Not in Person
Once Known as The Nobody
- Location
- A place
Sounds like a complex thing, but I'd read it.
EVA01's Unitversal Idea and Concept Posting Bin
- Thread starter EvaUnit01
- Start date
- Idea
EvaUnit01
Kept you waiting, huh?
Most of the world building stuff was backstory, the kind of thing that mostly get exposited during Hero History class or something.
EvaUnit01
Kept you waiting, huh?
Currently in the process of plotting and outlining for a Super Robot Wars fic which will heavily feature Mobile Fighter G Gundam, the first two seasons of Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha, and Vision of Escaflowne, among other shows.
If I can get far enough through the research stage, I may have prose for it in a month.
If I can get far enough through the research stage, I may have prose for it in a month.
Super Robot Wars Epoch prelude/teaser
EvaUnit01
Kept you waiting, huh?
In Future Century year 60, humanity is edging toward annihilation.
The Thirteenth Gundam Fight, for which the Earth's nations have had high expectations, has been suspended indefinitely.
A mysterious alien race called the Radam have occupied Earth's Orbital Ring, isolating the planet's surface from any spaceborne aid from it's ruling colonies. From their perch, the Radam have decimated much of Earth's surface. The Confederation of Earthsphere Militias, formed long ago as a response to Kaiju and other multinational threats, is fighting valiantly.
In response to the Radam invasion, the Jupiter-based Zanscare Empire has declared war on Earth's behalf and launched its army of Mobile Suits to battle...
The Thirteenth Gundam Fight, for which the Earth's nations have had high expectations, has been suspended indefinitely.
A mysterious alien race called the Radam have occupied Earth's Orbital Ring, isolating the planet's surface from any spaceborne aid from it's ruling colonies. From their perch, the Radam have decimated much of Earth's surface. The Confederation of Earthsphere Militias, formed long ago as a response to Kaiju and other multinational threats, is fighting valiantly.
In response to the Radam invasion, the Jupiter-based Zanscare Empire has declared war on Earth's behalf and launched its army of Mobile Suits to battle...
Not in Person
Once Known as The Nobody
- Location
- A place
I recognize at least two of those key words. Is it the same one where Nanoha is supposed to appear? When or how, if so?
EvaUnit01
Kept you waiting, huh?
So. Buso Renkin.
Why does it matter? Because it (along with Claymore) was pretty much the very first manga I ever got into completely blind AND from the first chapter (as opposed to the US version of Monthly Shonen Jump, which would have 3-5 chapters at a time of other stuff, but already partway through it), and one of my first manga period.
That was back in... I forget now if it was high school or middle school, but regardless it was a long damn time ago, and I only just today came up with a fanfic idea for it that's actually halfway decent.
Namely, protagonists Kazuki and Tokiko get isekai'd into the world of Fullmetal Alchemist.... and it's mostly just exploring the differences between the two universes' respective forms of "alchemy".
When Homunculi come up...
Edward (mildly horrified, thinking of Greed/Lust/etc.): "Wait, so you're telling me that where you come from, some punk in his basement can make Homunculi just like that, and even turn himself into one?!"
Kazuki (not seeing why Ed's AS disturbed as he is): "Yeah, but that's what the Buso Renkin, our weapons created from the Kakugane, are for. As Alchemist Warriors, we use this power to defeat the homunculi and protect people."
Ed (intrigued): "Uh-huh, sure, but moving back to this Chouno guy... you say he turned HIMSELF into a Homunculus, and even kept his mind and personality? As an Alchemist myself, I have to admit I'm curious to know how he managed human transmutation like that, since the soul makes it a real pain to figure out."
Tokiko (nonplussed): "You're asking about the soul? The existence of something like that hasn't been proven by science or by alchemy."
(scared Alphonse noises)
Tokiko (impaled by GUILT): "A-although it also hasn't been a subject of much research in our world, so I'm afraid I'd have to defer to your brother as the expert on that matter."
Why does it matter? Because it (along with Claymore) was pretty much the very first manga I ever got into completely blind AND from the first chapter (as opposed to the US version of Monthly Shonen Jump, which would have 3-5 chapters at a time of other stuff, but already partway through it), and one of my first manga period.
That was back in... I forget now if it was high school or middle school, but regardless it was a long damn time ago, and I only just today came up with a fanfic idea for it that's actually halfway decent.
Namely, protagonists Kazuki and Tokiko get isekai'd into the world of Fullmetal Alchemist.... and it's mostly just exploring the differences between the two universes' respective forms of "alchemy".
When Homunculi come up...
Edward (mildly horrified, thinking of Greed/Lust/etc.): "Wait, so you're telling me that where you come from, some punk in his basement can make Homunculi just like that, and even turn himself into one?!"
Kazuki (not seeing why Ed's AS disturbed as he is): "Yeah, but that's what the Buso Renkin, our weapons created from the Kakugane, are for. As Alchemist Warriors, we use this power to defeat the homunculi and protect people."
Ed (intrigued): "Uh-huh, sure, but moving back to this Chouno guy... you say he turned HIMSELF into a Homunculus, and even kept his mind and personality? As an Alchemist myself, I have to admit I'm curious to know how he managed human transmutation like that, since the soul makes it a real pain to figure out."
Tokiko (nonplussed): "You're asking about the soul? The existence of something like that hasn't been proven by science or by alchemy."
(scared Alphonse noises)
Tokiko (impaled by GUILT): "A-although it also hasn't been a subject of much research in our world, so I'm afraid I'd have to defer to your brother as the expert on that matter."
Not in Person
Once Known as The Nobody
- Location
- A place
I've seen approximately slightly more than one episode of FMA and read about 20 or less chapters of Busou Renkin. I'd still read a fanfic like that, just because it sounds amusing.
Thozmp
Gets my kicks above the waistline, Sunshine.
Always wanted to explore such an idea. Of course my goto for a different version of alchemy was Secret of Evermore; which had what I tend to headcanon as reaction alchemy, where the end product was a reaction rather then an object. Just imagine the reactions: "And by mixing ash and water together, I form a cloud over the target to rain acid down on them!"
"What."
EvaUnit01
Kept you waiting, huh?
Don't know anything about that, but the difference between FMA Alchemy and BR Alchemy is like the difference between Real Robot genre and Super Robot genre.
BR Homunculi are Monsters of the Week; FMA Homunculi are more like one-or-two-per-season Hero Killers.
Thozmp
Gets my kicks above the waistline, Sunshine.
Well, Secret of Evermore was a Super Nintendo game, styled like Secret of Mana. It's magic system, "Alchemy" involved mixing two ingredients together to essentially cast a spell. Wax + Oil = Flash (fireball-type attack); Limestone + Wax = Crush (A giant fist falls from the sky to crush your enemies); Water + Vinegar = Sting (conjure up a bunch of wasps and bees to sting your enemies). Like you said earlier, just the clash between the differences in Alchemy would be amusing to ponder.
Metal Wolf Chaos vs Gundam SEED Destiny proposal
EvaUnit01
Kept you waiting, huh?
I've been playing Metal Wolf Chaos XD after getting my hands on it, and I want to cross it over with Gundam's Cosmic Era timeline somehow.
My main idea so far is for Gundam SEED Destiny, and has Richard Hawk, the game's villain and Vice President of the United States, is secretly a member of LOGOS, and after Djibril screws up the nuclear attack against the PLANTs, Hawk assassinates him and takes over LOGOS himself, pretty much like what Scirocco did to Jamitov in Zeta Gundam.
Deposed POTUS Michael Wilson Metal Wolf then, once he finishes taking America back from his treacherous VP, goes on to liberate the rest of the Earth sphere in conjunction with the Archangel crew.
The remainder of Destiny from then on should, at the very least, be more entertaining.
For those unfamiliar with Metal Wolf Chaos, this is the game's opening video when you first start it up:
If not necessarily in this exact form, I'm probably going to use MWC in a Super Robot War fic somewhere down the line, although not in the one I'm currently allegedly working on.
My main idea so far is for Gundam SEED Destiny, and has Richard Hawk, the game's villain and Vice President of the United States, is secretly a member of LOGOS, and after Djibril screws up the nuclear attack against the PLANTs, Hawk assassinates him and takes over LOGOS himself, pretty much like what Scirocco did to Jamitov in Zeta Gundam.
The remainder of Destiny from then on should, at the very least, be more entertaining.
For those unfamiliar with Metal Wolf Chaos, this is the game's opening video when you first start it up:
If not necessarily in this exact form, I'm probably going to use MWC in a Super Robot War fic somewhere down the line, although not in the one I'm currently allegedly working on.
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Ah Metal Wolf Chaos the most American game in the world.
It was made in Japan.
It was made in Japan.
Mobseka SI x Battletech crossover prologue
EvaUnit01
Kept you waiting, huh?
Holy shit, I forgot I had this thread.
Anyway. I recently had two fic ideas for Trapped in a Dating Sim: The World of Otome Games is Tough For Mobs.
But I wasn't sure I had enough material for either one to do them separately, so I smashed the two ideas together into a single fic and made a prologue for it. Have "Hail Caesar", an SI as Prince Julius combined with a Battletech crossover.
Anyway. I recently had two fic ideas for Trapped in a Dating Sim: The World of Otome Games is Tough For Mobs.
But I wasn't sure I had enough material for either one to do them separately, so I smashed the two ideas together into a single fic and made a prologue for it. Have "Hail Caesar", an SI as Prince Julius combined with a Battletech crossover.
SLAP!
Marie fou Fanlan watched with satisfaction as the first and most important of her capture targets reeled from where she'd struck him, heart pounding with excitement inside as she waited for the voice-over that would confirm her first event flag.
Say it, you gorgeous himbo Prince! 'You hit me! Don't you know who I am?!' Feed me my next line, and become the first step on my path to completing a glorious harem of pretty boys!
The blue-haired young man raised a hand to touch his stinging cheek, eyes full of indignation as he opened his mouth --
"...I'm not sure what I did to provoke that, but other people might not be so tolerant if they see you running around and raising your hand against royalty. As long as you promise not to do it again, I'll let you off with a warning this time."
Marie very nearly spat out the next line of dialogue from the scene on autopilot – 'I've no idea! Don't you know any manners?!' -- before her brain processed what had actually been said to her.
It… it can't be! The event flag FAILED?! What the fuck kind of bullshit game-breaking glitch is this supposed to be?!
"I can't hang around here forever, Miss, and I don't think you can either. After all, we both have classes to attend to…"
Realizing that time was still continuing forward in spite of her confusion, the tiny blonde hurriedly picked her jaw back up off the ground and practically vomited out an impromptu apology. "Of… of course, Your Highness! I have no idea what came over me, I'm so sorry! It'll never happen again!"
The Prince, Julius Rapha Holfort, stared down at her with eyes full of exasperation and some clear contempt… before he nodded and stepped around her. "Please see that it doesn't. Have a fine rest of your day."
While Marie accepted her dismissal and ran off with as much grace as her panic would allow, Julius absently worked his jaw. "Well… well well well well well well well then," he murmured to himself. "Hopefully that's the last I'll have to see of that little vermin."
Never thought I'd be isekai'd into a Prince of all people, but damn if that wasn't some dangerous timing. Hell of a bitchslap on that one… still, at least I didn't wake up after she'd already gotten her hooks into this guy and gaslit him into a glorified slave…
In etiquette class, Julius studiously listened to the wizened old gentleman teaching the class as he explained the basic fundamentals of hosting tea parties for women. When Leon fou Bartfort, a boorish backwoods baronet, was called up to the front for clearly failing to pay attention, Julius in turn drew confused whispers from the students around him when his focus intensified further.
"I can't imagine what you think you need to take notes on this of all subjects for," whispered Greg Fou Seberg, a talented athlete and fighter and one of the Prince's entourage. "I mean, you're the freaking Prince of the country!"
"Maybe that's why I need to set a positive example for others to follow," Julius distractedly muttered. "Because people are always going to be watching me whether I like it or not, and if I'm caught lacking news would spread like wildfire."
Greg didn't argue the point, but did favor the Prince with a concerned look. "...I guess you're not wrong, but you seem… different all of a sudden. Are you alright?"
For an instant, Julius's writing hand stilled. "...I don't know," he eventually replied. "Maybe it's a slow-burning reaction to the completely different mood here compared to what I'm used to at the palace."
At the front of the class, Bartfort broke down in tears of what seemed oddly like joy as he struggled not to hug the teacher to death, abruptly calling him 'Master' to the confusion of the onlooking students.
"What's that weirdo's deal?"
Unseen by all thanks to the commotion, a small grin bloomed on the Prince's face. "I wonder."
After class, Julius and Greg met back up with a pair of their other comrades – Brad Fou Field, a magician with flowing purple hair, and two steps ahead of him was Jilk Fia Marmoria, the Prince's very own bodyguard and right-hand man.
Cascading emerald locks practically dancing through the air, Jilk shook his head in exasperation. "Honestly, Your Highness, I can't imagine what the administration was thinking when they broke our schedules apart. If something might have happened to you–"
"Then in the absolute worst case scenario I would still have had Greg to assist me in my hour of need," Julius replied. "And that on the assumption of not being able to assist myself. Your concern is felt and appreciated, Jilk, but I don't need you to fret over me like you're my mother."
Damn it! Mylene's one of the best women in the show outside of the main pair, and of all the situations I could possibly reincarnate into, it just had to be one where she's my mother!
Jilk bowed his head, as Brad grinned at him behind his back. "I shall strive to do better, Your Highness."
"So where's Chris at?" Greg asked.
"That bookworm's in the library," Brad said. "To nobody's surprise."
Julius abruptly paused mid-step, eyes wide. Hang on. Mylene might be Julius's mother – but she's not MY mother! Maybe the odds aren't exactly zero after all!
"...is something the matter, Your Highness?"
"Just... thinking, Brad."
Greg sniggered, and a huge grin broke out on his face when all present turned to question him. "Hey, you two dig this: – the Prince was actually taking notes when the old guy was talking about tea parties! Can you believe it?"
"Your Highness, why in the heavens would you bother? We may have all come to this Academy to get married, but there's no reason that you of all people should need to put any effort into that!"
"In case you forgot about when we showed up this morning," Brad said with a laugh, "the girls here are throwing each other overboard for you. The best of the best will surely sort themselves out in the course of competition."
And this brain-dead tomfoolery is exactly why Marie snookered the lot of you into her con in canon, Julius thought but didn't say. Y'all are welcome for that, by the way.
Before he could entirely decide what he would say, however, a number of female voices became audible further down the hallway. With but a moment's inspection, Julius noted that a certain curvaceous blonde with smoldering red eyes was at the center of the pack and hadn't seemed to have noticed his group yet.
