Supernatural Taisen (Megacrossover) (Update!)

[SAMAS]

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Sora said, “But you’re no Jack Sparrow.”

The duck quaked twice.

“You’re right, Donald: Captain Jack Sparrow.”

Okay, that was funny.

Nice to see another update, too.

[Valten1992]

Hi

This fic is the reason I registered on Star Destroyer, I really hope you continue it.

[Majin Gojira]

I do intend on adding more to this story, but other writing projects are taking priority at the moment.

That said, I'm going to tease and test something for the next installment now:

Test? What do you mean test?

Let's just see if it works.

Of course it works! Works as well as your Mama!

Hey, save the smack talk for Sora.

Don't you remember? I'm generous with smack talking, bullets and stabbings.

Don't you charge for the later?

True, but I'm very generous once I'm paid.

That's not how generosity works!

[SAMAS]

Yeah, I noticed you've been quiet on the other thread, too (and thus so have I, if you were wondering).

Oh crap, Deadpool's up next!

[Jedi Commisar]

Deadpool as in the forth wall breaking super assassin Deadpool

[Majin Gojira]

Can you name any other?

Ooo! I can! There's Zombie-Me, Girl-Me, Future-me

Alternate Universe versions of yourself don't count!

Oh. . . .Does The Good Version of Deathstroke From DC Comics Earth 3 count?

That was just you!

Not according to the Lawyers he wasn't!

[Kamikage]

Oh, it's Deadpool...

Oh shit it's Deadpool!!! YES!!!!!

Am currently wondering about his moveset in MvC3 now (I am lazy when it comes to games).

On a semi-related note have begun playing Fantasy Maiden Wars. Pretty good even if I don't get all the references (much like when I played BMW the first time).

[Jedi Commisar]

Can you name any other?

Ooo! I can! There's Zombie-Me, Girl-Me, Future-me

Alternate Universe versions of yourself don't count!

Oh. . . .Does The Good Version of Deathstroke From DC Comics Earth 3 count?

That was just you!

Not according to the Lawyers he wasn't!

Nope

[Majin Gojira]

Sorry for the massive delay, folks. Like I said, workin' on another project and I'm easily distracted (my rage at Avengers Arena has sparked venting writing). Still, I want to give you something, just to show that I haven't abandoned this thing. Here's a vignette that's more appropriate for the last month, but it's been kicking around in my head for a while. Consider it a side story/back story thing.

The Day He Died

Everyone remembers where they were that day. I was right there. At ground zero. Over a hundred floors up, doing my best to rescue as many people as I could.

In the year 1999, Godzilla destroyed the first World Trade Center tower, dropping it on the space demon King Ghidorah. An acceptable loss. Now the actions a few men threatened to bring the last tower down. Why, at the time I didn’t know nor care. I had only one primary objective. Keep the building standing.

I am strong—ridiculously strong. When I focus myself and my chi, I can lift more than even my father could at his prime. One of the support beams had given out. Buckling under the heat of the flames. There was no choice, no other option. If I was to save as many people as I could, I had to make sure the last tower remained standing.

So I held it up.

My muscled quivered with exertion. For someone as strong as I am, this is a rare event, and it brought tempest-like fear to my stomach. I could feel my hands burning. Hear and smell my own flesh sizzling against the red hot metal. Being able to see into the infrared and beyond ultraviolet spectrum sounds like a blessing at first, but here and now, amid those intense flames, it left me blind. All I could do was hold it up. I didn’t have a costume on. There was no time. I had to save as many as I could.

I remember calling out to him, “Cap! Tell me you’re making progress.”

“As much as can be made,” I heard his voice over the com. Damn things still worked despite the heat. I thanked Biko for the design afterwards. It didn’t stop her tears, “You holding up?”

“Ha. Ha.” I smiled. Cap could always keep moral up, even in the darkest of times. He cared about everyone he worked with. Everyone loves Cap. Everyone loved Cap. Steve Rogers. Captain America. He was truly the greatest hero I've ever known. This was the day he died.

