" He yelled as Luca, quickly recovering from the shock of a brick smashing into his face, aimed his gun at the alley alongside Charlie, a bloody gash having formed in his left cheek. For what seemed like an eternity, all was silent.
Then...
Whoosh.
Another brick shot out of the alley toward Luca, its aim also true as it smashed into Luca's forehead. This time, the giant slumped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, no doubt dreaming about sheep and fences. Freddy cursed out loud as he opened fire, the shots violently echoing out as the bullets disappeared into the dark void. There was no sound, however, besides the sounds of hard rocks being chipped. There were none of the telltale sobs or screams indicating that someone had just been shot.
"Get the hell out here, you morons, we got a rat to smoke out!" Charlie yelled at the warehouse as he also opened fire, and soon enough, the three mooks in the warehouse stumbled outside, firing off a few shots of their own.
"Mikey, Charlie, follow me!" Freddy ordered as he reloaded his pistol, checking twice to make sure the magazine was in properly. "Moe, Benny! Watch our backs."
Upon his signal, Mikey and Charlie tentatively, very hesitantly went of him into the alleyway, Mikey grabbing and turning on a flashlight. Freddy kept a tight grip on his gun, all too ready to make the bastard inside it eat lead. After a few seconds, however, a very confused Mikey yelled out, "There ain't no one here! They're gone!"
What? A befuddled Freddy thought as he raced into the alleyway, yanking the flashlight out of Mikey's hands and searching himself. Yet, he found nothing as well. Not a trace of blood, no nothing to indicate that anyone had been there in the first place; only damaged bullets and whatever trash and dirt one would normally find in an NYC alleyway were present.
"What the hell?" Charlie breathed out, and Freddy couldn't help but agree. Where in the world was the dirty son of a–?
SMACK
CRACK
Whirling around at the sudden noises, Freddy's stomach dropped to his shoes, and his breath hitched as he saw Moe and Benny hit the ground, theur bodies all crumpled like pieces of scrap paper. A lone plastic bag crawled across the ground as a low breeze began to blow. Mikey paled as if he had seen a ghost, and Charlie fearfully muttered the Angelus as he made the sign of the cross.
"W-we're screwed, m-man!" Mikey feafrully lamented, his gun shaking in his grip as his eyes darted here, there, and everywhere. "I-it's the Silence, it's g-gotta be him!"
"Shut up, Mikey!" Freddy yelled half-heartedly, his adrenaline-addled mind racing with horrible thoughts as he slowly approached where Moe and Benny were lying on the ground. From what he could see, their eyes had rolled into the insides of their heads, and–A brick clattered to a halt in front of Freddy, which caused him, Mikey, Charlie to whip around and fire into the alleyway.
Only as he fired was Freddy, till holding the flashlight, able to recognize the Silence just standing there, leering at them as if a wolf eyeing up a flock of helpless chickens. And the bullets... they did nothing. Most missed, but the one that didn't simply flattened upon impact before falling to the ground with a tiny rattle.
Crap crap crap crap–*Click*
That's when their guns ran out of ammo, and Freddy cursed as he hit his gun in a futile attempt to conjure up more bullets somehow. Seeing their panic, the Silence slowly stalked forward, taunting them to even think of attacking it.
"AAAARRGGGHHH!!!"
Charlie took the bait and, screaming his lungs out, rushed at the monster, raising his pistol over his head. He swung it at the Silence's head, aiming to bludgeon it, only for the monster to easily grab his hand mid-air and slam Charlie into the nearby wall with a sudden elbow to the stomach. As Charlie sucked in a sharp breath, trying not to scream, the Silence slammed his arm into Charlie's chest, pinning him to it, and lifting him slightly above the ground. Mikey, having gathered whatever little courage he had, let out a vicious war cry(more like a wet whimpe) before charging at the Silence, tossing his gun to the side as he wound his fist back in preparation for a punch.
CRACK
"GAAAGHH!" Only for Mikey to promptly break his hand on the monster's skin, and he staggered back in pain, clasping his hand as he fought back tears of pain. Seeing this, the unblinking Silence ripped the gun out of Charlie's hand and struck Mikey on the cheek with it, sending him crashing to the ground, before smashing it into the Charlie's face, who was struggling to get out of the pin. His nose promptly erupted like a blood volcano, and the poor bastard's eyes widened with shock for a second before they lolled into his head. As Charlie's body slid down the wall, the Silence stared at him for a second before, without looking back, chucking the pistol at Mikey, who was promptly knocked into unconsciousness as well. It then turned its gaze toward Freddy, tilting its head innocently as a few drops of blood stained its face.
