Fiend: Thread Two, the Rethreading [Exalted/Worm]
- Thread starter logiccosmic
- Start date
Nymph has all sorts of weird fantasy, that's why she gets paired up with Fantasy. Also why her codename is Nymph.Dimensionist said:So ... Cook had a fantasy of two dolphins fucking?
Given how Taylor negates Contessa's powers and both of them are critical assets, isn't it more logical to steer Taylor away from the Mob somehow?YuffieK said:
Arkeus
Crazy cat guy
- Location
- France
Well, there is a 'why is she not known in Canon' to think about. Sure, weak cape do not need to be known as they might disappear easily before the canon events, but Reinc seems like a important figure who is also in control of a group of competent capes, those are rare.YuffieK said:
So, a few possible reasons for thati can see offhand:
1°)Doylist reason: LogicCosmos doesn't care about introducing new powerful cape groups. It's not like we know -every- powerful group in canon, or that they couldn't have had an accident anyway.
2°)They are a existing group under another name. This includes Contessa, but is not limited to her.
3°)They are Coil-like. E.G, in this fic Cauldron supported many different groups for stability and taking over places, and Coil was just the most successful of those (Reinc's group dies before the Leviathan attack).
4°) They are a DIRECT product of the crossover. Now, LC has seems to be careful of not introducing any Exalted element in his fic beside the infernal exaltation of Taylor's, but it's somehow possible that a few more things god through. I doubt it though, as so far it pretty much stayed on the Worm side, and everything hints at not having any more Exalted stuff whatsoever.
5°)They are a indirect product of Taylor exalting. E.G, Reinc was supposed to have been dealt with/etc by now, but Taylor's blasphemy as well as her going to NYC means that NM thought Reinc could be a decent first antagonist for Taylor. Pretty much "controlled fighting ground" for her. The lack of information is, of course, because he wants Taylor to improve without being given everything on a platter.
I think it's most likely just that there are a whole ton of capes and organizations we don't really know about, because for most of Worm it's solely focused on Brockton Bay, and after that all that matters are the capes with world wide power/recognition.
A local mob boss just isn't that important in the scheme of things.
A local mob boss just isn't that important in the scheme of things.
Actually, it's more possible that she saw someone she treasured being beaten, possibly while being tied up. An emotional torture. The sort of where villains cut up / beat up a child while making mother watch. That would produce this sort of power, I think.Essex said:
Arkeus
Crazy cat guy
- Location
- France
That, and if her stuff was an illusion Cook wouldn't be annoyed about her transforming in his car.Essex said:
Yzarc
The Spark of Madness
Essex said:
Guile
Having a really great time right now
"No, not my child! Take me instead!" Power activates. And then they do.Yog said:
Ouch.
pheonix89
Wants to be Seven Of Nine
- Location
- North American Plaguelands
- Pronouns
- She/Her
God, that is a horrible power 99 times out of 100 someone could get it. Now, if someone got it as a secondary trigger when they already had an OP primary one and the event that caused the secondary was people going after their teammates or family and locking them away from the battlefield it would be AMAZING - and fun to have.Guile said:
Imagine it teamed up with Siberian for an Endbringer attack. No losses.
Fuck, she's Agent Smith!Antumbra said:
15
logiccosmic
the Prince of Word Crimes
- Location
- the Hague, formerly
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Operation Wyldhand 5.1
Fifty-two.
Arms burning, and unhealed flesh stretching uncomfortably, I dropped back down. With shaking arms, I slowly pushed myself back up.
Fifty-three.
My knees hit the carpet, as I left the pushup position. I shook out my arms, and wiped the sweat off my brow. A quick dabbing with a dry towel, and I headed into the shower for the last time. I had to check out of the room this morning, and I didn't know how soon I would get another chance at my own bathroom.
A quick examination in the shower revealed my first injury – Sophia's hole in my stomach – had disappeared, reverting back to flesh. The rest of my wounds were still metal though. I felt relief that I wouldn't become solid metal as I kept accumulating injuries in the future. And... a pinch of guilt at the reminder of Sophia. She was still dead, by my hands. Joined by many others now.
What could I have done different, in the heat of the moment? Sophia had pulled a knife on me with the intent to kill me. The various gang members had tried to kill me, and had been members of organizations that dealt drugs, along with other serious crimes. I hadn't gone about any of it the best way, and that I could fix. That I would fix.
