Cap tightens his shield.
*sling rings open pouring out 23 movies of heroes*
*portal opens throwing Chell out*
*portal scroll rips open and all the Diablo heroes charge out*
*jumpgates expand in the sky and the Mimbari fleet prepares for battle*
So, season 3 of Stranger Things I know Dustin had the name of the camp he was coming home from on his shirt. I can't help but think though that I'm pretty sure Cameron Campbells Camp Campbell was operating in '85.
A thumb slides over the screen of the smart phone, bringing up a live stream of a news broadcast, already in progress.
"-strange new buildings, even entire cities have sprung up over night. Scientists around the world are baffled by this turn of events. Even with the strange changes to the world within the last several years, this goes beyond the appearance of men and women who can fly."
"Speaking of which, we can see an individual floating above one of the buildings in the new city. It's difficult to make out at this time, but the being appears to be . . . glowing?"
" . . . oh God. Oh God, RUN! Run before-"
There is a flash of light, and the feed goes dead.
Across a broken cityscape, two groups of superhumans stared down each other.
One group was lead by a man in a silvery body suit, tall and strong with golden blonde hair that matched the yellow aura playing across his body, focused on his eyes and hands. "My name is Luminary of the Vanguard. My team and I need to know what your intentions are." His voice was strong, but calm, reassuring. Almost paternal.
Across from him floated a more massively muscled man, completely bald and with a corona of blue energy playing about his body. He wore a blue and white costume bisected by a bar of gold that stretched from hip to shoulder and completely covered one arm. The shoulder of said arm bore the logo T2M. When he spoke, it was a deep, rumbling voice that carried authority and arrogance in equal measure. "Well 'Luminary', I'm Caestus Pax of Team Tomorrow, and by the power granted by the United Nations, I declare you to be in violation of numerous trespassing and security laws. Surrender now, or be taken forcefully into custody."
Luminary's eyes glowed even brighter, his voice taking on a grim determination. "Neither of those is going to happen."
Pax smirked confidently. "Your funeral."
The street was filled with the bodies of bleeding and broken police officers. Over two dozen men and women, several of them part of an elite SWAT unit, now bloodied the ground around the being they'd been sent to subdue. This being was vaguely shaped like a man, but composed of what looked like liquid metal, with additional tendrils of metal lashing around it, covered in blood. The only thing not composed of metal was the jet black portion of its face, making it seemed like a helmeted visor that gave no clue as to what may lie beneath it.
"Well well well. I think I'm in love."
The metal figure turned, appendages ready to lash out again, only to pause at the sight of the new arrival. Like the first, the person floating down from the sky seemed to be composed of metal, but also crackled with a kind of electric energy. Her form also strongly suggested that of a woman, as did her voice.
"Peace, my friend," she said smoothly. "I'm just admiring your work. My name is Shrapnel. What's yours."
The other liquid metal being hesitated a moment, then the tendrils flowed back into its body, its overall appearance becoming more roughly humanoid. "You may call me Proteus. I see you are another who gone beyond humanity, and embraced greatness."
A smile spread over Shrapnel's silver lips. "I like you more and more by the minute. Tell me, Proteus, have you ever heard of the Terragen? We've always got room for someone with your . . . talents."
Proteus' body rippled slightly, and one part of the metal near the black visor curved in a way that Shrapnel swore was a the face trying to smile.
"Tell me more."
He was losing himself. More and more, the being known as Antaeus was sure he was losing his connection to the rest of the world. And the scary thing was that he wasn't sure that was a bad thing.
It was to be expected, to an extent. His eruption had transformed him into a towering mass of muscled perfection who also was bright green and had plants growing out of his body. He was as much vegetable as animal at this point, maybe more. He was also one of the most powerful novas on the planet. The scope of what he was and what he could do was so immense that he'd helped turn a desert into a lush forest. It had all been to help people . . . but sometimes he wondered why he was suppose to bother helping people. There were billions of them, surely the world could do without a few of them, especially if saving them meant radically altering the planet. And then he'd realize what he'd just thought, and was overwhelmed with horror.
"GAAAAAAAAAH!" he roared to the sky, causing the ground to shake and nearby trees to twist in mirror of his frustration. "What's wrong with me!??!"