It was then that Freddy's brain finally put two and two together and realized that he was still standing in place, knees knocking and breathing quickening, instead of running away. So, he turned around and, his legs shaking, began to bravely run away. Run from this creature, this unfeeling monster who'd break his everything if it got its hands on him. He'd only been running for a second or two, however, a hand clamped onto his shoulder and spun him around, bringing him face to face with a... spray canister–?
PZZZTTTT
"GGAREGARGEGHH!!" Freddy cried out in utter, unbearable agony and staggered around as he dropped his pistol, his fingers clawing at his face as it burned with the almost-sizzling sting of pepper spray; it was if someone had splashed liquid sun into his eyes. "It burns, it burns–!!"
A coarse, concrete hand yanked him by his hair, and before he could process what was happening–
S•CRUNCH•OUS!
WHEN IT CRUNCHES!!
THAT'S WHY I LOOOOOOVEEE... NESTLE CRUNCH!!!
CRUNCH
With extreme prejudice, I slammed the last goon's head into my knee, his face loudly cracking like a saltine cracker upon impact, and he swiftly slumped to the ground unconscious and bleeding. His face was, to put it mildly, as if two avocados has made sweet hate-love to each other. Two avocados in an unhealthy, toxic relationship where they could only receive a tiny hint of catharsis through mindless–Dang it, I'm getting sidetracked here. Kneeling down, I pushed the mook onto his back and pressed two fingers to his neck, attempting to see if he still had a–Oh, wait, right, I can't feel pulses when I'm a scary statue.
Well, this is awkward... Just gotta give it a few seconds...
I quickly detransformed and pressed my now fleshy fingers to his neck, almost immediately finding the pulse. Satisfied that I hadn't killed him by accident, I transformed back and, forcing the door to the warehouse open, began to check around for anything useful. All the tech and devices, despite how few there were, were immediately stuffed into my backpack. The gauntlets I wanted had to be perfect or at least have minimal flaws since every wire and piece of metal needed to be used to its most optimal, so anything I could get would help. I'd found two smoke grenades and three flashbangs, which was useful since I'd already used up all my grenades at this point. The drugs and guns I left for obvious reasons, and the... disturbingly illicit magazines and toys–what the utter hell were these guys getting up to in this place?!–I didn't touch for even more obvious reasons. The duffelbags of money I left mostly untouched, but I did grab two of them to drop off at Adrian's place. Why, you who exist only in my head might ask? Because I had plans for the future; very sneaky plans for a sneaky future, hee hee hee...
Carrying the duffelbag out of the warehouse, I giddily giggled to myself in my head. I'd gotten better at this whole scary vigilante thing, and watching the mooks pee themselves in terror before beating them up gave me no small amount of satisfaction. I was starting to understand why so many people wanted to be Batman: this was fun! In particular, you could hear the lament and fear of the Bronx's crooks from a mile away if you strained your ear enough. Fear me, you lowly crooks! MUAHAHAHAHAH!!!
But enough of my nonsense. It was time to get out of this joint. Adjusting my hold on the duffelbag, I blurred my way out of there. First, Adrian's tinker lab. Next, my couch.
October 1, 2008
Michael's Apartment, Brooklyn
I awoke on my couch to the sun warmly shining onto my face, a yawn escaping my lips as my bleary eyes slowly opened. Rubbing them gently, I pushed myself up into a sitting position and took in a long breath. It smelled like apartment, just the way I liked it. Clean apartment, mind you; I'm no savage.
Another beautiful morning, another day in my life. I smiled to myself as I stood up, the blanket I had been sleeping with falling to the ground. I'd pick it up later. I had about forty minutes or so before I needed to get to work, so I'd exercise for around ten minutes before making my breakfast–
Tap tap.
Definitely not letting out a little girl yelp, I turned to see who the hell was knocking on my window at twenty past six in the mornin–Ohmygosh, it's a kitty cat!
"Mreow!"
The ginger kitty greeted me with a gentle meow as it politely tapped on the window, asking me to let it in. As if I wouldn't have done so regardless if it had asked.
"Well, hello there, little fella." I grinned as I walked over to the window and opened it. "How are you doing this fine, swell day?"