A few minutes after the shower almost everything was packed and ready to go, including my newly gained intelligence. My satchel contained both that, and my laptop. I'd study today, and start scouting again tonight. Scouting. Not butting into situations I knew nothing about blindly. Dressed, I put my remaining clothes into a suitcase, and zipped it back up. I looked over the room one last time. And checked underneath the bed. I had everything. Most importantly though, the money. Time for a new place.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Coffee, again. I could see why my dad drank it every day. Probably necessary. I was in a coffee shop, specifically, one that had wireless internet. It was a toss-up to find one, but one with both internet and quality coffee and food was a nice find. Finishing up my scone, I continued my search.
I was looking for apartments. Hotel rooms were nice- but I didn't want to stay in them constantly, and they had far more people, and potential observers or witnesses. With my ID, fake though it was, it should have been easy to get an apartment, preferably with furniture provided.
But it wasn't. Some asked for a Social Security number when I had called them, and others wanted proof of employment, and the vast majority wanted references. None of which I could provide. Larger buildings, presumably owned by a company that managed them, were the worst by far, generally asking for all three. For three hours, several coffees, and two scones, all I had was a half dead battery on my cellphone and laptop.
Once more into the breach.
A smaller building, four stories, but near Central Park. Expensive, too, but at this point I was flush for cash. And most importantly, on its ad, they were not asking for references. I dialed.
"Lawerence Hilton-Jacob Group, how may I direct your call?"
"I wanted to inquire about the Morningside Heights property," I said.
"Well, the lease is 12 months, and we still have several open at this time. If you go on our website, or stop by our offices, we can start an application-"
I cut her off, expending part of my inner pool. At this rate, I wouldn't find anything before lunch, or even dinner. "Miss, please. I just got to town, and my other apartment fell through, and school has already started. If there is anything I can do, just to get an apartment now."
The line went silent, and I almost gave up, and ended my call, before she spoke again.
"I'll transfer you to the property manager, directly. He can answer your questions."
"Thank you," I said, real gratitude in my voice.
"Transferring."
I held the phone away from my ear as muzak blasted out. With my other hand, I looked up the information I would need to sell this.
"Miss?" The muzak cut off, and a man spoke.
"Hi," I said, dropping to around two-thirds empty. My voice turned, well, girly. Imitating Madison, really. "My apartment didn't work out, and I'm already starting at Columbia, and I need some place to live. I can't keep living out of hotels!"
"Well, we do need that paperwork if you are to become a resident-"
I cut him off, burning what I had regained, "Maybe if I did a security deposit, or something?"
The line went silent again, but this time I didn't worry. Security deposit, or more accurately, bribe. The man slowly spoke, as if thinking hard, "If you doubled the first month's rent, in addition to the actual security deposit, that would work."
"Great! So I can come by, like now?"
"Yes. The additional security deposit should be on a separate check-"
I interjected, again, "Oh, could I do cash on the additional? I don't want to put that much on my checking account."
He got much friendlier. In a much more polite tone, he said, "Sure. That's fine. You can pay when you come in, and then get you your key."
I hung up after pleasantries. I had some place to live, and some place to take a shower. And someplace less likely to give me bedbugs or be broken into, like a motel.
And for now, I planned to stay here in the city.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I sat down on my new bed, in my new apartment. It had cost more than I had liked, nearly six thousand dollars, when the bribe was included. But, I had a furnished apartment under my fake ID, and someplace more secure to store my things. I opened a suitcase, and pulled out a stack of money. Nearly half a suitcase was full of money.
How much damage did I do with one backpack load? With two? Even burning the drugs?
Not enough. A brief skim through the folders had been illuminating. They made at least half a million dollars a day in drugs sold in the city alone, with most of their bigger income sales coming in from the sale and distribution to the rest of the gangs throughout the east coast, and that's before the prostitution, underground gambling, and other crimes were added into things. I didn't know how the Number Man got his information, but he even had their property taxes. I flipped through the folder with a red label on it. It included a projection of the most likely short term actions by the gang, centered mostly on what they would do tonight. At its header, it noted that any projection beyond tonight's was likely to be guesswork, and likely to be inaccurate at that. But the important part? That vital parts of their empire would be vulnerable.
So, question is, do I act on this or not?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The neighborhood was fairly nice for the Bronx, so far as I could tell. Three story brown townhouses lined the street, and of the selection of cars parked on the side of the street, none of them had faded paint. I found my target's house, and knocked, feeling uneasy in the light in my current form.
I slipped right in through the space between the door hinges as it was opened. I moved along the baseboard, and shot into what had to be a hallway closet. I felt the sense of wrongness evaporate as I was shrouded in darkness. Footsteps passed my hiding spot, and the bar of light shining on the golf bag I was resting on disappeared with a click of the light switch.
