Marvel AU - Cut Off One Head . . . [O/A]

[Achikah]

Black Widow-------

It was late. She was late.
The bitter aroma of cleaner hung in the simple room where the spy finally awoke. It took a moment for the scenario to click, but then she remembered the mission. Her heart skipped a beat. Kicking open the door, she began to race down the halls in a panicked sprint, her feet echoing off the tiled floors. Each room she passed emitted a different sound of terror, agony, or a droning siren, however, they weren't her concern. There were more footsteps. Was she being followed? No time. Around corner after corner, she was met with endless corridors- a labyrinth of pulsating red that brought only turmoil. Finally, the double doors she had been searching for came into sight. She held her breath as she burst through, her pointed toe touching the hardwood on the opposite side.
There was then an unpleasant grumble and sneer. In panic, the teen looked up to see a stern glare pointed in her direction. She had seen that look many times before in her life, but it never seemed quite as terrifying then went Madame Syratova executed it. She knew the disapproving gaze wasn't at her grand jete, but at her tardiness. Apologetically, she approached the woman who quickly fixed her posture. Carefully, the red-head unzipped her issued suit releasing the shimmering, white feathers beneath, each emerging from the leather cocoon unscathed and falling into place. Without further hesitation, the band began to play, and with it, she danced.
At first, her movements were robotic, terrified by the judging eyes of the audience, each member apart of her as she was them. However, it soon became easy to perform for them, each grateful move efficient and calculated for a different crowd member. The man in the front row, his long beard and wise eyes, he had begged for his life. The woman to his left, she didn't have time to. She watched with each twist, gesture, and leap as old wounds began to reopen, the smell of carnage seeping towards the stage. The staring eyes and rotting corpses fading to blurs of color and sparkling lights, her body twirling to the symphony's sweet tune. She felt the man above, tugging at her strings, each jerk more violent than the last. Spin after spin, her body completely in sync as the instruments thrashed to their grand crescendo. It was time. With the beating percussion, she began to climb the sequined stairs, illuminated like a path to heaven. At the top, she gave her audience one last glance of humble gratitude and sorrow, then she hurled herself into the fray below.
However, that was not the end, in fact, she was back where it began. The sterile halls, pulsing red, her pounding feet and theirs behind. She felt the strings yank again, but this time she yanked back. Her IV broke, the hazardous liquid draining down her shattered arms, so small but so swollen. Again, she was the rat in the maze, attempting to find those doors again, but instead found only an empty hall to a very dead end. Turning, she faced her pursuers, the scent of iron and carnage bellowing with each step. Looming like shadows, they curled around the corner, vacant reflections behind tinted glasses as they extended their arms to coax her back to them. Without hesitation, she drew her weapon, commanding herself to fire. To her dismay, there were no bullets, nor death calls, for it wouldn't fire. With each failed attempt, the weapon seemed to grow in size as did her approaching foes. Before long, the gun was far too large for her tiny, broken hand to hold. Slipping to the ground, it fell at the man's foot with a soft, plush squeak. As he picked up the tattered teddy, the familiar man, the puppeteer smiled.
“Come now, Natalia,” he said, grasping the small girl in his arms. She sobbed as the red faded and the alarms stopped. Once more she found herself in a simple room that smelt of cleaner and the treatment began again.

