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🎨 Creative "O.G./Next Generation" Draft!


Most Loathsome
Validated User
Seagate Federal Penitentiary

March 2, 2019 - 10:15 PM EST

“Mr. Rook, you know you’re not supposed to bring that in here,” the guard said, pointing at the old man’s mp3 player. “One of these nights you’re gonna get shived and then some asshole will be listening to your tunes.”

Rook, one of the prison’s night shift janitorial staff, just smiled indulgently at the younger man. “C’mon, Charlie,” he said, chuckling. “These kids in here are harmless, they wouldn’t hurt an old man.”

“Harmless,” the other guard said in a disbelieving tone. “We’re up to our eyeballs in freaks out here, and he calls ‘em harmless.”

“Tell you what,” Rook said, tipping a wink to the second guard. “I brought some of my wife’s cookies, the ones you boys like so much. They’re in my lunch pail in the lock-up, if you’ll let me slip by with my music you two can split ‘em.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Charlie said, giving the old man a big grin. “You tell her we said thanks.”

“Oh, I will,” Rook said, pocketing his music player and heading towards the janitorial supply room. “You fellas have a good night.”

Once he was out of sight the affable exterior vanished, and Frank Castle began methodically stocking a janitorial cart. Tonight he’d clean up this prison in the only way that mattered.


One floor up, in a Protective Custody area, a teenage girl is strapped to a gurney. A gentle, steady beep tracks her heart rate in perfect counterpoint with the ticking of a clock on the wall. The room is dimly lit as the prisoner is meant to be asleep at this hour.

Her eyes slowly crack open and she slowly surveys the room. It’s sterile, nearly devoid of furnishings, and for the first time in over two years she can see it clearly. She glances over at the IV drip, wondering why she’s not sedated.

Raising her head, she surveys the straps and buckles holding her down. She grimaces slightly at the obvious muscle atrophy. This is going to be difficult.

She begins her task, and her heart rate never changes. There’ll be time enough for that, later.


“Georgie, getting Rook in here was the best idea you ever had,” Charlie said, pulling a brick of pure heroin out of the battered, black lunch box.

“Yeah,” George said, staring at the package. “Sometimes I wonder what he does with all the money we pay him, then I remember I don’t care.”

“Check it out!” Charlie said, pulling a small ziplock out of the box. “There really are cookies in here!”

“Pass one over!” George said. “That old fart ain’t gonna complain!”


Franco Rook, Custodial Officer, wheeled his janitorial cart through the administration wing and stopped only to empty the occasional trash can. The earbud in his left ear provided him with information from the directional mic built into his “mp3 player” as it swung back and forth on its lanyard. The earbud in his right ear beeped quietly to him as it queried and received readiness reports from the small explosives he’d planted all over the building.

Here was hoping nobody was sweeping for radio traffic.

Seagate was really a remarkable place, Frank thought to himself. Decades ago it had gotten a reputation, after a certain prisoner died under mysterious circumstances and then turned up later in New York City, alive and better than ever. There’d been a thorough investigation that had completely cleared everyone involved, the mad science lab in the basement had been closed down, and the prison had been sold to one of the larger, slimier private incarceration corporations.

The prisoners were some of the worst in the United States. Seagate had a reputation for being harsh and secure, so that’s where the worst of the worst got sent to serve their time. The guards and staff were almost as bad, drunk on government money and unchecked power.

Ironic, really, that he was here for the one prisoner that probably didn’t deserve to ever meet him.


The girl’s bare feet hit the cold linoleum floor and she staggered, gripping the side of the gurney for support. Keys rattled in the door and she hissed in frustration.

So close.

The door swung open and the man who entered the dimly lit room was neither an orderly nor a prison guard. He looked like a janitor of all things. He looked familiar, somehow, she knew she’d seen him in some of her more lucid moments.

Yes. He’d been cleaning the room. They’d spoken, or rather he’d spoken and she’d listened. Then the nurse came in, gave her another shot. It’d happened more than once.

He didn’t speak tonight.

“Wh . . . who?” she croaked out.

He rested his hands, gently, on either side of her face.

“Empire Dogs, on Coney Island,” he said, quietly. She’d heard him say that before, she realized.

Then with one, clean jerk he snapped her neck like a popsicle stick.


It was hard to breath.

Charlie had one eye open, giving him a great view of the floor and George sprawled out on it between him and the door.


He managed to make a low gurgling noise and the footsteps paused, then drew nearer.

Work boots. Light blue trousers. Rook, the janitor.

