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You are John James Green, mutant vagrant.
You feel your teeth rattle their way down your throat. Canine, molar, molar, incisor.
The tarmac burns against your palms, the rough, semi-scaled skin throbbing painfully. Goblin-laughter ebbs and swells in your ears, fading this way and that, seeming to bounce back and forth along the base of your skull.
YouтАЩre in the middle of the Scar, on an open road (or the remains of one, anyway), fighting half the Sinister Six. And one of their groupies, apparently.
You pull yourself up without thinking. Your danger sense is a constant, sharp whine in the back of your mind. Nothing is safe. No moment is spare. You look over your shoulder, wiping the blood from your eyes with one hand, and see the big guy тАУ the groupie тАУ charging at you, eyes full of fire and gnarled, tumorous masses flowing across his arms, like armour. You feel like if you move an inch, you might split open and shatter across the tarmac.
One of the OctopusтАЩ metal limbs snakes its way through the air behind him.
You donтАЩt see your chance so much as feel it.
Delving into your jacket pocket, you retrieve a nice, heavy ball-bearing, pinching it between forefinger and thumb. Your arm a blur, even to you, you send it shrieking through the air, passing over the groupieтАЩs shoulder and bouncing off Doc OckтАЩs tentacle with a heavy, resonant thunk. It rebounds straight toward the electrical monster-man whose touch seared a long, black ruin across your chest (a ruin that youтАЩve mostly healed), who dissipates into a cloud of darting electrical radiance. You were counting on that.
As the groupie closes in, you push your strength into your legs, hurling yourself aside тАУ into the path of your own projectile. You feel its arc parting the air before it, and you twist about to punt it off-course, sending it crashing into the side of groupieтАЩs skull. It hits home with a wet, satisfying crunch, the impact nearly lifting him off his feet and sending a spray of unnaturally thick blood flying across the side of the road.
He sways, gritting his teeth, and the caved-in side of his head begins to fill itself back out, hard, scaly tissue rising through the cracks in his skull like foam.
And still, the Goblin laughs.
>Present Time: 12:34 AM
>Current Funds: $1,380
>Hunger Level: 2
>Solar Charge: 3/5
>[ ] Focus on taking down Doctor Octopus.
>[ ] Focus on taking down Electro.
>[ ] Focus on taking down the Goblin.
>[ ] Focus on taking down ???
>[ ] Focus on evading harm.
>[ ] Write in.
>[x] Focus on taking down Electro.
The guy with range and who can warp to a better sniping position takes priority imo.
>You donтАЩt even know this one. He just looks like some big, juiced-up kid, probably just a year older or younger than you, his long hair matted against his neck and his jeans absolutely filthy. He turns his gaze toward you, and his eyes blaze, tiny tongues of fire licking across his face. His veins seem to pop and flow across his skin, giving you the impression of volcanic fissures, or burst power lines.
doesn't sound like the Nitro I remember
me thinks molten man or OC
The red throbs behind your vision. You feel it clotting your brain, burning your thoughts to a crisp. The seconds rain down like shards of glass and you feel the fullness of each one. Life is becoming numbers around you тАУ numbers at the base of numbers, the way you imagine an animal knows them. White hot, sharp, painful.
That laugh. That laugh feels like it could split your skull open.
Tearing your eyes away from the regenerating bruiser (at least, he looks like a bruiser), you catch sight of the Goblin swooping by overhead, his mouth gaping and wide, chest heaving with bout after bout of gleeful laughter.
You cannot take a second more of that laugh.
Withdrawing another ball-bearing, you feel your danger sense scream along you spine, and fling yourself to one side as a jet of searing, pressurized water slices through the air toward you. You know whatтАЩs coming next тАУ screwing your eyes shut and ducking into a roll, you get yourself as far as possible before the stream ignites, a wave of white heat rolling over you.
ItтАЩs the groupie. You donтАЩt know how it works, but heтАЩs got, like, a kind of watery shadow that clings to his limbs. And when he wants it to, it fucking turns into fire, or something.
It honestly scares the living shit out of you.
The Goblin swoops low, and you spot one of those pumpkin grenade things in his hands. And then itтАЩs not in his hands anymore тАУ itтАЩs arcing through the air toward you, a sharp, frantic chirping following behind in its wake.