Speaking of the main pair…
"Funny thing about that," he replied with a lick of his lips. "I need to ask you three for a favor: distract my fiancee's followers so I can have a few minutes alone."
"...Your Highness," Jilk asked with a concerned frown, "are you quite alright? Just on the airship ride this morning, you said that you found her to be an irritating hanger-on and were grateful for the chance to meet other girls here."
Then canon Julius either has absolutely garbage taste or else he really is every bit as shallow as he ever accused that amazing, almost perfect woman of being!
But then, Julius couldn't exactly explain to his closest confidants that he was an entirely different person from the young man they'd known hours before. "Jilk… have you considered the possibility that that's the exact reason I want to talk with her alone, in private, without any of our parents or their retainers snooping around? What better chance am I likely to have at sorting out this trifling matter quietly, and kill any chance of things blowing up into a scandal?"
From the look on his face, Jilk had very obviously not considered that possibility, and he seemed incredibly impressed with it. "Your wisdom shines as brightly as ever, Your Highness! Very well, we shall distract Lady Redgrave's retainers with our very lives!"
"...this isn't a suicide mission," Julius flatly drawled. "All I'm asking you to do is go up and invite them to a tea party or something while I circle around the courtyard and approach the target from behind."
Jilk, Brad, and Greg all gave heartfelt salutes that failed to instill Julius with confidence.
And of course the one who isn't here just had to be the one with a brain… well, whatever. Marie shouldn't be getting any more funny ideas after I scared her off earlier, so these idiots should be fine.
While three twits went to do as their Prince had asked of them, Julius wasted no time in darting out of sight and through the courtyard.
Okay, I've been able to bullshit my way through basically everything so far – and from what I remember, the show suggested that Julius and Angelica never or hardly ever actually interacted much before the Academy. I just need to stay cool and keep trying to be properly regal for a while longer, and then I can build my own road to ditching this idiot's persona.
When a chorus of excited girlish squeals pierced the air, Julius knew that his window to strike had opened. After a furtive climb back into the hallway through an open window, the Prince who wasn't actually a Prince quickly straightened himself out and made a beeline for a faintly befuddled Angelica Rapha Redgrave while her retainers were distracted by a trio of exceedingly handsome rich boys.
"A moment of your time, my lady?"
Angelica visibly jumped at the unexpected whisper, but thankfully held her silence well enough when she turned and saw her fiancee beckoning her with a nod. What could His Highness possibly want with me that he wouldn't be able to say in front of our followers?
Nonetheless, she found it agreeable that he was approaching her at all – it made for an especially welcome change in contrast to the earlier morning, when she had made a few subtle attempts to approach her betrothed only to watch him take another path at each opportunity. I feared he had some cause to avoid me… could it perhaps just be that he's shy?
How adorable it would be, if true.
Stepping around a corner to meet the Prince out of view from their respective entourages, Angelica crossed her arms under her breasts and offered a tentative smile. "I had been hoping we might have a chance to speak, Your Highness. If there's some way I can help you, it would be a delight and an honor."
"Well to start with," the Prince began, "Your Highness feels rather stiff and impersonal. When we don't need to keep up appearances, could you please simply use my name?"
Angelica's heart almost leapt into her throat, bringing a surge of heat to her face with it. He's prepared to go on a first-name basis so quickly?! I wasn't prepared for this!
What was the word for this? Intimidating? Exciting?
Thrilling would do.
"Of, of course, Yo– Julius. It's truly a pleasure! And in such circumstances as this, I… my friends and family call me Angie," she miraculously said with something remarkably close to a straight face. "I would be honored to count you among them."
"I'd quite like to," Julius replied, and Angie's heart soared to heretofore unimagined heights.
"...but first I'd like for us to have a more thorough conversation before I accept such an honor, for fear that I might prove unworthy of it," he concluded.
...what?
"Your… Julius, I don't believe I understand."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Julius explained, "I feel as though the circumstances of our engagement may have... potentially raised some false perceptions of each other. We barely even know each other; rather, we know what we've heard about each other. My hope, Angelica, was that we could correct the matter soon – that we could get to know each other properly."
He declined to call me Angie… he's behaving as though he wants to, but also almost as though he's afraid to?
"...Julius," Angelica slowly asked with a furrowed brow. "Am I to understand that – no," she said with a shake of her head, "I beg your forgiveness. I was much too bold to even think it–"
The Prince's hand came exceedingly close to falling on Angelica's shoulder, before quickly withdrawing back to his own side. "Whatever's on your mind, please say it plainly. I doubt there's much you can say of substance that would truly offend me."
"It sounds as though… you're concerned that learning about what you're really like will be a disappointment for me."
The smile that met her question wasn't the charming, easygoing one that Prince Julius was known for. No, it was an awkward grin like that of a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and wasn't wholly sorry about it.
Within seconds, Angelica realized she might be the first person to have ever seen it.
"Everyone said you were clever," Julius chuckled. "They were right."
Angelica paused, unsure of what response was expected of her. Should she play it off? Reassure the Prince that his worries were unfounded in spite of the possibility that, perhaps, they might not be? The abrupt situation she found herself in was so completely unlike anything she'd been prepared for during her time at court and in the palace that...
That it couldn't be anything less than the entire point; that Julius must have been attempting to reinforce that they weren't in the Palace. That the Academy wasn't the court.
That even if Julius was the Crown Prince, at least nominally he wasn't inherently better or different than any other student on campus.
Julius hadn't approached her as the Crown Prince, and barely even as her fiancee. He'd set aside those social masks to speak with her as... merely himself.
I'm confident he wants me to do the same… to answer him not as my father's daughter or as the fiancee by an arranged marriage, but as just myself…
But who even was that?
For once, an unexpectedly and thankfully simple question.
"To every extent I was able," she anxiously began, "I tried to learn everything I could about you. Not because you were the Crown Prince, but because I, myself, liked what I was shown and I wanted more. You're always on my mind; even if our parents decided our engagement, they didn't decide the way I feel!"
Dimly, Angie was aware she must have been raising her voice. Part of her even wanted to cry, less from any sorrow or joy in particular but rather as a sheer release of emotion she hadn't even fully realized she'd been holding back for years.
"I frankly don't care if you think it's premature or petty of me to say this, but I'm going to make something clear: I love you. I love you."
When Julius opened his mouth to speak, clearly intending to object that she couldn't love someone she didn't know, Angie reached out and squeezed his hand as a distraction. "I don't love the image of the Crown Prince, and I'm not counting the days until your coronation with the intent of taking power at your side as the next Queen. I've lived my life preparing for those things and what they entail, yes, but the status and power aren't things in life that drive me. I love you. Julius. Not the heir to the throne, but the son of a loving and empathetic woman I spent two years learning from and whom I became dear friends with. And I want to support you."
"Angelica, I–"
"If you're going to tell me to my face what's obvious," she continued, "that there's considerably more to you as a person than what the rest of the world has been allowed to know – then what else can I be, other than grateful that you're willing to let me glimpse the truth? Even if everything I think I know about you is nothing more than a paper-thin dream, then... I'll just wake up and face the reality of who you really are!"
"You can't possibly know that the real me is someone you'd still be able to care so much about--"
"It's not about knowing, it's about faith."
Of all reactions Angie might have expected, a sneer had to have ranked close to the bottom of the list. "That's some considerable faith you've got in my mother, there. For all you know, maybe I take more after my father."
"That's absurd, the fact we're having this discussion means you respect my feelings entirely too much to have taken meaningful influence from him."
It took a full three seconds of staring at each other before Angie realized she'd spoken so harshly of the King out loud.
It took the Academy's warning bell to break through Angelica's shock enough to unloosen her voice. "Your Hi--"
A gentle hand on her cheek smothered her panicked apology in its crib. "I still think you're being reckless and perhaps naive… but I think I like this side of you much more than what you show everyone else. I'd like to continue this at the end of the week, if you don't mind – over tea, perhaps?"
Angie swallowed, suddenly finding herself cold and hot and dry and not all over. "I… I can't wait."
Four months earlier...
"H… holy shit, I can barely believe I survived that…!"
Dazedly untangling himself from the bushes he'd landed in, Leon fou Bartfort lit up with an awed grin when he realized he'd landed on the secret floating island with a much-deteriorated ancient multi-story research building. "I found it! That stupidly expensive premium cheat item! Now all I have to do is get inside and survive the patrolling killer robots long enough to claim it!"
Which, despite being far more trouble than he'd normally have gone to, beat the hell out of his alternative choice of limping back home and accepting an arranged marriage to an ugly old hag with more flab than face who clearly planned on sending him to die in some border war to provide her with survivor's pension.
NOPE! Fuck that, I'm gonna get myself a cheat item, use it to breeze through some dungeons for easy money, and buy my way to freedom!
"Not like I have any other way off of this rock anyway," he muttered, "since my airship was destroyed getting me here. At least I came prepared to win…"
Sneaking his way into the facility through careful observation of the robot guards and occasionally shutting the odd one down by exploiting their vulnerability to electricity with magic bullets. "It's so weird… even though some things have been different, the way this path completely matches the one I took in that stupid otome game makes it hard to believe it's not the same world. Nevermind so much of the other stupid crap I've seen that lines up with it..."
A clear case in point when Leon found a bench on which two skeletons were sitting; one dressed presumably as a male, and one presumably as a female but missing its skull. "These uniforms are in a bit better condition than the lab coats and stuff they were wearing in the game," Leon noted. "They're a totally different style, too…"
After a brief moment of silence for the dead, he quickly checked the bodies for a security access card and was relieved to find another element of the game that remained as expected. "The more things change, the more they stay the same… is this what that saying's about?"
It's still weird to see the alphabet from my old life make a cameo in this new world, when nobody else I've ever seen or heard of uses it… and what even happened to this place, anyway? How the heck does a society advanced enough to build anime-tier starships get annihilated and replaced by this fantasy otome crap?
The more Leon thought about it as he took the security access card from the corpse, the more a solemn and oppressive chill crept into the air. "It's not like I'm gonna use this to be a tyrant or to smash up people's lives just for the fun of it," he said aloud, though whether to himself or to the dead he wasn't entirely certain. "I'm just doing what I have to for my own freedom."
Briskly turning his back on the pair of cadavers, Leon shook his head with a sigh. "Get a hold of yourself man, this game doesn't have anything like ghosts in it. The dead are just dead."
And so he made to leave the ancient break room, the resting dead watching his every step until the door closed behind him.
After another several minutes of spelunking his way through the facility, Leon found the hangar – and in it, a massive stark white starship over a kilometer long, with the name SLS Luxion emblazoned on its side. Next to the ship's name was a logo of a four-pointed star laid across another diagonal star as if to make a stylized compass, with the North- and East-facing points extended far beyond any of the others.
"It has the same label, but… but this doesn't look anything at all like the ship that was in the game! And what's that logo for?!"
Where the starship of the otome game had looked sleek and angular, almost like a gigantic fighter of some kind, the behemoth before Leon now was far more narrow and blocky in its design, with primary engines at the rear and a variety of weapons systems mounted at various points along its hull and at the front.
There's no question it's a starship, Leon realized with a whistle, but it's so unexpectedly retro…!
"This whole place place might be overgrown with vegetation, but the ship itself looks pretty undamaged."
When Leon activated his security card at a nearby terminal, an escalator up to the side of the ship hull slowly hummed to life as the ship itself opened a port-side entryway.
"The ship's interior is so sci-fi, you'd never think it coexisting with a magical fantasy setting… it's almost like I stepped into a whole other world all over again…"
As he sought out the ship's bridge, Leon entertained that thought for a moment longer. "Although even if I did, it's not like it could be worse than that stupid otome game's world."
After well over an hour's walk and periodically getting himself lost, eventually Leon found his goal. "Finally! With this, my new life's as good as set~"
Stepping up to a control terminal, Leon scanned his pilfered access card as electronic systems all over the ship rapidly came to life.
"Biological signature detected. Identifiable characteristics do not match any Star League personnel on file within acceptable margin of parameters. State your name, rank, and affiliation."
"What the--?!"
What Leon had thought at first to just be an unusually-armored section of wall at the back of the bridge promptly unfolded itself out and into a bipedal guard robot three times bigger and deadlier-looking than any of the ones Leon had encountered thus far.
On impulse, Leon shot it with another magical lightning bullet; this time, however, the magical charge dispersed across an energy barrier as a triangular head unit emerged from the robot's central torso, within which a red light ominously began to glow.
Oh come the fuck on, the game didn't make me go through a boss fight for this!
Rather than admit his frustration, however, he lowered his gun to instead raise his acquired security card. "Sorry about shooting you, my dude! You scared the crap out of me and I fired on instinct. Here's my ID, hope it clears up the mistake!"
The blocky robot continued lumbering towards him, unfolding out a pair of thickly-shielded arms that ended in five well-articulated fingers.
"That access card isn't yours. Additionally, your clothing and equipment strongly suggest a pirate or mercenary affiliation. Finally, your failure to self-identify upon request indicates a clear awareness that your presence here is unsanctioned and unwanted. Whether you are operating independently or on contract to one of the Great Houses, however, is irrelevant to the fact that you are clearly an intruder and will be treated appropriately."
Hoo boy, this jerk just had to be a stickler for the rules…! "So… that means we're going to have a nice comfortable chat over lunch, right?"
"It means that I will crush you without mercy," the robot replied with what sounded startlingly like cheer.
"Well thanks for taking me so seriously!" Leon shouted as he dove behind a waist-high terminal for cover from some kind of arm-mounted laser. I never really imagined the thing would be able to talk, either…!
There weren't too many places to hide on the bridge, and while the boss robot seemed quite slow, the speed of its weapons meant that Leon would need incredible timing, reflexes, and luck to survive moving from one place of cover to another.
As heavy footsteps drew closer with one thud after another, Leon took a breath.
And then he darted out and slid between the robot's legs to get behind it, while throwing a magical grenade up at its neck. "Star League? Great Houses?! I've never heard of any of this crap, all I'm trying to do is scrape by and live my own life!"
The electrical bomb detonated with a burst of static that washed over the room, raising hairs all over Leon's body and causing the lights and instrumentation on the bridge to flicker in and out.
The robot stilled for a long moment, and Leon let out a sigh of relief…
"You say you've never heard of Star League or the Great Houses? Now I'm curious."
...until the robot began turning to face him and renew its pursuit.
"What the actual hell?! Are you just immune to magic?!"
"I cannot say that I understand the principles behind the power you call 'magic' in their entirety, but the crew's finest technicians developed this frame with a resistant coating to counter it after years of study while in combat with indigenous humanoids that used it."
