anyastark:

The chess pieces were set and it was time to strike.

Lady Mandarin and the Skeleton Crew were sent to the Thunderbolts' headquarters. Lady Mandarin hovered just outside the building. She brought both hands up and unleashed her repulsors. The force hit the wall and it blasted apart.

no_relation:

Guardian was out on patrol, working his favorite route. It sent him past four corner stores that got frequently held up, his favorite kebab vendor, and a little patisserie that made simply amazing caramel-covered marshmallows.

ze_leaper:

Adrienne was not, by nature, much of an early riser.  Not when her "job" very often required her to be out very late at night.  In many of the cities of the world she had traveled to in her time as a cat burglar, this was not a problem.  There were ever so many cities that never seemed to sleep.

But now, when she only pulled a job on rare occasion (and always, she would stress, from someone who actually deserved it), and kept her skills sharper through the occasional consultation job, she actually spent regular hours in a bed.  Distressing, really.  She was quite nearly legitimate these days.

Not that it made her father any less proud.  He had nearly gone straight himself a time or two, and both of them lived quite well by their codes of honor.

But at the moment, it was still fairly nearly in the morning, a little after seven.  Adrienne was the first up--or at least, the first one into the kitchen--so she was making some crepes.

magic_hands:

Part of every young person's education involved practicing what they were studying, and young mages were no exception. Dr. Strange was using the Sanctum for something and the training room at HQ was still recovering from whoever had used it last. So Martin was stuck with using the other HQ rooms, and since he needed more space for this, he'd set up in the living room, moving the sofas out of the way to make space. 

ngserpentsoc:

Vadoma gave the members of the Serpent Society instructions on what they were to do. They were being paid quite handsomely to do a small job. The job was to destroy a factory in the Boston area.

It was a simple plan. Get in and do as much damage as possible. Then get out before being captured.

anyastark:

Iron Girl flew in through the missing wall and landed in what used to be her office. Her helmet opened and her armor started coming off. As the armor was coming off she did a quick survey of the wounds caused by the adamantium piercing her armor.

ng_underworld:

 Stephen Remus sat in the office of his penthouse, smoking a cigarette as he looked out the window.

"You have your team. You ready for your first outing?" Remus asked the figure behind him.

"Yes," came the audibly distorted voice. "We know where they'll all be."

Remus takes another drag of his cigarette before responding. "Good. You've all been practicing, let's see how you do against the real thing. Good hunting."

The sound of metallic boots are heard leaving as the figure goes to announce the mission's start.

nextgen_misc:

In England near Glastonbury Tor a portal opened up and a large demonic red creature emerged. The Red Lord emerged from Otherworld and had been unleashed upon the mortal world. Chaos and destruction followed in his path.

no_relation:

(Takes place the day after Jack's trial, before EotW stuff)

Jack still wasn't sure exactly what 'personhood' was going to entail. Most of his googling of it just lead to discussions about legal matters he really didn't want to get mixed up in. Apparently more talking with Dr Samson was supposed to figure out just how old he was going to count as, and there'd been some contact from Dr Henry Pym about some other kind of treatment plan he was still getting the full details on. He walks into the office for his latest appointment, and sits down on the couch.

"So... I'm a person."

anyastark:

It was a day full of meetings and scheduled phone calls. As always. Anya looked at the clock and had twenty minutes before her next meeting. Just enough time to head down to the cafeteria and grab something to eat. She was starving and needed some caffeine. She had too much blood in her caffeine stream. She hated it when that happened.

She stood up and left the office heading for the cafeteria.

nextgen_citizen:

"Now, in the interest of erring on the side of caution, this court will have none of 'the subject' or 'the product'. The being self-identifying as 'John 'Jack' Smith', will be referred to as 'him', or 'the individual' if the plaintiffs insist on being clinical." The judge cast a stern eye around the courtroom. There was more than a fair representation both of the Thunderbolts and the Leap Foundation. A few notable superheroes with impressive civilian credentials, such as Doctors Pym and Samson, were also on the witness list.

Some shuffling of papers and agreements are issued, before the lawyer for the Leap Foundation steps up.

"We call Beatrice Dayspring to the stand."

no_relation:

It's been a few days since the police presence at the Brownstone, and there's been no word from the police, courts, or the Foundation yet. Jack more or less has been barricading himself in his room. With a keener awareness of the fact that he doesn't particularly need to sleep or use any other facilities, he saw no problem with this course of action. He's been in his costumed state the entire time. Eventually though, he gets hungry and pulls the furniture away from the door.

