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Post by Dead Sidekick on Aug 10, 2010 0:00:50 GMT -5
A pounding headache, like the militant march of a million hangovers rolled into one.
Mike Sherman woke up in an odd position. Under something. Face down with something tied to his back.
With a little effort, Mike's strength returned and he pushed himself up off the cold concrete floor. Easily snapping the binds around him, the burly hero known as Oldschool found that he had been strapped to some overturned medical gurney. Remnants of electrodes attached to his forehead dangled over his face, once connected to some strange looking yet completely smashed computer equipment.
Getting up, the immediate smell of offal and dried blood repulsed him as he discovered the corpse of a man in a green coverall uniform, his head nearly torn off and his innards dripping off the walls from an obviously violent disemboweling force.
Oldschool noticed another gurney, ripped to shreds by whatever had escaped from it.
Then the dizzyness hit him, and he felt like he was recovering from some powerful sedatives.
In a haze, Oldschool dimly remembered being in a fight, a fight that seemed like a dream. He seemed to remember grabbing a man and tossing him at some Oriental businessmen, possibly Japanese. The man hit him harder than Oldschool had ever been hit before, yet Oldschool continued to assault him, trashing his office and sending the Japanese men scurrying. He remembered saying "You're through, Nefaria! The Faces of Fear rule this town now!" It was Oldschool's voice, but he could remember fighting the mental force that made him say it,
Then everything went black again.
ooc: Oldschool has been unconscious for two days. Now he's awake, in what seems to be an abandoned warehouse. Whatever device Oldschool and whoever was in the other gurney was connected to, the device is completely and thoroughly smashed. Bits of blood and fur seems to cover what's left of it.
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Post by TasK on Aug 10, 2010 15:36:43 GMT -5
He was on the floor again. All he could see was the floor and the wall, only inches away from where he had fell. Instead of immediately getting up, Mike digested what he knew and what he could recall. It seemed so surreal.
There had been a body. And blood. Lots of blood. Mike was no stranger to carnage, yet, he hoped it was just something he had imagined.
Where the hell was he, anyway? He asked himself and... Where the hell was everyone else?
He had already played 'Last Man Standing' when he was in the army. He didn't want to play that game again. Hopefully the others were out somewhere fighting the good fight, maybe even looking for him.
If they were dead, he didn't know what he'd do.
And who the hell was Nefaria? What a weird dream. Scary too. His body still felt hurt from the dream and there wasn't too many things that could hurt him. It had to be a dream.
All of it...
Mike forced himself from the floor into a sitting position and then slowly turned around. The body, blood and medical equipment was still there.
Oldschool stared at it emotionless. Why did he have no memory of this?
Had he really attacked this.. Nefaria? Was that how he ended up here, bruised and broken? He hurt me... Hadn't hurt that bad since basic training...
Rising to his feet, Oldschool took his time to get his balance. Normally, he never suffered much like this as his body seemed able to heal itself. He could only imagine how badly he had been hurt. Maybe it was drugs to sedate him.
With is balance settled, Oldschool carefully walked over to the body to see if he recognized him. Where the hell was the guys head?!?
Oldschool turned away from the carnage. Bits and chunks were everywhere. Hoping he had nothing to do with it, he walked over to study the damaged machine. The closer he got, it looked less and less like medical equipment, but it was hard to tell, it had been thoroughly destroyed, much like his career looked after Stark got ahold of it.
There was nothing to learn about either the body or the machine. He needed to....
Fur?
Fur?!?
Mike's head turned to re-examine the bits and pieces of carnage. There, on the gurney, was actual bits of fur. Not hair, fur.
He looked back at the body and splashed innards. That made more sense. He was no detective, but the body looked like it had been worked by a big beasty with clawed hands.
If that was true, though, where the hell was the wolf man. As much as he liked to think he could take the wolf man in a rematch, the thing had been way too resilient to smash into puddles. This room wouldn't have survived that battle.
He had to get out of here. Report the body to the authorities and find out where his new associates were if they weren't dead.
As he looked for the door he remembered something else.
Who the hell are the Faces of Fear?!?
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Aug 11, 2010 2:20:21 GMT -5
Exploring the abandoned warehouse a bit more, Oldschool first found the gruesome remnants of the man in green's head a few feet away, still covered with a matching green half-mask with eyeholes. A mask of some sort, part of a matching uniform. Examining the mangled body further, Oldschool found remnants of yellow pouched bandolier straps and a utilty belt. Some sort of paramilitary garb fastened with buttons engraved with the image of a multi-headed snake. The uniform of the cult and terrorist group known as HYDRA. Or one of them. There were so many factions and fragment cells claiming to be the "real" HYDRA these days, and none of them shyed away from committing mayhem and subversion.