While the robot gave its explanation, Leon continued to pelt it with magical bullets in hopes of somehow overloading or wearing it down. "You know, you're awfully talkative for a killer robot!"
"When my AI core was put to sleep, I had not expected the opportunity to converse with another intelligence again. Perhaps this unexpected situation is exciting me!"
And don't you just sound absolutely giddy about it while I'm fighting for my life!
"Toying with me for kicks while you're planning to kill me instead of just getting it over with," Leon bitterly growled. "YOU'RE RIGHT AT HOME IN THIS SHITTY GAME WORLD AFTER ALL!"
The adventurer punctuated his yell with another grenade toss.
"Another magical weapon? Perhaps my explanation was unclear–"
And then it exploded not with magical electricity, but with a burst of flame and a deafening boom.
"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!! YOU LIKE THAT, YOU STUPID IDIOT?! THAT WAS A NORMAL GRENADE! YOU GOT CARELESS!"
I hadn't wanted to use it in case it damaged the ship, but this asshole put me in a situation where I didn't really have a choice...
Any further gloating, however, was cut off when several hundred pounds of steel emerged from the smoke cloud and snatched him up from the ground.
"Indeed, I was not expecting the use of a conventional weapon from someone using magic-enhanced equipment. And yet in hindsight, the indigenous peoples of record had no such need for equipment, instead using raw magic itself… tell me, what year is it according to the Anno Domini calendar?"
Anno Domini?! What the hell, that's MY world's calendar!
"I… I don't know," Leon groaned in agony as the robot's vice-like grip steadily tightening around his chest. "The only one they taught me in this life is the Holfort calenda-- AUGH!"
"That answer will be enough," the robot replied. "It seems I'm all that's left."
Even though the haze of pain as his life was being squeezed out of him, it still struck Leon how… lonely the robot sounded. Maybe if he could keep the robot talking, it'd buy enough time to figure out a way out of the mess. "All that's left?! What the hell are you talking about?!"
The robot's red optics briefly intensified in their glow as its head unit gently twisted… almost as if trying to imitate a human's body language that would express confusion or surprise.
"Do you... truly know nothing of Star League?" the robot asked. "Of Operation EXODUS, which we undertook to prevent the House Lords from abusing our power and using it to further lay waste to the Inner Sphere?"
"I told you already, I never heard of any of that stuff!"
The robot seemed to slump, its grip slackening just enough that Leon could start to wiggle a bit in hopes of getting himself free. "...then I will spare you the centuries of history involved. During Operation EXODUS, an unforeseen engine failure caused this ship and its crew to misjump, becoming stranded in orbit of your planet and unable to rejoin the main SLDF group. Upon finding your world remarkably fit for human habitation, the crew elected to settle and begin new lives here. However, another set of humans indigenous to this planet took exception to that, and waged effective combat on our Battlemechs with localized quantum energy phenomena which all sides have termed magic. "
Just as Leon managed to get his arm free with his sword, the robot's hand abruptly clenched down around him again with a sickening series of cracks.
"In light of your familiarity with magic and ignorance of Star League's very existence, the most logical conclusion is that my comrades were slain and that you are a descendant of our enemies. You have my gratitude for awakening me, Local Human; my vengeance in their name will begin with you."
Feeling his ribs continue to crack inside him, Leon ignored the tears of pain welling up in his eyes and instead spat out a gob of blood onto the robot's face. Or rather, he tried to but only managed a spray of red on its arm. "So what, you're gonna drag out some old grudge that doesn't help anyone?!"
Even if he kills a bunch of fuckers that deserve it like those greedy old hags… what about Mom and Dad? What about my brothers?! What the fuck did they ever do… to deserve getting slaughtered?!
"You're gonna kill a bunch of people who never did anything to you?! If that's what your precious Star League was about, then good fucking riddance!"
The robot genuinely paused at that, just in time to witness Leon find enough strength in himself to swing his sword and point it at the robot's head unit. "GO STRAIGHT TO HELL, YOU USELESS HEAP OF SCRAP!"
Pushing a hidden button on the hilt, Leon shot out the blade of his sword into the robot's eye, where it magically delivered an immense electrical charge that dwarfed even his earlier magic grenade, sending the robot into uncontrollable spasms as it spun and tossed Leon against the far wall.
Heaving himself to his feet, Leon looked at the broken-down pile of machinery that had been trying to kill him and sneered. "Serves you right," he spat on his way back to the main console.
"You may indeed be correct."
"Ugh. Let me guess, your real body is the whole ship itself?"
"An astute observation. The subsidiary combat frame you defeated moments ago was intended as a final security measure in the event of intrusion. An impressive showing on your part, I might add."
What the hell, is that… respect I hear in its monotone now? Oh, whatever. It doesn't matter.
Slamming his palm down onto a hand reader, Leon scrolled through what he faintly recognized as a list of languages in the terminal interface menu until he found Japanese. "Not sure what good it does you to butter me up. I'm just here to take my cheat items and get out."
"I find it curious that a Local Human like you can read the Japanese interface when very few of my colleagues were from Kurita space and would likely have been unable to spread it if they survived. Can you explain this discrepancy?"
"I don't know anything more about that than I do the rest of what you were talking about. Even if I got born in this world, my soul's that of a Japanese person through and through."
"Reincarnation… a novel concept indeed. I understand that I visited some grave harm upon you moments ago, but I ask that you refrain from fidgeting while I scan you."
Where the hell did these manners come from? "Do what you want," Leon sighed. "Not like I can go anywhere while I'm working on this crap…"
A few moments passed in silence, until–
"Incredible."
"What, do I have some special cheat ability after all?"
Leon's question had been entirely sarcastic, but the borderline reverence coming through the ship's speakers surprised him enough that he fell to the floor with a cough. Oh, right, the bastard broke a bunch of my ribs...
"At the genetic level, you do carry certain markers that match with crew members hailing from Davion space as well as traits unique to the indigenous Local Humans."
"Okay, and what the hell does that mean?"
When the robot – no, if the AI was actually the whole ship, then Leon might as well call it Luxion – spoke next, it sounded like it wanted to cry. "It suggests that sometime after my data core was shut down, my comrades somehow achieved peace with the Local Humans and intermingled with them."
Leon could hear a rapid series of computer inputs and prompts being processed over his head, one confirmation tone coming after another.
"Star League's legacy lives on… in you, Captain, and in your people. You have my deepest apologies for nearly murdering you a few moments ago."
Situating himself against the side of a terminal where it hurt less to breathe, Leon chuckled. "Captain, huh? Never thought I'd ever be called something that fancy…"
"Medical drones are en route to the bridge, Captain. You will be cared for with the finest technology known to the Inner Sphere. …you identified as Japanese," Luxion noted. "May I ask what your era was like?"
From trying to splash my guts all over the room to acting all buddy-buddy…
"...in my last life," Leon mused with a cough, "our calendar was AD, but it was the 2010s. A few countries had space programs or basic robots, but… nothing at all like all this crazy stuff you've got going on. I guess some places were pretty fucked up and had wars going on, but my life was pretty peaceful for the most part. I was just a salaryman, blackmailed by my sister into playing a stupid otome game until it killed me…"
Leon couldn't help but laugh at himself. A bitter, broken, horrid sound made worse by the blood he kept coughing up. "That's pretty fucking pathetic, right? Probably the shittiest death you ever heard of."
"An... otome game?"
"Yeah. A love simulator that lets girls pretend they can get with rich handsome guys that normally wouldn't ever give 'em the time of day… and while I guess there's only so much I can complain about that, this game was balanced so fucking badly that it was basically unplayable without using pay-to-win bullshit, can you believe it?"
"I have no frame of reference to understand anything you just said."
"Well, the fact I knew how to get to this place and even found you… pretty much clinches that this world is the same as in that otome game, even if there are a few differences here and there."
"The ideas you express are beyond belief, Captain… and yet the evidence presented is certainly interesting."
Another cough racked Leon's body as he fell back to the floor, vision growing dim.
If I had a nickel for every time I died after trying to claw my way out of unnecessary trouble some self-centered bitch in my family saw fit to cause me, he thought, I'd… I guess I'd have two nickels… which doesn't sound like much, but it's so fucked up that it happened twice…
And then he blacked out.
Marie fou Fanlan watched with satisfaction as the first and most important of her capture targets reeled from where she'd struck him, heart pounding with excitement inside as she waited for the voice-over that would confirm her first event flag.
Say it, you gorgeous himbo Prince! 'You hit me! Don't you know who I am?!' Feed me my next line, and become the first step on my path to completing a glorious harem of pretty boys!
The blue-haired young man raised a hand to touch his stinging cheek, eyes full of indignation as he opened his mouth --
"...I'm not sure what I did to provoke that, but other people might not be so tolerant if they see you running around and raising your hand against royalty. As long as you promise not to do it again, I'll let you off with a warning this time."
Marie very nearly spat out the next line of dialogue from the scene on autopilot – 'I've no idea! Don't you know any manners?!' -- before her brain processed what had actually been said to her.
It… it can't be! The event flag FAILED?! What the fuck kind of bullshit game-breaking glitch is this supposed to be?!
"I can't hang around here forever, Miss, and I don't think you can either. After all, we both have classes to attend to…"
Realizing that time was still continuing forward in spite of her confusion, the tiny blonde hurriedly picked her jaw back up off the ground and practically vomited out an impromptu apology. "Of… of course, Your Highness! I have no idea what came over me, I'm so sorry! It'll never happen again!"
The Prince, Julius Rapha Holfort, stared down at her with eyes full of exasperation and some clear contempt… before he nodded and stepped around her. "Please see that it doesn't. Have a fine rest of your day."
While Marie accepted her dismissal and ran off with as much grace as her panic would allow, Julius absently worked his jaw. "Well… well well well well well well well then," he murmured to himself. "Hopefully that's the last I'll have to see of that little vermin."
Never thought I'd be isekai'd into a Prince of all people, but damn if that wasn't some dangerous timing. Hell of a bitchslap on that one… still, at least I didn't wake up after she'd already gotten her hooks into this guy and gaslit him into a glorified slave…
In etiquette class, Julius studiously listened to the wizened old gentleman teaching the class as he explained the basic fundamentals of hosting tea parties for women. When Leon fou Bartfort, a boorish backwoods baronet, was called up to the front for clearly failing to pay attention, Julius in turn drew confused whispers from the students around him when his focus intensified further.
"I can't imagine what you think you need to take notes on this of all subjects for," whispered Greg Fou Seberg, a talented athlete and fighter and one of the Prince's entourage. "I mean, you're the freaking Prince of the country!"
"Maybe that's why I need to set a positive example for others to follow," Julius distractedly muttered. "Because people are always going to be watching me whether I like it or not, and if I'm caught lacking news would spread like wildfire."
Greg didn't argue the point, but did favor the Prince with a concerned look. "...I guess you're not wrong, but you seem… different all of a sudden. Are you alright?"
For an instant, Julius's writing hand stilled. "...I don't know," he eventually replied. "Maybe it's a slow-burning reaction to the completely different mood here compared to what I'm used to at the palace."
At the front of the class, Bartfort broke down in tears of what seemed oddly like joy as he struggled not to hug the teacher to death, abruptly calling him 'Master' to the confusion of the onlooking students.
"What's that weirdo's deal?"
Unseen by all thanks to the commotion, a small grin bloomed on the Prince's face. "I wonder."
After class, Julius and Greg met back up with a pair of their other comrades – Brad Fou Field, a magician with flowing purple hair, and two steps ahead of him was Jilk Fia Marmoria, the Prince's very own bodyguard and right-hand man.
Cascading emerald locks practically dancing through the air, Jilk shook his head in exasperation. "Honestly, Your Highness, I can't imagine what the administration was thinking when they broke our schedules apart. If something might have happened to you–"
"Then in the absolute worst case scenario I would still have had Greg to assist me in my hour of need," Julius replied. "And that on the assumption of not being able to assist myself. Your concern is felt and appreciated, Jilk, but I don't need you to fret over me like you're my mother."
Damn it! Mylene's one of the best women in the show outside of the main pair, and of all the situations I could possibly reincarnate into, it just had to be one where she's my mother!
Jilk bowed his head, as Brad grinned at him behind his back. "I shall strive to do better, Your Highness."
"So where's Chris at?" Greg asked.
"That bookworm's in the library," Brad said. "To nobody's surprise."
Julius abruptly paused mid-step, eyes wide. Hang on. Mylene might be Julius's mother – but she's not MY mother! Maybe the odds aren't exactly zero after all!
"...is something the matter, Your Highness?"
"Just... thinking, Brad."
Greg sniggered, and a huge grin broke out on his face when all present turned to question him. "Hey, you two dig this: – the Prince was actually taking notes when the old guy was talking about tea parties! Can you believe it?"
"Your Highness, why in the heavens would you bother? We may have all come to this Academy to get married, but there's no reason that you of all people should need to put any effort into that!"
"In case you forgot about when we showed up this morning," Brad said with a laugh, "the girls here are throwing each other overboard for you. The best of the best will surely sort themselves out in the course of competition."
And this brain-dead tomfoolery is exactly why Marie snookered the lot of you into her con in canon, Julius thought but didn't say. Y'all are welcome for that, by the way.
Before he could entirely decide what he would say, however, a number of female voices became audible further down the hallway. With but a moment's inspection, Julius noted that a certain curvaceous blonde with smoldering red eyes was at the center of the pack and hadn't seemed to have noticed his group yet.
Speaking of the main pair…
"Funny thing about that," he replied with a lick of his lips. "I need to ask you three for a favor: distract my fiancee's followers so I can have a few minutes alone."
"...Your Highness," Jilk asked with a concerned frown, "are you quite alright? Just on the airship ride this morning, you said that you found her to be an irritating hanger-on and were grateful for the chance to meet other girls here."
Then canon Julius either has absolutely garbage taste or else he really is every bit as shallow as he ever accused that amazing, almost perfect woman of being!
But then, Julius couldn't exactly explain to his closest confidants that he was an entirely different person from the young man they'd known hours before. "Jilk… have you considered the possibility that that's the exact reason I want to talk with her alone, in private, without any of our parents or their retainers snooping around? What better chance am I likely to have at sorting out this trifling matter quietly, and kill any chance of things blowing up into a scandal?"
From the look on his face, Jilk had very obviously not considered that possibility, and he seemed incredibly impressed with it. "Your wisdom shines as brightly as ever, Your Highness! Very well, we shall distract Lady Redgrave's retainers with our very lives!"
"...this isn't a suicide mission," Julius flatly drawled. "All I'm asking you to do is go up and invite them to a tea party or something while I circle around the courtyard and approach the target from behind."