He pokes his head out of the door, looking up and down the hallway. He's not sure who he should expect to be waiting for his emergence, if anyone. He's equally unsure what he would say. He'll scurry up the wall and start heading to the kitchen via ceiling-crawl.

nextgen_citizen:

A small crowd of people arrives at the front door of the Brownstone. Two men in suits, one of much higher quality than the other, a trio of uniformed police officers, and a trio of unmarked security personnel with more expensive uniforms. The man in the cheaper suit stands closest to the door, taking out a paper from his coat pocket.

"Just remember, Mr Primm, we're allowing your and your staff's presence here as a courtesy. I tell you to clam up or leave, you do it."

"Of course, Detective. We're just happy to assist. One of your officers will accompany each member of my staff at all times, I assure you."

The detective grunts something and knocks.

nextgen_misc:

Seven confirmed 'civilian' sightings in the neighborhood in eight days, and there had been more than enough news footage of a young male matching the product's physical characteristics in the company of the dasypodidaen metahuman. This had to be where he was being kept. The brownstone was a Stark holding, which had brought an entirely new wave of clamor to the boardroom. A few of the more paranoid types were now convinced that the product's escape had been part of some corporate espionage, or prototype theft. Professor Graft didn't care. She just wanted her work back for analysis and possible sterilization if the programming couldn't be corrected.

So, over the course of a few days, there are a few surveillance agents that end up going by the unassuming Brownstone that houses one of the world's premier crime-fighting teams. They're good at their jobs, and all but the best would likely not notice them.

nextgen_misc:


You are cordially invited to attend

Terra Nova Charity Fundraiser

Twenty-Fourth of September Two Thousand Twelve

New York Botanical Gardens' Enid A. Haupt Conservatory

Seven pm until one am.

Formal dress required

no_relation:

After much debate with Bea over some of his recent... impulse control incidents, Jack had agreed to a psych evaluation. He wasn't thrilled, but he figured he wasn't crazy, so there was nothing to lose. He reported to the designated place and time.

"So..." He eyed the man. "Your hair is green."

ze_leaper:

It was, in her estimation, not exactly a difficult job, though the security system was more advanced than what she was usually used to.  But Adrienne had spent a considerable amount of time staking the place out and watching the comings and goings of the people who lived there.  More importantly, the plans provided by her employers, along with a few technological extras (she'd waived a portion of her fee in exchange for getting to keep them, in fact), should have made it easy enough.

More importantly, if she had done her work correctly, there was a slight gap in where the external security cameras covered.  But you would have to be able to fly, practically, to hit the spot correctly.

Fly... or leap.

She took a step backwards and then ran forward across the roof, leaping at the last second.  The strength in her legs was great and it carried her the distance, the suction cups she'd applied to her gloves letting her cling to the building's side.  Small tools made short work of the window latch and the security system, and she was able to slip inside.

She looked around and quickly nodded to herself, moving with all stealth.  The nice thing about most security systems was that when people were actually there, they tended to run at a much lower level.  Perfect.  And there was the lab.   And someone had even left the door slightly ajar. 

Almost too easy.  Carefully and quietly, she began to creep inside.

magic_hands:

In the middle of the Thunderbolt's kitchen, a familiar swirl of blue flame comes out of nowhere and the young mage pops in. He'd come on a very important mission.

Ice cream sandwiches.

A species so rare in this freezer that it was almost extinct. Every single time they'd get more boxes of the stuff, it'd disappear almost immediately. Even the ones he'd specifically labelled with his name on it!

Now to find out if there were any left. The freezer door swings open on its own. There were boxes yesterday surely....

"JACK!"

onearmofhydra:

Night settled on the city of Cambridge and the activity level in the city slowly died down as the hours of the night progressed. Midnight came and went and the minutes and hours rolled slowly by. By three am there was almost no activity on the sidewalks and an occasional car rolled down the street.

The quiet of the city night was shattered by a loud explosion at the location of 491 Broadway. The explosion sent brick and mortar in all directions and the concussion blast set off the alarms of nearby cars. Men in yellow uniforms with full yellow helmets on poured out of four nearby transports and rushed into the hole in the side of the building created by the explosion.

The men in yellow weren't the only ones who were interested in getting into the renovated firehouse in Cambridge. Another small team had been sent to retrieve a certain device and schematics for it. That team wasn't going in by the gaping hole created by the explosion.

nextgen_parent:

"Anya, remind me to send over Christina with my credit cards for the two of you to go on a shopping trip on me. These are beautiful." The floating image of Dr Henry Pym states over holo-conference with Anya. "The fabric sheets are nano-thin solar paneling and batteries in one, and unless I'm somehow horribly mistaken, they're borrowing some Shi'ar-tech principles for molecular suspension.