I watched him die. Unable to do a thing.

He was lower in the tower than I was, leading people down the stairs as best he could, clearing debris and getting as many people out as he could. We were the only super heroes close enough to the scene to get in—maybe the only ones fool hearty enough to do it. I can get away with it. Very few things can harm me. And Cap? He’s just one brave son of a bitch. Unthawed in the 1960s and still kicking around. I never realized until he was gone how old he’d gotten. Not in his body, but in his eyes. He was tired.

Maybe I could have saved him if I realized it sooner.

“How long do you think you can manage?” he asked me. He always cared about everyone under his command.

“I’ll manage as long as I have to!” I told him. Even though he was floors away, I could feel his disapproving glare. “Another hour. Tops. Then this place is going down.”

“Are you sure you want to—”

“Cap, I know I can survive this. It’s gonna hurt like hell, but I’ll manage—“Damn those words. Those were the last words I got out before I heard it. Another support beam starting to give out.

“Oh God,” terror crept up my voice, “Cap—another beam is giving out! I can hear it!”

I dug down and focused my sight to the x-ray spectrum. I could see the shadows of the metal starting to bend and twist.

“The buildings going down any moment now! I--I can't stop it! Steve! Get out of here! I know you can—“

“We both know that’s not true,” he told me calmly, “We both knew this was probably a one way trip for me.”

“Steve! Please!”

“Eiko. It’s been an honor.” I could see him salute me. I could see him and the others. Everyone.

I screamed again as the floor collapsed beneath me. But I couldn’t un-focus my eyes. Damn them. Damn my eyes. I saw them all. The people. Crushed. Stabbed. Eviscerated. Mutilated. Smashed and finally rendered unto ash. I watched them all die. I watched him die.

I survived. But part of me wished I didn’t.

I don’t remember being pulled out. I was awake, my eyes refocused to close, but all I can remember as the smells and sounds. The burning. The creaming and my own horse voice crying out in the darkness as the building's remains surrounded me. I remember waking in the Hospital days later. I remember the nation in mourning. Aside from Steve, over a thousand had died. They say that with out the two of us, the death toll would have been more than twice that. They gave me medals. I couldn’t stop crying for days.

Then someone claimed responsibility for it. They tried to keep the news away from me. But I found out anyway. I don’t remember what happened in the next few days. It’s a blur of red in my mind. Stories from Afghanistan speak only of a monster, something called Shaiitan al Ahmar. The Red Devil. The monster is said to have torn the country apart in its search for the ones behind the attack. It was discriminate, but terrible in its wrath to all who stood in its way.

All I know is that I regained my senses in Pakistan. From there, I made my way to India and arranged transport back home. There, I learned that the ones who brought about the destruction of that day were scattered to the winds, their leaders and organizers assumed dead. Assumed because of the amount of destruction wrought. Because there were no bodies to confirm it. Only the jabbering testimony of men frightened to madness.

I don’t know what I did. I don’t know if it could happen again. So I lost myself in fantasy. Fantasy of what I failed to be—a true Super Hero.

I pray I never find my way back out.

[SAMAS]

If you'll excuse me, I need to go cry now...

[Majin Gojira]

I pictured that scene years ago, listened to the song and blocked it out to it. I teared up for a good long while when even picturing it.

It's only now that I could write it and fully picture it blocked out that I don't automatically tear up.

[Kamikage]

Had it really been anyone else but Cap I think I wouldn't have been moved as much. Mainly, it's not abut who died, it's more about what his death truly meant in the end, people that would have died normally being saved by someone that at the end of the day was a good person and one of the few heroes that had refused to give into cynicism and instead fought to bring about a better world without potentially becoming monsters.