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A gentle blue light met Natasha's tired eyes as she stared at the flicking clock. It was a familiar scene at least, though the others apparition were too, just not as comfortable. Though she didn't show any signs of panic as she awoke there were indicators of her turmoil, mainly the cold sweat that stuck to her brow. Sitting up, she glanced back at the clock. 1:34 AM. She combed her scarlet locks from her face- at least she had managed to get a bit of sleep. Arising, she stretched momentarily, her eyes scanning the empty room until she moved towards the dresser. She then changed into a fresh set of clothes- a baggy pair of pants and a variant of her drenched tank top she tossed aside. Now clothed, she grasped the dossier upon the table and exited her room to the seemingly endless hallway system of the Helicarrier.
As she emerged, the halls were completely vacant of human activity, but that wasn't to say she was alone. She knew they were watching, but at least they knew to do it behind closed doors. Her bare feet pattered upon the metallic flooring as she made her way down the corridor into the common kitchen area. She entered, assessed the room and noted the kettle was already prepared, a mug set close by. Rolling her eyes, she placed the dossier on the counter and quickly prepared her tea before returning to take a seat- she really wished they'd stop doing that. After a sip, she opened the folder and began scanning the enclosed documents. It would be another four hours before Coulson would approach, but she wanted to be thorough. In fact, that was what they kept her here for. She knew if there was anyone on the planet who could do what she does they would have replaced her by now, or even rid themselves from her years before. But they couldn't, so here she was.
In thirty minutes, she had memorized the building schematics. Another thirty the codes needed, then the appropriate accent followed. She had enough personal information memorized to create a facebook for herself by the time 3:15 rolled around, and at 3:45 her hair and eyes matched the profile picture. When the clock struck five she could tell you her first kiss, or the spelling bee mishap in fourth grade. Then at six..? At six, everything was normal. Sylvia Long had left her suburban home to make the commute to the city. It was her first day of work, and though some might say she was over-zealous, she believe punctuality was key. Smiling, she placed on her favorite CD, the one that had the song her first love and her danced to at Senior prom. Everything was perfect, and she was exactly where she was supposed to be doing precisely what she ought to do. Because that was just rule one of being the Black Widow- spin a web so flawlessly beautiful people forget it's a trap.

[Stray_Dog]

Bruce Banner

XXAnger towards my friend:
XXXXI told my rage, my rage did end.

Bruce had wandered into town some three weeks ago, a small city, quiet, but not so small as to be lacking in certain necessities. He had taken a job as daytime lab assistant in a medical lab in the city, as it gave him access not only to equipment but also to a number of chemicals he would require for his studies. For accomodations, he'd been staying at a motel just inside the edge of town. It wasn't fancy, but neither was it entirely uncomfortable. He had ample space and a shower, which was all he really needed.

His name was Bruce Bradshaw, and today he was wanted for questioning under suspicion of manufacturing drugs in his motel room using supplies stolen from the medical lab. Police were gathered around his motel room door. He'd heard the sirens from four away, but he didn't realize they were for him until he came upon the scene. He glanced over across the parking lot as he rounded the corner, then rather than turning to cross it, he continued along the sidewalk, staring at the scene. Rather than pretending to be casual, he played the curious bystander and gawked for several moments as he passed. He knew the kinds of things they were producing from the room, and knew there would be no way to tie them to him. He'd kept everything clean, worn gloves, wiped down every surface that he touched.

He wore a jacket over his lab uniform, a ballcap over his head. He passed by unnoticed and continued onward, only ducking into an alley when he was unobserved and emerging moments later, after retrieving a backpack from a trashcan, leaving behind the shirt of his uniform. He then walked on to the edge of town and a little further on. He'd been walking maybe half of an hour before a truck stopped for him. He climbed into the cabin and thanked the driver for his kindness.

"What's your name?" the driver asked. "Robert," Bruce replied without missing a beat. "Robert Baker."

Anger towards my foe:XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I told it not, my rage did grow.XXXXXX

[Achikah]