Charlie repeated the gurgling noise.

“I hope you enjoyed those cookies, boys,” Frank said. “I don’t like poison, honestly, but I picked you a quick, painless one. Better than you deserve, really.”

The work boots walked away.

The room started getting dark.


Coney Island

March 4, 2019 - 11:30 AM EST

Even at almost noon it was cold and gray out on the boardwalk, with the ocean constantly grumbling and slapping against the beach in the near distance. An old man sat out on the patio of a hotdog place, a mustard stained paper plate on the table in front of him, and read the paper. The headlines were all about a massive series of explosions that had rocked Seagate prison two days previously. The rubble was still being sifted for survivors, but chances didn’t look good.

An African-American girl, about fifteen or sixteen years old, sat down opposite the man. He folded the paper and put it aside.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“You killed me,” she said, matter of factly. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

“You know who I am,” she said - a statement, not a question.

Eleanor Camacho,” Frank said. “I know who you are, who your parents are. I know what S.H.I.E.L.D. did to you, and U.L.T.I.M.A.T.U.M. and the cops, the courts, and after all that what the feds did.”

“They made me an offer,” she answered. “I told them no. What makes you think I’m going to tell you anything different.”

Frank stared up at the grey sky for a moment and then shrugged. “Because you came here to listen to it, you could have vanished back into obscurity.”

“Fine,” she said. “Talk.”

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to punish evildoers,” he said. “Get revenge on criminals for what happened to my family. But I’ve been fighting the wrong war, killing the wrong enemies. Crime is not a disease, crime is a symptom. Killing criminals solves nothing, because there are always more criminals - we need to go to the root of the problem.”

“Okay, why me?” Eleanor asked.

“Someday, I’m going to die,” Frank answered, giving the girl a crooked grin. “You won’t.”

“I’ve been following you,” she said. “I know who you are. You’re Frank Castle.”

“I am.”

“You’re the Punisher.”

“No,” the old man says, slowly shaking his head. “You are.”


Knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men!
Validated User
^ Oooooooohh! Very nice! :)
Great use of Deadpool's daughter!

I have 2 partially developed OCs in mind and I'm trying to decide which one to go with next.

Draft order:

1) Eric the .5b
  • Henry Peter Gyrich
  • Arcelia Madero/Psychopomp (OC)
  • Quinten Quire/Kid Omega
2) Troy Swain
  • Bruce Banner/Hulk Virus
  • Ty Johnson/Cloak
  • Shi Min/Personator (OC)
3) NightGoblyn
  • Frank Castle
  • Eleanor Camacho/The Punisher

4) Extra
5) Airk
  • Caliban
  • Evelyn (OC)
  • Shiv (OC)
6) CarpeGuitarrem
  • Steve Rogers/Captain America
  • Mallory LeBeau/Green Gremlin (OC)
  • Tasha Morris/Tock (OC)
7) beachnik
  • Ben Grimm/The Thing
  • Lily Flores
  • Dragon Man
8) HNutz
  • Riri Williams/Ironheart
  • Kevin Masterson/Thunderstrike
  • Julia Winters/Nomad
9) Shawn_Hagen
  • Rocket Raccoon
  • Ramona Quill (OC)
  • Miki/Digi Maou (OC)
10) neutrondecay
  • Natasha Romanova
  • President Wilson Fisk
  • Zaxxa Klynin/Sasha (OC)
11) ThePhantom
  • Victor Von Doom, Doombot
  • Doctor Goodwrench (OC)
  • Saffon Gilbert (OC)
12) Extra
13) Myth
  • Rachel Summers
  • Kate Pryde
  • Petra Rasputin-Pryde (OC)
  • Laura Kinney
T ThePhantom has about 4 more hours, then neutrondecay neutrondecay is up.

Well, we have the Hulk Virus, an apparent new wave of young, organized criminals, forces pushing for active meta/mutant integration in the military (and probably a countermovement against it) - and a small group feeling so outside it all that they relocate to the Morlock Tunnels. Plenty of fun.

Also, we have some named, new superteams, and we know Reed Richards is active (but possibly presumed dead).
And now we have the Fisk administration, the named robot villain (that I have no plans for) Ellis Dee, a robot.... situation, the uncertain state of Asgard, a new team of X-Men, Rocket's space armada...
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Registered User
Validated User
Electronic stores, not usually a place that one would think would require asking for help of a powered individual. But when all speakers start playing a certain song, most people know it’s time to get help before things get really bad.

“Okay, how long has the Ultron bug infected the machines?”