Most other heroes today are either jerks, whiners, or viewed as idiots. Then you have guys like Cap and Supes, they refuse to give into the general opinion of what people think and do what truly needs to be done in the end: save the day so that people can go about living.

Fun fact: I hadn't read an American comic book since the Our Worlds at War storyline (and parts of the Last Laughs storyline) and haven't really followed since. but when I found out about Captain America's death I bought that issue. Though there was that issue of Spider-Man that dealt with 9/11, which I did buy (I loved that issue; it dealt with what truly mattered; not the politics, not the people who did it, nor the conspiracies or what not surrounding it. But what really mattered; how people stood up and reclaimed their lives and came together.)

Too many people today focus on the negative and not enough on the positive.

EDIT: I can sense some influence of Kinoko Nasu in this installment. I have mixed feelings about this.

[kilopi505]

Jesus Christ...how many other writing projects do you have Majin Gora?

[Majin Gojira]

Well, lets see.

There's my articles at Forces of Geek once every two weeks as well as an op-ed I'm about to propose for it (either as a short series or as a one shot), there's my original novel I'm working on primarily in this coming month. There's this, and another fanfic work "Rockslide's Wacky Wrestling" which is mostly venting, so it just comes and goes.

Not including RPG work, which is also sporadic and in fits and spurts.

So, that's about 5 different projects.

But to Kamikage's comment: yeah, I don't think it would have worked as well if it wasn't Cap or a similarly well known and idealistic heroes. They're rare these days and often become corrupted by bad writers who can't really understand that sometimes good people just do good things because they like too even in this modern age.

Jaime Reyes Blue Beetle was (originally) a great example of that and may be the only modern one of note.

Normally, I'd also rage against such a shock/cheap death, but for the purposes of this story, I think it's appropriate. Besides, I gave him a very good run for a hero in this world. And since they all die eventually, it might as well go with either an equivalent amount of Pathos or Awesome.

Writers got to buy the deaths they're selling.

[Kamikage]

It is appropriate for Cap to go out like he did in this fic (saving people and being an inspiration while doing it). Also, I must admit that it seems very appropriate (how I miss having spellcheck) to show how it would affect someone who was there as well (I will admit that in a more realistic setting someone would react like she did).

That being said though I personally want to know what Cap did in this world.

One other question: do Krogan exist in this verse? (Just don't make the Reapers or Thresher Maws related to anything in the Mythos and we'll be cool)

And please have someone referance Marvel vs. Capcom (except Deadpool) in someway (Proton Cannon anyone?)

EDIT: Is Asura's Wrath in any way canon to this fic? (Had a thought: have the events being during or before the Black History(the one the Mu lost)

[Majin Gojira]

Well, speaking in broad terms, Cap fought in WWII of course, battling Nazis both original and Neo. He was found frozen in ice in the 1965 by Batman II (Dick Grayson) and Robin (Bruce Wayne Jr.). From there, he fought many big bad guys, mostly Nazis both Neo and old school amongst other things. Also MODOK.

He's also survived by two children: Shanon Carter and Cassandra Rogers-Trevor.

There's other stuff, but I'll keep it vague for now.

I'll be coy about the other things if only for a moment.

[Kamikage]

Awesome.

[Majin Gojira]

The tropical blue water and salty air picked up Sora’s spirits—or perhaps it was getting away from that town. The pressure in that city was something fierce. It reminded him of the deepest pits of Hollow Bastion. He felt the weight of that place drift away. Around it, beyond the oil, blood, booze and cigarette smoke, the secluded nature of the pirates den let nature flourish around it, though its center was black as coal.

“Oh my god!” a voice pierce Sora’s train of thought, “Could your inner monologue be more depressing?”

He turned to see a masked man in a tight red and black outfit. Utility belt, guns and swords strapped to his back. He knew that face well, from across dimensions.

“Deadpool.” Sora grumbled.

He was part of the mercenary group the Lagoon Company picked up. It was a motley crew to say the least.