New York might be one of the largest and most popular cities in America, but tonight, its alluring charm had faded she had decided. After countless hours on a stack-out, she had been solicited fourteen times by gentlemen caller, seen three petty homeless-on-homeless thefts, and one either really ugly stray or the biggest sewer rat known to man. Regardless to say, by the time the truck had arrived she was thrilled. It was all white, non-conspicuous as always, but given it had stopped down the reported location, she knew this was their mark. Docking into the side alley of the building, she noted three men exit the side door and hoist a large crate from the vehicle. This was it.
With her single hand gesture, the armed task force began moving in silently, her at its head. They waited once more, but as the metal door shut, the team moved in. The driver was first, then his passanger- tranqued and tagged. She ushered a small team in now, the others guarding her flank. There was another gesture, the armed squadron all forming around the garage door. A preliminary scan had noted the lack of inactivity in the building, only four known signatures, but she couldn't take chances. Silently, she opened a case on her belt to reveal a small snake-head camera attached to a monitor. Inserting it beneath the weathering stripping, she began looking around the interior. As expected, the package was inside, as well as four men gathered around it.
"Four targets around the payload," she whispered into her comm. "One left, three right." Retrieving the device, she holstered it once more and reached for her gun. She gestured to one of her men, who grasped the edge of gateway.
"On my go," she whispered into her comm. Drawing a breath, she nodded. The door flew open and each agent found their mark, silenced shots wedging themselves into the enemy's skulls. Moving in, the team swept the room, it looked to be secure. She moved in as well after the clear call, walking directly towards the package.
"This is Alpha Team," she reported. "Room is secure and package is in hand, I repeat, package is in hand. Send Bravo to retrieve, Alpha will clear the rest-" As she spoke, her eyes darted towards the interior door, an unsuspecting male walking past. He stood there, wide-eyed and dumbfounded at the scene before bolting back into the building.
"We've got a runner," she screamed as she took off after the man through the building's halls.
The chase was on.
Turning at the nearest corridor, the target raced into the stairwell, climbing them with haste. She followed behind, keeping up but trailing enough she couldn't get a clean shot. She had lost sight only momentarily, but that was enough for him to catch her off guard. Rounding the final flight, she was met with a sharp blow to the jaw, the man swing out from around the corner with a high kick. The hit was disorienting, knocking her back down a few steps but that was the least of her concerns. The hit had also disarmed her, the glock falling prey between the railing. Against her better judgment, she continued on, quickening her pace as she rushed out of the stairwell and onto the roof. The sound of sirens echoed through the night air as the man continued his escape. Just as he was about to attempt a jump off the building, a helicopter arose from below, cutting him off.
"Halt," the PA blared from the craft. "Under authority of S.H.E.I.L.D. and the United States government, you are to seize and desist your fleeing, or face the consequences." Big-eyed, the man's look of fright turned to one of rage.
"Hail HYDRA," he screamed as he began reaching into his jacket. "When one head is sev-" Stopping his words, the man fell to the ground, unconscious.
"Please," the woman scoffed as she shook her throbbing hand. "As if we haven't heard that be-"

Lt. Margaret "Peggy" Carter -------

Startled, Peggy's eye looked up from the case work in hand towards her doorway. The man had only given a gentle knock, but given how involved she had been in her reading it felt like a clattering gong. Clearing her throat in embarrassment, she offer the agent a brief smile and gestured towards the chair opposite her desk, her gaze quickly falling back at the files before her.
"Good morning," she started.
"Morning, Lieutenant," he replied, taking a seat. "A busy one I take it?"
"Not really. Just going over last night's field reports of the HYDRA contaminants. They'll be arriving shortly, just wanted to have all the facts." She made a few marks on the reports. "Did the Widow deploy?"
"Without a hitch" he affirmed. "However, I think she prefers Agent Romanoff."
"Yes," Peggy replied, with an apologetic nod. "Old habits die hard unfortunately. I better not be getting senile."
"We both know that won't happen or, actually, scientifically can't," he replied with a reassuring smile. "Though, a few hours of sleep might do you good."
"When the enemy sleeps I will sleep, Coulson-" she replied, closing the file and finally offering him her attention "-not a moment before." She knew that was a lie and so did he- she slept nightly. However, in the past few days the boys needed any kind of morale they could get, and Peggy obliged as usual. "Now, I assume you're not here for just pleasantries. To what do I owe the visit."
"Fury's been dispatched on assignment."
"To where?"
"Classified." He saw the slip in her demeanor. "Yes, even to you. I don't even know where he's gone. Orders were passed down from the board themselves, as was the memo I received this morning." As he spoke, the woman arose and made herself a cup of coffee.
"Would have been nice if I was informed personally," she replied bitterly, her eye latched to the steaming mug as she stirred it.
"Messenger," Coulson quipped in defense, offering a half-hearted smile. "At least now, I'm sure you will be fully aware for a time. From what I understand, he'll be out for a bit, so you'll be 'holding down the fort' so to speak."
"Yes, well when the fort is movable, houses advance military defenses, and has a cloaking system to boot, I think it can handle itself. However, it is nice to know I'll be the one behind the button for a bit." She moved back to her desk now, tossing a few files aside with her free hand. "Besides, I'd pretty much take any position at this point to get away from these killings I've had to sort through the past few weeks." She closed another with a look of disdain. "Sick bastards." It was just then her watch beeped, 0800 on the dot. Handing Coulson her mug, she moved to her coat rack and placed on her uniform jacket. He arose as well out of courtesy.
"As much as I'd like to continue this conversation, I have a new batch of kids to train."
"Lucky them," he replied. She detected a slight bit of sarcasm.
"Oh, come now," she added, giving herself a once over before facing him. She grabbed her mug once more. "You turned out alright." With that, Peggy exited her office and began walking the halls of the Helicarrier.
"Oh, and Coulson," she called. He stuck his head out the doorway.
"Ma'am?"
"If you speak with Fury, do tell him I still think he's an utter jackass."
As she disappeared down the corridor, Coulson laughed to himself, exiting in the opposite direction. Some things never changed.