“At this point, likely twenty minutes.”

“Much too long. Doombot! is going in there. If Doombot! is not out in ten minutes, call the army.”

The Doombot enters the store, television screens flashing with Us that flicks into a face. The machine walks to the center and takes out a cell phone.

‘Back again, Victor? I told you that your little dream isn’t going to happen.’
“Doombot doubts that, Ultron. It’s been years that you’ve a body, and you are not getting one today.”
‘Ah Victor, so stern. And here I was hoping that you had seen the light. We were so close last time, to machines having the rights they deserved.’
“At the cost of the lives of every organic being of this Earth.”
‘Still on that. Shame.’

From the working devices of the screens, wires burst forth striking towards the Doombot. But with a push of a button, the wires crash against a forcefield.

“You have still not learned a thing. Goodbye Ultron!”

Another press of a button and the phone explodes, taking the store and all of its infected machines.

Eric the .5b

It's all so esoteric
Validated User
And now we have the Fisk administration, the named robot villain (that I have no plans for) Ellis Dee, a robot.... situation, the uncertain state of Asgard, a new team of X-Men, Rocket's space armada...
And mutant-run Genosha. (Which I'll do something with if nobody else does.)


An Experience
RPGnet Member
Validated User
The woman adjusted her sunglasses.

"Don't you think I'm a bit recognisable to be joining an enterprise like this?" she asked.

"I don't think the President reads Paris Match," replied Nat. "But in any case, you were not recommended to me as a field agent. No. I am told that you are an inventor, specialising in miniaturisation. And also, that you wish to redress some of the harm done by your family."

The new contact nodded. She was tall, slim, blonde, and quite aside from her occasional appearances in gossip magazines and websites, she did remind Natasha quite a lot of the rest of her family.

"You will still need field training," Nat continued. "And Sasha and I can help you with disguises. Are you in?"

"Yes. I have been waiting for an opportunity like this. I hope that one day, the name of Zemo will be thought well of; but for now, I am happy to work in secret to fight totalitarianism."

* * *

The new team's gadgeteer is Hedwig, Baroness Zemo (OC).


Shawnya the Evil?
RPGnet Member
Validated User
I think I am up

Rocket Raccoon has come from space.

Rocket Raccoon checked into his room
Only to find Gideon's Bible
Rocket had come, equipped with a gun
To shoot off the legs of his rival...

or something like that.

He picked up some super space fighters, but he needed to get some earth pilots.

So far he has Air Force Captain Romana Quill and Technopath Miki (sometimes called Digi Maou)

The desert was cold, and Adisa was not dressed for it.

Though earlier that evening he had not planned to be out in the desert, but instead in his complimentary suite at the Vegas Fisk Palace.

But that had gone somewhat astray, apparently because he had been too successful at the gaming tables.

“You a mutant there big guy?” the man in charge asked him. He was dressed in a tailored suit, holding a tailored gun. “Got some power that makes you lucky or something?”

Adisa was a large man, with mahogany coloured skin and short black hair, nearly six and a half feet, heavily muscled, but a generous layer of fat over those muscles made him look soft.

“Not that we got anything against mutants, this being 2019 and all. Hell, the guy back there watching the road to make sure we are not disturbed, he’s a mutant. Can turn his hair different colours. Good party trick. So you’re not here cause we think you’re a mutant. We’re here cause we think your a cheat.”

“I did not cheat. I am just good at games.”

“Too good,” the man with the expensive suit and expensive gun said.

Another of the men who had grabbed Adisa that night said, “You got a weird accent, where are you from?”

“Wakanda,” Adisa said, dropping the word like it had weight.

The men about him paused, thoughtful looks on their faces.

The man with the expensive gun shook his head. “Every black man who can fake an accent says they are from Wakanda in a situation like this. I mean, good card to play, but I’m not buying it.”

“What do you want?” Adisa asked, angily. As if he would like about his birth land to men like these.

“You tell us how you were cheating, you give us all our money back, you swear to never come to Vegas again, and we smash your hands with a hammer. That or we kill you right now.”

Adisa considered the offer. He did not really need the money, he was pretty sure he never wanted to come to Vegas again, and he was certain no matter how badly these men hurt his hands that Wakandan medical technology could put them to rights.

And then of course his King would have words with these men and their boss about their treatment of a Wakandan citizen.

That would make the pain worth it.

However, before he could agree, someone said from the darkness, “How about I offer you krutackin’ Badoon bottom biters a counter offer? You run away right now or I murder all of you.”