“Aw! You know me? Do I know you? Would I care if I did?” Deadpool continued to talk, Sora turned away from him, hoping he’d leave.

“But I gotta say, you’re one depressed looking kid,” Deadpool sat upon the ship’s railing, imitating a boy who was bitten by a radioactive spider, “Especially for someone traveling with Donald and Goofy.”

Sora wasn’t too surprised, but he did look back at the masked madman. Across the multiverse, this one man could see between the veils and see beyond to—

“Holy Lovecraftian Descriptions, Batman! You’re one pretentious little pipsqueak.” Deadpool squinted at the boy. “Do I have to take over as narrator until you cool your heels?”

I think you should.

“Of course you do,” Deadpool hopped down from the railing and stood up straight, “you’re my special voice.”

Sora arched an eyebrow and looked over the masked man. “What?” Even though he’s met him before, in different iterations, each one talked to empty space openly and frequently. Sora never got who he talked to, if it was anyone at all.

“That settles it!” Deadpool raised a single finger in the air and continued his proclamation, “I’ll be taking over narrative duties for a while. Just sit back and relax, kid. Deadpool will never steer you wrong!”

A large hand wrapped around Deadpool’s neck. The owner of the hand stood at least 7 feet tall, his mask a mirror of Deadpool’s, but white and black rather than black and red. The newcomer’s shoulders were also at least twice as wide as Deadpool.

“Oh, hey! I didn’t know there was a wrestling show in town!” Deadpool choked out.

“The boy wishes to be left alone,” The man said, “If you do not wish to be thrown overboard and not receive payment for the job, I suggest you do so.”

“You’re not gonna break may back?” Deadpool said, his voice whining in disappointment.

“No.”

“Oh, Fine.”

The huge man released his grip and Deadpool sulked off, muttering his disappointment.

Sora turned to the large stranger, “Thanks.”

“The man is an irritant and a buffoon, but he is good at soaking bullets and distracting enemies,” He folded his arms and nodded.

“Hey! Bane!” Revy shouted over the roar of the engine, “The fish man says we’re almost there and we need everyone in the back.”

“I’M A SHARK NOT A FISH!” A scratchy voice from the cabin whined.

*

The being that called itself King Shark stood at the front of the Black Lagoon blew repeatedly into a conch shell. The other motley crew that the Black Lagoon was transporting watched the spectacle with varying degrees of interest and disinterests. He’d teamed up with various forms of scum out of necessity, but this group had something more to it that both put him at ease and repulsed him. The Secret Six were something else.

The plan still turned his stomach, but at least the group wasn’t totally repulsive.

“I hate this plan,” Sora sat on the edge of the deck and looked away from the shark-man’s actions, “You do know what they are, right?”

Rock rubbed the back of his head, “I really don’t know much about mermaids.”

“These are not mermaids,” Sora said.

Haughty laughter echoed over the oceans, “The little boy has room to be picky about his allies as death sweeps over the world. I’m sure when we all die, we can at least say we didn’t have to get our hands dirty.”

“Leave the boy alone, Jeanette,” a short-haired woman in black rolled her eyes.

“Nah, keep teasing him,” One of the few he did recognize, Deadshot, smoked with Revy and watched the deck, "I like seeing him squirm."

Sora shook his head, “I just think it’s not a good idea to trust saving humanity to a group that wants them dead.”

King Shark shook his head and looked back at the odd crew and said, “Man, what a bigot.”

That caught Sora by surprise, “What?”

“You ever read that holy book the humans have? The one called The Book?” Shark put a hand on his hip and turned to them all.

Revy spoke for everyone, “Huh?”

“I think he’s referring to the Christian Bible,” Rock said.

"Then why'd he call it 'book'?" Revy snarled.

"Because that's what the word "Bible" means in Latin."

Revy let out a scoffing laugh, "I knew the church was full of themselves, but wow! I'm impressed!"