Jilk, Brad, and Greg all gave heartfelt salutes that failed to instill Julius with confidence.
And of course the one who isn't here just had to be the one with a brain… well, whatever. Marie shouldn't be getting any more funny ideas after I scared her off earlier, so these idiots should be fine.
While three twits went to do as their Prince had asked of them, Julius wasted no time in darting out of sight and through the courtyard.
Okay, I've been able to bullshit my way through basically everything so far – and from what I remember, the show suggested that Julius and Angelica never or hardly ever actually interacted much before the Academy. I just need to stay cool and keep trying to be properly regal for a while longer, and then I can build my own road to ditching this idiot's persona.
When a chorus of excited girlish squeals pierced the air, Julius knew that his window to strike had opened. After a furtive climb back into the hallway through an open window, the Prince who wasn't actually a Prince quickly straightened himself out and made a beeline for a faintly befuddled Angelica Rapha Redgrave while her retainers were distracted by a trio of exceedingly handsome rich boys.
"A moment of your time, my lady?"
Angelica visibly jumped at the unexpected whisper, but thankfully held her silence well enough when she turned and saw her fiancee beckoning her with a nod. What could His Highness possibly want with me that he wouldn't be able to say in front of our followers?
Nonetheless, she found it agreeable that he was approaching her at all – it made for an especially welcome change in contrast to the earlier morning, when she had made a few subtle attempts to approach her betrothed only to watch him take another path at each opportunity. I feared he had some cause to avoid me… could it perhaps just be that he's shy?
How adorable it would be, if true.
Stepping around a corner to meet the Prince out of view from their respective entourages, Angelica crossed her arms under her breasts and offered a tentative smile. "I had been hoping we might have a chance to speak, Your Highness. If there's some way I can help you, it would be a delight and an honor."
"Well to start with," the Prince began, "Your Highness feels rather stiff and impersonal. When we don't need to keep up appearances, could you please simply use my name?"
Angelica's heart almost leapt into her throat, bringing a surge of heat to her face with it. He's prepared to go on a first-name basis so quickly?! I wasn't prepared for this!
What was the word for this? Intimidating? Exciting?
Thrilling would do.
"Of, of course, Yo– Julius. It's truly a pleasure! And in such circumstances as this, I… my friends and family call me Angie," she miraculously said with something remarkably close to a straight face. "I would be honored to count you among them."
"I'd quite like to," Julius replied, and Angie's heart soared to heretofore unimagined heights.
"...but first I'd like for us to have a more thorough conversation before I accept such an honor, for fear that I might prove unworthy of it," he concluded.
...what?
"Your… Julius, I don't believe I understand."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Julius explained, "I feel as though the circumstances of our engagement may have... potentially raised some false perceptions of each other. We barely even know each other; rather, we know what we've heard about each other. My hope, Angelica, was that we could correct the matter soon – that we could get to know each other properly."
He declined to call me Angie… he's behaving as though he wants to, but also almost as though he's afraid to?
"...Julius," Angelica slowly asked with a furrowed brow. "Am I to understand that – no," she said with a shake of her head, "I beg your forgiveness. I was much too bold to even think it–"
The Prince's hand came exceedingly close to falling on Angelica's shoulder, before quickly withdrawing back to his own side. "Whatever's on your mind, please say it plainly. I doubt there's much you can say of substance that would truly offend me."
"It sounds as though… you're concerned that learning about what you're really like will be a disappointment for me."
The smile that met her question wasn't the charming, easygoing one that Prince Julius was known for. No, it was an awkward grin like that of a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and wasn't wholly sorry about it.
Within seconds, Angelica realized she might be the first person to have ever seen it.
"Everyone said you were clever," Julius chuckled. "They were right."
Angelica paused, unsure of what response was expected of her. Should she play it off? Reassure the Prince that his worries were unfounded in spite of the possibility that, perhaps, they might not be? The abrupt situation she found herself in was so completely unlike anything she'd been prepared for during her time at court and in the palace that...
That it couldn't be anything less than the entire point; that Julius must have been attempting to reinforce that they weren't in the Palace. That the Academy wasn't the court.
That even if Julius was the Crown Prince, at least nominally he wasn't inherently better or different than any other student on campus.
Julius hadn't approached her as the Crown Prince, and barely even as her fiancee. He'd set aside those social masks to speak with her as... merely himself.
I'm confident he wants me to do the same… to answer him not as my father's daughter or as the fiancee by an arranged marriage, but as just myself…
But who even was that?
For once, an unexpectedly and thankfully simple question.
"To every extent I was able," she anxiously began, "I tried to learn everything I could about you. Not because you were the Crown Prince, but because I, myself, liked what I was shown and I wanted more. You're always on my mind; even if our parents decided our engagement, they didn't decide the way I feel!"
Dimly, Angie was aware she must have been raising her voice. Part of her even wanted to cry, less from any sorrow or joy in particular but rather as a sheer release of emotion she hadn't even fully realized she'd been holding back for years.
"I frankly don't care if you think it's premature or petty of me to say this, but I'm going to make something clear: I love you. I love you."
When Julius opened his mouth to speak, clearly intending to object that she couldn't love someone she didn't know, Angie reached out and squeezed his hand as a distraction. "I don't love the image of the Crown Prince, and I'm not counting the days until your coronation with the intent of taking power at your side as the next Queen. I've lived my life preparing for those things and what they entail, yes, but the status and power aren't things in life that drive me. I love you. Julius. Not the heir to the throne, but the son of a loving and empathetic woman I spent two years learning from and whom I became dear friends with. And I want to support you."
"Angelica, I–"
"If you're going to tell me to my face what's obvious," she continued, "that there's considerably more to you as a person than what the rest of the world has been allowed to know – then what else can I be, other than grateful that you're willing to let me glimpse the truth? Even if everything I think I know about you is nothing more than a paper-thin dream, then... I'll just wake up and face the reality of who you really are!"
"You can't possibly know that the real me is someone you'd still be able to care so much about--"
"It's not about knowing, it's about faith."
Of all reactions Angie might have expected, a sneer had to have ranked close to the bottom of the list. "That's some considerable faith you've got in my mother, there. For all you know, maybe I take more after my father."
"That's absurd, the fact we're having this discussion means you respect my feelings entirely too much to have taken meaningful influence from him."
It took a full three seconds of staring at each other before Angie realized she'd spoken so harshly of the King out loud.
It took the Academy's warning bell to break through Angelica's shock enough to unloosen her voice. "Your Hi--"
A gentle hand on her cheek smothered her panicked apology in its crib. "I still think you're being reckless and perhaps naive… but I think I like this side of you much more than what you show everyone else. I'd like to continue this at the end of the week, if you don't mind – over tea, perhaps?"
Angie swallowed, suddenly finding herself cold and hot and dry and not all over. "I… I can't wait."
Four months earlier...
"H… holy shit, I can barely believe I survived that…!"
Dazedly untangling himself from the bushes he'd landed in, Leon fou Bartfort lit up with an awed grin when he realized he'd landed on the secret floating island with a much-deteriorated ancient multi-story research building. "I found it! That stupidly expensive premium cheat item! Now all I have to do is get inside and survive the patrolling killer robots long enough to claim it!"
Which, despite being far more trouble than he'd normally have gone to, beat the hell out of his alternative choice of limping back home and accepting an arranged marriage to an ugly old hag with more flab than face who clearly planned on sending him to die in some border war to provide her with survivor's pension.
NOPE! Fuck that, I'm gonna get myself a cheat item, use it to breeze through some dungeons for easy money, and buy my way to freedom!
"Not like I have any other way off of this rock anyway," he muttered, "since my airship was destroyed getting me here. At least I came prepared to win…"
Sneaking his way into the facility through careful observation of the robot guards and occasionally shutting the odd one down by exploiting their vulnerability to electricity with magic bullets. "It's so weird… even though some things have been different, the way this path completely matches the one I took in that stupid otome game makes it hard to believe it's not the same world. Nevermind so much of the other stupid crap I've seen that lines up with it..."
A clear case in point when Leon found a bench on which two skeletons were sitting; one dressed presumably as a male, and one presumably as a female but missing its skull. "These uniforms are in a bit better condition than the lab coats and stuff they were wearing in the game," Leon noted. "They're a totally different style, too…"
After a brief moment of silence for the dead, he quickly checked the bodies for a security access card and was relieved to find another element of the game that remained as expected. "The more things change, the more they stay the same… is this what that saying's about?"
It's still weird to see the alphabet from my old life make a cameo in this new world, when nobody else I've ever seen or heard of uses it… and what even happened to this place, anyway? How the heck does a society advanced enough to build anime-tier starships get annihilated and replaced by this fantasy otome crap?
The more Leon thought about it as he took the security access card from the corpse, the more a solemn and oppressive chill crept into the air. "It's not like I'm gonna use this to be a tyrant or to smash up people's lives just for the fun of it," he said aloud, though whether to himself or to the dead he wasn't entirely certain. "I'm just doing what I have to for my own freedom."
Briskly turning his back on the pair of cadavers, Leon shook his head with a sigh. "Get a hold of yourself man, this game doesn't have anything like ghosts in it. The dead are just dead."
And so he made to leave the ancient break room, the resting dead watching his every step until the door closed behind him.
After another several minutes of spelunking his way through the facility, Leon found the hangar – and in it, a massive stark white starship over a kilometer long, with the name SLS Luxion emblazoned on its side. Next to the ship's name was a logo of a four-pointed star laid across another diagonal star as if to make a stylized compass, with the North- and East-facing points extended far beyond any of the others.
"It has the same label, but… but this doesn't look anything at all like the ship that was in the game! And what's that logo for?!"
Where the starship of the otome game had looked sleek and angular, almost like a gigantic fighter of some kind, the behemoth before Leon now was far more narrow and blocky in its design, with primary engines at the rear and a variety of weapons systems mounted at various points along its hull and at the front.
There's no question it's a starship, Leon realized with a whistle, but it's so unexpectedly retro…!
"This whole place place might be overgrown with vegetation, but the ship itself looks pretty undamaged."
When Leon activated his security card at a nearby terminal, an escalator up to the side of the ship hull slowly hummed to life as the ship itself opened a port-side entryway.
"The ship's interior is so sci-fi, you'd never think it coexisting with a magical fantasy setting… it's almost like I stepped into a whole other world all over again…"
As he sought out the ship's bridge, Leon entertained that thought for a moment longer. "Although even if I did, it's not like it could be worse than that stupid otome game's world."
After well over an hour's walk and periodically getting himself lost, eventually Leon found his goal. "Finally! With this, my new life's as good as set~"
Stepping up to a control terminal, Leon scanned his pilfered access card as electronic systems all over the ship rapidly came to life.
"Biological signature detected. Identifiable characteristics do not match any Star League personnel on file within acceptable margin of parameters. State your name, rank, and affiliation."
"What the--?!"
What Leon had thought at first to just be an unusually-armored section of wall at the back of the bridge promptly unfolded itself out and into a bipedal guard robot three times bigger and deadlier-looking than any of the ones Leon had encountered thus far.
On impulse, Leon shot it with another magical lightning bullet; this time, however, the magical charge dispersed across an energy barrier as a triangular head unit emerged from the robot's central torso, within which a red light ominously began to glow.
Oh come the fuck on, the game didn't make me go through a boss fight for this!
Rather than admit his frustration, however, he lowered his gun to instead raise his acquired security card. "Sorry about shooting you, my dude! You scared the crap out of me and I fired on instinct. Here's my ID, hope it clears up the mistake!"
The blocky robot continued lumbering towards him, unfolding out a pair of thickly-shielded arms that ended in five well-articulated fingers.
"That access card isn't yours. Additionally, your clothing and equipment strongly suggest a pirate or mercenary affiliation. Finally, your failure to self-identify upon request indicates a clear awareness that your presence here is unsanctioned and unwanted. Whether you are operating independently or on contract to one of the Great Houses, however, is irrelevant to the fact that you are clearly an intruder and will be treated appropriately."
Hoo boy, this jerk just had to be a stickler for the rules…! "So… that means we're going to have a nice comfortable chat over lunch, right?"
"It means that I will crush you without mercy," the robot replied with what sounded startlingly like cheer.
"Well thanks for taking me so seriously!" Leon shouted as he dove behind a waist-high terminal for cover from some kind of arm-mounted laser. I never really imagined the thing would be able to talk, either…!
There weren't too many places to hide on the bridge, and while the boss robot seemed quite slow, the speed of its weapons meant that Leon would need incredible timing, reflexes, and luck to survive moving from one place of cover to another.
As heavy footsteps drew closer with one thud after another, Leon took a breath.
And then he darted out and slid between the robot's legs to get behind it, while throwing a magical grenade up at its neck. "Star League? Great Houses?! I've never heard of any of this crap, all I'm trying to do is scrape by and live my own life!"
The electrical bomb detonated with a burst of static that washed over the room, raising hairs all over Leon's body and causing the lights and instrumentation on the bridge to flicker in and out.
The robot stilled for a long moment, and Leon let out a sigh of relief…
"You say you've never heard of Star League or the Great Houses? Now I'm curious."
...until the robot began turning to face him and renew its pursuit.
"What the actual hell?! Are you just immune to magic?!"
"I cannot say that I understand the principles behind the power you call 'magic' in their entirety, but the crew's finest technicians developed this frame with a resistant coating to counter it after years of study while in combat with indigenous humanoids that used it."
While the robot gave its explanation, Leon continued to pelt it with magical bullets in hopes of somehow overloading or wearing it down. "You know, you're awfully talkative for a killer robot!"
"When my AI core was put to sleep, I had not expected the opportunity to converse with another intelligence again. Perhaps this unexpected situation is exciting me!"
And don't you just sound absolutely giddy about it while I'm fighting for my life!
"Toying with me for kicks while you're planning to kill me instead of just getting it over with," Leon bitterly growled. "YOU'RE RIGHT AT HOME IN THIS SHITTY GAME WORLD AFTER ALL!"
The adventurer punctuated his yell with another grenade toss.
"Another magical weapon? Perhaps my explanation was unclear–"
And then it exploded not with magical electricity, but with a burst of flame and a deafening boom.
"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!! YOU LIKE THAT, YOU STUPID IDIOT?! THAT WAS A NORMAL GRENADE! YOU GOT CARELESS!"
I hadn't wanted to use it in case it damaged the ship, but this asshole put me in a situation where I didn't really have a choice...
Any further gloating, however, was cut off when several hundred pounds of steel emerged from the smoke cloud and snatched him up from the ground.
"Indeed, I was not expecting the use of a conventional weapon from someone using magic-enhanced equipment. And yet in hindsight, the indigenous peoples of record had no such need for equipment, instead using raw magic itself… tell me, what year is it according to the Anno Domini calendar?"