The furred creature, presumably the Werewolf by Night encountered at Hank's Tavern, had torn this place apart, but apparently directed a significant amount of rage upon the device Oldshool had been attached to.
If this HYDRA agent had been controlling the Werewolf creature, it's quite apparent that he had lost control of it.
Then Oldschool remembered how the attackers at Hank's Tavern had disappeared when defeated, as if they were some sort of projection, and that Shockwave and Flashdance had disappeared briefly with them, only to return reporting being atop them as they were strapped in gurneys and attached to a very large machine.
Perhaps Oldschool's fight with this Nefaria and his Japanese guests had been a projection of himself somehow through the now smashed device, controlled by the HYDRA agent.
Examinng the HYDRA agent's body some more triggered a brief flash of memory. A vision of Elixir, seeming composed of glistening silver atop the Werewolf, the creature's flesh visibly burning as it howled in rage and pain. As suddenly as Elixir appeared, he disappeared and the Werewolf ripped free of his gurney and attacked the HYDRA agent. Then all goes blank again.
Oldschool's sedative-dampened memory was spotty, but he was beginning to draw some sinister conclusions from what he could remember.
This quest for a stolen magic book was turning out to be something so much more.
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Post by TasK on Aug 11, 2010 15:53:17 GMT -5
Oldschool stood quietly as he digested his thoughts. There was so much going on, it was almost impossible to remember that he had started out just trying to return a book to the museum.
Reaching down, Oldschool lifted the Hydra agents belt and puches off of the dead man. There might be useful equipment. At the very least it might be useful as evidence.
Oldschool looked for an exit.
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Aug 12, 2010 16:12:01 GMT -5
Oldschool rummages through the blood spattered pouches of the dead HYDRA agent's bandolier straps, and finds a few common tools such as screwdrivers and ratchets, wire cutters, and wrenches. But he also finds a keyring with a color coded USB flash memory data storage drive on it a wallet with no ID, a blank card with a magnetic stripe, and around $968 dollars in cash.
He finds an exit door, and is nearly blinded by the morning sunshine outside. It takes a little bit of time for his eyes to adjust, compounded by his headache and the residual effects of lengthy sedation. He's in some sort of dilapidated warehouse complex. From the orientation of landmark buildings in the distance, Oldschool determines he's well north of the Lower East Side and east of Midtown. Along the East River just south of the Queensborough Bridge.
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Post by TasK on Aug 12, 2010 17:02:44 GMT -5
Oldschool shaded his eyes with an upraised hand. It wasn't going to be easy getting a cab, he'd have to hoof it. Maybe when he got to a better part of town he could pay for a cab with the money he had found.
He double checked the money. Almost a thousand dollars. More money than he had held in his hands in a long, long time. He wondered why the agent had had so much cash.
Crime, apparently DID pay.
The card swipe was obviously to get into something, though he couldn't guess at what. A Door? A computer? What?
The flashdrive was something else, though again... he couldn't really speculate. It could be more important than anything else he had found, and yet, it could be less.
Could just be pictures of the Hydra Agents last trip to Jamaica. The man obviously could afford it.
After getting his eyes adjusted to the sun, Oldschool strapped the bandoleer on any way it would fit and started out towards the Shelter. If he came across a Internet Cafe or a cab, he'd take advantage of having some cash. Perhaps he'd actually have some answers for his teammates...
If they were alive, that is...
Oldschool started working his legs, with more and more powerful strides until he was bounding down the street.
People were counting on him...
