Chapter 17: Convergence
Volume 1: Origin
November 24, 2019. 6:34 A.M.
Upper New York City
The ancient one passed through a portal, Wong and Mordo stepping alongside her.
“Master, what occurred?” Asked Wong, looming around.
“Just a moment ago, the Eye of Agamotto acted up. In that briefest of seconds, a change occurred to the timeline.
“That's not possible,” stated Mordo, face scrunched into anger. “If Time has been altered, shouldn't we have no recollection of the event?”
The Ancient One's eyes were focused ahead, but Wong answered.
“That is true, Brother Mordo.”
“It wasn't as simple as someone traveling through the past. The timeline isn't linear. A change to the past would only branch off another timeline. The multiverse is wide-spanning and ever-growing.” The Ancient said in a lecturing tone.
“So, this wasn't time traveling,” Mordo spoke up.
“Such power shouldn't be wielded so recklessly. Are we dealing with another Sorcerer?” Wong asked, concern and admonishment lacing his
words.
“No,” was all the Ancient Said.
“Then what? You can't expect us to remain idle when something of this magnitude occurs. We're already not acting on the anomaly.” Mordo growled, hands clenching.
Ancient one's eyes focused on the Eye of Agamotto as she tried to pry into the secrets of time, anything that could direct her already. The clouding of her perception was causing rifts in the magical world as sorcerers and magical incline were edging closer and closer to unruliness as the ages of her order protecting the planet and safeguarding the deadliest supernatural artifacts crumbled.
Mordo and Wong bickered, their dispute barely now held to just words even in her presence. She looked from the eye and motioned with her hands in an intricate pattern as the globe appeared, silencing the two; the world spun rapidly before shattering into fragments.
She barely held back a gasp of shock and awe at what occurred; her scrying spell shattered; the power behind the reality-altering occurrence wasn't mortal; no god could or would do something as reckless as reality warp on a scale that all timelines and realities were affected, what power one needed was unknown to her.
“We must stop whoever and fix the timeline to its original plan. This waiting is unacceptable; my order is prepared to engage the threat!” roared Mordo.
No..”
The Ancient One raised a hand, silencing the two bickering masters. “The change is unknown to even me; even the Eye of Agamotto cannot determine where the effect originated from, but I can say with certainty that what was done wasn't detrimental to the world.”
Mordo scowl depended. A disgust marred his face as his eyes cut to The Ancient One; in her hubris, she didn't notice the change before the man's face returned to its usual angered scowl.
Wong meandered around the forest, unaware how close they were to the change as he contemplated.
“Whoever did this has only done it for personal reasons,” he cut his eyes to The Ancient One to receive a nod of her head, “whose to say they want to continue? What else would they change, this altering? If it isn't the time, then tell me, Master, what occurred.”
“We’re dealing with a god, or godling, that can alter reality. Let’s convene the masters once again. We must delve into the ancient lore and understand what force has awakened.”
Triskelion, New York.
November 25, 2019. 10:37 A.M
Deputy Director Phil Coulson
The motorcade came to a halt; the retractable bridge that connected the island to the state of Virginia was a relic of that past, but he had to admit it was nice to have when senators and their ilk came by to understand what they were funding.
The Triskelion is one of the original three official headquarters for S.H.I.E.L.D., alongside the Hub and their New York headquarters. It is located on Theodore Roosevelt Island, on the Potomac River between Washington, D.C. and Virginia.
Coulson phone rang. “Mr. Marsh, I didn’t expect your car, is there a problem at the prison?” He assumed there was an issue because the warden wouldn’t just call him out of the blue.
“Deputy Director, I was called personally to let you know the facility has been updated, and we’re prepared to accept mutants, enhanced, and whatever else the politicians are calling the aliens causing problems.”
‘Overzealous isn’t necessarily a bad thing,’ thought Coulson. They continued their talk before he had to hang up; they had already had super-inclined individuals that they couldn’t afford to keep sedated for apparent reasons and would be transferring them soon. A newer prison was being constructed near Rikers Island called The Raft. Unfortunately, the nature of the prison hadn’t afforded them the ability to hasten the process.