Then, abruptly, the trees returned to their normal forms and the ground ceased its shaking. Antaeus frowned. He hadn't been the one to do that. He looked about him, sensing a new presence, but this presence was . . . soothing. Calm. Beautiful.
The ground in front of Antaeus opened up, but instead of violently cracking, it appeared more like a gentle unfolding, almost like some type of Earthen oragami. And from the hole that had appeared, floated up a woman of breathtaking beauty. But more than her physical beauty, Antaeus could feel the power within her. It was . . . intoxicating. He felt instantly connected to her in a way he hadn't with any other person.
"There is nothing wrong with you, my friend," she said, and her voice was like a summers breeze through the branches of willows. "You struggle with your place as a man, when you must accept you place as a god. Only then will you know your place in the world."
Despite the calm her presence gave him, Antaeus found himself tensing. "I've already told you Terragen that I'll have no part in your insanity."
The woman laughed. It was like the most beautiful music he'd ever heard. "The Terragen are angry children, using their so-called philosophy to justify whatever mad impulse they have at the time. No, dear Antaeus, I am not a part of such empty and useless violence. My name is Gaia, and I am of the Pantheon. And I am here to offer you a place among the gods of the new age. And together, we will truly heal this poor world."
She extended her hand out to him, and Antaeus had never seen anything so inviting.
"Well Diego, in the long list of stupid things you've done, this is probably the new number one."
The person speaking wore a blue bodysuit, with strategic body armor on the chest, arms and legs. His face was covered in a mask that gave the impression of a cat, as did the claws adorning the fingers of the mans gloves. Fingers which currently held the local crime boss Don Diego up by the throat, the don's feet several inches above the ground.
The man in blue casually dropped the man to the floor. Littered throughout the office were nearly a dozen body guards, all unconscious. "You set a trap for the Nightstalker," the costume man continued. "You left me a trail of evidence I can use to crucify you with, and practically dared me to attack your little place of power. What did you expect to happen?"
Don Diego ran a hand over his throat, and smiled up at his attacker. "Just what did happen, my friend. It was, admittedly, a bit rougher than I had hoped, but my new associate agreed to this job only if I could prove that you were a man worth his time."
At those words, a panel in the wall opened, and a figure emerged, wielding a long, metal spear in each hand. The man was covered in a black body suit, with bits of gold decorating his waist and shoulder, and on his head was a golden mask designed to evoke a human skull.
The Nightstalker turned to face this new enemy, crouched in a combat stance. "And you are?"
The other man spun his spears in a smooth, flowing and intricately complicated pattern, one that left little doubt the power and skill he possessed. "I am Totentanz. I am the hammer, the dagger, the sickle that reaps." And without another word, he lunged at the vigilante.
The warehouse had every appearance of being completely abandoned. It was likely it had been, at least until several days before, when it had been decided on as the place for this clandestine meeting. In the days following every effort had been made to preserve that appearance of abandonment, while subjecting it to all manner of scrutiny and security the individuals arranging the meeting could manage. And the man who had just stealthily entered the warehouse was aware of just what kind of power those people could bring.
The man appeared on the surface like any other businessman, with a dull grey suit that was given a slightly hard-boiled look by the brown trenchcoat and matching fedora. This air of investigative mystery was only enhanced by the black fabric tucked into the neck of the man's collar, which covered everything below the man's eyes. Between the mask and the shadows his hat cast, the man might as well have been faceless.
He walked almost to the center of the warehouse, hands in his pockets, standing a ways off from several shadows cast by the warehouse's interior and the various detritus scattered about.
"You wanted to speak with me," he said simply. "I'm here. Start talking."
From one of the shadows, a voice emerged, with the kind of hollowness to it that only digital distortion could cause. "Thank you for meeting with us, Enigma. You're a difficult man to track down."
"That's by design," Enigma said flatly. "But you've some experience with that yourself, don't you Miss Rousseau?"
There was a long pause before the voice spoke again. "You know who I am." It was not a question.
"Yes. I also know about the four Aberrants you have stationed around this place, including the one using their shadow powers to conceal you all. So now that you know I know, perhaps you can stop wasting my time."
There was a murmur of voices, too low for Enigma to hear, but abruptly several shadows faded, revealing three men and two women spread about the warehouse. From the shadows he'd been addressing was a strikingly handsome woman with close cut auburn hair, who was tugging off a throat microphone. Sophia Rousseau gave the coated figure a once over, saying, "I assume you've got a few contingencies in place, just in case?"