Rock let out a heavy sigh as Revy's name passed his lips. He knew better than to argue, but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

“Yeah, that thing! You read the end and it’s just as bloody and stuff as the Theologos tou Cthulhu. Not every Cthonist is a blood boring cultist. Some of us are well adjusted and don’t look that forward to the Great Rising occurring in our life time, thank you very much.”

“Preach it, Sturgeon Prince!” Deadpool cheered.

“That’s King Shark! KING SHARK!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Deadshot puffed a smoke, “And don’t you eat people, Sharky?”

“Yeah, but only guy’s I’m tryin’ to kill,” King Shark tapped his claws together, “And it’s your fault for being so tasty.”

Before another counter could be voiced, the water began to churn grabbing everyone’s attention.

“Question!” Deadpool raised his hand. When no one acknowledged him, he asked anyway, “Why do a race of fish men have submarines?”

“Why does a race with feet invent cars?” King Shark answered as the sub cleared the water’s surface. It was a stylized vessel shaped like a whale, but reminded Sora of the inside of a computer.

Once the water stopped draining off it, a group of green fish-men holding tridents and armored more for ceremony than function stepped onto the deck. They surrounded a human-looking figure of dark skin and short cropped blonde hair. Aside from what Sora thought were gill slits along his neck and some rather intense grey eyes and ceremonial tattoos which ran up his arms, he looked like a relatively normal human. Next to him were a tattooed fish-man and a human-looking auburn skinned woman in blue with long dark hair. Sora noted the inactive gill slits along her neck and the trident she held. If things went south, he knew she’d be calling orders from the back as the tattooed deep one charged right in.

But she would not go down quickly if confronted.

Sora’s silent threat assessments met some vindication when King Shark grew a bit pale and gulped out a simple phrase: “Oh crap.”

Everyone reacted to that.

“‘Oh crap?’” Revy threw aside her cigarette, “What do you mean ‘oh crap’?”

“The stench of death grows greater,” Jeanette said and that got the other members of the Six ready. Sora took the hint.

“What’s wrong?” Sora finally asked.

“The kid there knows me,” King Shark said and looked away.

Deadshot pulled his masked on, “And not in a ‘hey ol’ buddy’ sort of way, I’m guessing.”

“Itcanbetimeforfightynow?” Deadpool clapped his hands.

“Calm yourself,” Bane placed a hand on the merc’s shoulder, squeezing hard enough to both get Deadpool’s attention and activate his healing factor, “And let us hope we can negotiate.”

“Vasilias Karcharias,” The young man said, “You have the gall to summon us so near our city? And with humans in tow no less.”

“Kaldur’ahm,” King Shark bowed to one knee, “I’m sorry for having disturbed you.”

“State your case, Karcharias,” Kaldur’ahm snapped, “The only reason you have not been killed where you stand is the presence of a Kleidilepida Kyrios.”

With a slight nod, Sora saw he was the crew’s salvation, so he spoke up. “Um, thank you very much.”

“It is the proper respect given your title.”

He shrugged, “Nice to have it, I guess.”

The short haired woman stepped forward to meet with Kaldur’ahm. “My name is Scandal Savage,”

Donald quacked several times, quietly. Sora did his best to hold back a chuckle.

“Daughter of Vandal Savage, and currently, representative of the cabals and families of Roanapur. I have come to make you and your people an offer in exchange for help against the Nazis.”

Kaldur’ahm studied her, but said nothing.

“We know your king, the Avenging Son, fought them in the past for their transgressions against your people. Though he does not think highly of our society, it is better than Nazi rule by far. We ask for his aid in combating their forces.”

“That is not a small request,” Kaldur’ahm folded his arms, “One that is beyond my ability to decide.”

Scandal’s face remained hard, “You misunderstand. We’re not asking you for the world, just Roanapur. You can relay our request to your king for the rest of the world. But you can lead these forces into Roanapur and aid us there.”