An agent greeted him; looking at the mad badge, he determined it was a newer recruit. The funding had allowed them to tap into the best of the best and even gain some seasoned agents and soldiers from almost every branch. The Director, the infamous Nick Fury, was even a career soldier before his appointment; he was from a line of soldiers, his father even fought alongside Captain America, and Caulson was a fan of the Captain, so when he stumbled across an article that showed a man almost identical to the Director he had become startled; fortunately, he had the presence of mind not to bring attention to the photo, and he seldom thought about the image.
He had greeted the agent, who had shaken his hand vigorously. Since his promotions and subsequent operations, his clearance level has risen to Level 10. It was only recently that he discovered other clearances, a grouping of information he hadn’t been privy to. It was off-putting since most information was at his fingertips. He had a higher clearance than the president, so this broken situation had concerned him.
He had wanted to meet with his boss and discern why he, the face and head of ground operations, wasn’t privy to Intel. It was another thing to be denied information based on a need-to-know basis, and there was a lot of information that you wouldn’t want in the heads of many people. Hell, there was a professor out there who could control and manipulate memories and ran a school of other ‘gifted.’
There were ten levels of clearance, as well as Level Alpha, Omega, and Tango Clearance. As agents moved up from Level 1, they gained access to more information and, frequently, more power, though rank and clearance level are not necessarily correlated. An agent's clearance level was not based on how long they have been a part of the agency but primarily on their performance.
His fussing over the intel had gotten him in the hot seat, but they had relented, and Case File: 092074 was classed under Security Clearance: Tango; it was a S.H.I.E.L.D. satellite feed that showcased Tony Stark around the time he was first using the Mark III suit. If he ever became Director, he would eliminate the system
Coulson exited the elevator. He was on a subbasement floor. It wasn’t known by most, clearance level again, but Deputy Director's office was on the floor where the store's equipment was located.
He had greeted the janitorial staff, who looked at him questionably as he had to cut through their break room to get to the area that was the ‘TRUE’ office of the renowned spy.
He went to knock, but the door opened. And a woman exited, he froze, unaware she was even back in the states.
“Ms. Carter, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I hope all has been well. And how was your Thanksgiving?” He said his pleasantries and extended his hand to shake hers.
She was also in the photo with the Cap. She had also aged where the director didn’t change much besides the eyepatch.
The mature career spy smiled and shook Agent Coulson hand. “It was splendid. Grandkids and all that jazz you would expect, it’s unfortunate we don’t have time to catch up.” She said with a motherly smile and stepped back to allow the man to enter the small office.
He hadn’t spoken to the stoic black man before him as he took a moment to stop his mind from speculating.
He coughed into his hand. He had been rude.
“Director, sir, I’m sorry for my rudeness.” He said genuinely.
Nick Fury leaned back into the chair and, by his estimation, the most expensive thing in the office, thrummed his hands together.
He didn't speak but slid a folder across the desk. Coulson, accustomed to the brooding of the Director, didn't mind. He had taught Caulson almost everything he knew, so he was thankful.
Coulson hand froze over the images on the photos. Is that a green monster tossing a tank? He looked from the picture back to the director.
“Yes, Agent Coulson, that is a green hulk tossing a multi-million dollar tax-funded tank in the New Mexico desert.
Eventually, Coulson flipped the photo to a file on Bruce Banner, a genius nuclear physicist who works at a United States Defense Department nuclear research facility at Desert Base, New Mexico. Banner designed and oversaw the construction of the "Gamma Bomb" or "G-bomb," a nuclear weapon possessing a high gamma radiation output.
Coulson continued to read while the director poured the two drinks. He wouldn't even fathom
something like this could happen from radiation exposure, even this gamma radiation. Still, he did read that there were already experiments by the United States military to recreate the effect, and so far, it hasn't been pretty. There is a big emphasis on genetic markers and notes from the doctor's father, a well-respected researcher, that his son was a possible mutant.
Cole Stephen
Manhattan, New York.
The next day came as it usually did. He awoke and did his katas and morning routines. He had messages from the doctor about the recruit. He tapped away at the screen, assuring the man of his loyalties. He would know when the coercion broke and the assassin attempted to betray. Still, he would be too insulated and further in his plans that mercenary rogue actions wouldn't even bother or garner a response.