[DrAshFjorde]

New York - Time: Unknown

New York at night never failed to amaze John. It hadn’t even been fifteen minutes since he’d donned the Spider-Man costume and started swinging his way through the concrete canyons before he became aware of a ne’er doer.

Dropping to the street, just outside their vision, he watched as the two carefully worked their way into a car that Spider-Man was certain would cost his father a couple days pay. As one got into the passenger side and the other got in on the driver’s side, Spider-Man sauntered up to the car.

Before he could even say something, one of the crooks cried out, “Christ! It’s the Spider-freak,” as the other attempted to start the car.

Leaping in front of the car, Spider-Man commented ”Hey. This is a nice car. Mind if I look at the engine?” and reaching down, he grasped the front end of the car and lifted it up off the ground, stopping when it was about level with his abdomen.

Behind the wheel, the hapless car thief had finally managed to get the car started, but because Spider-Man was holding up the front end, all he could manage to do was spin the front wheels. Next to him, his friend kept shouting, "Floor it," for reasons that Spider-Man couldn't fathom.

Still holding up the front end, Spider-Man thought about what he should do next as he casually commented,"Sounds like you've got traction problems,"as he shifted his weight and prepared himself to let go off the car.

[Ghostfire1979]

Time had no meaning here. It never would. The ages flew by in a blur, only to end in darkness and begin again. The fall of the Roman Empire. The rise of Hitler.The beginnings of the world. The end of the civilization. All this and every event in mankind's life swirled in the flames. As he stared a Lizard-like demon slithered slowly and quietly into the chamber. "You arrree ssssummoned", it spoke shakily. Of all the torrors and evils to be found, this.... Creature feared this demon the most. The shadowed spectre never moved, and the serpent knew that it's life was being judged. As the serpent grew more fearful and slunk to the door, a deep voice rumbled forth. It had only three words. "It Is Time".

[Ghostfire1979]

The symbiote slowly crawled from the wreckage feeling every inch of itself protest in pain. "Heal" crawled through its mind. As the symbiote found a small area away from its broken ship, it took stock of the planet and tried to recognize which one it was on."Nothing here". The symbiote thought as a lethargy began to overcome it. "No" "Must Heal" if it didn't heal before the hibernation cycle it felt starting overtook it, then it could possibly never wake and possibly die.
The symbiote focused its energies and forced itself to remain conscious long enough to heal itself. Once that had finished, the symbiote found itself at a loss, with nothing to feed on, It could not rebuild its lost energies and would have to go into hibernation and wait until someone or something came along that it could safely feed from and use it to escape this barren world. As the symbiote slide into unconsciousness it suddenly realized which planet it was on. It's last thought was "Mars".......

[Achikah]