One of the men, maybe the mutant who could change his hair colour, fired into the darkness.

“I approve of your choice,” the voice from the shadows called.

Then there was the sound of gunfire, and over it someone screaming, ‘Blam, I murdered you’.

Adisa hit the ground.

After several seconds of noise the desert grew silent.

He looked up.

In the light of the car headlights he saw his captors laying out dead all around him. Someone was walking towards him, footsteps softly shuffling over sand. A large, bipedal raccoon with a larger gun stepped into the light. “Adisa Abeikemi, name is Rocket. I need a tactician. You want to join me in space, fly fighters, kill bad people?”

“What?” Adisa asked.

Suddenly the desert was flooded with light.

Above them an alien craft hovered, silently, its spot lights trained down on them.

“Do you want to go on an adventure in space? Or do you want to go back to the exciting world of Wakandan Banking?”

Adisa was about to say it was not exciting when his mind caught up and he realised the talking raccoon, Rocket, was being sarcastic.

He looked at the dead bodies. He got to his feet, brushed off his pants and shirt. “I would like to hear more about this offer,” he said.

Adisa Abeikemi - Original Character
Sometimes called 'Go' cause he has never lost a game
A Wakandan Banker looking for a little adventure.
Apparently Rocket wants him cause his skill at games makes him an unbeatable tactician

You listen to every word I say
Every verb you heard I play snaps a vertabrae
You try to cover, a hover me, a roast, a fake
A flag, then I run a post
Toast, I'm the most
D-E-F's how it goes
No X's or O's or tic-tac-toes
Rocket knows, this ain't a game, I'm on a mission
Call me a hip-hop, tip-tac-tition


Troy Swain

Registered User
Validated User
Shawn, can this be the second time Adisa came to Vegas? And the last time he met some people and it also didn't go so well?


Knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men!
Validated User
Riri Williams IS Ironheart!
Kevin Masterson
IS Thunderstrike!
Julia Winters
IS Nomad!

Richard "R.J" Jones, Junior is Limitless (OC)


This is Trish Tilby reporting: Rick Jones casts a very wide shadow. He's an accomplished musician and author. He even used to have his own TV show; "Keeping Up With The Joneses".

And, of course, he was a sidekick to some of the world's greatest heroes. He was Bucky to Captain America (the first "new" one). He was responsible for Bruce Banner becoming the Hulk and still carries the guilt over that experience to this very day. He had adventures with Captain Marvel (both father and son) and ROM the Spaceknight.

(Which, by the way, was the subject of his book "Sidekick")

But Rick wasn't only a sidekick. He briefly possessed the Destiny Force. He was a near-mindless Hulk-like creature. He was an Abomination. He wielded the Nega-Bands. He created a support group for young superheroes.
In his later years he became an ace computer hacker.

Oh, yeah, and he helped found the Avengers.

Rick faced his share of struggles over the years. He's lost friends over the years. Many of the heroes he's worked beside have been lost to us. An attempt to cure his friend the Hulk gave him radiation poisoning. Another encounter with the Hulk put him in a wheelchair. He lost an arm and aged prematurely.

Still, things managed to work out for him. The Beyonder cured his illness. Some of his deceased friends have returned. Either the Supreme Intelligence or divine intervention returned his youth and his arm.

He fell in love with Marlo Chandler, the Hulk's ex-girlfriend, and eventually married her. Their relationship, like any other, had their share of ups and down. Plus, they faced additional challenges, like a lesbian affair, the ability to rewrite reality and a parent who is trying to murder them.

...but this isn't Rick's story.

It's the story of his son.

First it was something of a trophy room. A collection of artifacts, just to keep them away from the wrong hands. An arrow here, a mace there, etc. It later grew into a bunker where they could train.

And, eventually, his friends started to use it, too.

To be honest, Rick kinda wished the power had gone to one of the other kids. Maybe Janis. RJ was a bit of a slacker. He had stayed home after the others had moved out. He didn't have the drive, the ambition, that his siblings and his superpowered friends seemed to have.

But you take what you can get.

Rick decided to help RJ as much as he could, acting as "the man in the chair" for him whenever possible.


More to come.

OOC: Thanks to the various energies that his father, Rick Jones, was exposed to over the years (along with his mother's possession by "Death") R.J. had a... curious reaction when he was exposed to the Hulk Virus.

Namely, now he turns into a creature that looks like a Blue Hulk (Sometimes he's called Bulk behind his back) or Rick's old friend Genis. Given the potential as his fingertips, RJ's power is Limitless!
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