Information floods your senses, and you move.
You feel your elbow buckle slightly as, almost unbidden, the response travels up your arm. You fling the ball-bearing not in his direction, but at his stupid little pumpkin bomb. There is a sharp metallic clang as the two meet in mid-air, and you see the GoblinтАЩs smile suddenly falter, his tacky grenade rebounding straight back at him.
As for your projectile? You bestowed it with just the right enough spin that the impact sent it wheeling through the air toward the empty spot where you can feel the air beginning to ionize тАУ where Electro was about to reconstitute himself. There is a crackle of disorganized voltage, taking just for a moment the vague shape of a man, before the whole process falls apart, your uncanny aim managing to keep the supervillain from reforming himself for just a few more seconds.
The Goblin-grenade explodes above you, and you duck down slightly as the pressure wave rolls across your shoulders. You think you hear something possibly-human-shaped hit the ground nearby.
Yes. YouтАЩre doing this.
The two Sinistees still in the fight advance on you.
>[ ] Evasive action.
>[ ] Focus on ???
>[ ] Focus on Doc Ock.
>[ ] Write in.
Well, he is superhumanly tough and strong just like Spoodermen, his armor probably actually works like armor, but an explosion close enough to his glider would unbalance him and probably throw him.
I don't think he's out, but for now he's down.
Unfortunately, youтАЩre not feeling any itsy bitsy Goblin gibbets raining down on you, so the supervillain must have had countermeasures against his own tech. Common sense, you guess. Stupid common sense.
The bruiser rushes at you, moving surprisingly fast for a man of his breadth.
You can feel the heat radiating off his fist as you twist to one side, ducking down under the watery echo that follows in the wake of his blows. Calling to mind LauraтАЩs lessons, you bring your fists around, unleashing a spree of supernaturally-heavy punches across his exposed chest. The first impact rattles your skull and sends the nerves along the line of your knuckles into a fit of screaming. The second and the third are worse тАУ you hear him grunt and feel his bones crack and shift before your strength, but each time you hit him, itтАЩs like he just gets tougher. The fourth punch sends him skidding back on his heels, but you distinctly feel the flesh under his skin hardening in response, the shape of his skeleton shifting to support fractured bones and smashed organs.
How many powers does this guy have?
Blood trailing from your fists, you take advantage of his momentary disorientation, closing the gap between the two of you in an instant. He lunges, swiping with a meaty backhand, but you spring over it, propelling yourself off one of those big, muscly shoulders of his.
Straight toward Doctor Octopus, who seems to be intent on letting her weird groupie take you on.
Her limbs rear up defensively, streaking through the air toward youтАж and veer straight off course when you bounce a ball-bearing off the top of her skull.
She screams in pain, crumpling instantly, and for a moment youтАЩre genuinely surprised she isnтАЩt dead. You mustтАЩve held back some of your strength.
You hit the ground, and your danger-sense flares.
>tfw the next sensible upgrade is to get Iron man to make some for us
>the step after that is a vibranium/adamantium mixture ball bearing
With how strong we are, we could probably huck around a shot-put pretty damn well, also. Sounds like it would be great for slower targets like the tumor-not-bro we're fighting currently.
I'm just waiting for JJ to say "Fuck it" and tear off a piece of street sign to turn it into a jagged ass glaive and chuck it straight at the "bruiser"s throat.
Severed heads tend to fuck everything, after all.
>Peter finally shows up
>half the Sinister 6 + 1 is taken out, JJ triumphant.
The only downside is that people might start expecting regular competency our of us.
Still, imagine how wet Laura will be.
maybe we'll actually kill some of these guys today; save Spidey some moral conundrums. and if he asks- we absolutely had to/it was an accident. we're new at this.
also, calling it now: that new guy is like us.
We'll kill each and every one of them that we can.
Why wouldn't we?
They know where we live, know our identity, and won't stop coming after us/sending people after us after this.
What kind of fucking retard wouldn't kill them in that position?
We don't need to defend ourselves to anyone, especially not some 'Superhero' that can't even save his own uncle
Just great. More clothes shopping!
Not exactly. They don't know we live in the train station.