"Assume what you wish, Miss Rousseau. If they don't exist, it benefits me to let you believe that they do. If they do exist, it benefits me for you to be unaware of them. In both cases, your speculation benefits me. But these delays benefit neither of us. So again, please stop wasting my time."
A smirk crossed Sophia's features. "Very well then. My group knows you're investigating a pair of conspiracies: The Initiative and Mr. Zero. I believe that my group can help you expose them. We have resources and power that you, skilled as you are, lack. And in return, you put your unique abilities towards uncovering a conspiracy that has been a problem for me."
Enigma kept his features and surface thoughts neutral, but within the most protected parts of his mind, he grew excited. These people knew of the Initiative, and they put a name to other conspiracy he'd been investigating, the person he believed to be a conspiracy of one: Mr. Zero. His enhanced mind ran through the possibilities of this being a trap, but no. Neither conspiracy would have drawn this out this long before trying to kill him, and while Sophia Rousseau was reportedly immune to mental powers, he could read her body language like it was mile high neon letters. She was being sincere.
"What can you tell me about this third conspiracy?" he asked finally.
Sophia smiled. "We believe it's at the heart of a lot of suffering within the nova community. It's powerful, well connected and deeply entrenched, but we suffered a positive break last month that made me request this meeting. We finally have a name. The conspiracy calls itself Project: Proteus."
In Washington, DC, thousands of people and hundreds of cameras gazed skyward, towards the two men that floated in the air above the Nation's Capital. One wore a red, white and blue costume with a red mask and red star in the center of his chest, marking him as a true superpowered Patriot. The other wore gold and red armor vaguely reminiscent of ancient Greece or Rome, his red cape billowed about by the golden-white that surrounded them.
"Attention Divis Mal!" the Patriot yelled to the armored man. "By order of the President of the United States, you are to accompany me to ground level, power down, and surrender yourself to the American government for the crimes perpetrated by yourself and the Terregen! I am authorized to use whatever force is necessary to see to it that you comply."
A sneer crossed the face of the other man. "Of course you are. I had heard tale of America's Greatest Hero, and wished to see for myself if another god had entered the fold. Imagine my disappointment when I find a superman content to play the clown for a group of monkeys. Another Caestus Pax who dances at the whip of his baseline masters. It would swell my heart with pity if it didn't make me sick to my stomach."
Patriot's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "You have thirty seconds to surrender peacefully, Mal. Beyond that, I can't make any guarantees about your safety."
One of Mal's blood-red eyebrows arched upwards, in seeming amusement. "Are you . . . threatening me?" Mal threw his head back and laughed, his short, spikey red hair looking very much like flame with the gesture. After the laughter died, he returned his gaze to the man before him, the sneer returning. "I must thank you for that. I hadn't laughed that hard in nearly a decade."
"Ten seconds," Patriot informed Mal. "Final warning."
The sneer became a scowl as energy collected around Mal's hands. "No, I believe I am done here. I came to find a god and I found merely another puppet with delusions of grandeur. My tolerance for such as you is spent this day. If you would lower yourself to their level, then I will take from you that which makes you useful to them!"
At that, Mal gestured with both hands, and white-gold energy poured forth from them in a stream that completely engulfed the Patriot, hammering him backwards through the air. The blast had the added effect of allowing Mal to connect with his targets Node, the part of his brain that controlled the Quantum all Novas had access to, and would let Mal severely deplete it of power. Not permanently, but enough to leave Patriot weakened for nearly a month, where he might see how valuable he was to these people with his powers restricted.
That was the plan, anyway. Instead, Mal's eyes flew open in surprise. "Where . . . where is it? Where is your power? I can't find it!"
At the same moment he became aware that something was pushing back against his energy stream. Looking up, he saw Patriot flying forward, one hand lifted and actually blocking the wave of energy, the other hand cocked back in a ready fist. Through gritted teeth, Patriot yelled, "My power is RIGHT HERE!"
And before Mal could react, Patriot smashed said fist across Mal's face, sending him hurtling to the ground with enough force to leave a sizable crater in the White House lawn. For a tense handful of heartbeats, there was silence. Then Divis Mal groggily got to his feet, shaking his head at the weird dizziness that assaulted him. He hadn't been hit like that in . . . he couldn't remember. Something on his lips was irritating him, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand, only to glance down and see that it was blood. His own blood.