“And what is it that your offer in return?”

“For Roanapur?” Scandal took a breath before saying it, “Women.”

This got the deep ones around them to stir.

“You can come into Roanapur and interbreed with any whore you can convince to come with you. Visit the whores, buy yourself a bride, or wine and dine: your pick, it’s all there.”

“And for the world?”

“Entry onto the larger world stage. You may not know it, but the current President is solidifying earth’s power for contact with alien races. Russia is in on it as well, and we can get you in on the ground floor as just another part of the world, rather than skulking in the shadows like you’ve been doing since you lost most of your cities to nuclear tests.”

Sora felt bile build up in his threat and the word “Awful” slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Oh?” The Jeanette woman purred, “Too much for the child’s stomach?”

“I’m not sure which is worse,” Sora turned to her, “The offer, or the recipient.”

Jeanette smiled, “Child, Roanapur has made worse deals than this. They dealt with Khan at the height of his power.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Sora quietly answered.

“But you’re letting it happen anyway,” Jeanette’s smile turned feral and hungry, “Perhaps the boy is more aware of the world than I initially thought.”

Sora had seen darker visages, and was unaffected, “Much more.”

Kaldur’ahm whispered something to his apparently human lieutenant who then barked orders in Greek to the other Deep Ones until one trident-armed fish-man came to her and croaked back more Greek which drew concern.

“I have relayed the greater message for the world to my king. As to Roanapur, your terms are acceptable,” The sigh of relief from the passengers and crew of the Black Lagoon were cut off by more Greek from the woman in blue and Jeanette’s eyes going dark.

“Death has found us!” She cried out as the sky rippled and cracked.

“What the hell is that?!” Revy’s harsh words were carried over a sudden wind and violent shaking of the world around them, turning up the seas in its fury.

Rock could not take his eyes off it, nor could Sora. He knew what it was too, but said nothing. He only steadied himself as Rock held onto the boat for dear life.

“No way! It can’t be! Not this far from a fault line!” Rock cried out.

Revy picked the former Salary-man up by his shirt and barked, “You know what’s going on? What the hell is going on, Rock?!”

“It’s a quake!”

“In the middle of the ocean? Don’t be ****in’ stupid!”

“No, a dimensional quake! A heterodyne is breaking through!”

When the light faded, the heterodyne floated above the tumultuous seas with eerie stillness. It was almost a specter of death, a white, skull-like face atop its broad shoulders, which tapered down to a mass of rectangular tentacles, dark and tinted a red reminiscent of warm flesh that flayed in non-existent wind like the wild hair of a banshee. Its center was a red core lined with bright white ribs-like ‘guards’ around it. It made a deep rumbling trumpeting sound before it effortlessly floated away from the confused masses.

The woman barked more Greek at Kaldur’ahm. He nodded briskly and turned to the Black Lagoon crew. “It seems our alliance has divine president. That beast is headed towards the risen City my King wished to take back. My lieutenants will take three ships to your city and secure it. I will lead my men to slow down this mon—”

“You can’t!” Sora yelled, “Not against Zeruel!”

“You know what that thing is?” Revy hissed.

Sora nodded, “I’ve seen one before. It is not an enemy that can be confronted directly. Not easily. You’re better off reinforcing your King, Kaldur’ahm!”

Kaldur paused for a moment, “I will heed this council, Keyblade Wielder,” and turned to shout orders to his men as he walked back into his ship as Zeruel floated off. The ships of the children of Dagon sped off to their destinations with equal speed, leaving the Black Lagoon alone in the waves.

Scandal Savage looked around the now empty sea, still rippling from the quake and shrugged, “Mission accomplished?”

Deadpool, put an arm around Sora, “I knew having you along would be one hell of a luck charm!”

“We are certainly lucky to be alive,” Bane nodded, “being that close to a Heterodyne is not something to sneeze at.”

“Now let’s go back to the war zone Roanapur has probably turned into by now, It’s safer!” King Shark whined while holding onto the deck for his life.

[Kamikage]

good news: The story updated
bad news: Zeruel

[SAMAS]

Yay! A new post! And with Kaldur!

[kilopi505]

Good.

There's an update.

[SAMAS]

I just had a weird thought.

Having finally seen the Nanoha A's movie recently, I couldn't help but think what this universe's version of that film would be.

(For those who don't know, the movies are, in-universe, made as propaganda-recruitment vehicles sometime after StrikerS.) Spoiler

As such, A's has no mention of Admiral Graham at all (that was classified).

[Majin Gojira]

Oh God, it's been over a year since I last updated this thing?

Alright, I'll be a bit honest -- I hit a bit of writer's block in the Roanapur chapter. Mostly, it's finding the right Nazi minions to throw their way. I need a disposable fall guy and then I can go forward pretty decenetly.

But I haven't stopped working on it. Attempted a bit of a sidestory, but that's hit a snag along the lines of "It's not as interesting as I thought it might be".

So I'm skipping to "Mission 14" and will be posting it soon (like in the next few days).

To preview, it's in New York with Karrin Murphy . . . who has just been put in charge of a small group of young superheroes.

Here's a preview as I work on it, because I have all the action bits blocked in my head already for this one. The writing of it should be much easier, baring distraction and . . . writing I hope to actually get paid for.

Nico cast a quick aside look before she answered, “I think the White Council wants my head.”

Murphy knew that was no exaggeration. When the Wardens of the White Council felt you did something wrong, they came at you with one draconian system. They had their laws and if you broke them, off went your head. She hated them for this. Part of it was for what they put Molly Carpenter through. Dresden managed to save her life for her unknowing, well intentioned infraction. But mostly, she hated them for breaking the law right under her nose, in her city, and she couldn’t touch them for it. She knew the reasons, she knew the justifications, but it just rotted her gut anyway.

“Harry’s got experience on being on the other end of the sword,” Murphy softened her voice as best she could.

Nico nodded, nervous, “Good. Good.”

“Can you think of a reason why they’re after you?”

“I can think of four,” she answered, “And I think one of them might be spite.”

[Majin Gojira]

“They’re trying to kill you.”

“No, working with them will prevent those grey cloaked dorks from trying to kill me.”

“You sure about that?”

“That’s the deal, anyway.”

“. . . This plan sucks!”

“I know, Chase. I know. But it’s the only one we got left.”

“Can’t fight, can’t run. Normal’s out the window.”

“How sad is it when that’s our normal?”

“Just come back, alright? Molly needs you. She can’t lose her mother again.”

“I’m not—“

“Yeah you are. She doesn’t say it, but you totally are now.”

“I guess that makes you ‘dad’.”

“I figured that when I tucked her and Klara in last night. That and if you’re the mom, I’d definitely be the dad after—”

“Shut up,” she suppressed a smile, but then sighed. “We’re growing up, Chase. I guess we gotta face the real world some time.”

“Then let me—“

“No. They just asked for me, so I’m going. Alone.”

“Then take some of my gear! I’ve been working on—“

“I’ll take a vest, but that’s it. We don’t want them being too familiar with us and you need that stuff to protect the others in case those dorks moves while I’m out. Keep them safe, Chase. Please.”

“Alright. But I want to keep you safe too. Someone’s got to do it.”

“I’ll take care of it. I won’t let Molly lose her mother again.”

*

“You’re having me lead a squad of super heroes?” Karrin Murphy couldn’t believe the words that just came out of her mouth. “I’m a Sargent now, I don’t even—“

“Believe it,” Captain Mathew Bluestone said with a light smile, “We got more experienced cops than experienced capes or soldiers, and few capes are leadership material if you ask me.” He handed her a manila envelope, “You also work with what has been classified as supers on our system, repeatedly. Experience like that is hard to come by. But it’s not all sunshine and Roses, Sargent. Of all the qualified officers for this job, you drew the short straw.”