Identity is a none issue so long as we have invis, won't stop is frankly false, they tend to give up if there is no potential profit. Jack is far from the be all end all of their careers.
I infact doubt if we beat them we would face others, as it is not their MO.
Frankly your analysis is flawed.
You donтАЩt know what to do.
So you jump.
The air turns to fire around you, and for a second, you panic тАУ you feel your chest heave and your gut squirm and the universe split apart, and you expect a sudden, brief pain, and then nothingness. Then you realize that youтАЩre not on fire тАУ that the fire missed you, and youтАЩre just feeling the heat.
The force of the blast slams across your back, dashing you out of the air. There is an instant of confused, frantic flailing, before you somehow find your grace, angling yourself through the air as you streak toward the ground.
You hit the ground on your feet, the tarmac splitting slightly beneath you. You feel something snap near your knees, but the rush of the fight smothers it.
You look up.
Groupie turns around toward you, smoke billowing from his back. Long, shimmering threads of water weave through the air behind him, in the process of reforming back into the mass that shadows his every move. Patches of his skin are beginning to break out into disorganized, tumorous scales, a faint metallic glint evident across their surfaces.
тАЬI thought you would be more than this.тАЭ
His voice cracks and splits as it finds its way up his throat.
You can hear тАУ you can almost feel тАУ the sound of him changing, inside and out.
>[ ] Focus on evading.
>[ ] Try to harry this guy with constant blows.
>[ ] Try to keep away from him and blast him at range.
>[ ] Try to land a single photoboosted punch on him.
>[ ] Try to grab Rahne and claw-girl and fly out of there.
>[ ] Write in.
>>[ ] Try to land a single photoboosted punch on him.
He ends up reacting to our hits - that means we need to land a single strike and do enough damage with it to put him down, so he doesn't just heal/come back tougher from it.
Dangerous, since we have to close, but such is life for a mugga.
This fucker needs his head ripping off.
>[ ] Try to land a single photoboosted punch on him.
We delay too long and he is going to wear us down, we dont have photo 5, our stamina is limited. Once we stop being able to dodge we are fucked.
>[X] Try to land a single photoboosted punch on him.
Inb4 crack bitch on that roll.
We should sprint about, gather lengths of rebar and signposts then once we have a dozen of so that are long enough, we start to impale him to the ground.
If he wants to regen, we'll just immobilize him and bury him under rubble.
Stop him for a while, at least.
Look, Sir Edgemiester. People react poorly because of this argument coming up every time. Just let it go, and trust Crusty to handle things appropriately - like he did with the Owl.
DOOM ACKNOWLEDGES YOUR EXISTENCE AND WITNESSES YOU!
I knew this thread was worth the virgins I sacrificed.
First reason this is dumb, EVERYONE knows where we live.
Second, No one knows our identity because we're a homeless nobody.
Third, any thugs they send after us are just going to be if anything, worse off then these guys.
Youre dumb anon, and your reasoning doesnt make and fucking sense
>Wait, you took on HOW many of the Sinister Six at once?
>Just came back from work
>Hey guys whats going on in this thr-
Holy shit did we just get consecutive natural 20s?
You can feel your legs about to give way. Soon the adrenaline will wear off, or the damage youтАЩre making worse and worse each second will tip over the edge into unbearable, and youтАЩll be fucked.
тАЬSure.тАЭ It comes out bloody, raw. тАЬWhatever.тАЭ
YouтАЩve had enough of crazy. YouтАЩve had enough of this.
You reach down into your chest, past your heart, past your pulse, and find the spark that refuses to die. And you let it fill you up тАУ let it surge into your arms and legs, into your breath, into your blood. It burns under your skin, but not like fire.
He charges, his legs distending, joints bursting and twisting, transforming his gait into one of digitigrade grace. Reminds you of a Spielberg raptor, kinda. The smoke parts upon his back, his watery shadow exploding into a flare of insane, translucent fire, sending him streaking toward you like a comet.
And in the instant before heтАЩs upon you, you know what is about to happen.
You focus all your strength тАУ all your inner fury, your fire тАУ into your fist, and shift aside, just a step. Just a crucial inch.