The oddly-familiar ginger cat meowed happily as it climbed into my apartment, surprisingly well-behaved for a stray cat. Strangely friendly as well as it immediately begged for me to shower it with affection. It was if I'd met the kitty before... Wait...
Thanks for being so kind, little friend. But I need to go take care of some baddies right now. Stay safe, alright?
It was the same cat, I was sure of it! Did that mean...
"You've got a friend, don't you?" I asked, my best serious face on as I kneeled down and looked the cat directly in the face." A very special one. A human friend who's telling you to help me when I'm the Silence. Right?"
...
...
The cat just stared back at me for a few seconds before I facepalmed in realization. Of course it didn't understand me, I wasn't Sophia. As the cat rubbed its head against my hand and I blankly gave it all the pets it deserved, which was all of them, one thought raced through my mind: How on earth was I going to meet with Sophia and turn her into an ally without exposing either the fact that I was Michael Henry Harbor or the fact I knew her civilian identity beforehand? Secret identities were utter garbage to deal with.
"You're enjoying my pain, aren't you?" I sarcastically asked the kitty–You know what, I'm calling her Merida from now on–who simply purred. Typical cats.
And that's when I got a beautifully simple idea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
I may have gotten a little carried away because this update's a small freaking monster and a half in terms of the sheer amount of words I've written. Compsred to the other chapters in this story, of course. It's been a good while since I've written an actual fight scene, so I do hope you enjoy Michael dishing out permanent mental trauma and brain damage to fools in organized crime.
Fanfic recommendation time! This update, allow me to present to you all A Song of Sun and Stars by @OrangePanther01, a Superman and ASoIaF where the Man of Steel crash lands in the Reach where he's adopted by a peasant farmer couple. It's brand spanking new at only two chapters so far, but the chapters are delights to read. Harlon and Elyna are already delightful parents to their recently-adopted son, and the reader is immediately hooked into caring for them. I don't want to spoil too much, so I highly suggest you hurry up and read the fic already. Go, go, go!
Also, also, the Spider-Noir omake stuff is going to be posted on Sundays now instead of Fridays. Just a head's up for y'all.
This update is sponsored by a hellbound Ford Transit, previously owned by a Belgian action star, that's had a genetic copy made of its mandible. It's Jean-Claude Van Damme's damned clone-jawed van.
Enjoy!
Last edited:
Orion Ultor
Everything’s Got A Price.
- Location
- East Coast
- Pronouns
- He/Him
"I told them muthafuckas, they gotta do it Fer the Vine, but did dey listen? No..."
Issue 3.2: The Art of Communicating With and Through Cats
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Last Time on Ain't No Mountain High Enough...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You're enjoying my pain, aren't you?" I sarcastically asked the kitty–You know what, I'm calling her Merida from now on–who simply purred. Typical cats.
And that's when I got a beautifully simple idea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
October 1, 2008
Michael's Apartment, Brooklyn
"Wait here." I gently ordered Merida, giving her one last pat on the head before standing up and sprinting over to my bedroom, aka the room in my apartment that I used far less than I'd expected to going into this whole "being in a Marvel universe" thing. Don't get me wrong, I love my bed, I really do, but the couch is just so soft and so inviting! Tired, sleepy, and about to pass out from exhaustion, I never could resist its alluring aura after a long night of vigilantism!
...Why am I making this sound like I'm NTR'ing my bed with a bloody sofa? How is that a sentence I took the time to mentally process and think about? What is wrong with me? Is there enough brain bleach to wipe this from my head? I... really needed to get back to what I was doing before Merida got bored and decided to leave my apartment to find fun elsewhere.
Entering my bedroom, I stepped over some stuffed animals sprawled on the floor and made my way to the cabinet that held all the random junk I'd gotten or found that I kept just in case I could find a use for them in the near future. This was that near future. I opened the top drawer and, scrounging around, grabbed a baggy pouch: you know, those medieval-type things where people hide pocket dust or sand in order to make a quick escape. Grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil off the top of my desk, I rushed back to the living room, where Merida was thankfully still patitntly waiting for me.
Sitting in the ground, I tore the paper in half and, taking one part, began scribbling down a note for Sophia. As I did so, I began to realize that this was an idea that, while brilliant on paper(pun intended), fell apart once two seconds of scrutiny were placed upon it. What if someone other than Sophia opened the pouch? What if aaid someone attempted to ambush me at the meeting spot? What if Merida somehow died or got injured before she could meet with Sophia? What if it took too long for Sophia to read the notes? Did I have any plans literally one percent better than this one?