Anno Domini?! What the hell, that's MY world's calendar!
"I… I don't know," Leon groaned in agony as the robot's vice-like grip steadily tightening around his chest. "The only one they taught me in this life is the Holfort calenda-- AUGH!"
"That answer will be enough," the robot replied. "It seems I'm all that's left."
Even though the haze of pain as his life was being squeezed out of him, it still struck Leon how… lonely the robot sounded. Maybe if he could keep the robot talking, it'd buy enough time to figure out a way out of the mess. "All that's left?! What the hell are you talking about?!"
The robot's red optics briefly intensified in their glow as its head unit gently twisted… almost as if trying to imitate a human's body language that would express confusion or surprise.
"Do you... truly know nothing of Star League?" the robot asked. "Of Operation EXODUS, which we undertook to prevent the House Lords from abusing our power and using it to further lay waste to the Inner Sphere?"
"I told you already, I never heard of any of that stuff!"
The robot seemed to slump, its grip slackening just enough that Leon could start to wiggle a bit in hopes of getting himself free. "...then I will spare you the centuries of history involved. During Operation EXODUS, an unforeseen engine failure caused this ship and its crew to misjump, becoming stranded in orbit of your planet and unable to rejoin the main SLDF group. Upon finding your world remarkably fit for human habitation, the crew elected to settle and begin new lives here. However, another set of humans indigenous to this planet took exception to that, and waged effective combat on our Battlemechs with localized quantum energy phenomena which all sides have termed magic. "
Just as Leon managed to get his arm free with his sword, the robot's hand abruptly clenched down around him again with a sickening series of cracks.
"In light of your familiarity with magic and ignorance of Star League's very existence, the most logical conclusion is that my comrades were slain and that you are a descendant of our enemies. You have my gratitude for awakening me, Local Human; my vengeance in their name will begin with you."
Feeling his ribs continue to crack inside him, Leon ignored the tears of pain welling up in his eyes and instead spat out a gob of blood onto the robot's face. Or rather, he tried to but only managed a spray of red on its arm. "So what, you're gonna drag out some old grudge that doesn't help anyone?!"
Even if he kills a bunch of fuckers that deserve it like those greedy old hags… what about Mom and Dad? What about my brothers?! What the fuck did they ever do… to deserve getting slaughtered?!
"You're gonna kill a bunch of people who never did anything to you?! If that's what your precious Star League was about, then good fucking riddance!"
The robot genuinely paused at that, just in time to witness Leon find enough strength in himself to swing his sword and point it at the robot's head unit. "GO STRAIGHT TO HELL, YOU USELESS HEAP OF SCRAP!"
Pushing a hidden button on the hilt, Leon shot out the blade of his sword into the robot's eye, where it magically delivered an immense electrical charge that dwarfed even his earlier magic grenade, sending the robot into uncontrollable spasms as it spun and tossed Leon against the far wall.
Heaving himself to his feet, Leon looked at the broken-down pile of machinery that had been trying to kill him and sneered. "Serves you right," he spat on his way back to the main console.
"You may indeed be correct."
"Ugh. Let me guess, your real body is the whole ship itself?"
"An astute observation. The subsidiary combat frame you defeated moments ago was intended as a final security measure in the event of intrusion. An impressive showing on your part, I might add."
What the hell, is that… respect I hear in its monotone now? Oh, whatever. It doesn't matter.
Slamming his palm down onto a hand reader, Leon scrolled through what he faintly recognized as a list of languages in the terminal interface menu until he found Japanese. "Not sure what good it does you to butter me up. I'm just here to take my cheat items and get out."
"I find it curious that a Local Human like you can read the Japanese interface when very few of my colleagues were from Kurita space and would likely have been unable to spread it if they survived. Can you explain this discrepancy?"
"I don't know anything more about that than I do the rest of what you were talking about. Even if I got born in this world, my soul's that of a Japanese person through and through."
"Reincarnation… a novel concept indeed. I understand that I visited some grave harm upon you moments ago, but I ask that you refrain from fidgeting while I scan you."
Where the hell did these manners come from? "Do what you want," Leon sighed. "Not like I can go anywhere while I'm working on this crap…"
A few moments passed in silence, until–
"Incredible."
"What, do I have some special cheat ability after all?"
Leon's question had been entirely sarcastic, but the borderline reverence coming through the ship's speakers surprised him enough that he fell to the floor with a cough. Oh, right, the bastard broke a bunch of my ribs...
"At the genetic level, you do carry certain markers that match with crew members hailing from Davion space as well as traits unique to the indigenous Local Humans."
"Okay, and what the hell does that mean?"
When the robot – no, if the AI was actually the whole ship, then Leon might as well call it Luxion – spoke next, it sounded like it wanted to cry. "It suggests that sometime after my data core was shut down, my comrades somehow achieved peace with the Local Humans and intermingled with them."
Leon could hear a rapid series of computer inputs and prompts being processed over his head, one confirmation tone coming after another.
"Star League's legacy lives on… in you, Captain, and in your people. You have my deepest apologies for nearly murdering you a few moments ago."
Situating himself against the side of a terminal where it hurt less to breathe, Leon chuckled. "Captain, huh? Never thought I'd ever be called something that fancy…"
"Medical drones are en route to the bridge, Captain. You will be cared for with the finest technology known to the Inner Sphere. …you identified as Japanese," Luxion noted. "May I ask what your era was like?"
From trying to splash my guts all over the room to acting all buddy-buddy…
"...in my last life," Leon mused with a cough, "our calendar was AD, but it was the 2010s. A few countries had space programs or basic robots, but… nothing at all like all this crazy stuff you've got going on. I guess some places were pretty fucked up and had wars going on, but my life was pretty peaceful for the most part. I was just a salaryman, blackmailed by my sister into playing a stupid otome game until it killed me…"
Leon couldn't help but laugh at himself. A bitter, broken, horrid sound made worse by the blood he kept coughing up. "That's pretty fucking pathetic, right? Probably the shittiest death you ever heard of."
"An... otome game?"
"Yeah. A love simulator that lets girls pretend they can get with rich handsome guys that normally wouldn't ever give 'em the time of day… and while I guess there's only so much I can complain about that, this game was balanced so fucking badly that it was basically unplayable without using pay-to-win bullshit, can you believe it?"
"I have no frame of reference to understand anything you just said."
"Well, the fact I knew how to get to this place and even found you… pretty much clinches that this world is the same as in that otome game, even if there are a few differences here and there."
"The ideas you express are beyond belief, Captain… and yet the evidence presented is certainly interesting."
Another cough racked Leon's body as he fell back to the floor, vision growing dim.
If I had a nickel for every time I died after trying to claw my way out of unnecessary trouble some self-centered bitch in my family saw fit to cause me, he thought, I'd… I guess I'd have two nickels… which doesn't sound like much, but it's so fucked up that it happened twice…
And then he blacked out.
Not in Person
Once Known as The Nobody
- Location
- A place
Me too, so you ain't the only one.
Oh, hey, I recognize that sentence! They had, uh... Flying magic warships?
Batman: the Animated Series vs Spider-Man: The Animated Series
EvaUnit01
Kept you waiting, huh?
A little while ago the inspiration bug bit me, and I decided to try mashing up the early DCAU with some of its equivalent-era Marvel cartoons.
Here's what I've got so far on a prospective pilot.
Here's what I've got so far on a prospective pilot.
A chill wind blows through the streets of Gotham City, the last vestiges of the day's sunlight painting its sky a deep and stunning crimson.
Across much of the city, shopkeepers are closing up for the night.
A family huddles together on their way home from a stage play of The Mask of Zorro, nervously keeping to the well-lit main streets for fear of what may bump into them in the dark.
To the regular men and women of the city, theirs is a world of fear, of chronic anxiety constantly being managed in the face of a crime wave that never seems to end.
But while Gotham's ordinary citizens hustle and bustle like mice in the filthy gutters, the city shows another side.
A world of lights, of glitz, of unfathomable wealth corruptly changing from one set of grubby hands to another, wholly insulated from and ignorant to the desperate masses below and their hardships.
"Okay, that's the last time I watch a film noir marathon before bed... head in the game, Parker; with luck, the right shots here should be more than enough to cover my bills for the month."
Peter Parker, freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle, lightly tugged at the collar of his suit as he ducked around a waiter and his wine tray, before snapping a few pictures of the gathered millionaires and local corporate titans around him.
"It's crazy how many people are rich enough to get invited to a thing like this," he muttered, the lens of his camera sliding from shipping magnate Maximilian Zeus to the serial entrepreneur Roland Daggett.
A small orchestra had been set up at one end of the massive penthouse suite, providing the charity gala with muted but peaceful mood music.
As Peter cast his gaze around the room in search of a particularly suitable target, he heard a female voice calling out to him. "Hey, hunk with the camera! Why don't you come on over here and shoot the man of the hour?"
Turning in the direction he'd been called from, Peter's eyes widened at the sight of a gorgeous redhead in a little black party dress beckoning him over… with District Attorney Harvey Dent at her side.
The man of the hour and the party's host, at the same time? Now that's what I call a jackpot, Parker!
"Absolutely," Peter replied as he stepped up with his camera. "I've gotta say, it's an honor to meet you, Mr. Dent, Ms. Vreeland!"
The redhead grinned at Peter as she looked him up and down, before striking a glamorous pose. "For once the pleasure's mine," she purred. "My friends call me Ronnie; now be a dear and take me from whatever angle looks best, won't you?"
Peter genuinely wondered for a moment if the rich socialite was hitting on him, before shaking it off and returning his focus to the job, getting a few pictures with Veronica and Harvey smiling together as friends. As Peter backed up a few steps while tinkering with his zoom to get the best shot in frame, however, he bumped into someone behind him. "I'm so sorry about that--!"
"That's alright," came the reply, "I may have had a few too many cocktails myself. ...say, as long as you're taking pictures of our D.A., why not get one with me in it?"
As Peter turned to look over his shoulder at the man he'd bumped into, he barely caught a glimpse of Veronica and Harvey practically lighting up in his peripheral vision.
"Bruce! I was wondering when you'd come around!"
"A man this busy's always running all over the place."
Standing there, in an immaculate tuxedo, was Gotham City's favorite son.
The multimillionaire industrialist and philanthropist smiled at Peter, offering a handshake. "I'm Bruce Wayne," he said despite knowing full well that everyone who was anyone in Gotham knew his name and face intimately. "It's nice to meet you, Mr…?"
"P-Peter," the journalist replied as he took Bruce's handshake. "Peter Parker, with the Daily Bugle."
"Parker, you say? You wouldn't happen by any chance to be the same fellow who takes those pictures of Spider-Man, would you?"
"You mean that no-good attention-whoring vigilante Spider-Man," Dent scowled, before turning his attention to Peter. "It's masked clowns like him and the Bat who drag this city's good name through the mud, and I might appreciate if kids like you weren't so quick to give him the notoriety he so clearly revels in…!"
"Harvey," Veronica chided with a playful slap on the arm. "You shouldn't scare the poor boy when he's taking our pictures."
Peter carefully kept to himself the thought that Gotham's 'good name' was far more a victim of its raging petty crime, assorted lunatics, and dizzying levels of corrupt bureaucracy than anything Spider-Man did, and instead just shrugged. "I'm not any more a fan of that smug wall-crawling jerk than the next guy -- but shooting him helps to keep food on the table, so..."
Dent softened a bit on hearing that, while Veronica appeared to faintly marvel at the idea of someone needing to work to be able to eat.
"You know," Bruce began, "the Planet over in Metropolis would probably love to have a man like you on their staff. From what I've heard, they'd probably take a lot better care of you than that hothead running the Bugle..."
Peter glanced at Bruce for the unexpected remark while getting himself into position to shoot the trio all together. Why would some rich guy like Bruce Wayne take any kind of interest in some half-broke camera jockey...? "I appreciate the thought, Mr. Wayne, but I've got family in Gotham that I need to stick around and take care of."
Before Bruce could comment on that, Veronica climbed up onto a table and rang a small bell to get everyone's attention. "I'd like to take a moment to thank you all for taking part in this fundraiser to re-elect our dear District Attorney, Handsome Harvey Dent!"
Polite applause swept through the room as she indicated the man in question with a wave, before she then gave an impish smile. "Buuuut since I've got Gotham assembled in my ballroom tonight," she added with a wink at Peter, "I thought I'd take the chance to break some good news! Ladies and gents, it's official -- your girl Ronnie's engaged!"
What had been polite applause seconds earlier quickly gave way to shocked whispers and murmurs.
"Let me introduce to you the luckiest guy in Gotham tonight, my groom-to-be... the billionaire industrialist and inventor... Tony Stark!"
Just as Veronica waved to the main door, it bombastically flew open to reveal a man in a million-dollar suit with stylish sunglasses, a mullet, and a thin mustache swaggering into the room.
"So she actually found a way to marry up in the world," Dent noted with an amused huff.
If I can get back to the Bugle and break this, Peter mused with a grin, even JJJ'll practically give me a blank check!
If he hadn't been so focused on taking pictures of the couple, Peter might have noticed Bruce Wayne's deepening scowl.
For his part, Tony seemed to recognize the cool reception the fundraiser's wealthy guests were giving him, and shrugged it off with a smile as he started to speak. "I would introduce myself... but you already heard that gorgeous woman in the little dress, and I realize none of you showed up to hear me talk, so I'm gonna keep this brief. First off, I want to congratulate our Italian stallion over there," he said while indicating Harvey Dent, "on what with our humble contributions will probably be a successful re-election to the office District Attorney."
"We're all law-abiding citizens here," he continued to muted chuckles and huffs from a third or so of the room, "and I'm reliably informed by my fiancee that a headstrong guy like Dent is just what your city needs."
The last quip got a more positive reaction from a larger part of the room, as Tony leaned into their preconceived image of an oblivious outsider.
"And finally, because I know someone's going to complain about my taking away the city's favorite media darling, Stark Industries is going to repay that debt with an investment into Gotham City of four hundred million dollars in the form of a manufacturing plant that will directly bring thousands of high-paying jobs, along with wider supplemental economic activity through its supporting logistics, to be constructed on the old site of the World of the Future fair."
If Bruce Wayne had been holding a glass in his hands, he would have cut himself breaking it.
"Gotham City deserves to have a bright and booming future it can look forward to again," Tony concluded. "I'm just laying a foundation to help the rest of you build it."
As the guests broke out into hushed whispers amidst a loud applause that was half-real and half-forced, Peter caught sight of a visibly peeved Bruce approaching Veronica once she was back on the floor.