The Carmichael boys weren't at the orphanage as usual; from a cursory investigation, something significant about drugs was going on the streets. He had placed the drug money he made from the system in their office. He didn’t sell anything to anyone. Even if the original owner would have died as a drug dealer, Cole had no aspirations of following in the once-upon-a-time heir to a multibillion fortune footsteps.
Angelica was making herself useful, ingratiating herself to my cause thoroughly. The girl had a knack for computers, and the extra drones he had left her allowed her to do some inquiring investigations; most of it was personal as she wanted to discover what happened with her family and the location of Tombstone. The latter gave me pause. Did she have designs on my prey? I chuckled. I wouldn’t get in the way of her objectives; we all had things that must be done.
As the late risers hustled into the large kitchen, I tapped away at my phones. I made eye contact with the firebug; her hair was reeking of chemicals that I knew were highly flammable. I quirked a brow as she strolled in. Her hand was bandaged, and the reddening of the skin around the wound explained a lot about the chemicals.
A grunt caused me to divert my eyes as the klepto stepped in behind her. Interesting. A brute in the making, his blue eyes locked on me menacingly.
"What's your deal, rich boy?" He sneered. The firebug chittered in a way only a female teen could but sat down as if overseeing court as she was the queen. Did that make me the jester? At the end of the table, the brute stood there waiting for a reply we both knew wasn't coming.
This situation would have happened regardless. I was being targeted. I had my guesses, but it was one of those situations where no matter what moves they placed on the board, it didn’t affect me, simply because I wasn’t playing the same game.
I stood, done with my bowl of cereal, and slung my backpack over my shoulder. I would have to start purchasing lunch from the system from today onward. He stepped to the side, blocking my retreat. The other kid's conversation halted, anticipation in their eyes.
I sighed audibly loud before taking another step to get around him. He, unfortunately, placed his hand on me, or at least tried. In a matter of a second, I had his hand turned away from him as he kneeled before me, groaning in pain.
I turned to stare at the squinting eyes of his leader, alarm sparking into them. I had been underestimated. I cut my eyes back to the brute before lowering myself and whispering into his ear.
"Play at your childish games all you want!” I emphasize the word with enough pressure to cause a minor fracture of his wrist. He let loose a scream of a dying animal, but I held.
“And you don't ever place your hands on me." I lowered my voice even more as I pinprick of my ability laced my words.
I brushed a stray lock of hair from my face before leaving the orphanage. It wasn't in the distant future that the curtains fell on this place.
Things would heat up in the upcoming months, and the forces brought to bear would be greater than the foes I've faced. Already, I was tracking supposed Hand locations by way of drones. It amazed me that people weren't aware of the eyes in the sky as most had grown accustomed to the cameras placed to be seen, unknowingly led into placidity by their governments, unaware that they were being spied on. I had to take measures once I became aware of the drones. I could only hope my actions weren't tracked prior, but knowing about this universe made me think I was already a known agent to the eyes behind the cameras.
And with Bullseye's help, other areas would become known to me. He had contacts in the underworld that I hadn’t tapped yet. The man wanted powers, and I was in a position to grant him those. He would be a willing benefactor of the refined super soldier serum.
There was a delay at the subway. I tapped my ear as the incoming police communication began to play. Spiderman had fought a Lizard, and their battle had damage components that caused a delay.
Had the lizard shown himself already? Did that mean Oscorp was experimenting with the super soldier serum too? I would have to alert the doctor to that information. If I could get my hands on the other company's formula, I would have a better chance of recreating the original.
This kind of thing would be almost a daily occurrence. The city inhabitants were the most adaptable people in the world. The trade center terrorist attack only made them more robust, so he had no worries about the day-to-day.
Whatever damage that was caused was repaired fast as the antsy crowd cheered when the cart rolled into the station. The tunnel was already going through repairs.
I was walking through the entrance to Midtown High. My first impression of the state-of-the-art school had been lukewarm, but once I got around to experiencing the wonders in the school, my plans started to change. The school equipment was such advanced scientific minds, and college students frequently rented out the man labs; he even recalled reading about a medical operation that was done in one of the Baxter Institute medical rooms donated.
“The daily bugle had put up a cash prize for Spiderman's pictures—$1000.” A student said as I passed by.
“Huh, maybe I should collect it.” I privately joked. I didn’t need the money, but with the Clark Kent glasses, I could create another avenue to exploit. That was another plan that I needed to let stew.