...
...Maybe I should just head to Sophia's place and give her the paper secretly. Just cut all the nonsense and reveal myself to her.
"What do you think, Merida?" I turned to Merida, who purred as if she agreed to me. Someone should really invent something to help us communicate with cats. Maybe teach them to raise flags with their tails that say what they want at the moment, using those plastic ring thingies you find in milk and orange cartons. Yeah, that could get a good market–And I've gotten distracted again. Lovely.
Nodding somewhat gratefully for her definitely sage feedback–as gratefully as I could to a cat that only spoke Kittenese, at least–I then politely nudged her toward my window. I still needed to get ready for work, after all, and as much as I loved cute animals, I'd rather not let other, less friendly animals into my apartment. After a few seconds, I'd managed to escort the stubborn Merida out of my apartment, and though she pouted for a second, she quickly ran off when she saw some nearby birds. I then closed the window behind her, making sure to lock it. Well, that was that.
Turning to check the nearby clock, I let out a slightly panicked groan when I saw the time. I'd somehow managed to waste fifteen minutes on the whole pouch thing, which meant thatI had twenty-five minutes and counting to get ready! Which meant that I needed to sacrifice either my breakfast or my exercise if I wanted to get to work on time.
...Sacrificing exercise it was, then. I could always do it later, anyways. It wasn't like I still suffered from serial procrastination this time around despite being amazing at time management, no, siree...
October 4, 2008
Montgomery SDA Church, Brooklyn
"Thank you again for helping us serve potluck today, sweetie." Mrs. Crocker thanked me for about the third time that afternoon as I scooped a generous serving of her amazing cheesy tortellini onto my plate, the little old lady's sweet smile showing little teeth and lots of love. Miss Jeanette should have been the one helping in my place, but a sudden cold had meant that they'd needed a replacement server. Not like I minded, of course.
"It was no trouble, Mrs. Crocker." I grinned back as I grabbed myself a spoon, fork, and napkin before walking over to where Pastor Dance and his wife Lorna were. Pointing to an empty seat, I politely asked, "May I sit here, pastor?"
"Of course, Michael!" Pastor Dance jovially responded as he wiped his lips with a napkin, his eyes sparkling with an energy more fit for a teenager than the fifty-seven year old man. "How have you been this week, my boy?"
"I've been doing fine, thank you for asking." I answered back as I sat down, placing my napkin and plate down before taking my first bite. Homemade food was always the best, though it'd never top my mom's cooking. If only she were here... "How about you and your family, pastor?"
"We've been doing good as well, Michael." Lorna said on behalf of her currently eating husband. "Our son Kieran just accepted an offer to work in England as a heart surgeon. We're taking him and his wife to the airport this Wednesday."
"Give him my best regards." I replied with a smile as I took another bite, a contented noise escaping my mouth. "The food is even better than usual this Sabbath."
"Indeed it is, and I'm sure others would be able to enjoy more of it if my husband weren't such a pig." Lorna remarked as she gently elbowed her husband's side, though it was clear that she was being affectionate with him. "After all, Scripture warned of us indulging in gluttony."
"Indeed." Pastor Dance chuckled good-naturedly as he guiltily wiped some crumbs off his lips with a napkin. "I shall have to atone for that sin."
"Perhaps I should do so as well." I jokingly replied. "I feel like a human vacuum at times, and even then, I never seem to be full." The three of us chuckled at the joke.
"By the way, Michael, I have something interesting to tell you regarding that." Pastor Dance spoke up after taking another bite, a sudden seriousness mixing in with his jovial demeanor.
Oh? I thought, one of my eyebrows raised inquisitively.
"Remember when you told me you wished that the church could do more to help the homeless in NYC?" Pastor Dance asked me quietly, and I nodded in response. If it hadn't been for Anne's help finding a job, I'd probably be one of those poor people on the streets myself. "I believe God has given us an opportunity to reach out to those unfortunate souls."
"Really?" I leaned forward, interest no doubt radiating from me as bright as the sun.
"I cannot say much at the moment since nothing has been settled, but the church has just been approached with an offer to join a charity initiative across the entirety of New York City."
"That's... ambitious." Really ambitious, to say the least. "Have the church board discussed it yet?"
"We're discussing it this afternoon, but that's all I'm allowed to say on the matter. I just wanted to tell you ahead of time in case you want to join if it does happen." And that was all that was said on the matter.