I exited my hiding spot, moving from the kitchen to the counter as I watched a woman move into a lighted living room, her back facing me. I saw the stairs and moved upwards to the second floor. I peeked into each bedroom, and the office. The first room held his daughter, talking away merrily on her cellphone. The second held his son, and- and I quickly made sure to slip back out of his room, feeling my cheeks turn red even while in shadow form. The third room was his and his wife's. Mikail's, that was. Mikail was the local 757s' leader, and like his name suggested he had an ego consummate with the position.
The Number Man's file, in addition to having a list of his predilections, whether spirits or women, had an extensive history bio. He had been supposedly converted to Islam in prison, but the Number Man's report made it clear it was a sham. Primarily to attract other recently converted convicts to his banner, and to give himself the veneer of legitimacy. Once out of the prison, he had triggered due to an unknown event, and quickly dismantled the gang's previous leadership, nearly a decade ago. The only remnant of his supposed faith was his name, which the file had noted as a name of an Angel.
From there he had built himself and the gang up, using both his own parahuman abilities, as a Mover/Brute, and by attracting new talent, with very serious amounts of money. He had brought the shattered gang back together, and expanded their slice of the drug market.
Just the sort of person who could use less stuff. It was for a good and charitable cause after all.
I crept underneath the door, invisible as a shadow in the barely lighted landing. Even in the dark of the office, I could see perfectly. If I was a safe -
I would apparently be sitting open, right behind the desk. I scoffed, disappointed at the arrogance of this guy. I had been thinking all sorts of ways to to find and get into a hidden safe, and for nothing. Who left a safe out in the open and unlocked, anyway?
I cleaned it out, taking both papers and money. The latter, to obviously fund my enterprise, and the former to start my own intelligence gathering. I couldn't rely on the information just dropping into my lap anymore. I went back downstairs, sneaking a fraction of my head through the stair railing to check on the living room and kitchen. Still good.
I made it to the door, before realizing an unforeseen complication. The deadbolt was locked via key, even on the inside. A complication which I immediately solved, by taking what had to be the Mikail's wife's keys out of a bowl by the door. Unless he liked that much pink, I digressed. I unlocked it, as quietly as possible, and then closed it behind me as I left the house. I didn't lock them in, on the off chance of a fire. Keys in hand, I thought about how to get to my next target, before I noticed something quite useful.
And then I picked out the beeper to a car from the keychain. I pressed the unlock button on it, and an SUV beeped in front of me as it unlocked. Well, I wasn't going to complain. I opened the driver door before tossing my backpack into the passenger seat, and with my body reverting from its shadow state, pulled out of the line of cars on the street.
A/N: Probably no update tomorrow/today (Wherever you are), as I am driving my Mom to the airport.
I might get it done, but probably not.
Fifty-two.
Arms burning, and unhealed flesh stretching uncomfortably, I dropped back down. With shaking arms, I slowly pushed myself back up.
Fifty-three.
My knees hit the carpet, as I left the pushup position. I shook out my arms, and wiped the sweat off my brow. A quick dabbing with a dry towel, and I headed into the shower for the last time. I had to check out of the room this morning, and I didn't know how soon I would get another chance at my own bathroom.
A quick examination in the shower revealed my first injury – Sophia's hole in my stomach – had disappeared, reverting back to flesh. The rest of my wounds were still metal though. I felt relief that I wouldn't become solid metal as I kept accumulating injuries in the future. And... a pinch of guilt at the reminder of Sophia. She was still dead, by my hands. Joined by many others now.
What could I have done different, in the heat of the moment? Sophia had pulled a knife on me with the intent to kill me. The various gang members had tried to kill me, and had been members of organizations that dealt drugs, along with other serious crimes. I hadn't gone about any of it the best way, and that I could fix. That I would fix.
A few minutes after the shower almost everything was packed and ready to go, including my newly gained intelligence. My satchel contained both that, and my laptop. I'd study today, and start scouting again tonight. Scouting. Not butting into situations I knew nothing about blindly. Dressed, I put my remaining clothes into a suitcase, and zipped it back up. I looked over the room one last time. And checked underneath the bed. I had everything. Most importantly though, the money. Time for a new place.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Coffee, again. I could see why my dad drank it every day. Probably necessary. I was in a coffee shop, specifically, one that had wireless internet. It was a toss-up to find one, but one with both internet and quality coffee and food was a nice find. Finishing up my scone, I continued my search.