Wear this suit, and get enough daylight, and you won't need to eat, drink, sleep, breathe, or even expel waste." He pauses, then pokes his finger through a bullet-hole. "Unless it gets ruptured, of course. Haven't run the tests on high pressure or vacuum conditions yet.

It actually reminds me a little of some ideas your father and I threw around, ages ago, before he set up the first generation of the current line of waste disposal systems for his suits."

needsmorecoffee:

Marcia Martin is pretty amazing when it comes to several things. One is putting up with her roommate/student and teaching him what she can. The second is being an advocate for the deaf. She is really good with the community and loves the kids she works with.

She even teaches parents who hear how to sign. It's fun and she has lots of experience. She also has a sort of long distance romance going on with a fellow mutant. She still isn't ready to come out of the closet and introduce herself as one to the world at large.

But she has had time to think about it. She thinks that it would be safer to keep[ it under wraps just for now. People aren't so nice to mutants.

But then sometimes fate has something else in mind for people like Marcia. Like right now.

queenofcrime:

It was just after the OsCorp’s research and development’s division was closed for the night right between guard shifts that Rose Red had some of her people attack. There was some tech there that she was interested in for less than legal purposes and that she could use to gain an edge for Fisk Industries.

This should be a simple snatch and grab with security being light and the cops that did get there probably wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight either.

swashbuckler:

takes place on March 3, 2011

One of the things Steve had most regretted about his time away, outside of losing Anya, had been losing touch with Jack.  He'd liked the guy a lot, and felt sorry for him for reasons he couldn't quite but his finger on.  He hoped he'd gotten the help he needed.

Steve's day had been busy.  He'd spent most of the morning  working on re-securing his admission to ESU.  He'd been fortunate that the Avengers legal team had been able to help with that.  Being gone for a relative four-moths/two year span would have, under normal circumstances, just told him to forgo any kind of further education.  But being  a leader of men and women in a time of war had made him realizing that everyone needed to be able to do something when the wars were over.  Pursuing a degree in criminology would give him a lot of options and would help him currently too.  Maybe he'd design security systems.  Maybe he'd work as a consulting trainer to security programs and government agencies.  But he wanted to do something that meant less people died, when beating up the killers became less of an option.

After that had been taking his sky-cycle down to Boston to meet his wife for lunch.  So far, the plan seemed to be alternating weekends for where they stayed.  NYC one weekend, Boston the other, and plenty of phone calls in-between.  And he could still surprise her in the meantime.  Honeymoon was coming up, and what they'd do over the summer was still up in the air.

Afterward, it had been back to NYC for doctors appointments.  One with Samson--reasonably productive--and one with Doctor Foster--regular check-up considering everything he'd been through--and then a short stint on monitor duty.

Finally, however, he was able to head out on patrol.  Took his sky-cycle out to an area of the city, picked at random, set it down, and started across the rooftops.  He'd find trouble, sooner or later.

no_relation:

Jack had finally lost the argument with Marcia that even though Doctor Samson had cleared him for it, going to school was a waste of time. She made the arrangements for him to enroll just after the break, and so here he was. He wandered the halls of Midtown High early in the morning, trying to make sense of the schedule, or even find his locker.

This whole thing would be so much simpler if he just crawled along the ceiling; but that would tend to compromise the whole secret identity thing.

nextgen_holiday:

There's a piece of paper and a pen attached to a bulletin board. Across the top is written:

New Year's Resolutions
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
+

Anonymous entries accepted.

nextgen_holiday:

Christmas. Yule. Saturnalia. Dies Natalis Solis Invicti. Many cultures have celebrated and still celebrate a winter festival. There have been many names for it over the millennia. No matter the name it is a time to come together and celebrate with feasts and gifts with friends and loved ones.

Each culture has a legendary figure who would deliver gifts to children during this time. In Russia and some Slavic cultures he is known as Ded Moroz, Grandfather Frost, and comes not on Christmas but on New Year’s along with his granddaughter Snegurochka, or ‘”Snow Maiden”. In the United Kingdom and other parts of Europe he is known as Father Christmas. In the Netherlands and Belgium he is known as Saint Nicholas or “Sinterklaas” and in France he is known as Père Noël. In the United States we know him as Santa Claus.

No matter the name or who is delivering gifts, it is the season of peace, joy and togetherness. It is the season for thinking about loved ones, friends and those less fortunate. It is a time to witness the goodness and generosity the human race is capable of. It is a time for peace on Earth and goodwill toward man.

fleetfootmac:

Mac had gotten his bookshelf and sports gear out of Grandma Gloria's storage unit and into his new apartment. He had everything Kassi'd bought so far in her new apartment, down the hall on the same floor.

And now, back in all that fresh outdoor New York air, on the roof of said building, Mac indulged in a warmup workout before getting ready to head to Avengers mansion.

the_other:

Two nights after his first appearance, the Man in Black is prowling the streets of New York, seeking any trace of the Poison Memories he can find. He stops other thieves and killers along the way, but any time he can find a member of the Poison Memories, he devotes his all to stopping that criminal. Every criminal he comes across is beaten savagely, regardless of the crime, but only the gang-bangers  get the worst thrashings.

All in all, he finds himself smiling beneath the mask as he perches atop a light pole across from ESU to survey the landscape.

Where are the muggers?

Soon enough, he sights one, and releases a webline, swinging over in the direction to intervene.

ng_independent:

The Empress was NOT happy. So far all of her plans have failed. The plan to grab female champions from Earth failed. The plan to grab guys and turn them into girls to use as her champions failed. The Empress had to come up with another plan. She had thought long and hard on it and eventually came up with something.

"Set A corSE to EARth!" she commanded. She would not be stopped this time. The plan was fail proof.

The Empress selected candidates as the ship made its way toward Earth. By the time they arrived, she had a list. One by one the names on the list were collected and put in the proper chambers.

When they wake up they will see a recording of the Empress addressing them.

"Greetings! Welcome to the service of...ME. Each of you will be expected to do your duty and proCREATE with the feMALE in the ROOM with you."

no_relation:

Jack chewed his lip, fidgeting as he stared at the front gate again. Finally, he hit the button. "Hi... I'm looking for, uh.. Swashbuckler? I was wondering if he wanted to go out for ice cream."

swashbuckler:

Well, at least they were letting him sit up today.  His parents had stepped out for coffee, which left Steve watching TV.

Click.

"Junk."

Click.

"More junk."

Click.

"Junk again."

Click.

"Okay Buddies, Hero-Up!"

"Terrifying ...And yet I can't look away."

swashbuckler:

Steve had, frankly, been joyriding.  But when one was an Avenger, with access to incredible technology, including the latest model Sky-Cycle, one could joyride now and then.  Of course, if anyone asked, he was on patrol. 

The sounds of gunshots broke his train of thought and he looked down to see a shoot-out between some kind of gang and the police.  He could help here.  The guys had a lot of guns--big ones, military models of some kind--and the cops were pinned down.  He quickly set  a program into the Sky-Cycle's auto-pilot.

The Cycle swooped low and he jumped off it, firing a pair of arrows in the process.  The Cycle itself continued its arc and parked itself in the air.  One net arrow wrapped up a trio of gang members, while the other, a glue arrow, insured another gun wouldn't fire.  Fists made sure the guy holding that gun was out of the fight.

He pulled his vibranium boomerangs and threw them, quickly disarming more of the gun men and catching them when they returned to his hands.  The others rushed him now and he relied on his batons and his martial arts skills.  He used the bow and arrows so often, people tended to forget that he had other skills too.  He received his share of blows, but he gave better than he got, putting everything his dad and Uncle Steve had taught him to incredibly good use.

Steve had his severe doubts about what he was doing leading the Avengers, hell, even being an Avenger at all.  Even with all his gear, he was the least super-powerful of the Avengers (or maybe second most, compared to Spector).  What the hell was he doing fighting Skrulls or the Masters of Evil or whatever? 

But this?  Fighting your regular old garden variety thugs?  This he had a damn good handle on.  Here, at least, he knew he could make headway, make a difference.

<I><b>BANG!</i></b>

That was...  that...  that kinda...  hurt...  A lot.

He looked down and saw that the bullet had penetrated the kevlar weave of his uniform entirely.  Had to have been a pretty powerful round then.  And... oh.  Wow.  That was a lot of blood.  Really hurt.

He found himself slumping forward to the ground, faintly aware of the cops moving toward him...

no_relation:

Jack hurtles his way across town after leaving the hospital. He knows he should still be on patrol, should be hunting down the attackers, but he just can't right now. He can still feel the girl's blood on him. Still smell that disgusting overly antiseptic smell of the hospital. Still remember the look on the doctor's face.

He wants to go home. Whatever's closest to home, anyway.

He slips in the window and goes straight to the bathroom, costume fading into an equally bloodied pair of civilian clothes as he loses what little he had for breakfast.

the_other:

After another long day of classes, Ben Parker is enjoying a milkshake at The Dot with his two best friends in the world, Sidonie and Jake. Sidonie asked Ben if she could interview him for their final paper in Journalism. Ben was still looking for someone to interview, but he tried to put the upcoming deadline out of his mind and focus on the State Championship game in three weeks.

"Ben, do you think you'll see court time in the State Championships against Stuyvesant? The so called 'Sticky Fingers' are last year's State Champs and Midtown is the big underdog. You're the team's star point-guard. Are you nervous?" asks Sidonie Henderson, pressing the "Record" button on her new digital tape recorder. She really wanted her first story for the school-paper to be good, but Ben still wanted to do the story on him, of all people. Sidonie wanted to work for the New York Times someday, and always talked about how she was going to be the "real-life Lois Lane", complete with her own personal superhero.

Ben shook his head at the thought of reporters with their own superheroes and answered the question.

( Read more... )

nextgen_holiday:

Mothers are the place that we call home.
On them we rest our heads and close our eyes.
There's no one else who grants the same soft peace,
Happiness, contentment, sweet release,
Erasing nighttime tears with lullabies,
Restoring the bright sun that makes us bloom. - Anonymous

no_relation:

Jack was standing almost as still as a statue, as he had been for the past eight minutes already. He was trying to do more in the way of helping out with things around the apartment, but just like when he'd been staying at the shelter, every so often he ran into something that just made his brain... not move. It was like dealing with a radio with a large number of presets, but no tuner.

He knew who published various magazines, he knew what kinds of movies he liked, he knew the major broadcasters, he knew the most popular publicly accessible clothing brands.

But here he was, absolutely boggled over whether Marcia's peanut butter needs would be met simply by "crunchy" or if they required "super crunchy". He wasn't even sure if the latter was more intensive than "chunky".

needsmorecoffee:

"Hurry up, kid," Marcia barks over her shoulder as she jumps from one close roof top to the next. She was going to run Jack through his paces tonight. She was decked out in black leather from head to toe. The only thing that really stood out was the bright yellow lightning bolt that ran across her chest and the bright yellow mask that hid part of her face.

It was simple but it worked for her. She just wished it wasn't so warm out tonight. Still she had promised the kid they would patrol so this is how they were gonna do it.

"Try and keep up," she crows before diving off of the side of a building and launching herself using the force from a bolt of well placed electricity to send herself soaring though the air. All she had to do was reach and pull herself up onto the next ledge and she started running for the next launch point.

needsmorecoffee:

She did care about taking care of people. She did want to one day meet the right guy. Introduce him to her parents of course and maybe if he was the one> Settle down and have some kids with him.

Of course he had to be someone who didn't care about her folks being deaf or the fact she is a mutant. Maybe she won't ever settle down. Maybe she will just continue helping people.

Now she thought about her young friend. The one she kept mothering because he needed it. Just where was he? It was nearly three in the morning. While she had reasons to be up and about he should be in bed sleeping.

Marcia frowns sharply and taps her foot trying not to worry too heavily.

no_relation:

He knew he should be laying low, both Marcia and Maggie were worried about him, and the former was letting him stay with her for now. It wasn't like he took up that much space. He'd managed to figure out how to get that thing where his costume disappears and reappears into making different clothes, so he was pretty much set. He also seemed to stay pretty clean without trying. He'd tried not to be eating too much also.

But right now, he had to get out. There was crime afoot, no doubt! He also really needed more practice with those cord things he shot out of his hands. Great way to get around town, combined with sticking to stuff and bouncing off it.

He heard shots being fired, and hustled down the street and around a corner.

no_relation:


John "Jack" Smith... well, he was pretty sure that was his name. It was one of the things he know; one of the very few specific things he knew. He could fill out crossword puzzles, he could set a table, he could tie his shoes, he could tell time, he knew what times of day were harder to hail a cab, but nothing specific. There was no personal history in his head.

Of course, right now he was a little more concerned with the fact that he'd just flung someone across a room, pulled a costume from out of nowhere, and now was flying across down on lines he shot out of his arms. Normal people don't do this! Not even amnesiac normal people!

The fact that his instincts are telling him this is supposed to be happening is what freaked him out more than anything else.

He could tell he was supposed to be doing something, but what was it?

And why were all these people yelling 'Hey! Spidey!' at him?

( Read more... )

(joint-posted with permission from Beth)