His claws тАУ big, black talons, their edges glowing with metabolic heat тАУ rake across your flank, slicing through flesh and bone with equal, casual ease. You feel your blood boiling at his touch, turning to steam almost the second it splashes free of you.
And you punch him right in the center of his chest.
There is a sound like the universe ending, a trumpet-roar that deafens your ears and splits the ground beneath your feet. And he vanishes. One moment heтАЩs in front of you, and the next heтАЩs soaring through the air, his water-shadow literally exploding from his former location as the force of the blow rolls across the street. He hits one of the few tower blocks still standing near the edge of the Scar and keeps going, a trail of debris rising in his wake. The building teeters unsteadily, before coming crashing down, impact of its collapse shaking the Scar.
You feel the light fade out.
>Solar Charges: 0/5
The one thing stopping you from staring at your fist in amazement is the sudden, nauseating reminder that youтАЩve had a good portion of your flank gouged out, and instead you find yourself cringing all the way down to your knees, the blood already soaking through your jacket.
>[ ] Grab Rahne and claw-girl, get out.
>[ ] Try to secure or whatever the Six.
>[ ] Try to finish off the Six.
>[ ] Write in.
>>[ ] Try to secure or whatever the Six.
Do NOT let them get up and give chase. It's not like fleeing will help us heal faster.
Also, Crusty, is JJ aware he picks up charge faster with his wings out?
>[ ] Grab Rahne and claw-girl, get out.
This guy has the same powers as us but a level or two higher. Subdermal 4 = it gets stronger the more you get hit. Nat weapon 4 = Raptor legs.
>>[ ] Try to secure or whatever the Six.
>>[ ] Try to finish off the Six.
They're down. There's no need to kill them unless tyhey try anything.
But if they so much as twitch in a way we don't like, do not hesitate. End the threat.
...actually, what happened to Electro? I don't recall seeing a body.
Hmm, I think a numbered vote is possibly for the best. Though I'm certain all sides were samefagging to an equal degree.
>1 for REMOVE SINISTER.
>2 for TIE UP SINISTER.
>3 for LEAVE SINISTER
Congrats, but there was samefagging for all three options.
I mean, you think their wont be samefagging with a final destination vote? I've got two phones, three computers, and an iPad all in reach.
>nothing personnel kid
>people coming out of the woodwork of lurking for final destination and mildly important votes
That's how it's always been and that's how it's always going to be, I don't think there are nearly as many people samefagging as some of you complaining seem to think.
>it's a tie
When samefag fights samefag, who is the winner?
This seems like a pretty huge thing to decide randomly, so I'm going for a compromise.
>So.. we tie them to death while leaving?
We do none of the above, and JJ instead stands there agonizing about the moral implications of his potential choices.
...man, that actually probably is most IC.
I'm disappointed in you Anon. You know lying is wrong.
>So.. we tie them to death while leaving?
We were never going to be able to kill them. Remember when we voted to gloat over Doc Oc but it was cut short by us getting electrocuted. That's what's going to happen here. It was always what was going to happen if we didn't vote to GTFO.
>kill in self defense
>they die from exhaustion during the marathon fuck session
the possibilities are endless
We were never going to be able to kill them. We voted to "try and kill them" The other members of the 6 are going to show up because we didn't vote to GTFO. Just like what happened last thread when we voted to monologue over Doc Ocks body.
No it isn't. If anything it starts a grudge match between mutants and supervillains, and loses us any support we had from the superhero community. You edgy retarded motherfucker.
Me neither, but I know both sides will be unhappy and it will be less effective than doing one or the other. Kinda how this shit works. Also all these samefags and funposters? The containment quest has failed.
it's not edgy, fuckwit. You wield buzzwords like i imagine you do your katanas.
>he's retarded for taking out the problem and not letting it grow ad reproduce like the Supers do
Thank goodness JJ isn't getting a haircut or deciding which pizza toppings to get.
We'd drown in the salt.
Nah, bodyguard for the queen, she needs crusty's clandestine services at times.
>Implying JJ will ever get rid of his hair braid that matches lauras.
Heretical Anon. Pure heretical.
It'll grow regardless you idiot. Even if you kill them, they'll just come back. And if they don't, someone even worse than them will just take over. If you're going to use the whole "always breaks out of jail" thing from comic books, you've gotta also acknowledge that mortality doesn't stop anyone.