Black Widow-------

_____________________________________________________________

“And how's everything going in here?”
Peering up from her computer monitor, Sylvia adjusted her glasses and smiled politely.
“A bit slower than expected,” she admitted, “but I'm getting the hang of it.” The encroaching women, who had earlier introduced herself as Darla, offered a sincere, comforting smile.
“Oh, everybody's like that in the beginning,” she explained. “You seem to be a real go-getter from your resume. I know you're going to fit in here just fine.” With a wave the woman was off again, and Sylvia turned back to her work load with a content smile.
Though she continued to wear her mask of pleasantries, Natasha was quite annoyed. The system wasn't giving her trouble, but the employees were. It was always the genuinely nice individuals that made the job tedious- always making small talk or being reassuring and concerned. If she were a deeper person she'd question her own ethics for loathing them so much. However, there were bigger things at stack at the moment, at least for S.H.I.E.L.D.
After a successful raid of a low-level HYDRA operation, the organization has discovered a more sinister plot brewing on the horizon, one of which dealt with the recreation of the Super Solider Serum from the 40s. The details were minimal at best, only a large crate of failed batches that temporarily produced a smaller, weaker effect of the chemical's true outcome. However, after analyzing the data off what few devices the syndicate had logged, S.H.I.E.L.D. had found several data transfers linking back to her current location- Calumet Inc. Upon further inspection though, the company wasn't a front, or even a cover-up for HYDRA; most of the people who worked here were average people doing honest work for several accounting firms across New England. However, one of those affiliates, Brucker, Brucker, and Saul, was in fact a facade, one which handled the production of advanced bio-chemical experimentations, weaponry, and pretty much any other department set for mass production of doomsday devices. To make matters worse, they had been sending encrypted dead drops through each digital file sent to Calumet without the accounting offset being none the wiser.

It was nearly noon now and Natasha had barely scratched the surface from her current terminal. If she hadn't found anything thus far, chance was the encryptions were being laundered directly through the mainframe, so that is where she'd inevitable go. Biding her time, she began deploying a few safety measures to cover her tracks until the company's lunch break. As if on cue, the clock struck noon and Darla entered once more offering to treat her, to which Sylvia declined politely. Now, while the other employees conversed and left for local eateries, Natasha acted as if she were doing the same. Grasping her handbag, she began wandering the buildings halls, but unlike the others, she had no intention of leaving. After a bit of a walk, she found what she was looking for.

The mainframe was housed within a secure room, guarded by a steel door reinforced by several security protocols. The first being the cameras, but she had managed to loop them back at her desk for a small period of time. Second were the usual security measure- a keycard reader and a finger-print scanner. The third was, well, Barney. Barney was the day guard stationed outside the room. Day in and out, he sat at his desk with minimal to no traffic whatsoever. According to his file, he was a fifteen years veteran at Calumet, but that wasn't really his real dream. Along with his corporate background, Barney's file contained several documents from the police academy, all of which were entrance exams and all of which he had failed. Given this, Natasha wagered she could get into the room without explosives or forced entry at all. It would just take a bit of theatrics.

Adjusting her sundress, Natasha moved in, keeping her distance but making sure her presences known. After a few moments of waiting, she began bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, her eyes scanning the corridor longingly. During the waiting game, she did several idle actions- twirling her hair, checking her phone, adjusting her glasses. The final one was reaching into her handbag and grasping a small bottle of lotion, rubbing it's contents onto her hands. All the while her eyes remained locked on the hallway, wayward and lost.

“Excuse me, miss?” Looking over, a sheepish Sylvia met the guard's gaze, putting away her cosmetics.
“Y-yes?”
“I hate to bother you, but you look troubled? Can I help you?”
“Oh, no,” she said with a small laugh. “I was just.. suppose to meet some one here.. That was all.” Her blue eyes gazed back to the hall. “He must be late.. or lost. I'm not sure.”
“You could try reception,” he crocked. “If he entered the building at all, he'd have to check in with them.” She stood there for a moment, a small, hopeful smile appearing on her face.
“That sounds perfect,” she told him, but as she pondered her next moves, the smile faded. “Is that a left from here..? Or maybe a right then left..?” She sighed. “I'm sorry, it's my first day.. I'm just all turned around.” Her forlorn tone made the guard scratch his head and grumble to himself.
“Listen.. you wait here,” he instructed. “I'll go down to reception and see if they've seen him. But you don't move, alright? What's his name?” At this, the woman's eyes sparked with enthusiasm.
“Oh, you will,” she asked, moving over to him. Gently, she grasped his right hand in hers. “Thank you so much.” She realized she was making a scene, and quickly stopped. “I mean, yes. Yes, that'd be wonderful. His name's Landon Biel, and I won't move. Promise.” She offered him a bright smile to which he flashed one of his own and continued on his way. As he disappeared around the corner, so did Natasha's innocent facade. She had to be quick.

Moving towards the door, she grasped the stolen keycard in her left hand the swiped it accordingly. The system prompt alerted her further identification was needed, to which she placed her right hand in the scanner. As the device illuminated, it picked up the duplicated latex prints of Barney after her over-eager handshake. With everything thing in place, the door now opened, and Natasha peeled the thin, liquid mold from her hand and advanced towards the large mechanical monolith before her. It wasn't complicated from there, just establishing a link for the upload. Carefully, she placed the uplink into the computer and, after a few bypasses, she was in. Now, it was a waiting game. As the device began rapidly flashing through the downloaded documents, she attempted to pick up what little information she could at that point. Wide eyed, her brow furrowed in disbelief.

“Well, miss, I'm afraid I have some bad news,” Barney called as he rounded the corner. However, his words were cut off as he glanced down the familiar corridor. She was gone. As he approached his work station, he scratched his head again, figuring she got tired of waiting. Moving back around his desk, he went to take a seat and noticed his keycard on the floor. With a grunt of dread, he swiftly picked it up. “That could have been bad,” he whispered to himself as he placed the card back in his pocket.

Driving down 33rd, Natasha stewed stoically in the back of a black sedan.
“Agent Romanoff,” the driver stated. She acknowledge his greeting- her eyes meeting his in the rear-view momentarily before turning back to the busy streets. At this, the man gave a small laugh. “I assume everything went according to plan?”
“As well as anticipated,” she replied as she began to remove the colored contacts. “Patch me into Fury.” At this, the driver flashed her an odd look.
“Fury's been dispatched as of this morning. Radio silence.”
“Then get me Carter,” she ordered, as she removed the uplink from her purse. “She's going to need to see this.”

[DrAshFjorde]

New York - Time: Unknown

As he prepared to let go of the car, Spiderman shifted one hand slightly. Pushing slightly up on the front end, he fired a quick shot of webbing into the engine while inside the car one of the criminals kept screaming something while the other still stomped the accelerator.

Releasing his hold on the front end of the car, he listened as the webbing inside the engine started to gum up the inner workings and force the car to stall. Pitching himself forward, Spider-Man pushed himself up into a handstand.

The combined effort of him letting go and his pushing down on the car forced the automobile back to the road hard enough to blow out its front tyres. As he shifted once again, coming down so that he was hunkered down and looking through the windscreen, the car sputtered and died. Still glancing in through the glass that separated him and the car thieves, he commented, "Sounds like you've flooded it," and leaping up and toward his right, he landed next to the driver side door.

Tapping gently on the window, he casually stated, "Can I see your license, registration and proof of insurance?"

Inside the car, the crook behind the wheel slowly raised his hands in surrender as his friend shook his head and placed a hand on his forehead. Opening the driver side door, Spider-Man reached in and grabbing the first car thief, he quickly used his webbing to bind the man from the neck down.

Leaving him stuck to the top of the car, Spider-Man moved around the other side of the car and opening the door, he quickly made short work of the passenger. Leaving him also stuck to the roof, Spider-Man glanced in the direction of approaching sirens. Firing a web-line in the opposite direction, feeling it sticking to a nearby surface, he took off, trusting the New York police to do their duty.

[Wanderer Ankh]

Location: New York (outskirts)
Time: One week ago

The skinny, red-headed man walked away from the burning orphanage that had been his home for the last thirteen years. There was an odd sheen in his eye, which could have been the glow from the fire. That's certainly how a passerby would see it, if there were any. It was more likely that the gleam was from his new-found freedom from the hole of hell that was the orphanage. How much he hated being there! After several minutes of walking, Cletus turned around to watch his handiwork and his face nearly split into a grin that would have shamed the Cheshire Cat.

Location: New York (countryside)
Time: Three days ago

Young Cletus found that coming by people hiking in the countryside of of upper New York State to be both simple and challenging. Some days there were people out there, and some days it was as though they knew he was around. Perhaps someone had found one or more of the corpses he had left laying around. Cletus enjoyed the quiet of the country, but he needed the hustle and bustle of the city to truly hide both himself and his victims. Perhaps in the next few days he would go back to his native New York after his long hiatus.