"Ronnie," Bruce hissed, "I know you can do better than some sleazy, self-centered arms dealer…! I have to object--!"
"Brucey, is that a hint of jealousy I detect from you?! ...no? What a pity," Veronica sighed. "Look, I appreciate your looking out for me, I really do, but little Ronnie's a big girl who can make her own decisions. I don't need you to save me from the Big Bad Billionaire..."
Sounds like personal drama, Peter realized. The tabloids might go for that stuff, but I at least refuse to sink that low. Better make myself scarce and get to the Bugle with--
Before he could even finish the thought, time in his perception slowed to a crawl as an electric chill raced up his spine and through his brain.
My Spider-Sense?! But what could--?!
The glass sliding doors to the balcony, with their spectacular view of the city, promptly exploded inward with a spray of debris as a mysterious figure crashed into the ballroom.
"How rude of you to deny me an invitation to this little get-together," a loud male voice called out with a sneer, before the figure it belonged to began to stand up. Clad in an emerald armored bodysuit with an animalistic mask covering the figure's face, the man buffeted the entire room with a gust of wind with a single flap of the swings attached to his arms. "As recompense, I'll have to ask that you all make an additional donation of your belongings to… The Vulture!"
While Peter used the chaos to duck out of the room without being spotted, Bruce grit his teeth as he observed the unexpected visitor. That armor he's wearing would have probably absorbed most of the impact from his crash landing, the ends of the plumage on his wings look like they double as some kind of blade, and if his claws are equivalent to his armor, they can probably damage concrete at the very least...
Truth be told, Bruce did happen to have a belt full of gadgets that could have allowed him to isolate the threat and neutralize him safely.
But he didn't have it on him. So instead, Bruce took the only option he had to mitigate the chances of anyone around him being injured or worse. "What do you want? Our money? Jewels?"
The latter would've been particularly convenient, since they'd eventually have to be fenced somewhere and that would open an opportunity to determine just what kind of coward or lunatic was hiding under that mask...
The Vulture's bird mask prevented anyone from seeing what kind of expression was on his face, but Bruce could still detect the undercurrent of relief buried under the confidence he was trying to project. "All of the above," the Vulture exclaimed as he produced a thick and heavy-duty sack, before approaching Bruce as a first victim of his robbery. "Your money! Your valuables! And the assembled donations for Harvey Dent! Bequeath them all to me, and nobody gets hurt!"
"Do food donations count?" a new voice said from the balcony.
Vulture turned in confusion to face his challenger, and immediately took a red-webbed boot to the mouth.
"'Cause I've got all the kicks you can eat!"
"It's Spider-Man!" someone exclaimed.
Furious at the mere sight of him, Dent marched towards Spider-Man in an uproar. "You insufferable vigilante! If you're not out of my city in two seconds, I'll—mph!"
"Take a breather, Dent," the webhead taunted with a wagging finger as Dent clawed at the webbing on his mouth. "The Bugle's already endorsing you!"
While that byplay had been going on, Vulture was starting to recover from Spidey's surprise attack. "You rotten bug...!" Vulture snarled. "Think you can challenge your betters?! THINK AGAIN!"
With a swipe of his arm, the Vulture hurled a trio of razor-sharp feathers at Spider-Man, who grabbed a metal tray with his web and used it to deflect them into the floor.
With those reflexes, he could have just dodged them easily, Bruce noted as he tried to usher the crowd from the room. But he grabbed the impromptu shield out of awareness for the civilians behind him...
In the half-second Vulture hesitated looking at his foiled flechette feathers, Spider-Man had leapt to a wall and then bounded across the ceiling to tackle Vulture back towards the balcony. "I've seen better pitching at Little League!"
The webhead was busy enough trying to wrestle his opponent away from the remaining crowd that he almost missed the blaring of his Spider-Sense, and yelped when Vulture got a clawed hand on his face. "My sincerest apologies! Maybe you'll be more impressed with my catching!"
Rolling onto the balcony, Vulture slammed Spidey's head into the concrete floor beneath him once, twice, and then a third time, with each punctuated by a grunt of pain as the hardened stone began to crack.
"Now begone with you!"
Letting go of his prey, Vulture swung a wing at the balcony floor they were both on and severed it clean from the building, intent on letting the web-slinger fall to his doom with the rubble.
Blood in my eyes… seeing double… Spider-Sense… screaming at me…!
With a groan of effort, Spider-Man shot out a webline onto the skyscraper he was falling down, and promptly swung into it with a muffled curse when it went taught.
As he twisted and spun in the wind like a ragdoll, he shot out another web to catch the debris that had fallen with him before it could potentially land on anyone at ground level.
"Wasn't expecting Bird Brain to hit that hard," he muttered, sticking to the wall with one hand and both feet while he shook off the headache, looking through the window he was standing on and seeing that this floor, at least, was devoid of people.
As the webhead's vision continued to clear, he pulled up his debris and smashed it through the window next to him to make sure it couldn't harm anyone, before kneeling on the side of the building in a track runner's pose as he faced the top.
"Alright Spidey… let's do this one last time!"
And then he sprinted straight up the side of the building.
Back in the ballroom, Bruce had managed to evacuate almost everyone by the time Vulture was ready to turn his attention back to his attempted heist.
Everyone, that is, except for Stark, who'd kept himself out of the way sipping cocktails while spectating Vulture's fight with Spider-Man, and Veronica who'd been trying in vain to get him to budge.
Too late, as Vulture stormed back in from the balcony. "...so be it," the avian villain spat as he reached for Veronica, "I'm not against taking a hostage--"
And then a cocktail splashed across his mask, causing the Vulture to freeze in indignation.
"Don't be a fool," Tony scoffed. "I know Ronnie's hot, but in case that glitz and glam's blinded you – I'm the real prize you're interested in here."
"You miserable, preening peacock…! Fine, I don't care!"
Bruce watched in shock, fists clenched as Stark made himself a hostage just to inflate his ego… and when he recalled that Stark had spoken up to stop Vulture from taking Veronica, he just shook his head and dismissed that as a happy coincidence.
With that, Vulture grabbed Tony around the waist and flew off into the night with him as Bruce watched impotently… before making his way to a phone and placing a call. "Alfred, I'm coming home early..."
While Vulture flew through the air, using one arm to steer and maintain stability while he kept tight hold of his hostage with the other, Tony was calm. In his element. Practically flourishing.
"So that engine on your back sounds a lot like a micro-vernier I patented in third grade," Tony casually said by way of conversation, impressed by the relative quiet with which they cut through the air, even at speeds comparable to a car on the street. "I'm having a hard time believing it can purr like that and still generate enough thrust to push us both through the atmosphere like this without burning us both, especially considering how dense your armor probably is… I've gotta know, one engineer to another: what's your secret?"
"Hah! As if I'd tell a prey animal like you," Vulture sneered.
Tony looked back over his shoulder, and smirked. "So in other words, you're not even a second-rate scientist piggybacking off of my work – you're just some idiot using another man's technology. That's more boring than I expected."
"Don't get uppity with me, hosta—gkh!"
Tony slammed an elbow into Vulture's throat, causing the villain to release him and drop Tony to certain death on the streets below…
...just in time for Spider-Man to swing underneath the convulsing Vulture and snatch the billionaire inventor out of the sky. "What kind of crackpot are you?! You could have died just now!"
Rather than answer the question as Spider-Man swung towards a nearby roof to set him down on, Tony pulled out a small roll of hundred dollar bills from his inner suit pocket. "Here's a tip for following my plan," he said as he pressed it into Spidey's hand. "Now if I were a betting man, I'd say Vulture's using some kind of antigravity. You should be able to web up the output jets on his back-mounted verniers – or just yank them off -- and only kill his directional control without necessarily knocking him out of the air. Without thrust, he'll be fumbling around like an astronaut."
Staring first at the wad of cash in his hand, and then at Tony, an incensed Spider-Man practically threw it back to Tony. "Thanks for the heads-up, but I don't save people for money."
As the webhead leapt back into the sky in pursuit of the Vulture, Tony clicked his tongue. "That's a real shame, kid. You're not too bad at it."
As Vulture reeled through the Gotham night sky and drifted up to a church steeple in hopes of getting his bearing, he muttered one curse after another. First the damn webhead interrupts me when I'm robbing, then Stark butts his nose in while I'm trying to salvage the night, and now they're both working together to just. Keep. Screwing with me!
"That's enough, Vulture! You're coming home to roost!"
Vulture turned to look at the oncoming Spider-Man, and screamed as he hurled an entire wing's worth of flechette feathers at him. "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU PEST!"
Except this time, the web-slinger didn't have to worry about innocent bystanders as possible collateral damage, and casually yanked himself below their flight path with a web-line to the church. "Sure thing, Turkey! Just as soon as you're in prison!"
But although the attack had been a complete whiff, it had achieved something else.
It had stalled and distracted Spider-Man for the crucial few seconds Vulture needed to rocket up into the sky.
However, Vulture had miscalculated. In flying straight up, he had kept himself between a pair of skyscraper business offices on either side of the church. A fact which Spider-Man quickly made use of when he tied a pair of web-lines to each building and jumped from the church, using them as a slingshot to catch up with his opponent in seconds.
Vulture happened to glance down, and with a shout of fear at the webbed wonder racing up to meet him, tried swiping with his claws – only for Spider-Man to twist and dodge around the blow in mid-air, grabbing onto Vulture's shoulder with one hand, and then vaulting overhead onto the latter's back.
"N-NO! GET, GET OFF ME!"
"YOUR GOOSE IS COOKED!"
Without hesitation, Peter grabbed onto the Vulture's flight pack and peeled it open in a spray of sparks, before gumming up its internals with over a quart of fire-retardant webbing… just before his entire body shook with agony.
My Spider-Sense, it's… going nuclear!
Acting purely on instinct, Spider-Man pushed off from the Vulture and leapt away… at the same instant that a sniper round grazed the front of his chest. Had he reacted even a split-second later, it would have gone through his heart.
Free-falling through the air, Spider-Man caught himself with a web-line and swung in the direction his new assailant had fired from, only for nothing to catch his attention amidst the Gotham cityscape.
"C'mon Spider-Sense, just give me a hint…!"
The danger had evidently passed, the sniper seeming to have run off now that Vulture had managed to make an escape in his crippled condition. There were no clear clues to be had, and Spider-Man had now found himself with multiple injuries he needed to recover from.
With a shake of his head, Spider-Man resigned himself to indignantly collecting his street clothes from the fundraiser gala and then limping on to the Bugle in hopes of collecting his paycheck.
"Deadline was an hour ago, Parker! You expect me to pay for these shots of Vreeland and Stark when every two-bit gossip rag in this city is already having a field day with them?! YOU'RE FIRED!"
And this is what I get for sticking around to stop Vulture from picking all those fat cats clean, Peter lamented to himself. "Mr. Jameson, I'm sure there must be something you can use them for--"
"Hardly more than toilet paper, Parker! By the time tomorrow's paper hits print, our competitors will have wrung this story dry of any analysis worthy of our reputation! I'll give you twenty dollars a pop, and not a penny more!"
Well, Peter thought as his tyrant of a newspaper editor stopped ranting just long enough to breathe, at least he's paying for them after all.
"More importantly, where on Earth were you when that showboating narcissist Spider-Man came in and ruined the fundraiser?! Gotham needs a man like Dent to bring law and order back, and--"
Peter reached into his shirt pocket and produced a photograph of his masked alter ego tackling the Vulture away from the crowd. "I was right there getting pictures, same as usual. It was this new character who tried to rob the fundraiser, some nut calling himself the Vulture. Spider-Man came in afterwards and stopped him from taking anything."
J. Jonah Jameson took the photo in hand almost the same instant it hit his desk, holding it up to the ceiling light and puffing on his cigar in thought. As Peter produced another several photos of the fight at the fundraiser, including a few of the Vulture's dramatic entrance, the old man lit up with a grin. "SPIDER-MAN HELPS VULTURE ESCAPE CAPTURE!" he boomed with a laugh. "Now that's a headline! I knew I kept you around for something, Parker; now go talk to Robbie about your pay so you can GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!"
Practically shooed out through the door before he could offer so much as a breath of protest, Peter winced as it slammed behind him. At least I can count on Spider-Man to save my job...
While the moon rose into the night sky, Peter let out a sigh as he finally jogged up the sidewalk to a cozy little house near the edge of the Gotham suburbs. The lights were on, as expected… but unusually for the hour, the door wasn't locked.
Just like the night when Uncle Ben – no, I'm sure it has to be some kind of fluke or coincidence…!
"Aunt May," he called out as he stepped in, "is everything alright?"
For a long, heart-stopping second, nothing answered Peter's question. Not his last remaining parental figure, and not even his Spider-Sense.
And then the kindly old woman stepped into view from the parlor, almost knocking Peter to the floor with relief. "I left the door unbolted again, didn't I Peter? I'm so sorry dear – why, Peter! I can't believe you were out at night without a jacket again, you'll catch a cold!"
Before Peter could start to downplay the issue and claim that his rented suit had kept him warm enough, an old man about May's age wearing a heavy full-length coat stepped up behind her. "You should really listen a little more to your aunt, son. She's just as worried for you as you are for her."
"You're, um—" Peter stumbled over his response to the unexpected sight of GCPD Commissioner James Gordon in his home... particularly since he'd watched the old man try to sic the cops on him during a store robbery they'd both chanced onto just a week or so prior.
"Mr. Gordon came to visit a while ago," May explained. "I must have forgotten to lock the door again after I let him in. You know, Peter, he's got a lovely daughter about your age..."
Gordon stepped up to Peter with a handshake he… couldn't really refuse. "I know we haven't really had a chance to talk in a few months or so," Gordon said.
Since that night, Peter silently agreed. There was a moment's temptation to apply just a touch more grip than necessary, a petty little urge to vent some of the aggravation Peter had suffered at Gordon's hands as Spider-Man… but he buried it. Peter was above such petulant displays, especially with Aunt May there in the room. "I guess we haven't, Commissioner."
"I'm sure it doesn't mean much to you coming from me," Gordon continued, "but for what it's worth, I'm proud of you. It's not often in this town that I see a young man step up and take responsibility for his family after something like what you've been through… I wish Gotham had another few hundred kids like you, Peter."
Peter stared at the old man, unable to hide his surprise. In his entire life, only two other men had ever given him that kind of glowing recognition; one was laid to rest in a community cemetery, and the other he hadn't seen since he was a child. "Um… thank you. It's nice to hear that."
And then Peter remembered about the goliath of a donut-muncher taking potshots with a glock at his masked alter ego, and his regard for the Commissioner dipped back towards where it had been at the start of the conversation.