"This . . . this isn't possible," Mal breathed, even as his bloody image suddenly went viral across the internet.
In the skies above, Patriot suddenly felt a surge of power like he'd rarely felt before. Even at the height of his popularity, he'd never felt strength like this. His smile broadened as he looked down at the still confused Divis Mal. "Well, it looks like a lot of folks were looking forward to you getting taken down a peg."
The words finally shook Mal from his stupor, and he looked up just in time to see Patriot flying towards him, that fist cocked back again to deliver another blow.
"Time to give the people what they want!" Patriot yelled, and then Mal's vision was completely filled with Patriot's fist.
I'm reading Spider-geddon, and thsio idea of intra-company crossover juts crossed my mind, tat probably will not happen:
The Inheritors go find one Spider-Totem they missed on Earth 616, and try to presue her, and in process find a new group of pwoerfull Totems they can feed on.
But the Immortal Weaponms will not become a dinner with-out a fight.
All of immortal Weapons, except for Prince of Orphans have Totem animals.
Tiger's Beautiful Daughter, Bride of Seven Spider, Dog Brother #1 are obvious.
Iron Fist, posses the Chi of a Dragon.
And Steel Pheonix and Fat Cobra are a bit more complicated (Steel Pheonix being teh champion of teh Mother of Cranes, and Fat Cobra's Totem being called out as a Trutle during the Cities Tournament, and IIR being outright called a totem).
"This is Control! This is Control! Race time minus 1 minute! Race time minus 1 minute! Race trains, to your places!"
"Decepticons, you know your mission! We mean to seize control of the steam generator. Astro-train, transform!"
Starlight Express meets Transformers. G1 Transformers, by preference, in all their slightly boxy cheesy glory. The aesthetics mesh so very well.
Why is this happening? Well, dream logic is acceptable in Starlight, but the dream eventually rebels against its creator to take on a life of its own. That's round about the time the trains start talking about how steam power is more reliable and cleaner than nuclear, and that sounds a lot more like hypertech than any coal burner I know. Hence, desirable to alien infiltrators.
And honestly, who would rather have seen a live-action Transformers consisting of actors on roller skates than the Bay films? There's something remarkably fitting about people just gliding around on wheels...
Alarms going off spoiled a perfectly good sandwich. “Ah shit, wait here,” he said, getting up from the counter. He went out into the street where a bank robbery was in progress.
He gave them a warning, shot one coming out of the bank, shot the one driving the getaway car. The car crashed, flipped on its side, taking out a hydrant that shot a jet of water up. The one remaining robber tried to run, but several more shots stopped him, sending his dead body thought a plate glass window.
He crossed the road pausing to take a look at the dead man in the car, then continued to where the first man he had shot lay on the steps of the bank. The wounded cyborg looked towards the shotgun that lay close at hand.
“Uh uh,” he said, pointing his hand cannon at the robber, and then “I know what you're thinking. "Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?”
“And seeing as this is a Kuan Yin rail pistol that fires and expanding smart flechette at three times the speed of sound and will leave a nice big hole where your heart used to be, your current karmic balance is in question.”
The newcomer was a beautiful young woman, a real Yamoto nadeshiko, with a serious piece of hardware.
“I don’t care if you feel lucky or not, the last time I shot this I knocked a close air support gunship out of the sky and I really want to see what it will do to a person.”
That from a pretty redhead, with a golden tan and an equally serious piece of hardware.
“I told you to wait,” Harry Callahan, aka Dirty Harry, said to the woman who flanked him.
“That was boring,” Yuri, one half of the Dirty Pair, told him.
“Yeah, we can’t let you have all the fun,” Kei, the other half of the Dirty Pair, said.
“Can I surrender now?” the cyborg asked.
Kei accidentally shot him, putting a crater into the street. ‘It’s not my fault’ she would later say.
Harry Callahan - Dirty Harry
Kei & Yuri - The Dirty pair
Together this Summer in ‘Too Dirty’
“Well that title is lewd.”
“Don’t be such a prude Yuri, the title is perfectly fine.”
“I got to agree with Red, I’ve seen worse titles out of Hollywood.”