I was looking for apartments. Hotel rooms were nice- but I didn't want to stay in them constantly, and they had far more people, and potential observers or witnesses. With my ID, fake though it was, it should have been easy to get an apartment, preferably with furniture provided.
But it wasn't. Some asked for a Social Security number when I had called them, and others wanted proof of employment, and the vast majority wanted references. None of which I could provide. Larger buildings, presumably owned by a company that managed them, were the worst by far, generally asking for all three. For three hours, several coffees, and two scones, all I had was a half dead battery on my cellphone and laptop.
Once more into the breach.
A smaller building, four stories, but near Central Park. Expensive, too, but at this point I was flush for cash. And most importantly, on its ad, they were not asking for references. I dialed.
"Lawerence Hilton-Jacob Group, how may I direct your call?"
"I wanted to inquire about the Morningside Heights property," I said.
"Well, the lease is 12 months, and we still have several open at this time. If you go on our website, or stop by our offices, we can start an application-"
I cut her off, expending part of my inner pool. At this rate, I wouldn't find anything before lunch, or even dinner. "Miss, please. I just got to town, and my other apartment fell through, and school has already started. If there is anything I can do, just to get an apartment now."
The line went silent, and I almost gave up, and ended my call, before she spoke again.
"I'll transfer you to the property manager, directly. He can answer your questions."
"Thank you," I said, real gratitude in my voice.
"Transferring."
I held the phone away from my ear as muzak blasted out. With my other hand, I looked up the information I would need to sell this.
"Miss?" The muzak cut off, and a man spoke.
"Hi," I said, dropping to around two-thirds empty. My voice turned, well, girly. Imitating Madison, really. "My apartment didn't work out, and I'm already starting at Columbia, and I need some place to live. I can't keep living out of hotels!"
"Well, we do need that paperwork if you are to become a resident-"
I cut him off, burning what I had regained, "Maybe if I did a security deposit, or something?"
The line went silent again, but this time I didn't worry. Security deposit, or more accurately, bribe. The man slowly spoke, as if thinking hard, "If you doubled the first month's rent, in addition to the actual security deposit, that would work."
"Great! So I can come by, like now?"
"Yes. The additional security deposit should be on a separate check-"
I interjected, again, "Oh, could I do cash on the additional? I don't want to put that much on my checking account."
He got much friendlier. In a much more polite tone, he said, "Sure. That's fine. You can pay when you come in, and then get you your key."
I hung up after pleasantries. I had some place to live, and some place to take a shower. And someplace less likely to give me bedbugs or be broken into, like a motel.
And for now, I planned to stay here in the city.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I sat down on my new bed, in my new apartment. It had cost more than I had liked, nearly six thousand dollars, when the bribe was included. But, I had a furnished apartment under my fake ID, and someplace more secure to store my things. I opened a suitcase, and pulled out a stack of money. Nearly half a suitcase was full of money.
How much damage did I do with one backpack load? With two? Even burning the drugs?
Not enough. A brief skim through the folders had been illuminating. They made at least half a million dollars a day in drugs sold in the city alone, with most of their bigger income sales coming in from the sale and distribution to the rest of the gangs throughout the east coast, and that's before the prostitution, underground gambling, and other crimes were added into things. I didn't know how the Number Man got his information, but he even had their property taxes. I flipped through the folder with a red label on it. It included a projection of the most likely short term actions by the gang, centered mostly on what they would do tonight. At its header, it noted that any projection beyond tonight's was likely to be guesswork, and likely to be inaccurate at that. But the important part? That vital parts of their empire would be vulnerable.
So, question is, do I act on this or not?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The neighborhood was fairly nice for the Bronx, so far as I could tell. Three story brown townhouses lined the street, and of the selection of cars parked on the side of the street, none of them had faded paint. I found my target's house, and knocked, feeling uneasy in the light in my current form.
I slipped right in through the space between the door hinges as it was opened. I moved along the baseboard, and shot into what had to be a hallway closet. I felt the sense of wrongness evaporate as I was shrouded in darkness. Footsteps passed my hiding spot, and the bar of light shining on the golf bag I was resting on disappeared with a click of the light switch.
I exited my hiding spot, moving from the kitchen to the counter as I watched a woman move into a lighted living room, her back facing me. I saw the stairs and moved upwards to the second floor. I peeked into each bedroom, and the office. The first room held his daughter, talking away merrily on her cellphone. The second held his son, and- and I quickly made sure to slip back out of his room, feeling my cheeks turn red even while in shadow form. The third room was his and his wife's. Mikail's, that was. Mikail was the local 757s' leader, and like his name suggested he had an ego consummate with the position.