Navigating through the noise and chaos along the hallways reminded me why I wouldn't say I disliked high school. There was something special in the oblivious minds of a teenager, woefully unaware of the things moved around and above them.
Name: Cole Stephens
Known Name: Jeremy York
Race: Inhuman Mutant
Alias- Red Hood
Alignment: +Neutral
System-Bank: $236,999
Minion(s) Bullseye-Coerced 21%|100%
Angelica "Angel" Jones- Contracted
Persona(s)Jason Peter Todd- Red Hood 97%|100%
Attributes
Intelligence: +Moderate Tier 2
Strength: +Moderate Tier 2
Speed: -Moderate Tier 2
Durability: -Moderate Tier 2
Energy Projection: +Potential Tier 3
Gear-Inventory
Red Hood Costume
Batman Utility Belt
Clark Kent's Glasses
Scarecrow Gear
Orichalcum Knives
Nth-Promethium Katana
Dual Pistols [9mm rounds]
Dual Modified| Sniper Mod|M1911 [.45]
Captain Cold's Gun.
Fear Toxin
Smoke Grenade
Pocket Explosives
High Powered Taser
Bulk Medical Bag
Bulk Duffle Bag [Electronics]
Kinetic Hammer
Superbike
Black Hawk [Damaged]
Tumbler Batmobile
Abilities
[Emerging] X-Gene
[Unexposed] Terrigenesis
[+1] Holder of the Hero-Villain System.
[+1] Enhanced Investigation.
[+1] Skilled marksman and expert tactician
[+2] Skilled martial artist and hand-to-hand combatant
[+1] Understanding and Utilization of high-tech equipment and weapons.
[+2] Enhanced strength, speed, and durability due to exposure to the Lazarus Pit and your latent mutant and inhuman metamorphosis.
[+1] Inhuman Optimal Healing Factor: Granted by the system, you can heal from extreme mental or bodily trauma in minutes.
Fear Inducement: Your presence has shown itself as a fragment of fear. Unraveling your presence is now a physical thing. The target's perception may be altered, causing them to see their environment as ominous and the user as dark and foreboding or even as a monster. This is considered a mutant ability.
Chapter 17: Convergence
Volume 1: Origin
November 24, 2019. 6:34 A.M.
Upper New York City
The ancient one passed through a portal, Wong and Mordo stepping alongside her.
“Master, what occurred?” Asked Wong, looming around.
“Just a moment ago, the Eye of Agamotto acted up. In that briefest of seconds, a change occurred to the timeline.
“That's not possible,” stated Mordo, face scrunched into anger. “If Time has been altered, shouldn't we have no recollection of the event?”
The Ancient One's eyes were focused ahead, but Wong answered.
“That is true, Brother Mordo.”
“It wasn't as simple as someone traveling through the past. The timeline isn't linear. A change to the past would only branch off another timeline. The multiverse is wide-spanning and ever-growing.” The Ancient said in a lecturing tone.
“So, this wasn't time traveling,” Mordo spoke up.
“Such power shouldn't be wielded so recklessly. Are we dealing with another Sorcerer?” Wong asked, concern and admonishment lacing his
words.
“No,” was all the Ancient Said.
“Then what? You can't expect us to remain idle when something of this magnitude occurs. We're already not acting on the anomaly.” Mordo growled, hands clenching.
Ancient one's eyes focused on the Eye of Agamotto as she tried to pry into the secrets of time, anything that could direct her already. The clouding of her perception was causing rifts in the magical world as sorcerers and magical incline were edging closer and closer to unruliness as the ages of her order protecting the planet and safeguarding the deadliest supernatural artifacts crumbled.
Mordo and Wong bickered, their dispute barely now held to just words even in her presence. She looked from the eye and motioned with her hands in an intricate pattern as the globe appeared, silencing the two; the world spun rapidly before shattering into fragments.
She barely held back a gasp of shock and awe at what occurred; her scrying spell shattered; the power behind the reality-altering occurrence wasn't mortal; no god could or would do something as reckless as reality warp on a scale that all timelines and realities were affected, what power one needed was unknown to her.
“We must stop whoever and fix the timeline to its original plan. This waiting is unacceptable; my order is prepared to engage the threat!” roared Mordo.
No..”