I knew better than to pry into the situation, so I quickly switched topics. "I really liked your sermon about David and Goliath. It really resonated with me, especially with the struggles I was recently faced with."
"That's wonderful to hear, Michael. Did you enjoy anything in particular?"
"I really liked that point you made about how the Goliaths in our life only seem like Goliaths if we don't trust in God to be with us..."
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Author's Notes:
This is just a short chapter taking off from where the last one ended, giving a short glimpes into Michael's life when he's not beating crooks into fifty new shades of black and blue. It's also been killing me writing this chapter, so I just wanted to get it done with. I don't really like it.
Fanfic recommendation section: A Crooked Man: Evolution by @Stranger, an SI fanfic into X-Men Evolution where our protagonist Johan Magnussen is dumped into this new universe with world-changing powers... quite literally, in fact, with his reality-altering powers. He's basically the X-Men's answer to Scarlet Witch in this story, and it's been recently updated as well.
This update is sponsored by a malnourished small lizard, the pet of Lucifer, who is drowning in a foul-odoured stationary water basin. It's a sinking skinny sin king's skink in a stinky sink.
This one's actually an original from me this time and not stolen from Tom Scott. I'm very proud of it.
Enjoy!
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"You're enjoying my pain, aren't you?" I sarcastically asked the kitty–You know what, I'm calling her Merida from now on–who simply purred. Typical cats.
And that's when I got a beautifully simple idea.
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October 1, 2008
Michael's Apartment, Brooklyn
"Wait here." I gently ordered Merida, giving her one last pat on the head before standing up and sprinting over to my bedroom, aka the room in my apartment that I used far less than I'd expected to going into this whole "being in a Marvel universe" thing. Don't get me wrong, I love my bed, I really do, but the couch is just so soft and so inviting! Tired, sleepy, and about to pass out from exhaustion, I never could resist its alluring aura after a long night of vigilantism!
...Why am I making this sound like I'm NTR'ing my bed with a bloody sofa? How is that a sentence I took the time to mentally process and think about? What is wrong with me? Is there enough brain bleach to wipe this from my head? I... really needed to get back to what I was doing before Merida got bored and decided to leave my apartment to find fun elsewhere.
Entering my bedroom, I stepped over some stuffed animals sprawled on the floor and made my way to the cabinet that held all the random junk I'd gotten or found that I kept just in case I could find a use for them in the near future. This was that near future. I opened the top drawer and, scrounging around, grabbed a baggy pouch: you know, those medieval-type things where people hide pocket dust or sand in order to make a quick escape. Grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil off the top of my desk, I rushed back to the living room, where Merida was thankfully still patitntly waiting for me.
Sitting in the ground, I tore the paper in half and, taking one part, began scribbling down a note for Sophia. As I did so, I began to realize that this was an idea that, while brilliant on paper(pun intended), fell apart once two seconds of scrutiny were placed upon it. What if someone other than Sophia opened the pouch? What if aaid someone attempted to ambush me at the meeting spot? What if Merida somehow died or got injured before she could meet with Sophia? What if it took too long for Sophia to read the notes? Did I have any plans literally one percent better than this one?
...
...Maybe I should just head to Sophia's place and give her the paper secretly. Just cut all the nonsense and reveal myself to her.
"What do you think, Merida?" I turned to Merida, who purred as if she agreed to me. Someone should really invent something to help us communicate with cats. Maybe teach them to raise flags with their tails that say what they want at the moment, using those plastic ring thingies you find in milk and orange cartons. Yeah, that could get a good market–And I've gotten distracted again. Lovely.
Nodding somewhat gratefully for her definitely sage feedback–as gratefully as I could to a cat that only spoke Kittenese, at least–I then politely nudged her toward my window. I still needed to get ready for work, after all, and as much as I loved cute animals, I'd rather not let other, less friendly animals into my apartment. After a few seconds, I'd managed to escort the stubborn Merida out of my apartment, and though she pouted for a second, she quickly ran off when she saw some nearby birds. I then closed the window behind her, making sure to lock it. Well, that was that.
Turning to check the nearby clock, I let out a slightly panicked groan when I saw the time. I'd somehow managed to waste fifteen minutes on the whole pouch thing, which meant thatI had twenty-five minutes and counting to get ready! Which meant that I needed to sacrifice either my breakfast or my exercise if I wanted to get to work on time.