So it is both edgy and retarded because not only does it NOT actually solve the problem, but it also weaknes our position with our allies, but you're too much of an edgelord to realize this due to a superficial dislike for comic books you dense motherfucker.
Your retarded for trying to kill a group of highly trained killers instead of getting the fuck out of there. Do you know if they have more supers? Or that we can succesfully kill while a bunch of cops and firefighters show up? It was fucking stupid
In comic books it's been largely established that being a murdering edgelord doesn't strengthen your position or make supervillainy any more likely to recede, not only do villains and heroes regularly come back from the dead but they can also easily be replaced.
The only thing murdering the SS does is make Peter hate us.
So yeah, Friendship > Homicide
>and loses us any support we had from the superhero community.
Yeah, because Moon Knight and Daredevil give a single fuck. The Blonde Phantom doesn't have more pressing concerns, and doesn't have Gambit - who has also killed people - on the payroll. Even fucking Peter doesn't have other shit to worry about. Mhm. Sounds legit.
Oh, sorry Anon, i must've glossed over where we made allied pacts, agreements, or hell, even met Supers other than Spiderman and a couple others.
But yeah, let's not alienate our great big allies that have been such a huge help to us and our people!!
>killing bad guys is bad!
>implying people won't rally behind the idea of someone ACTUALLY GETTING RID OF SUPERVILLAINS
Well, I know for a fact Jameson would be all over it, and he'd probably paint us a hero.
Media is a dangerous weapon.
Your breath sags through you. You feel like a popped balloon тАУ like youтАЩre slowly deflating.
YouтАЩve gottaтАж you gotta get the others andтАж
In the corner of your eye, you notice the Doctor Octopus moving, her metallic limbs coiling protectively around her. Her motions are sluggish, almost retarded, as like she can barely see or feel anything. You feel a cold, grim weight settle in your stomach as you realize that this тАУ this would be the perfect time to just get rid of her. Whatever she and her friends were after here, it can be done away with right now, right here.
They can just disappear. Vanish between the cracks. Like you will, one day.
You feel your claws urging at the tips of your fingertips, scraping for freedom.
MaybeтАж maybe you could justтАж
The air condenses beside you, and you feel your danger sense explode along your back.
You turn around, to look straight into ElectroтАЩs lack of any discernible eyes.
One thing we don't need to samefag about (but probably will anyway) is to
>"Lets all go out for Frosty Chocolate Milkshakes to celebrate!"
>Marge: Now be good for Grampa while we're at the parent-teacher meeting. We'll bring back dinner.
>Lisa: What are we gonna have?
>Homer: Well, that depends on what your teachers say. If you've been good, pizza. If you've been bad... uh... let's see... poison.
>Lisa: What if one of us has been good and one of us has been bad?
>Bart: Poison pizza.
>Homer: Oh, no. I'm not making two stops.
There is also the fact that once you get the reputation of a killer you lose all respect and future enemys will fight to the death to not be killed themselves. Whereas if they know you play by the unspoken rules they can give up and get away eventually. Which while kicking the can down the road at least stops the problem from going down kamakazi territory style bullshit which will fuck things up.
murderhobs don't murderhobo to murderhobo. They murderhobo because they're murderhobo's.
It comforts you, as the lightning spirals across your skin, and you feel your flesh beginning to burn, that you will die with your sense of humour relatively intact. ItтАЩs a momentary comfort, however тАУ in an instant, the pain burns away all coherent thought, and you feel yourself collapse to the ground, the skin peeling from your back and your nose shriveling at the scent of your own body fats burning away. A second jolt rushes through you, and you arch your back in momentary agony, your eyes snapping shut, your whole body seizing up as though zapped by a cattle prod.
Eventually, the pain subsides enough for you to open your eyes, and you see the luminescent being standing over you, a halo of blinding, erratic light encircling his brow.
тАЬFuck you.тАЭ Your lips split at each otherтАЩs touch. тАЬI fucking won, you priтАЭ-
He leans down, and you feel his touch burning through the joint of your elbow, flesh crackling and popping and coming undone. The pain isтАж itтАЩs not what you expected. You guess your nerves just blow out and give up at that kind of heat.