The Ancient One raised a hand, silencing the two bickering masters. “The change is unknown to even me; even the Eye of Agamotto cannot determine where the effect originated from, but I can say with certainty that what was done wasn't detrimental to the world.”
Mordo scowl depended. A disgust marred his face as his eyes cut to The Ancient One; in her hubris, she didn't notice the change before the man's face returned to its usual angered scowl.
Wong meandered around the forest, unaware how close they were to the change as he contemplated.
“Whoever did this has only done it for personal reasons,” he cut his eyes to The Ancient One to receive a nod of her head, “whose to say they want to continue? What else would they change, this altering? If it isn't the time, then tell me, Master, what occurred.”
“We’re dealing with a god, or godling, that can alter reality. Let’s convene the masters once again. We must delve into the ancient lore and understand what force has awakened.”
Triskelion, New York.
November 25, 2019. 10:37 A.M
Deputy Director Phil Coulson
The motorcade came to a halt; the retractable bridge that connected the island to the state of Virginia was a relic of that past, but he had to admit it was nice to have when senators and their ilk came by to understand what they were funding.
The Triskelion is one of the original three official headquarters for S.H.I.E.L.D., alongside the Hub and their New York headquarters. It is located on Theodore Roosevelt Island, on the Potomac River between Washington, D.C. and Virginia.
Coulson phone rang. “Mr. Marsh, I didn’t expect your car, is there a problem at the prison?” He assumed there was an issue because the warden wouldn’t just call him out of the blue.
“Deputy Director, I was called personally to let you know the facility has been updated, and we’re prepared to accept mutants, enhanced, and whatever else the politicians are calling the aliens causing problems.”
‘Overzealous isn’t necessarily a bad thing,’ thought Coulson. They continued their talk before he had to hang up; they had already had super-inclined individuals that they couldn’t afford to keep sedated for apparent reasons and would be transferring them soon. A newer prison was being constructed near Rikers Island called The Raft. Unfortunately, the nature of the prison hadn’t afforded them the ability to hasten the process.
An agent greeted him; looking at the mad badge, he determined it was a newer recruit. The funding had allowed them to tap into the best of the best and even gain some seasoned agents and soldiers from almost every branch. The Director, the infamous Nick Fury, was even a career soldier before his appointment; he was from a line of soldiers, his father even fought alongside Captain America, and Caulson was a fan of the Captain, so when he stumbled across an article that showed a man almost identical to the Director he had become startled; fortunately, he had the presence of mind not to bring attention to the photo, and he seldom thought about the image.
He had greeted the agent, who had shaken his hand vigorously. Since his promotions and subsequent operations, his clearance level has risen to Level 10. It was only recently that he discovered other clearances, a grouping of information he hadn’t been privy to. It was off-putting since most information was at his fingertips. He had a higher clearance than the president, so this broken situation had concerned him.
He had wanted to meet with his boss and discern why he, the face and head of ground operations, wasn’t privy to Intel. It was another thing to be denied information based on a need-to-know basis, and there was a lot of information that you wouldn’t want in the heads of many people. Hell, there was a professor out there who could control and manipulate memories and ran a school of other ‘gifted.’
There were ten levels of clearance, as well as Level Alpha, Omega, and Tango Clearance. As agents moved up from Level 1, they gained access to more information and, frequently, more power, though rank and clearance level are not necessarily correlated. An agent's clearance level was not based on how long they have been a part of the agency but primarily on their performance.
His fussing over the intel had gotten him in the hot seat, but they had relented, and Case File: 092074 was classed under Security Clearance: Tango; it was a S.H.I.E.L.D. satellite feed that showcased Tony Stark around the time he was first using the Mark III suit. If he ever became Director, he would eliminate the system
Coulson exited the elevator. He was on a subbasement floor. It wasn’t known by most, clearance level again, but Deputy Director's office was on the floor where the store's equipment was located.
He had greeted the janitorial staff, who looked at him questionably as he had to cut through their break room to get to the area that was the ‘TRUE’ office of the renowned spy.
He went to knock, but the door opened. And a woman exited, he froze, unaware she was even back in the states.
“Ms. Carter, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I hope all has been well. And how was your Thanksgiving?” He said his pleasantries and extended his hand to shake hers.
She was also in the photo with the Cap. She had also aged where the director didn’t change much besides the eyepatch.