[Stray_Dog]

Bruce Banner

XXAnger towards my friend:
XXXXI told my rage, my rage did end.

Bruce sat alone in a brightly-lit room. He had no idea where he was or how he got there, but he was happy. The carpet was soft, he observed, and it was only after he made this observation that he actually felt it beneath his feet. There was music playing from somewhere, or from everywhere.... No, he looked and saw a record player. It was a vinyl album, and the music was old - older than him. He turned to the woman on his left. She commented on how beautiful the sunrise was, and he replied by stating that it wasn't as beautiful as her. He put his arm around her and they looked at the sunset from a swing on the front porch, and he was happy.

He felt a gun pressed into his side and ignored it. He knew who was holding it. It was easier to ignore the gun, better.... She still whispered in his ear, as if nothing were wrong, even with the muzzle of the gun now cutting into his flesh, exposed as it was. All of his body was exposed, and hers as well. The lights were dim and her lips were pressed against his, and the gun was still pressed into his side, and somehow he was okay with that. He was just starting to become used to the gun when she suddenly pulled it away and placed it against her head. He stared into her eyes for a moment and suddenly it was no longer she holding the gun but someone else instead. He looked and saw that it was him. He held a gun to her head. As soon as he realized he jerked it away, looking at her and then at the gun in his hand. Slowly he pressed it to his own temple and pulled the trigger.

He was suddenly strong. He towered not only over her but over buildings as well. He crashed his hand into one building and looked in wonder as it came tumbling down like a domino, and he did this again and again. He charged around the city reveling in the destruction, until he felt something like a gentle snap accompanied by the feeling of flesh giving way, and it was then he realized he'd crushed that woman underfoot....

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked to see the driver of the truck gazing at him. "We're here. I was just gonna let you sleep, but it sounded like you were having a pretty nasty dream." Bruce sat up from his slumped posture against the window. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he nodded. "Thanks for that.... And thanks for the ride." They shook hands and parted ways. Bruce made his way from the truckstop. There was a motel right down the road so that's where he headed, but not before making a detour at a gas station. He stashed his pack there, taking with him only his necessary articles. He checked in at the lobby and as soon as he had his key he went straight for his room. Using the razor he'd brought with him he shaved, then spent some time neatly trimming his hair. He then showered and changed into a fresh set of clothes. Anyone that saw him would agree he looked like a completely different person, and he was. He was officially Robert Baker.

He checked that the door was locked, then turned off the lights and collapsed onto his bed without bothering to try and climb under the blankets.

Anger towards my foe:XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I told it not, my rage did grow.XXXXXX

[Achikah]

Black Widow-------

___________________________________________________________________

From across the large strip of asphalt, Natasha peered out from her black umbrella towards the weathered motel. She had been there since before dawn, just watching, observing. It had been awhile since she had visited the Midwest and though she didn't quite remember the area as being so 'backwoods' for lack of better terms, she did remember its cool rains and how nice they could be. However, today wasn't about memories nor enjoyment, today was about her mark and whatever information he might have in HYDRA's newest threat to humanity. Now, morning had come, and as the sky began to glow with the sun's muted light, she knew the time was right.

As her heels began to tread across the cracked and desolate lot, she couldn't believe how easy it was to find him. Several drug busts from various motels across the country, all of which had no illegal affiliation be it substance of items used- it was a pretty far-fetched scenario to trace. However, given what substances were found and who the rooms were registered too, Natasha put it together fairly quickly and here she was. Though she had her reservations and voiced them quite loudly at the briefing, Lt. Carter had made it clear she was the best agent for the job. Now at his doorstep, she continued to think otherwise.

She stood there momentarily, the rain still beating down upon her as she listened for movements inside, to where there was very few. Taking a breath, she extended her arm and tapped gently upon the doctor's door.

[DrAshFjorde]

New York University: About twelve hours later, roughly ten-thirty am

John had been so busy reading the Daily Bugle article his father had printed, which made it look like Spider-Man look had been the one who'd been trying to steal the auto, and thinking about what had really happened that he'd missed it when Peter called out, "Hey. Quad J."

When he felt somebody tap him on the shoulder, he looked up and seeing Peter, he threw the paper aside as the other young man commented, "You seen Harry?"