"Mr. Gordon," May asked with a smile, "will you be staying for dinner?"
"As much as I'd like to, I'm afraid I need to get back to the precinct about some business that went down earlier in the night… oh, Peter, could I talk to you outside for a minute or two while my car's warming up?"
Oh, great! Bad enough that I almost died chasing Vulture and then got blamed for his escape, now I have to deal with this guy too?! "...can I ask what it's about?"
Gordon laughed as he made for the door. "You're not in any kind of trouble that I'm aware of, if that's what you're worried about."
As the old man buttoned up his coat and then passed one from the doorside rack to Peter, May gave her nephew a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. "Be a dear and keep him a moment's company, won't you Peter? I'll have your favorite supper on the stove by the time you two are done."
Now well and truly out of options, Peter accepted the coat he'd been given and put it on, before following Gordon out to his car. "So, is there something I can help you with, Commissioner?"
Gordon didn't answer immediately, first taking out his key and turning it in the ignition. His beat-up old wagon spit and sputtered for a second or two, before roaring to life a moment later. "It's hard to bring this up out of nowhere, son, and I thought for a long time about whether I even should… but given that you take pictures of Spider-Man for a living, I decided that you need to know."
In the time it took Gordon to turn his attention from his car back to Peter, he almost looked like he'd aged another five years. "That man is… Spider-Man is wanted for police questioning in relation to your uncle's murder, Peter."
"...excuse me?"
Taking Peter's shock in stride, the older man continued, "You might not be aware of it, but before he took up vigilantism, Spider-Man spent a few nights as a pro wrestler down at the garden. One particular night, the venue was robbed by a masked gunman whom Spider-Man let run right past him… a while later that same night, after the home invasion that took your uncle's life, Spider-Man was also spotted leaving the warehouse the killer had holed up in. We don't know what might have happened inside or what the two might have said to each other… but there are a lot of questions I'm not happy with leaving unanswered."
Before Peter could even begin to process his indignation at having the worst night of his life thrown back in his face as if he hadn't been there for it, Gordon cut through the simmering rage with a hand on his shoulder. "Even if Spider-Man's religiously taken to helping the city since that night, we still don't know much about him and it's possible that he could be incredibly dangerous. Just… be careful around him, is all I'm asking. I think you know it would break May's heart if something happened to you."
Just five minutes earlier, Peter had been exhausted from his fight with the Vulture, near-death experience, and subsequent stress at the Bugle, and ready for nothing so much as a hot meal and a night's sleep.
Now, pumped full of adrenaline and rage he couldn't act on without causing problems for his aunt, Peter almost craved another few rounds with the emerald avian so he could get it out of his system. "I know exactly what that webbed jerk's capable of," he spat through grit teeth. "You don't have to worry about me getting into trouble on that account."
Gordon nodded in sympathy, giving Peter another fatherly pat on the shoulder before getting into his car. "I'm glad to hear that, Peter. I won't tell you how to run your life, as long as you don't try to play the hero; you've got a bright future ahead of you. Just let us professionals deal with Spider-Man."
With that, Gordon drove off back into the city, leaving Peter to stand there on the sidewalk with his blood boiling. "Man, if I could just get one good chance to really cut loose!"
Keenly aware of the fact that his spider-strength could destroy anything around him, the furious photographer just punched his palm with a snarl… before a cold wind blew through the street, taking Peter's rage with it. "No… no, get your head screwed back on straight," he admonished himself. "Assaulting an old man's too low for you… and everything he said was right, anyway."
The full moon came out from behind heavy cloud cover, casting the empty suburban street in a chilling, desolate light.
"Uncle Ben is dead because of Spider-Man," Peter admitted in shame as he turned to go back inside. "Because I was too self-centered and irresponsible to do the right thing when it would have counted."
Across much of the city, shopkeepers are closing up for the night.
A family huddles together on their way home from a stage play of The Mask of Zorro, nervously keeping to the well-lit main streets for fear of what may bump into them in the dark.
To the regular men and women of the city, theirs is a world of fear, of chronic anxiety constantly being managed in the face of a crime wave that never seems to end.
But while Gotham's ordinary citizens hustle and bustle like mice in the filthy gutters, the city shows another side.
A world of lights, of glitz, of unfathomable wealth corruptly changing from one set of grubby hands to another, wholly insulated from and ignorant to the desperate masses below and their hardships.
"Okay, that's the last time I watch a film noir marathon before bed... head in the game, Parker; with luck, the right shots here should be more than enough to cover my bills for the month."
Peter Parker, freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle, lightly tugged at the collar of his suit as he ducked around a waiter and his wine tray, before snapping a few pictures of the gathered millionaires and local corporate titans around him.
"It's crazy how many people are rich enough to get invited to a thing like this," he muttered, the lens of his camera sliding from shipping magnate Maximilian Zeus to the serial entrepreneur Roland Daggett.
A small orchestra had been set up at one end of the massive penthouse suite, providing the charity gala with muted but peaceful mood music.
As Peter cast his gaze around the room in search of a particularly suitable target, he heard a female voice calling out to him. "Hey, hunk with the camera! Why don't you come on over here and shoot the man of the hour?"
Turning in the direction he'd been called from, Peter's eyes widened at the sight of a gorgeous redhead in a little black party dress beckoning him over… with District Attorney Harvey Dent at her side.
The man of the hour and the party's host, at the same time? Now that's what I call a jackpot, Parker!
"Absolutely," Peter replied as he stepped up with his camera. "I've gotta say, it's an honor to meet you, Mr. Dent, Ms. Vreeland!"
The redhead grinned at Peter as she looked him up and down, before striking a glamorous pose. "For once the pleasure's mine," she purred. "My friends call me Ronnie; now be a dear and take me from whatever angle looks best, won't you?"
Peter genuinely wondered for a moment if the rich socialite was hitting on him, before shaking it off and returning his focus to the job, getting a few pictures with Veronica and Harvey smiling together as friends. As Peter backed up a few steps while tinkering with his zoom to get the best shot in frame, however, he bumped into someone behind him. "I'm so sorry about that--!"
"That's alright," came the reply, "I may have had a few too many cocktails myself. ...say, as long as you're taking pictures of our D.A., why not get one with me in it?"
As Peter turned to look over his shoulder at the man he'd bumped into, he barely caught a glimpse of Veronica and Harvey practically lighting up in his peripheral vision.
"Bruce! I was wondering when you'd come around!"
"A man this busy's always running all over the place."
Standing there, in an immaculate tuxedo, was Gotham City's favorite son.
The multimillionaire industrialist and philanthropist smiled at Peter, offering a handshake. "I'm Bruce Wayne," he said despite knowing full well that everyone who was anyone in Gotham knew his name and face intimately. "It's nice to meet you, Mr…?"
"P-Peter," the journalist replied as he took Bruce's handshake. "Peter Parker, with the Daily Bugle."
"Parker, you say? You wouldn't happen by any chance to be the same fellow who takes those pictures of Spider-Man, would you?"
"You mean that no-good attention-whoring vigilante Spider-Man," Dent scowled, before turning his attention to Peter. "It's masked clowns like him and the Bat who drag this city's good name through the mud, and I might appreciate if kids like you weren't so quick to give him the notoriety he so clearly revels in…!"
"Harvey," Veronica chided with a playful slap on the arm. "You shouldn't scare the poor boy when he's taking our pictures."
Peter carefully kept to himself the thought that Gotham's 'good name' was far more a victim of its raging petty crime, assorted lunatics, and dizzying levels of corrupt bureaucracy than anything Spider-Man did, and instead just shrugged. "I'm not any more a fan of that smug wall-crawling jerk than the next guy -- but shooting him helps to keep food on the table, so..."
Dent softened a bit on hearing that, while Veronica appeared to faintly marvel at the idea of someone needing to work to be able to eat.
"You know," Bruce began, "the Planet over in Metropolis would probably love to have a man like you on their staff. From what I've heard, they'd probably take a lot better care of you than that hothead running the Bugle..."
Peter glanced at Bruce for the unexpected remark while getting himself into position to shoot the trio all together. Why would some rich guy like Bruce Wayne take any kind of interest in some half-broke camera jockey...? "I appreciate the thought, Mr. Wayne, but I've got family in Gotham that I need to stick around and take care of."
Before Bruce could comment on that, Veronica climbed up onto a table and rang a small bell to get everyone's attention. "I'd like to take a moment to thank you all for taking part in this fundraiser to re-elect our dear District Attorney, Handsome Harvey Dent!"
Polite applause swept through the room as she indicated the man in question with a wave, before she then gave an impish smile. "Buuuut since I've got Gotham assembled in my ballroom tonight," she added with a wink at Peter, "I thought I'd take the chance to break some good news! Ladies and gents, it's official -- your girl Ronnie's engaged!"
What had been polite applause seconds earlier quickly gave way to shocked whispers and murmurs.
"Let me introduce to you the luckiest guy in Gotham tonight, my groom-to-be... the billionaire industrialist and inventor... Tony Stark!"
Just as Veronica waved to the main door, it bombastically flew open to reveal a man in a million-dollar suit with stylish sunglasses, a mullet, and a thin mustache swaggering into the room.
"So she actually found a way to marry up in the world," Dent noted with an amused huff.
If I can get back to the Bugle and break this, Peter mused with a grin, even JJJ'll practically give me a blank check!
If he hadn't been so focused on taking pictures of the couple, Peter might have noticed Bruce Wayne's deepening scowl.
For his part, Tony seemed to recognize the cool reception the fundraiser's wealthy guests were giving him, and shrugged it off with a smile as he started to speak. "I would introduce myself... but you already heard that gorgeous woman in the little dress, and I realize none of you showed up to hear me talk, so I'm gonna keep this brief. First off, I want to congratulate our Italian stallion over there," he said while indicating Harvey Dent, "on what with our humble contributions will probably be a successful re-election to the office District Attorney."
"We're all law-abiding citizens here," he continued to muted chuckles and huffs from a third or so of the room, "and I'm reliably informed by my fiancee that a headstrong guy like Dent is just what your city needs."
The last quip got a more positive reaction from a larger part of the room, as Tony leaned into their preconceived image of an oblivious outsider.
"And finally, because I know someone's going to complain about my taking away the city's favorite media darling, Stark Industries is going to repay that debt with an investment into Gotham City of four hundred million dollars in the form of a manufacturing plant that will directly bring thousands of high-paying jobs, along with wider supplemental economic activity through its supporting logistics, to be constructed on the old site of the World of the Future fair."
If Bruce Wayne had been holding a glass in his hands, he would have cut himself breaking it.
"Gotham City deserves to have a bright and booming future it can look forward to again," Tony concluded. "I'm just laying a foundation to help the rest of you build it."
As the guests broke out into hushed whispers amidst a loud applause that was half-real and half-forced, Peter caught sight of a visibly peeved Bruce approaching Veronica once she was back on the floor.
"Ronnie," Bruce hissed, "I know you can do better than some sleazy, self-centered arms dealer…! I have to object--!"
"Brucey, is that a hint of jealousy I detect from you?! ...no? What a pity," Veronica sighed. "Look, I appreciate your looking out for me, I really do, but little Ronnie's a big girl who can make her own decisions. I don't need you to save me from the Big Bad Billionaire..."
Sounds like personal drama, Peter realized. The tabloids might go for that stuff, but I at least refuse to sink that low. Better make myself scarce and get to the Bugle with--
Before he could even finish the thought, time in his perception slowed to a crawl as an electric chill raced up his spine and through his brain.
My Spider-Sense?! But what could--?!
The glass sliding doors to the balcony, with their spectacular view of the city, promptly exploded inward with a spray of debris as a mysterious figure crashed into the ballroom.
"How rude of you to deny me an invitation to this little get-together," a loud male voice called out with a sneer, before the figure it belonged to began to stand up. Clad in an emerald armored bodysuit with an animalistic mask covering the figure's face, the man buffeted the entire room with a gust of wind with a single flap of the swings attached to his arms. "As recompense, I'll have to ask that you all make an additional donation of your belongings to… The Vulture!"
While Peter used the chaos to duck out of the room without being spotted, Bruce grit his teeth as he observed the unexpected visitor. That armor he's wearing would have probably absorbed most of the impact from his crash landing, the ends of the plumage on his wings look like they double as some kind of blade, and if his claws are equivalent to his armor, they can probably damage concrete at the very least...
Truth be told, Bruce did happen to have a belt full of gadgets that could have allowed him to isolate the threat and neutralize him safely.
But he didn't have it on him. So instead, Bruce took the only option he had to mitigate the chances of anyone around him being injured or worse. "What do you want? Our money? Jewels?"
The latter would've been particularly convenient, since they'd eventually have to be fenced somewhere and that would open an opportunity to determine just what kind of coward or lunatic was hiding under that mask...
The Vulture's bird mask prevented anyone from seeing what kind of expression was on his face, but Bruce could still detect the undercurrent of relief buried under the confidence he was trying to project. "All of the above," the Vulture exclaimed as he produced a thick and heavy-duty sack, before approaching Bruce as a first victim of his robbery. "Your money! Your valuables! And the assembled donations for Harvey Dent! Bequeath them all to me, and nobody gets hurt!"
"Do food donations count?" a new voice said from the balcony.
Vulture turned in confusion to face his challenger, and immediately took a red-webbed boot to the mouth.
"'Cause I've got all the kicks you can eat!"
"It's Spider-Man!" someone exclaimed.
Furious at the mere sight of him, Dent marched towards Spider-Man in an uproar. "You insufferable vigilante! If you're not out of my city in two seconds, I'll—mph!"
"Take a breather, Dent," the webhead taunted with a wagging finger as Dent clawed at the webbing on his mouth. "The Bugle's already endorsing you!"
While that byplay had been going on, Vulture was starting to recover from Spidey's surprise attack. "You rotten bug...!" Vulture snarled. "Think you can challenge your betters?! THINK AGAIN!"
With a swipe of his arm, the Vulture hurled a trio of razor-sharp feathers at Spider-Man, who grabbed a metal tray with his web and used it to deflect them into the floor.
With those reflexes, he could have just dodged them easily, Bruce noted as he tried to usher the crowd from the room. But he grabbed the impromptu shield out of awareness for the civilians behind him...
In the half-second Vulture hesitated looking at his foiled flechette feathers, Spider-Man had leapt to a wall and then bounded across the ceiling to tackle Vulture back towards the balcony. "I've seen better pitching at Little League!"
The webhead was busy enough trying to wrestle his opponent away from the remaining crowd that he almost missed the blaring of his Spider-Sense, and yelped when Vulture got a clawed hand on his face. "My sincerest apologies! Maybe you'll be more impressed with my catching!"