Your vision swoons, and you feel like youтАЩre falling back into your own skull.
So, you donтАЩt entirely trust yourself to be drawing an accurate picture of things when, out of nowhere, a balloon full of water explodes across the back of ElectroтАЩs head. The creature screams like an electrical storm, andтАж you drift.
They'll still fucking come back. More villains will come either for revenge, to protect their reputation, or they think we're a threat. You're not making anyone safer, you're categorically doing the opposite.
And Peter Parker is very much someone we don't want to make an enemy of.
>Sure he wouldn't spin it into vigilanty murderer who acts above the law?
He really likes people who -don't- wear masks, and the buzz from someone being an honest to god "hero" in his paper for once would bring a lot of attention since normally all you hear from him is "bad thing, dude wearing mask, scum, secret alliance".
He would stand to make a lot of money from painting us a hero.
So what you want to start a powered grudge war? Like that won't be the last straw to send the sentinels in?
You're a dumb cunt, if you weren't samefagging your desire to kill people, people wouldn't have counter-samefagged to stop you so we could have GTFO because we keep fucking forgetting that Electro is immortal.
Murder on a need to do basis.
Sure these guys suck, but if they really were out to kill us they would have just bombed the shit out of the area with superior tech 5 minutes ago.
This is a power struggle fight. It's not personal enough nor warrants killing just yet.
Eh, every side is obnoxious.
Comic verse = no one stays dead for long if their a main protag/plot point.
>implying i samefagged
keep projecting faggot.
The Brotherhood would step in, and we're not sure whoever's on the X-Team wouldn't either.
Sentinels are a while off, and they will be for a while.
Except that's retarded. If you're operating off comic-book logic you can't just stop halfway when it strengthens your argument.
If you accept that villains will always immediatley get out of prison you also have to accept that villains come back to life or are replaced by more dangerous legacies. It's just not a tenable position.
We did kind of stab him in the stomach, and the man is rather limited on "Fry shit" as his main attack.
He is still a dick though.
Somehow i doubt that when it boils down to it.
From prolongued exposure to electro, and actually touching him, we'll spontaneously mutate SUPAH DOUBLE ELECTRICITY POWERS! Not just Taserhands, but zappy lightning tower hands!
You stand at the edge of the ruins, where the sky meets the water, and the stars seem to veer down beneath the horizon, into forever.
Vast, vaguely cetacean shapes move beneath you, their massive forms discernable only as momentary shadows. You look out into the unknown and feel your heart swoon at the enormity of it. There is so much out there that you may never see. There is so much out there. So much more than the mist, or the water, or even the stars.
You turn back toward the ruins. They stand like huddled, ancient sentinels, bowed and cracked by the sheer breadth of time.
You will be like that one day.
>[ ] Lie back and watch the stars.
>[ ] Walk into the mists at the edge of the world.
>[ ] Return to the ruins.
Neither of you can argue anything without those surgically attached assholes at the ends of your fingers
Neither of you know anything but that it would've been IC to kill them so that our pals and our mrs would be safe.
You left him for dead in the story, and he reaches through reality. The Owl wants vengeance, you penned how he died, Crusty.
We chose it and now he comes for you.
With a tiny owl sized prius
The mists envelop you, and soon you are without sight to see or star to follow, aware only of yourself and the slow, steady notes of your feet upon the surface of the lake. The world is one of shadow тАУ things wane and wax in and out vision, your limbs feeling light, as though threading away, uncoiling.
Eventually the mist is more than that. Nothing more than a great, silvery expanse at the edge of everything, like the face of the moon.
You meet it eventually, at the outer boundary, where things tumble away.
The blinding creature sits with its legs crossed and its arms stretched across the universe, its eyes perceiving you with vacant recognition тАУ the way you understand that there is oxygen and you breath it, so does it understand that there is you. The circlet of light about its head pulses in fiery silence, waiting, sending, receiving.
You feel strangely comfortable. This presence is one so vast it denies fear, even if fear would be right.
>[ ] Ask it what it is.
>[ ] Ask it what it wants.
>[ ] Ask it why you are here.
>[ ] Ask it where you are.