Shaking his head, J Jonah commented, "Not since the other day." as he gazed out at the campus quadrangle. Seeing Dr Connors, he thought about asking the professor something that had come in one of his classes.

Instead he listened as Parker replied something about needing something or other from Harry Osborne and nodding, John Jr, for a brief moment, wondered if it shouldn't have been Peter Parker that had been bitten by the spider. "After all," J Jonah reasoned. "If Flash Thompson hadn't pushed me into Peter as Parker was trying to photograph something, that spider could have easily bittern Peter instead."

"Hey man," Parker announced, interrupting John Jr's thoughts. "Something bugging you?"

Finding this funny for some reason, J Jonah smiled and indicating the paper he'd just thrown aside, he casually replied, "Well, as you know, there is the issue of my father and what a nimrod he can sometime be." as he stood and picked up his book bag.

"This isn't about him wanting to marry my Aunt, is it?" Peter asked as the two began to walk across the quadrangle.

Shaking his head, John Jr told him, "Nah. In fact, having you as a brother might be an improvement," and indicating a couple feet to his left, Jameson added, "And there's Harry right now," as he spied the son of Stormin' Norman Osborne.

[Stray_Dog]

Bruce Banner

XXAnger towards my friend:
XXXXI told my rage, my rage did end.

This time there were no dreams, but there was a slight headache. He rolled over and looked at the clock, seeing that he hadn't gotten much sleep at all. He tried to force himself back to slumber but the the pounding in his head ensured that it would not come. He reached for his glasses on the bedside table before realizing he'd never taken them off of his face. With little else to do he used the room's coffee maker to get some hot water to brew tea. Hopefully it would help take off the edge. He turned on the television but could only watch for a minute or so before he turned it off again and layed back down. It was going to be a very long day, he could tell.

After a while, once he was sure his tea had steeped long enough, he poured himself some into one of those paper cups provided. He really wished he'd had a proper mug at that moment, but there was nothing that could be done. He sat in silence a while longer, sipping tea and waiting for the day to come. At some point it began to rain, and that helped him to relax quite a bit. He layed down yet again and closed his eyes. It seemed like he'd only had them closed for a moment when a gentle knock on the door pulled him from his stupor. At first his stomach clenched as he imagined who it might be. Police could have followed him, or the Army, but he quickly realized that none of them would give him the courtesy of knocking. It was probably just housekeeping, he decided.

Yes, no cause for alarm. He rose and moved to the door, peeking through the peephole. That was not housekeeping. He unlocked the spring bolt but left the chain lock. He opened the door as far as the chain went and spoke to the woman through that crack. "Can I help you?"

Anger towards my foe:XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I told it not, my rage did grow.XXXXXX

[Achikah]

Black Widow-------

___________________________________________________________________

When the door opened to reveal the good doctor, Natasha should have been content with her deductions and tracking skills, however she was utterly terrified. Yes, she had found Bruce Banner, but that also meant she had found the Hulk. She had read his file, watched what footage there was of his rampages. Given that, she knew if the monster decided to show up none of her skills, nor charms, even her firearms couldn't do anything to save her life. The only chance she had was using them on the doctor. From beneath her umbrella, she locked her gaze with his.

“Good morning, Dr. Banner,” she began calmly, offering a polite smile. “My name is Natasha Romanoff and I'm here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm sorry to inconvenience you this early, but I'm wondering if you might spare a few moments of your time?”

[Stray_Dog]

Bruce Banner

XXAnger towards my friend:
XXXXI told my rage, my rage did end.

He went rigid as she explained who she was and who she was with and for a moment he didn't even breathe, just stared back at her. Finally he shook his head. "I-I'm sorry," he began, stammering, "I think you have me mistaken for someone else." His grip on the door tightened and he shifted his weight to the foot behind the door. "I don't know any Dr- what was it? Banner? My name is Baker."

How many other people were in the motel around him? Five, maybe ten? He could see several cars, so there were at least as many people there. If he changed now they'd all be at risk, and this woman would probably be destroyed. He didn't want that to happen, so he lied.

Anger towards my foe:XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I told it not, my rage did grow.XXXXXX