Rolling onto the balcony, Vulture slammed Spidey's head into the concrete floor beneath him once, twice, and then a third time, with each punctuated by a grunt of pain as the hardened stone began to crack.
"Now begone with you!"
Letting go of his prey, Vulture swung a wing at the balcony floor they were both on and severed it clean from the building, intent on letting the web-slinger fall to his doom with the rubble.
Blood in my eyes… seeing double… Spider-Sense… screaming at me…!
With a groan of effort, Spider-Man shot out a webline onto the skyscraper he was falling down, and promptly swung into it with a muffled curse when it went taught.
As he twisted and spun in the wind like a ragdoll, he shot out another web to catch the debris that had fallen with him before it could potentially land on anyone at ground level.
"Wasn't expecting Bird Brain to hit that hard," he muttered, sticking to the wall with one hand and both feet while he shook off the headache, looking through the window he was standing on and seeing that this floor, at least, was devoid of people.
As the webhead's vision continued to clear, he pulled up his debris and smashed it through the window next to him to make sure it couldn't harm anyone, before kneeling on the side of the building in a track runner's pose as he faced the top.
"Alright Spidey… let's do this one last time!"
And then he sprinted straight up the side of the building.
Back in the ballroom, Bruce had managed to evacuate almost everyone by the time Vulture was ready to turn his attention back to his attempted heist.
Everyone, that is, except for Stark, who'd kept himself out of the way sipping cocktails while spectating Vulture's fight with Spider-Man, and Veronica who'd been trying in vain to get him to budge.
Too late, as Vulture stormed back in from the balcony. "...so be it," the avian villain spat as he reached for Veronica, "I'm not against taking a hostage--"
And then a cocktail splashed across his mask, causing the Vulture to freeze in indignation.
"Don't be a fool," Tony scoffed. "I know Ronnie's hot, but in case that glitz and glam's blinded you – I'm the real prize you're interested in here."
"You miserable, preening peacock…! Fine, I don't care!"
Bruce watched in shock, fists clenched as Stark made himself a hostage just to inflate his ego… and when he recalled that Stark had spoken up to stop Vulture from taking Veronica, he just shook his head and dismissed that as a happy coincidence.
With that, Vulture grabbed Tony around the waist and flew off into the night with him as Bruce watched impotently… before making his way to a phone and placing a call. "Alfred, I'm coming home early..."
While Vulture flew through the air, using one arm to steer and maintain stability while he kept tight hold of his hostage with the other, Tony was calm. In his element. Practically flourishing.
"So that engine on your back sounds a lot like a micro-vernier I patented in third grade," Tony casually said by way of conversation, impressed by the relative quiet with which they cut through the air, even at speeds comparable to a car on the street. "I'm having a hard time believing it can purr like that and still generate enough thrust to push us both through the atmosphere like this without burning us both, especially considering how dense your armor probably is… I've gotta know, one engineer to another: what's your secret?"
"Hah! As if I'd tell a prey animal like you," Vulture sneered.
Tony looked back over his shoulder, and smirked. "So in other words, you're not even a second-rate scientist piggybacking off of my work – you're just some idiot using another man's technology. That's more boring than I expected."
"Don't get uppity with me, hosta—gkh!"
Tony slammed an elbow into Vulture's throat, causing the villain to release him and drop Tony to certain death on the streets below…
...just in time for Spider-Man to swing underneath the convulsing Vulture and snatch the billionaire inventor out of the sky. "What kind of crackpot are you?! You could have died just now!"
Rather than answer the question as Spider-Man swung towards a nearby roof to set him down on, Tony pulled out a small roll of hundred dollar bills from his inner suit pocket. "Here's a tip for following my plan," he said as he pressed it into Spidey's hand. "Now if I were a betting man, I'd say Vulture's using some kind of antigravity. You should be able to web up the output jets on his back-mounted verniers – or just yank them off -- and only kill his directional control without necessarily knocking him out of the air. Without thrust, he'll be fumbling around like an astronaut."
Staring first at the wad of cash in his hand, and then at Tony, an incensed Spider-Man practically threw it back to Tony. "Thanks for the heads-up, but I don't save people for money."
As the webhead leapt back into the sky in pursuit of the Vulture, Tony clicked his tongue. "That's a real shame, kid. You're not too bad at it."
As Vulture reeled through the Gotham night sky and drifted up to a church steeple in hopes of getting his bearing, he muttered one curse after another. First the damn webhead interrupts me when I'm robbing, then Stark butts his nose in while I'm trying to salvage the night, and now they're both working together to just. Keep. Screwing with me!
"That's enough, Vulture! You're coming home to roost!"
Vulture turned to look at the oncoming Spider-Man, and screamed as he hurled an entire wing's worth of flechette feathers at him. "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU PEST!"
Except this time, the web-slinger didn't have to worry about innocent bystanders as possible collateral damage, and casually yanked himself below their flight path with a web-line to the church. "Sure thing, Turkey! Just as soon as you're in prison!"
But although the attack had been a complete whiff, it had achieved something else.
It had stalled and distracted Spider-Man for the crucial few seconds Vulture needed to rocket up into the sky.
However, Vulture had miscalculated. In flying straight up, he had kept himself between a pair of skyscraper business offices on either side of the church. A fact which Spider-Man quickly made use of when he tied a pair of web-lines to each building and jumped from the church, using them as a slingshot to catch up with his opponent in seconds.
Vulture happened to glance down, and with a shout of fear at the webbed wonder racing up to meet him, tried swiping with his claws – only for Spider-Man to twist and dodge around the blow in mid-air, grabbing onto Vulture's shoulder with one hand, and then vaulting overhead onto the latter's back.
"N-NO! GET, GET OFF ME!"
"YOUR GOOSE IS COOKED!"
Without hesitation, Peter grabbed onto the Vulture's flight pack and peeled it open in a spray of sparks, before gumming up its internals with over a quart of fire-retardant webbing… just before his entire body shook with agony.
My Spider-Sense, it's… going nuclear!
Acting purely on instinct, Spider-Man pushed off from the Vulture and leapt away… at the same instant that a sniper round grazed the front of his chest. Had he reacted even a split-second later, it would have gone through his heart.
Free-falling through the air, Spider-Man caught himself with a web-line and swung in the direction his new assailant had fired from, only for nothing to catch his attention amidst the Gotham cityscape.
"C'mon Spider-Sense, just give me a hint…!"
The danger had evidently passed, the sniper seeming to have run off now that Vulture had managed to make an escape in his crippled condition. There were no clear clues to be had, and Spider-Man had now found himself with multiple injuries he needed to recover from.
With a shake of his head, Spider-Man resigned himself to indignantly collecting his street clothes from the fundraiser gala and then limping on to the Bugle in hopes of collecting his paycheck.
"Deadline was an hour ago, Parker! You expect me to pay for these shots of Vreeland and Stark when every two-bit gossip rag in this city is already having a field day with them?! YOU'RE FIRED!"
And this is what I get for sticking around to stop Vulture from picking all those fat cats clean, Peter lamented to himself. "Mr. Jameson, I'm sure there must be something you can use them for--"
"Hardly more than toilet paper, Parker! By the time tomorrow's paper hits print, our competitors will have wrung this story dry of any analysis worthy of our reputation! I'll give you twenty dollars a pop, and not a penny more!"
Well, Peter thought as his tyrant of a newspaper editor stopped ranting just long enough to breathe, at least he's paying for them after all.
"More importantly, where on Earth were you when that showboating narcissist Spider-Man came in and ruined the fundraiser?! Gotham needs a man like Dent to bring law and order back, and--"
Peter reached into his shirt pocket and produced a photograph of his masked alter ego tackling the Vulture away from the crowd. "I was right there getting pictures, same as usual. It was this new character who tried to rob the fundraiser, some nut calling himself the Vulture. Spider-Man came in afterwards and stopped him from taking anything."
J. Jonah Jameson took the photo in hand almost the same instant it hit his desk, holding it up to the ceiling light and puffing on his cigar in thought. As Peter produced another several photos of the fight at the fundraiser, including a few of the Vulture's dramatic entrance, the old man lit up with a grin. "SPIDER-MAN HELPS VULTURE ESCAPE CAPTURE!" he boomed with a laugh. "Now that's a headline! I knew I kept you around for something, Parker; now go talk to Robbie about your pay so you can GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!"
Practically shooed out through the door before he could offer so much as a breath of protest, Peter winced as it slammed behind him. At least I can count on Spider-Man to save my job...
While the moon rose into the night sky, Peter let out a sigh as he finally jogged up the sidewalk to a cozy little house near the edge of the Gotham suburbs. The lights were on, as expected… but unusually for the hour, the door wasn't locked.
Just like the night when Uncle Ben – no, I'm sure it has to be some kind of fluke or coincidence…!
"Aunt May," he called out as he stepped in, "is everything alright?"
For a long, heart-stopping second, nothing answered Peter's question. Not his last remaining parental figure, and not even his Spider-Sense.
And then the kindly old woman stepped into view from the parlor, almost knocking Peter to the floor with relief. "I left the door unbolted again, didn't I Peter? I'm so sorry dear – why, Peter! I can't believe you were out at night without a jacket again, you'll catch a cold!"
Before Peter could start to downplay the issue and claim that his rented suit had kept him warm enough, an old man about May's age wearing a heavy full-length coat stepped up behind her. "You should really listen a little more to your aunt, son. She's just as worried for you as you are for her."
"You're, um—" Peter stumbled over his response to the unexpected sight of GCPD Commissioner James Gordon in his home... particularly since he'd watched the old man try to sic the cops on him during a store robbery they'd both chanced onto just a week or so prior.
"Mr. Gordon came to visit a while ago," May explained. "I must have forgotten to lock the door again after I let him in. You know, Peter, he's got a lovely daughter about your age..."
Gordon stepped up to Peter with a handshake he… couldn't really refuse. "I know we haven't really had a chance to talk in a few months or so," Gordon said.
Since that night, Peter silently agreed. There was a moment's temptation to apply just a touch more grip than necessary, a petty little urge to vent some of the aggravation Peter had suffered at Gordon's hands as Spider-Man… but he buried it. Peter was above such petulant displays, especially with Aunt May there in the room. "I guess we haven't, Commissioner."
"I'm sure it doesn't mean much to you coming from me," Gordon continued, "but for what it's worth, I'm proud of you. It's not often in this town that I see a young man step up and take responsibility for his family after something like what you've been through… I wish Gotham had another few hundred kids like you, Peter."
Peter stared at the old man, unable to hide his surprise. In his entire life, only two other men had ever given him that kind of glowing recognition; one was laid to rest in a community cemetery, and the other he hadn't seen since he was a child. "Um… thank you. It's nice to hear that."
And then Peter remembered about the goliath of a donut-muncher taking potshots with a glock at his masked alter ego, and his regard for the Commissioner dipped back towards where it had been at the start of the conversation.
"Mr. Gordon," May asked with a smile, "will you be staying for dinner?"
"As much as I'd like to, I'm afraid I need to get back to the precinct about some business that went down earlier in the night… oh, Peter, could I talk to you outside for a minute or two while my car's warming up?"
Oh, great! Bad enough that I almost died chasing Vulture and then got blamed for his escape, now I have to deal with this guy too?! "...can I ask what it's about?"
Gordon laughed as he made for the door. "You're not in any kind of trouble that I'm aware of, if that's what you're worried about."
As the old man buttoned up his coat and then passed one from the doorside rack to Peter, May gave her nephew a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. "Be a dear and keep him a moment's company, won't you Peter? I'll have your favorite supper on the stove by the time you two are done."
Now well and truly out of options, Peter accepted the coat he'd been given and put it on, before following Gordon out to his car. "So, is there something I can help you with, Commissioner?"
Gordon didn't answer immediately, first taking out his key and turning it in the ignition. His beat-up old wagon spit and sputtered for a second or two, before roaring to life a moment later. "It's hard to bring this up out of nowhere, son, and I thought for a long time about whether I even should… but given that you take pictures of Spider-Man for a living, I decided that you need to know."
In the time it took Gordon to turn his attention from his car back to Peter, he almost looked like he'd aged another five years. "That man is… Spider-Man is wanted for police questioning in relation to your uncle's murder, Peter."
"...excuse me?"
Taking Peter's shock in stride, the older man continued, "You might not be aware of it, but before he took up vigilantism, Spider-Man spent a few nights as a pro wrestler down at the garden. One particular night, the venue was robbed by a masked gunman whom Spider-Man let run right past him… a while later that same night, after the home invasion that took your uncle's life, Spider-Man was also spotted leaving the warehouse the killer had holed up in. We don't know what might have happened inside or what the two might have said to each other… but there are a lot of questions I'm not happy with leaving unanswered."
Before Peter could even begin to process his indignation at having the worst night of his life thrown back in his face as if he hadn't been there for it, Gordon cut through the simmering rage with a hand on his shoulder. "Even if Spider-Man's religiously taken to helping the city since that night, we still don't know much about him and it's possible that he could be incredibly dangerous. Just… be careful around him, is all I'm asking. I think you know it would break May's heart if something happened to you."
Just five minutes earlier, Peter had been exhausted from his fight with the Vulture, near-death experience, and subsequent stress at the Bugle, and ready for nothing so much as a hot meal and a night's sleep.
Now, pumped full of adrenaline and rage he couldn't act on without causing problems for his aunt, Peter almost craved another few rounds with the emerald avian so he could get it out of his system. "I know exactly what that webbed jerk's capable of," he spat through grit teeth. "You don't have to worry about me getting into trouble on that account."
Gordon nodded in sympathy, giving Peter another fatherly pat on the shoulder before getting into his car. "I'm glad to hear that, Peter. I won't tell you how to run your life, as long as you don't try to play the hero; you've got a bright future ahead of you. Just let us professionals deal with Spider-Man."
With that, Gordon drove off back into the city, leaving Peter to stand there on the sidewalk with his blood boiling. "Man, if I could just get one good chance to really cut loose!"
Keenly aware of the fact that his spider-strength could destroy anything around him, the furious photographer just punched his palm with a snarl… before a cold wind blew through the street, taking Peter's rage with it. "No… no, get your head screwed back on straight," he admonished himself. "Assaulting an old man's too low for you… and everything he said was right, anyway."
The full moon came out from behind heavy cloud cover, casting the empty suburban street in a chilling, desolate light.
"Uncle Ben is dead because of Spider-Man," Peter admitted in shame as he turned to go back inside. "Because I was too self-centered and irresponsible to do the right thing when it would have counted."
Not in Person
Once Known as The Nobody
- Location
- A place
That's pretty neat. I wonder how quickly Batman figures out his real identity.