The mature career spy smiled and shook Agent Coulson hand. “It was splendid. Grandkids and all that jazz you would expect, it’s unfortunate we don’t have time to catch up.” She said with a motherly smile and stepped back to allow the man to enter the small office.
He hadn’t spoken to the stoic black man before him as he took a moment to stop his mind from speculating.
He coughed into his hand. He had been rude.
“Director, sir, I’m sorry for my rudeness.” He said genuinely.
Nick Fury leaned back into the chair and, by his estimation, the most expensive thing in the office, thrummed his hands together.
He didn't speak but slid a folder across the desk. Coulson, accustomed to the brooding of the Director, didn't mind. He had taught Caulson almost everything he knew, so he was thankful.
Coulson hand froze over the images on the photos. Is that a green monster tossing a tank? He looked from the picture back to the director.
“Yes, Agent Coulson, that is a green hulk tossing a multi-million dollar tax-funded tank in the New Mexico desert.
Eventually, Coulson flipped the photo to a file on Bruce Banner, a genius nuclear physicist who works at a United States Defense Department nuclear research facility at Desert Base, New Mexico. Banner designed and oversaw the construction of the "Gamma Bomb" or "G-bomb," a nuclear weapon possessing a high gamma radiation output.
Coulson continued to read while the director poured the two drinks. He wouldn't even fathom
something like this could happen from radiation exposure, even this gamma radiation. Still, he did read that there were already experiments by the United States military to recreate the effect, and so far, it hasn't been pretty. There is a big emphasis on genetic markers and notes from the doctor's father, a well-respected researcher, that his son was a possible mutant.
Cole Stephen
Manhattan, New York.
The next day came as it usually did. He awoke and did his katas and morning routines. He had messages from the doctor about the recruit. He tapped away at the screen, assuring the man of his loyalties. He would know when the coercion broke and the assassin attempted to betray. Still, he would be too insulated and further in his plans that mercenary rogue actions wouldn't even bother or garner a response.
The Carmichael boys weren't at the orphanage as usual; from a cursory investigation, something significant about drugs was going on the streets. He had placed the drug money he made from the system in their office. He didn’t sell anything to anyone. Even if the original owner would have died as a drug dealer, Cole had no aspirations of following in the once-upon-a-time heir to a multibillion fortune footsteps.
Angelica was making herself useful, ingratiating herself to my cause thoroughly. The girl had a knack for computers, and the extra drones he had left her allowed her to do some inquiring investigations; most of it was personal as she wanted to discover what happened with her family and the location of Tombstone. The latter gave me pause. Did she have designs on my prey? I chuckled. I wouldn’t get in the way of her objectives; we all had things that must be done.
As the late risers hustled into the large kitchen, I tapped away at my phones. I made eye contact with the firebug; her hair was reeking of chemicals that I knew were highly flammable. I quirked a brow as she strolled in. Her hand was bandaged, and the reddening of the skin around the wound explained a lot about the chemicals.
A grunt caused me to divert my eyes as the klepto stepped in behind her. Interesting. A brute in the making, his blue eyes locked on me menacingly.
"What's your deal, rich boy?" He sneered. The firebug chittered in a way only a female teen could but sat down as if overseeing court as she was the queen. Did that make me the jester? At the end of the table, the brute stood there waiting for a reply we both knew wasn't coming.
This situation would have happened regardless. I was being targeted. I had my guesses, but it was one of those situations where no matter what moves they placed on the board, it didn’t affect me, simply because I wasn’t playing the same game.
I stood, done with my bowl of cereal, and slung my backpack over my shoulder. I would have to start purchasing lunch from the system from today onward. He stepped to the side, blocking my retreat. The other kid's conversation halted, anticipation in their eyes.
I sighed audibly loud before taking another step to get around him. He, unfortunately, placed his hand on me, or at least tried. In a matter of a second, I had his hand turned away from him as he kneeled before me, groaning in pain.
I turned to stare at the squinting eyes of his leader, alarm sparking into them. I had been underestimated. I cut my eyes back to the brute before lowering myself and whispering into his ear.
"Play at your childish games all you want!” I emphasize the word with enough pressure to cause a minor fracture of his wrist. He let loose a scream of a dying animal, but I held.
“And you don't ever place your hands on me." I lowered my voice even more as I pinprick of my ability laced my words.
I brushed a stray lock of hair from my face before leaving the orphanage. It wasn't in the distant future that the curtains fell on this place.
Things would heat up in the upcoming months, and the forces brought to bear would be greater than the foes I've faced. Already, I was tracking supposed Hand locations by way of drones. It amazed me that people weren't aware of the eyes in the sky as most had grown accustomed to the cameras placed to be seen, unknowingly led into placidity by their governments, unaware that they were being spied on. I had to take measures once I became aware of the drones. I could only hope my actions weren't tracked prior, but knowing about this universe made me think I was already a known agent to the eyes behind the cameras.
And with Bullseye's help, other areas would become known to me. He had contacts in the underworld that I hadn’t tapped yet. The man wanted powers, and I was in a position to grant him those. He would be a willing benefactor of the refined super soldier serum.
There was a delay at the subway. I tapped my ear as the incoming police communication began to play. Spiderman had fought a Lizard, and their battle had damage components that caused a delay.
Had the lizard shown himself already? Did that mean Oscorp was experimenting with the super soldier serum too? I would have to alert the doctor to that information. If I could get my hands on the other company's formula, I would have a better chance of recreating the original.
This kind of thing would be almost a daily occurrence. The city inhabitants were the most adaptable people in the world. The trade center terrorist attack only made them more robust, so he had no worries about the day-to-day.
Whatever damage that was caused was repaired fast as the antsy crowd cheered when the cart rolled into the station. The tunnel was already going through repairs.
I was walking through the entrance to Midtown High. My first impression of the state-of-the-art school had been lukewarm, but once I got around to experiencing the wonders in the school, my plans started to change. The school equipment was such advanced scientific minds, and college students frequently rented out the man labs; he even recalled reading about a medical operation that was done in one of the Baxter Institute medical rooms donated.
“The daily bugle had put up a cash prize for Spiderman's pictures—$1000.” A student said as I passed by.
“Huh, maybe I should collect it.” I privately joked. I didn’t need the money, but with the Clark Kent glasses, I could create another avenue to exploit. That was another plan that I needed to let stew.
Navigating through the noise and chaos along the hallways reminded me why I wouldn't say I disliked high school. There was something special in the oblivious minds of a teenager, woefully unaware of the things moved around and above them.
Name: Cole Stephens
Known Name: Jeremy York
Race: Inhuman Mutant
Alias- Red Hood
Alignment: +Neutral
System-Bank: $236,999
Minion(s) Bullseye-Coerced 21%|100%
Angelica "Angel" Jones- Contracted
Persona(s)Jason Peter Todd- Red Hood 97%|100%
Attributes
Intelligence: +Moderate Tier 2
Strength: +Moderate Tier 2
Speed: -Moderate Tier 2
Durability: -Moderate Tier 2
Energy Projection: +Potential Tier 3
Gear-Inventory
Red Hood Costume
Batman Utility Belt
Clark Kent's Glasses
Scarecrow Gear
Orichalcum Knives
Nth-Promethium Katana
Dual Pistols [9mm rounds]
Dual Modified| Sniper Mod|M1911 [.45]
Captain Cold's Gun.
Fear Toxin
Smoke Grenade
Pocket Explosives
High Powered Taser
Bulk Medical Bag
Bulk Duffle Bag [Electronics]
Kinetic Hammer
Superbike
Black Hawk [Damaged]
Tumbler Batmobile
Abilities
[Emerging] X-Gene
[Unexposed] Terrigenesis
[+1] Holder of the Hero-Villain System.
[+1] Enhanced Investigation.
[+1] Skilled marksman and expert tactician
[+2] Skilled martial artist and hand-to-hand combatant
[+1] Understanding and Utilization of high-tech equipment and weapons.
[+2] Enhanced strength, speed, and durability due to exposure to the Lazarus Pit and your latent mutant and inhuman metamorphosis.
[+1] Inhuman Optimal Healing Factor: Granted by the system, you can heal from extreme mental or bodily trauma in minutes.
Fear Inducement: Your presence has shown itself as a fragment of fear. Unraveling your presence is now a physical thing. The target's perception may be altered, causing them to see their environment as ominous and the user as dark and foreboding or even as a monster. This is considered a mutant ability.