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Post by TasK on Aug 12, 2010 17:06:52 GMT -5
((aside from the money, flashdrive and key card... the contents of the pockets/bandoleer are pretty cool. All I could think of when I read was, "why didn't Oldschool have something like that anyway?" You've inspired some more character direction DSk! ![:D](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/smiley/grin.png) ))
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Aug 18, 2010 21:23:09 GMT -5
ooc: hopefully, Oldschool's future costume with toolbelt will be in better condition than the mangled, blood-spattered one that belonged to the HYDRA agent... Oldschool adjusted the deceased HYDRA agent's bandolier straps and belt as large as they could be made, yet it barely fit around one of his massive arms. Setting off towards the Lower East Side, Oldschool's leaps became a solid stride, as he headed towards a familiar coffee shop and internet cafe known as the "Higher Ground." The owner of the coffee shop looked over the shabbily dressed Oldschool, still wearing a sweat-stained NAPA Auto Parts T-Shirt from a couple of days ago. He seemed a bit put off by the large man, but when Oldschool paid cash to rent use of a desktop internet connection, he pointed him to a PC along the back wall. As Oldschool sat down, he noticed a picture on the wall of employees of the Higher Ground coffee shop. The face that caught his keen eyes bore a striking resemblance to Spellbound. Oldschool begins to login to the computer when a kid, likely in his mid teens, walks into the coffee shop. Oldschool's keen hearing picks up the shopowner mutter under his breath "aw geez not another homeless bum." ooc: yes, Rin and Oldschool are about to meet each other, sorta
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Aug 24, 2010 4:54:35 GMT -5
The shopkeeper in the Higher Ground internet cafe rings up a customer as he eyes the loitering kid that just entered. He tells the kid "Hey ain't you supposed to be in school right now?"
Then the shopkeeper glances down in his till and says "What the..."
"HEY!"
The shopkeeper is yelling at Oldschool.
"Hey! This money you gave me to rent internet time is turning to dust!"
The shopkeeper appears agitated.
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Aug 24, 2010 14:12:26 GMT -5
The shopkeeper continues to call out at Oldschool about the money turning to dust when the kid steps forward, turning translucent, almost phantasmal.
The kid walks forward and touches Oldschool's arm and suddenly Oldschool's flesh seems to briefly shift to a alien blue-green color as it becomes translucent. The shopkeeper strangely seems to forget about yelling at Oldschool entirely and instead wonders aloud how dirt got in his money till.
Then the room itself seems to flicker. Oldschool sees a vision of a man in a yellow mask standing over an old man strapped to a gurney when for a moment he feels gurney straps around himself and a tinge of headache returns before the vision fades and he finds himself still in the Higher Ground internet cafe with a teenaged kid tugging on his arm, and a lingering feeling that he's not really there, but is being projected there, like with the fight against Nefaria he dimly remembers.
ooc: Rin's actions forced my hand a little. Oldschool's still strapped into a Hypnoporter pod, somewhere. His experiences thusfar up to entering the internet cafe have been a Hypnoporter projection of himself.
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Post by TasK on Aug 24, 2010 14:24:45 GMT -5
Moved from 8.2....))
Oldschool had just plugged the memory drive into the computer when he heard the man yell about his money. All Oldschool could do was put his forehead into a large hand and sigh.
Someone put a hand on his shoulder, probably going to throw him out. If they only knew, they wouldn't try.
But that was the way things were... the way he was. It wasn't his way to bully or to use his... gifts for selfish reasons. It would be so easy to turn the world upside down.
Oldschool chuckled defeated, knowing full well that he'd 'allow' them to throw him out. He turned to look up at the man touching his shoulder and was surprised to see the kid that had entered moments ago, standing there.
Oldschool's chuckle turned into a grin. Homeless people stuck together. There was strength in numbers.
"What's up, kid," he asked softly. "Are you hungry?" Maybe he'd take the kid to the shelter if the owner didn't call the police. Mike pulled the flashdrive from the computer. He'd have to figure it out later.
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Post by TasK on Aug 24, 2010 14:28:49 GMT -5
Oldschool almost fell off his chair!
He couldn't believe how convinced he had been. That he wasn't really in the coffee shop and was still strapped to a table. Or was he?
Oldschool closed his eyes and tried to concentrate using his hieghtened hearing. He hoped that he could hear something back in that lab he had seen the other two, something that could return the feel of straps about him... straps he could break if he felt them!
He was tired of being used like this! Someone would pay for this, oldschool!
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Aug 25, 2010 23:57:45 GMT -5
Oldschool could distinctly hear movement around him, as the sounds in the internet cafe seemed to grow distant. A dream. This felt like a dream. The kid tugging on his arm seemed to try to pull him further into the dream. But Oldschool felt something else. A pressing on his chest, like a heavy weight. Straps of some kind. They burned as he pressed against them. Suddenly with force, Oldschool throws his full might against the invisible restraints. And there is a bright flash of light. Proceed to Chapter 8.7 coming in... a few ![:)](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/smiley/smiley.png)
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