The Number Man's file, in addition to having a list of his predilections, whether spirits or women, had an extensive history bio. He had been supposedly converted to Islam in prison, but the Number Man's report made it clear it was a sham. Primarily to attract other recently converted convicts to his banner, and to give himself the veneer of legitimacy. Once out of the prison, he had triggered due to an unknown event, and quickly dismantled the gang's previous leadership, nearly a decade ago. The only remnant of his supposed faith was his name, which the file had noted as a name of an Angel.
From there he had built himself and the gang up, using both his own parahuman abilities, as a Mover/Brute, and by attracting new talent, with very serious amounts of money. He had brought the shattered gang back together, and expanded their slice of the drug market.
Just the sort of person who could use less stuff. It was for a good and charitable cause after all.
I crept underneath the door, invisible as a shadow in the barely lighted landing. Even in the dark of the office, I could see perfectly. If I was a safe -
I would apparently be sitting open, right behind the desk. I scoffed, disappointed at the arrogance of this guy. I had been thinking all sorts of ways to to find and get into a hidden safe, and for nothing. Who left a safe out in the open and unlocked, anyway?
I cleaned it out, taking both papers and money. The latter, to obviously fund my enterprise, and the former to start my own intelligence gathering. I couldn't rely on the information just dropping into my lap anymore. I went back downstairs, sneaking a fraction of my head through the stair railing to check on the living room and kitchen. Still good.
I made it to the door, before realizing an unforeseen complication. The deadbolt was locked via key, even on the inside. A complication which I immediately solved, by taking what had to be the Mikail's wife's keys out of a bowl by the door. Unless he liked that much pink, I digressed. I unlocked it, as quietly as possible, and then closed it behind me as I left the house. I didn't lock them in, on the off chance of a fire. Keys in hand, I thought about how to get to my next target, before I noticed something quite useful.
And then I picked out the beeper to a car from the keychain. I pressed the unlock button on it, and an SUV beeped in front of me as it unlocked. Well, I wasn't going to complain. I opened the driver door before tossing my backpack into the passenger seat, and with my body reverting from its shadow state, pulled out of the line of cars on the street.
A/N: Probably no update tomorrow/today (Wherever you are), as I am driving my Mom to the airport.
I might get it done, but probably not.
Unlikely. Taylor knows that what she did so far is inconsequential. She needs, and will, escalate to inflict strategic long-term damage on her targets, I think.ScreenXSurfer said:
logiccosmic
the Prince of Word Crimes
- Location
- the Hague, formerly
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Gangs will be involved. But will not be the primary antagonists.ScreenXSurfer said:
Arkeus
Crazy cat guy
- Location
- France
Well, this was fun. So she is slowly learning how Bureaucracy works and how to stunts around it. Now she needs to abuse it 
Oh, and she is upping the ant of the game, now going after the gang bosses. This will certainly not get her hitmen after her ass. Fun fun times
Oh, and she is upping the ant of the game, now going after the gang bosses. This will certainly not get her hitmen after her ass. Fun fun times
Hmm, I actually never heard a Muslim with angel's name. Rather uncommon thing, I think.
Now it hits me what the past few chapters is reminding me of Grand Theft Auto.
Pyrion
Asuran Rights Activist
- Location
- Spirit Lake, ID
LoJack, particularly the early-warning system, is overrated. I have one on my car, and the only time the damn thing everSimonbob said:
I only vaguely remember the old ones and the only one I have in my head is Vice City but the over top violence and car-jacking is something I always associate with GTA.gideon020 said:
That said Taylor is thinking she has things under control and as we all know the Wormverse will not allow it, so I am waiting for the next shoe (of DOOOM) to drop.
Yeah. It may also be reasoned as conversion of his previous name's spelling or maybe commonality of name was different there in US with so many Michaels around. Just noting that I found uncommon, that's all.SolipsistSerpen said:
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Doubt it, if it was, well, I think the local PD could get a warrant to check where he went in it...Simonbob said:
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Probably. Sure will suck for the city, they'll be stuck with dealing with the aftermath...Auks said:
NSMS
Probably evil, unfortunately.
- Location
- A rapidly widening tear in the fabric of reality
And chances are that with that much carnage/destruction going on, an Endbringer will show up.Night_stalker said:
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
And then promptly leave, going "You're obviously too busy, we'll come back later."NSMS said: