Harlem, New York
There was a jingle in Cole's pocket as his phone jostled around. He stopped working on the tablet, sliding the device into his opposite pocket.
‘Email. It could be Legal.’ Cole assumed still under the guise of Jason Todd.
Legal had been working nonstop; Cole would give the man that. His legal counsel had been submitting documents and motions to the court. His father's family hadn’t been static either; they had been using their proxy, Ms. Carmichael, to block or hinder the motions they were taking.
He brought the phone to his face, using facial identification, a technology that hadn’t come to the public sector in Marvel. Cole already has the technology. His only concern was whether someone else or another entity patented the technology beforehand. Patents were one of the reasons he wanted legal counsel.
He opened the email and quickly learned it wasn’t Legal but the Broker of Information, or Broker for short, a suspected metahuman with information gathering mutation; at least, that was what Cole had assumed.
He hadn’t met the man, but it is evident to all that the man was procuring information for nefarious reasons; why else would someone form of payment be even more information, usually related to the buyer or its close associates?
He read the email detailing his query and the price, as mentioned earlier. Cole's face contorted at the requested payment. The Broker had been used by him before; even Bullseye and his underworld contractors had used the source of information.
The Broker had wanted one answer to release the information. He wanted a brief overview of his suspected mutant ability. Cole closed the email app and brushed his raven-wavy hair back across the crown of his head. He had imagined his mutant physiology would become widespread.
He was never under the assumption his information would remain secret, especially with mutants with sensing abilities and the Cerebro machine.
Elsewhere, X-Men
Professor Charles Xavier had made many hard decisions over the years. Handing over mutants to the government wouldn’t compare to some of his most complicated choices. Mutantkind was in a precarious position. The U.S. government hadn’t been idle when they learned that a population of empowered people existed, and it became more complicated when those same individuals started terroristic acts.
Xavier hadn’t dared to stop his best friend's actions many years ago, but he saw in Red Hood's actions what he had seen in Eriks those decades ago.
Jean had observed the professor; the man's face was blank, and he looked contemplatively. Whatever had him in turmoil, she wouldn’t know; he seldom did it, but at times, he could and would shield his thoughts, a talent that man had, for some reason, been unable to teach her.
Jean tuned out the commotion around her. She hadn’t known the Hodd was a mutant. Some of the younger students at the institute had become fans of Spiderman and Daredevil, but only the silent majority agreed with the Red Hood.
Jean's head turned, picking up on a newer mind, Bobby Drake. She still wondered why the professor brought him along; he had extraordinary power, but he was newly awakened and hadn’t fully grasped his ability.
She took her eyes from Bobby as he sat on the Blackbird. The others, Storm, Scott, Logan, and Rogue's thoughts made her wonder if all these months of teamwork were for nothing.
Scott Summers, she cared for him, but she felt his feelings for her were overreaching at times; what he wanted, she didn’t think she could give him; her life was uncertain, and doubt made her power almost uncontrollable. Now, she couldn’t even look him in the eyes; he wanted to be tested, to prove something, and he had gotten it in his head that taking down the mutant vigilante was his mission.
Storm, on the other hand, would follow the professor; Logan didn’t care; he was already out in the night hunting him. Nightcrawler wanted to fit in and be accepted, and Rogue knew who the brooding girl was; she was a failsafe. If anything went wrong, she would incapacitate the person.
And there was the agent that had come on board the blackbird. Special Agent Misty Knight. She was listening in and tallying all the information she could glean.
“Everyone, please lend me your ear,” Xavier called out. He had made eye contact with each of them before exhaling deeply, and he began to detail what they were about to do.
…..
“He’s a murderer, Jean!” Scott hissed, not understanding why Jean wanted to use kid gloves.
She practically growled back, jabbing her hand at the taller teenager. “We don’t capture our kind for the government. I can’t believe this. What about his rights?”
Misty decided to chime in at the mention of rights. “Rights? Mutants are practically loaded guns; they should be controlled and registered. We have no capabilities of that, at least not at the moment, but he’s using his powers to kill, killing American citizens at that.”
“Seriously? Loaded gun?” She hissed. “She pointed toward Night Crawler. He can teleport. Is that a gun? Is he deadly? Do you want to lock him up too?”
Agent Knight didn’t respond, but her eyes did roam over the younger teen, causing him to squirm and lower his head.
Jean continued. “I don’t understand who all of you are at this time.” She turned and walked away, her figure departing into the night.
The quietness only lasted moments before Scott spoke, his eyes drifting from the exit. “Are you positive the Red Hood is the mutant you sensed all those months ago?” Scott asked; the other members nodded, curious, too; Jean had valid points.
“Indeed,” Xavier said. “It’s the same. He has some form of immunity to my psionic scrying.”
Misty held her hand to her ear, listening to bad news by the contorting of her face. She looked around before removing her hand from the communication device.
“Excuse me. One of my agents has been off the grid too long.” She said, standing up. “Xavier, the moment you find him, call me.”
“Agent, I’m sorry for the bad news,” he motioned with his hand, “Can we be of assistance?”
“I appreciate the offer, but this shouldn’t be a major issue.” She replied, leaving the same way as Jean.
Xavier was about to address the X-men again when he felt a quick knock at his mental barrier; he opened his mental walls just enough for his student to speak.
‘Professor, let me try and find him. Let me use Cerebro. I need to understand why we are willing to attack one of our own and even turn them over to the government.’ Jean pleaded telepathically.
He contemplated for a few seconds; Hank had finished a portable Cerebro, quite similar in appearance to Magneto's helmet, with a bonus to boost psionic energies and locate other mutants.
‘As you wish, Jean.’ He responded telepathically.
Cole Stephens
"I.D.," the doorman said to the next person in line. Cole heard as he strolled by the front of the building. He had made it to Paradise Night Club. It looked just like the club from the Luke Cage series.
Cole didn't loiter and continued to pass, his head down, hoodie pulled up to hide his features, notating security cameras out front before continuing and skulking into the musky dark alley.
He flipped the phone over and removed the Wayne Industries SIM card, and he snapped it into pieces before tossing it in the questionable pool of water that pooled at the bottom of an overstuffed dumpster.
His face scrunched at the smell, but he began to work, first by hacking into the club's security systems. He scanned over the feeds, notating the heavier presence of security than he had assumed. The club had a lot of protection, which was suspicious to him.
He paused, alerted by a scuffle at the entrance. Two big bruisers, obviously bouncers, tossed out two unruly individuals. The men that the bouncers had kicked out of the club let their displeasure be known by getting in the faces of the much bigger men, resulting in them getting hammered.
The beatdown ended quickly. The two drunks were left on the sidewalk whimpering in pain. The disturbance was now solved, the line returned, and clubgoers were still excited to enter the trendy nightclub regardless of the witnessed violence.
Alright," he said out loud.
He had six more hours before the break of dawn. He stopped, the sudden sensation of a prominent prompt settled over him, and with an act of will, the screen flashed before him.
Host-Generated Mission: Stokes Crime Syndicate has erred in crossing the path of The Red Hood.
Choice-Hero: Procure evidence and hand over the damming information to relevant authorities. Reward(s): Hero alignment percentage increase. + Axe, Bright Marshall
Choice-Neutral: Tread lightly and discover what is causing the increase in gang-related violence. Reward(s): Neutral alignment percentage increase + Yautja—Wrist Gauntlet
Choice-Villain: Take the law into your uncaring hands and Annihilate the Stokes Crime Syndicate Leadership. Reward(s): Villain alignment percentage dramatically increases. Star Trek—Combadge
The system had finally offered him a mission. Beyond beating prominent individuals or getting lucky, missions were the best way to gain powerful or rare items.
The Axe seemed magical; he had wanted more enchanted items, and the Axe would not only fill that need but offer him a powerful entity that held an even more powerful entity.
He had no qualms about using entities' powers if given from the system; the battle maiden would be under his thumb wholly. It would be handy but wasn't needed.
The Predator Wrist gauntlet would pair nicely with his already technology-based suit, including unlocking predator gear inside the shop.
He would be lying if he said he wouldn't like to have the Camouflage technology; admittedly, he could probably create it himself or purchase something similar from Wayne R&D.
Star Trek Combadge would have a unique aesthetic, and with his growing group, they could communicate without worry of being monitored; the technology far ahead of this century, he had no worries, at least from Earth residents; this was Marvel, after all.
The first choice would probably garner him another significant boost, like the Lantern Ring. He still had that feeling of not summoning the power. He hadn’t even questioned it. He wondered if the Axe would give off a similar aura.
There was also the assistant DA he had saved. She was a relevant party. Her taking down the Stokes could propel her career forward a decade, and she could potentially be indebted to him.
He saw a notification that Angelica had come online, likely looking over what he was doing. Her manipulation of the boas drones was becoming great, and he hoped she wouldn’t remain behind the keyboard. She played a crucial role in the Superhuman Registration Act.
She began to type. He already anticipated what it was she was about to say.
Firestar: Thank you for trusting me with your identity. I wondered if I could play overwatch, see what you do, and help.
Red Hood: We will talk, and I’m okay with you on overwatch. You got the Six. Don’t engage anyone unless I specifically order you.
Firestar: Thank you. Oh yeah! Bullseye is here. I had to drag a monitor into my room and hide. He’s poking around the place, but I locked out everything important.
He didn’t respond to the last message. He doubted she even expected him to. It was past time he started working with others. Bullseye didn't have access to the Bat-Redoubt, and if he exposed the location, it could be brought back into the system and placed somewhere else, at a cost, a hefty one.
Before he stepped out of the disturbingly stinky alleyway, he had to change clothes. There was no way he would be able to enter dressed in joggers.
Instantaneously, his outfit had phased away, leaving him with a more expensive look.
‘Batman was a lot of things, but Bruce Wayne knew how to dress.’ Cole thought to himself, enjoying his new wardrobe.
Admittedly, he could have chosen wardrobes from any number of people but ultimately decided on Bruce.
He unbuttoned his sports jacket, showing off the silk dress shirt underneath, tapered charcoal pants held together by a Hermes belt, and the finishing touch at the sleek black Steve McQueens on his feet.
He placed a pair of intelligent R&D Wayne glasses that looked like expensive designer shades. It took seconds before he had gained access to an N.Y.P.D. database.
He spent over thirty-two thousand in a minute. He would make sure the Stokes gang returned that tonight.
He strolled from the alley, smartly coming out when a group of clubbers hurriedly walked by. He checked the time and positioned himself in the line for regulars; the V.I.P. line was shorter but came with closer scrutiny by security. He slid the new I.D. out of his pocket, and a smile appeared. Jason Todd, Twenty-three years old, The System amazed him at times.
The same bouncer was at the door as earlier; the man never looked up, so he wasn't suspicious of Cole's return. Additional security personnel were present, no doubt getting ready for the uptick. The more prominent man flashed a pinpoint flashlight into his face before scrutinizing the I.D.
"New, right?" He said, staring into my eyes. I removed the shades upon approach.
"Good eyes,” Cole said, with Jason Tood's voice.
"You're good. The first two floors are all-access; the third is off-limits unless you want to pay V.I.P. The Fourth is for members only. And you're not one. Don't be caught near the fourth." He warned Cole, pointing toward the men on the ground.
"Nice threads, by the way. Now, hold your hand out." He did as requested. The doorman snapped a metallic band over his wrist. He handed the man two crips hundreds, which garnered a knowing smile from the man. He reached into his pocket and put another bracelet on his wrist.
"Enjoy V.I.P.," He said as he moved aside, allowing me to enter. Cole was immediately assaulted by booming bass and neon lights.
He quickly reached the bar and ordered a simple drink before observing his surroundings, his head bobbing to the beat.
Jessica Jones? He spotted her almost immediately. It's the same person from the TV show, interesting.
Jessica is working at Paradise as a bottle girl; that’s odd. He recalled Misty Knight being undercover in the TV show, but he guessed he couldn’t depend on half his old memories for real.
He swallowed the drink and tapped the counter for a second one as he watched the lady, who in turn was nearing two high-profile New Yorkers who were whispering in each other ears.
The two men were local aldermen of opposing parties. One of them, who would see a meteoric rise after the battle of New York, was a primary pusher of the Super Human Registration Act.
A lot of Harlem's elites were in attendance. His shades captured their images and stored them in the file. He could hear a Rico case pending once he gets more data.
The music became rowdier as some local rapper got on stage, and his song began to play as he performed over it. He turned around as a commotion at the door started to get out of control.
A ball-headed, well-proportioned black male made a beeline through the clubgoers, and soon, some clubbers recognized him, screaming his name and reaching out to touch the local neighborhood hero.
Luke Cage nodded, but he wouldn’t stop as he went straight toward the elevators, his destination on the upper floors. Cole had turned, scanning the crowd for Jessica Jones. She had vanished. He had a sinking feeling in his gut but shook his head at the thought.
'Luke Cage,' he said inwardly. 'Why are you here of all time?' He drained his glass and placed it on the tray of passing bottle girl.
He dodged a group of women approaching him, eyeing him hungrily. He had to apologize by buying them two rounds of shots.
Iwalkthestars
Excuse the grammar I haven’t had time to edit outside of a proofread but I could miss some things. I will go back soon and fix all the glaring mistakes and I know it’s allot
Harlem, New York
There was a jingle in Cole's pocket as his phone jostled around. He stopped working on the tablet, sliding the device into his opposite pocket.
‘Email. It could be Legal.’ Cole assumed still under the guise of Jason Todd.
Legal had been working nonstop; Cole would give the man that. His legal counsel had been submitting documents and motions to the court. His father's family hadn’t been static either; they had been using their proxy, Ms. Carmichael, to block or hinder the motions they were taking.
He brought the phone to his face, using facial identification, a technology that hadn’t come to the public sector in Marvel. Cole already has the technology. His only concern was whether someone else or another entity patented the technology beforehand. Patents were one of the reasons he wanted legal counsel.
He opened the email and quickly learned it wasn’t Legal but the Broker of Information, or Broker for short, a suspected metahuman with information gathering mutation; at least, that was what Cole had assumed.
He hadn’t met the man, but it is evident to all that the man was procuring information for nefarious reasons; why else would someone form of payment be even more information, usually related to the buyer or its close associates?
He read the email detailing his query and the price, as mentioned earlier. Cole's face contorted at the requested payment. The Broker had been used by him before; even Bullseye and his underworld contractors had used the source of information.
The Broker had wanted one answer to release the information. He wanted a brief overview of his suspected mutant ability. Cole closed the email app and brushed his raven-wavy hair back across the crown of his head. He had imagined his mutant physiology would become widespread.
He was never under the assumption his information would remain secret, especially with mutants with sensing abilities and the Cerebro machine.
Elsewhere, X-Men
Professor Charles Xavier had made many hard decisions over the years. Handing over mutants to the government wouldn’t compare to some of his most complicated choices. Mutantkind was in a precarious position. The U.S. government hadn’t been idle when they learned that a population of empowered people existed, and it became more complicated when those same individuals started terroristic acts.
Xavier hadn’t dared to stop his best friend's actions many years ago, but he saw in Red Hood's actions what he had seen in Eriks those decades ago.
Jean had observed the professor; the man's face was blank, and he looked contemplatively. Whatever had him in turmoil, she wouldn’t know; he seldom did it, but at times, he could and would shield his thoughts, a talent that man had, for some reason, been unable to teach her.
Jean tuned out the commotion around her. She hadn’t known the Hodd was a mutant. Some of the younger students at the institute had become fans of Spiderman and Daredevil, but only the silent majority agreed with the Red Hood.
Jean's head turned, picking up on a newer mind, Bobby Drake. She still wondered why the professor brought him along; he had extraordinary power, but he was newly awakened and hadn’t fully grasped his ability.
She took her eyes from Bobby as he sat on the Blackbird. The others, Storm, Scott, Logan, and Rogue's thoughts made her wonder if all these months of teamwork were for nothing.
Scott Summers, she cared for him, but she felt his feelings for her were overreaching at times; what he wanted, she didn’t think she could give him; her life was uncertain, and doubt made her power almost uncontrollable. Now, she couldn’t even look him in the eyes; he wanted to be tested, to prove something, and he had gotten it in his head that taking down the mutant vigilante was his mission.
Storm, on the other hand, would follow the professor; Logan didn’t care; he was already out in the night hunting him. Nightcrawler wanted to fit in and be accepted, and Rogue knew who the brooding girl was; she was a failsafe. If anything went wrong, she would incapacitate the person.
And there was the agent that had come on board the blackbird. Special Agent Misty Knight. She was listening in and tallying all the information she could glean.
“Everyone, please lend me your ear,” Xavier called out. He had made eye contact with each of them before exhaling deeply, and he began to detail what they were about to do.
…..
“He’s a murderer, Jean!” Scott hissed, not understanding why Jean wanted to use kid gloves.
She practically growled back, jabbing her hand at the taller teenager. “We don’t capture our kind for the government. I can’t believe this. What about his rights?”
Misty decided to chime in at the mention of rights. “Rights? Mutants are practically loaded guns; they should be controlled and registered. We have no capabilities of that, at least not at the moment, but he’s using his powers to kill, killing American citizens at that.”
“Seriously? Loaded gun?” She hissed. “She pointed toward Night Crawler. He can teleport. Is that a gun? Is he deadly? Do you want to lock him up too?”
Agent Knight didn’t respond, but her eyes did roam over the younger teen, causing him to squirm and lower his head.
Jean continued. “I don’t understand who all of you are at this time.” She turned and walked away, her figure departing into the night.
The quietness only lasted moments before Scott spoke, his eyes drifting from the exit. “Are you positive the Red Hood is the mutant you sensed all those months ago?” Scott asked; the other members nodded, curious, too; Jean had valid points.
“Indeed,” Xavier said. “It’s the same. He has some form of immunity to my psionic scrying.”
Misty held her hand to her ear, listening to bad news by the contorting of her face. She looked around before removing her hand from the communication device.
“Excuse me. One of my agents has been off the grid too long.” She said, standing up. “Xavier, the moment you find him, call me.”
“Agent, I’m sorry for the bad news,” he motioned with his hand, “Can we be of assistance?”
“I appreciate the offer, but this shouldn’t be a major issue.” She replied, leaving the same way as Jean.
Xavier was about to address the X-men again when he felt a quick knock at his mental barrier; he opened his mental walls just enough for his student to speak.
‘Professor, let me try and find him. Let me use Cerebro. I need to understand why we are willing to attack one of our own and even turn them over to the government.’ Jean pleaded telepathically.
He contemplated for a few seconds; Hank had finished a portable Cerebro, quite similar in appearance to Magneto's helmet, with a bonus to boost psionic energies and locate other mutants.
‘As you wish, Jean.’ He responded telepathically.
Cole Stephens
"I.D.," the doorman said to the next person in line. Cole heard as he strolled by the front of the building. He had made it to Paradise Night Club. It looked just like the club from the Luke Cage series.
Cole didn't loiter and continued to pass, his head down, hoodie pulled up to hide his features, notating security cameras out front before continuing and skulking into the musky dark alley.
He flipped the phone over and removed the Wayne Industries SIM card, and he snapped it into pieces before tossing it in the questionable pool of water that pooled at the bottom of an overstuffed dumpster.
His face scrunched at the smell, but he began to work, first by hacking into the club's security systems. He scanned over the feeds, notating the heavier presence of security than he had assumed. The club had a lot of protection, which was suspicious to him.
He paused, alerted by a scuffle at the entrance. Two big bruisers, obviously bouncers, tossed out two unruly individuals. The men that the bouncers had kicked out of the club let their displeasure be known by getting in the faces of the much bigger men, resulting in them getting hammered.
The beatdown ended quickly. The two drunks were left on the sidewalk whimpering in pain. The disturbance was now solved, the line returned, and clubgoers were still excited to enter the trendy nightclub regardless of the witnessed violence.
Alright," he said out loud.
He had six more hours before the break of dawn. He stopped, the sudden sensation of a prominent prompt settled over him, and with an act of will, the screen flashed before him.
Host-Generated Mission: Stokes Crime Syndicate has erred in crossing the path of The Red Hood.
Choice-Hero: Procure evidence and hand over the damming information to relevant authorities. Reward(s): Hero alignment percentage increase. + Axe, Bright Marshall
Choice-Neutral: Tread lightly and discover what is causing the increase in gang-related violence. Reward(s): Neutral alignment percentage increase + Yautja—Wrist Gauntlet
Choice-Villain: Take the law into your uncaring hands and Annihilate the Stokes Crime Syndicate Leadership. Reward(s): Villain alignment percentage dramatically increases. Star Trek—Combadge
The system had finally offered him a mission. Beyond beating prominent individuals or getting lucky, missions were the best way to gain powerful or rare items.
The Axe seemed magical; he had wanted more enchanted items, and the Axe would not only fill that need but offer him a powerful entity that held an even more powerful entity.
He had no qualms about using entities' powers if given from the system; the battle maiden would be under his thumb wholly. It would be handy but wasn't needed.
The Predator Wrist gauntlet would pair nicely with his already technology-based suit, including unlocking predator gear inside the shop.
He would be lying if he said he wouldn't like to have the Camouflage technology; admittedly, he could probably create it himself or purchase something similar from Wayne R&D.
Star Trek Combadge would have a unique aesthetic, and with his growing group, they could communicate without worry of being monitored; the technology far ahead of this century, he had no worries, at least from Earth residents; this was Marvel, after all.
The first choice would probably garner him another significant boost, like the Lantern Ring. He still had that feeling of not summoning the power. He hadn’t even questioned it. He wondered if the Axe would give off a similar aura.
There was also the assistant DA he had saved. She was a relevant party. Her taking down the Stokes could propel her career forward a decade, and she could potentially be indebted to him.
He saw a notification that Angelica had come online, likely looking over what he was doing. Her manipulation of the boas drones was becoming great, and he hoped she wouldn’t remain behind the keyboard. She played a crucial role in the Superhuman Registration Act.
She began to type. He already anticipated what it was she was about to say.
Firestar: Thank you for trusting me with your identity. I wondered if I could play overwatch, see what you do, and help.
Red Hood: We will talk, and I’m okay with you on overwatch. You got the Six. Don’t engage anyone unless I specifically order you.
Firestar: Thank you. Oh yeah! Bullseye is here. I had to drag a monitor into my room and hide. He’s poking around the place, but I locked out everything important.
He didn’t respond to the last message. He doubted she even expected him to. It was past time he started working with others. Bullseye didn't have access to the Bat-Redoubt, and if he exposed the location, it could be brought back into the system and placed somewhere else, at a cost, a hefty one.
Before he stepped out of the disturbingly stinky alleyway, he had to change clothes. There was no way he would be able to enter dressed in joggers.
Instantaneously, his outfit had phased away, leaving him with a more expensive look.
‘Batman was a lot of things, but Bruce Wayne knew how to dress.’ Cole thought to himself, enjoying his new wardrobe.
Admittedly, he could have chosen wardrobes from any number of people but ultimately decided on Bruce.
He unbuttoned his sports jacket, showing off the silk dress shirt underneath, tapered charcoal pants held together by a Hermes belt, and the finishing touch at the sleek black Steve McQueens on his feet.
He placed a pair of intelligent R&D Wayne glasses that looked like expensive designer shades. It took seconds before he had gained access to an N.Y.P.D. database.
He spent over thirty-two thousand in a minute. He would make sure the Stokes gang returned that tonight.
He strolled from the alley, smartly coming out when a group of clubbers hurriedly walked by. He checked the time and positioned himself in the line for regulars; the V.I.P. line was shorter but came with closer scrutiny by security. He slid the new I.D. out of his pocket, and a smile appeared. Jason Todd, Twenty-three years old, The System amazed him at times.
The same bouncer was at the door as earlier; the man never looked up, so he wasn't suspicious of Cole's return. Additional security personnel were present, no doubt getting ready for the uptick. The more prominent man flashed a pinpoint flashlight into his face before scrutinizing the I.D.
"New, right?" He said, staring into my eyes. I removed the shades upon approach.
"Good eyes,” Cole said, with Jason Tood's voice.
"You're good. The first two floors are all-access; the third is off-limits unless you want to pay V.I.P. The Fourth is for members only. And you're not one. Don't be caught near the fourth." He warned Cole, pointing toward the men on the ground.
"Nice threads, by the way. Now, hold your hand out." He did as requested. The doorman snapped a metallic band over his wrist. He handed the man two crips hundreds, which garnered a knowing smile from the man. He reached into his pocket and put another bracelet on his wrist.
"Enjoy V.I.P.," He said as he moved aside, allowing me to enter. Cole was immediately assaulted by booming bass and neon lights.
He quickly reached the bar and ordered a simple drink before observing his surroundings, his head bobbing to the beat.
Jessica Jones? He spotted her almost immediately. It's the same person from the TV show, interesting.
Jessica is working at Paradise as a bottle girl; that’s odd. He recalled Misty Knight being undercover in the TV show, but he guessed he couldn’t depend on half his old memories for real.
He swallowed the drink and tapped the counter for a second one as he watched the lady, who in turn was nearing two high-profile New Yorkers who were whispering in each other ears.
The two men were local aldermen of opposing parties. One of them, who would see a meteoric rise after the battle of New York, was a primary pusher of the Super Human Registration Act.
A lot of Harlem's elites were in attendance. His shades captured their images and stored them in the file. He could hear a Rico case pending once he gets more data.
The music became rowdier as some local rapper got on stage, and his song began to play as he performed over it. He turned around as a commotion at the door started to get out of control.
A ball-headed, well-proportioned black male made a beeline through the clubgoers, and soon, some clubbers recognized him, screaming his name and reaching out to touch the local neighborhood hero.
Luke Cage nodded, but he wouldn’t stop as he went straight toward the elevators, his destination on the upper floors. Cole had turned, scanning the crowd for Jessica Jones. She had vanished. He had a sinking feeling in his gut but shook his head at the thought.
'Luke Cage,' he said inwardly. 'Why are you here of all time?' He drained his glass and placed it on the tray of passing bottle girl.
He dodged a group of women approaching him, eyeing him hungrily. He had to apologize by buying them two rounds of shots.
Iwalkthestars
Excuse the grammar I haven’t had time to edit outside of a proofread but I could miss some things. I will go back soon and fix all the glaring mistakes and I know it’s allot
