terror_in_night:

 The Wendigo was confused. One minute it had been tracking a group of hunters in it's territory in the Canadian wilds, but now..it wasn't home anymore. There were no trees, no snow. The Wendigo was confused, angry..but then it realized this new place had one thing in abundance. It practically assaulted it's nostrils. Prey. This place had so much prey. So packed together, so closed in. It didn't care when the fleshings screamed in fear, or when one in blue began shooting hot pebbles at it. These were nuisances. The Wendigo roared in anticipation as it eyed a few choice morsels. Let the feast begin!

"WENDIGO!"

 

lunatic_laugh:

Some people say you get one moment in your life where, in the space of just that moment, the decision you make will shape everything from then on for you.

Phil Urich was about to have two.

Life was pretty good. Uncle Ben and even the higher-ups at the Bugle had received his work on the Latveria story well, and everyone seemed to love his pictures. The old man had even asked him to help with another research project, doing site-photography for decomissioned H.A.M.M.E.R. facilities and other holdings by Osborne. Phil didn't have the heart to tell his uncle how the last round of investigating anything Osborne had gone, so he agreed.

He'd just been finishing snapshots of a helipad center when something in the back of his brain tickled him just a little. The same sort of impulse that had made him steal Chris' pendant. The same sort  that had driven him to cut the deal with Fujikawa. The same sort that had let him know just who to call to put Hollow into protective custody.

And, of course, with his track record in decision making, he found himself in a safe-house, having keyed something in on a pad, he was pretty sure.

"...woah."

Next generation Goblin gear adorned the walls. A fully functioning workshop, safe-house, and small manufacturing depot.

"This... this is..."

No. No, he's not allowed to make any kind of decision about this. Not in his current state of mind. He goes out, gets a cup of coffee, and comes back, trying to make sense of it all. He's about two sips in when he hears the door at the end of the hallway open again, and he dives behind a console in terror.

lunatic_laugh:

Well, things had moved a little faster than he'd expected, but here he was. Jet-setting across the Atlantic and into the heart of old-world Europe to interview the new face in charge of Latveria, Kristoff Vernard. Phil understood all too well that he wasn't getting this assignment because he'd earned it or because he was the best guy qualified for it.

He was getting this assignment because he was the only reporter at the Bugle still young and crazy enough to go into the capital city of the nation with the highest number of death rays per capita in the world and interview the possibly crazy guy that the probably crazier guy just put in almost-charge.

But hey, at least the flight attendants (or was he supposed to call them stewardesses now?) on the way over were cute, and friendly. Apparently being a journalist on foreign assignment ranked somewhere better than 'photography student', but was an expected far cry from the automatic appeal of 'fireman' or 'chocolate factory owner'.


A bus ride to JFK, the red-eye to Heathrow and then to Symkaria, a cab ride to the Latverian border, and he arrived at the checkpoint. Several vigorous searches of himself and his equipment that absolutely would not make it into print later, he stepped across. A carriage, an honest-to-goodness horse-drawn carriage, was waiting to take him to Doomstadt.

"Uh... hey there. Phil Urich, reporter for the Daily Bugle, out of New York City. Here to interview Regent Vernard."

lunatic_laugh:

This was it. A fresh start.

Phil Urich hated what had become of his project out west, but it had to be done. He didn't want to walk away from the people who had become his friends, but Mickey, whatever her intentions, had been ready to sell them all out. He and Hollow, who was safe now, had worked out their own deal with Fujiwaka. Now he was free.

Of course, being free meant you had to work to support yourself again. True, the funds Rick Jones had hooked him up with gave him a little bit of a buffer, but the bulk of it had been left in the account for Excelsior. From what he could see online, the group was doing fine without him. For Phil Urich though, it was back to the grind. A new camera and a recorder at his side, he stepped into the barely contained fury that was the Daily Bugle offices. Uncle Ben had been proud of Phil for going back to college and earning his degrees (journalism and photography, thank you very much), and told him that if he ever was ready to give the Bugle another shot, to let him know.

So what if it was just a gopher job for his uncle for now? A job's a job.