...Sacrificing exercise it was, then. I could always do it later, anyways. It wasn't like I still suffered from serial procrastination this time around despite being amazing at time management, no, siree...
October 4, 2008
Montgomery SDA Church, Brooklyn
"Thank you again for helping us serve potluck today, sweetie." Mrs. Crocker thanked me for about the third time that afternoon as I scooped a generous serving of her amazing cheesy tortellini onto my plate, the little old lady's sweet smile showing little teeth and lots of love. Miss Jeanette should have been the one helping in my place, but a sudden cold had meant that they'd needed a replacement server. Not like I minded, of course.
"It was no trouble, Mrs. Crocker." I grinned back as I grabbed myself a spoon, fork, and napkin before walking over to where Pastor Dance and his wife Lorna were. Pointing to an empty seat, I politely asked, "May I sit here, pastor?"
"Of course, Michael!" Pastor Dance jovially responded as he wiped his lips with a napkin, his eyes sparkling with an energy more fit for a teenager than the fifty-seven year old man. "How have you been this week, my boy?"
"I've been doing fine, thank you for asking." I answered back as I sat down, placing my napkin and plate down before taking my first bite. Homemade food was always the best, though it'd never top my mom's cooking. If only she were here... "How about you and your family, pastor?"
"We've been doing good as well, Michael." Lorna said on behalf of her currently eating husband. "Our son Kieran just accepted an offer to work in England as a heart surgeon. We're taking him and his wife to the airport this Wednesday."
"Give him my best regards." I replied with a smile as I took another bite, a contented noise escaping my mouth. "The food is even better than usual this Sabbath."
"Indeed it is, and I'm sure others would be able to enjoy more of it if my husband weren't such a pig." Lorna remarked as she gently elbowed her husband's side, though it was clear that she was being affectionate with him. "After all, Scripture warned of us indulging in gluttony."
"Indeed." Pastor Dance chuckled good-naturedly as he guiltily wiped some crumbs off his lips with a napkin. "I shall have to atone for that sin."
"Perhaps I should do so as well." I jokingly replied. "I feel like a human vacuum at times, and even then, I never seem to be full." The three of us chuckled at the joke.
"By the way, Michael, I have something interesting to tell you regarding that." Pastor Dance spoke up after taking another bite, a sudden seriousness mixing in with his jovial demeanor.
Oh? I thought, one of my eyebrows raised inquisitively.
"Remember when you told me you wished that the church could do more to help the homeless in NYC?" Pastor Dance asked me quietly, and I nodded in response. If it hadn't been for Anne's help finding a job, I'd probably be one of those poor people on the streets myself. "I believe God has given us an opportunity to reach out to those unfortunate souls."
"Really?" I leaned forward, interest no doubt radiating from me as bright as the sun.
"I cannot say much at the moment since nothing has been settled, but the church has just been approached with an offer to join a charity initiative across the entirety of New York City."
"That's... ambitious." Really ambitious, to say the least. "Have the church board discussed it yet?"
"We're discussing it this afternoon, but that's all I'm allowed to say on the matter. I just wanted to tell you ahead of time in case you want to join if it does happen." And that was all that was said on the matter.
I knew better than to pry into the situation, so I quickly switched topics. "I really liked your sermon about David and Goliath. It really resonated with me, especially with the struggles I was recently faced with."
"That's wonderful to hear, Michael. Did you enjoy anything in particular?"
"I really liked that point you made about how the Goliaths in our life only seem like Goliaths if we don't trust in God to be with us..."
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Author's Notes:
This is just a short chapter taking off from where the last one ended, giving a short glimpes into Michael's life when he's not beating crooks into fifty new shades of black and blue. It's also been killing me writing this chapter, so I just wanted to get it done with. I don't really like it.
Fanfic recommendation section: A Crooked Man: Evolution by @Stranger, an SI fanfic into X-Men Evolution where our protagonist Johan Magnussen is dumped into this new universe with world-changing powers... quite literally, in fact, with his reality-altering powers. He's basically the X-Men's answer to Scarlet Witch in this story, and it's been recently updated as well.
This update is sponsored by a malnourished small lizard, the pet of Lucifer, who is drowning in a foul-odoured stationary water basin. It's a sinking skinny sin king's skink in a stinky sink.
This one's actually an original from me this time and not stolen from Tom Scott. I'm very proud of it.
Enjoy!
Merida will be back anyway and you haven't seen the last of her, buster.