She opened the file and looked through it as Bluestone continued, “You’ve got mostly raw recruits on your team. And you get the wildcard.”

Murphy was still having trouble wrapping her head around the idea of her leading a team of Super Heroes. Special Investigations had run into a few super-powered humans for a while, and there were reports going back beyond even the Kolchak files to a guy who called himself “The Blue Beetle” operating in Chicago back in the late 1960s through the early 70s. Hell, she had personally worked on cases with Officer Dragon on three separate occasions.

But aside from the Beetle, none of them really fit the image she had of a Super Hero. No cape, no mask, no smile. Illinois had plain clothes guys with powers, things people would call monsters working for the common good. It didn’t have true super heroes. It didn’t have Michigan’s Icon or Static. It didn’t have New York’s Spider-Man or Superman. It had Officer Dragon and Harry Dresden.

Beyond that, the few that did try setting up turf there (that didn’t get snatched up by UNIT or a firm talking to by Officer Dragon for breaking anti-vigilante laws) didn’t last. Most tried to ‘fight crime’ or ‘monsters’ for about a year or so before they either quite, screwed up or otherwise disappeared. She briefly thought of the Alphas, a werewolf ‘gang’ that protected the college campuses and how they beat the odds. Still, the fact that there were so many that each one had to be delegated to a sub-division, and even to an officer on loan for this upcoming crisis, shocked her. Most of them also had ‘costumes’. Or rather, colored combat armor.

She wasn’t proud of it, but she was caught off guard by it all and couldn’t help but gawk when she first got there. Then she bumped into what she could only assume was Superman (bit red ‘S’ on the chest and blue suit tipped her off). He looked rather young for a guy, smiled politely, asked if she was okay. When she managed to nod, he smiled, told her that the feeling of being overwhelmed would pass and he looked forward to working with her. No sarcasm. No digs. Genuine support and kindness. He reminded her of Michael Carpenter, Knight of the Cross, and his honesty and virtue.

It made her forget that she was about to go headlong into an unprecedentedly huge terrorist action for five seconds. Now that she found out she was going to lead a team she was only just meeting brought all that nervousness back.

She could only page through the files and it couldn’t help but bring a smile to her face. Masks, redacted names, code names, powers and abilities lists, personality profile briefs. It read like a partial Wikipedia page.

“I got the short straw when I have Spider-Man on my team?”

Bluestone shook his head, “Read it again.”

She did, “Oh, Woman. But the costume looks just like--”

“The original Spider-Man’s been retired for over a decade,” Bluestone said, “Before my time. She says the original one is her father, and the other Spider-Women don’t argue the point.”

“Other Spider-Women?”

Bluestone shrugged, “Its New York, we’re up to our neck in UNIT tied Vigilantes. Hell, Batman Incorporated started here. Our own SWAT team for masked maniacs.” Off her puzzled look, he added “You get used to it.” Part of her realized then just how used certain weird things got when cases involved Dresden, and she knew she missed out on a lot of it sometimes. This was another level entirely.

Karrin opened the door to meet her ‘team’, and a red giant with the face of a human skull with deeply sunken eyes greeted her. She screamed in surprise, despite herself. The skull creature screamed in almost the same pitch, but the massive red beast had the added indignity of falling over and landing on its butt. The shock of the fall traveled up Karin’s legs and made a loud ‘cracking’ noise on the floor. A moment of silence followed before the room partially burst into laughter.

“It’s not funny, Mayday!” A muffled voice spiked through the laughter.

“Oh, come on!” The woman standing on the ceiling, Spider-Woman, managed through her laughter, “Big Metal Man gets spooked that easily? Comedy classic!”

Captain Bluestone walked into the door to get them at least acquainted and just through a stern look managed to quiet the room, but in those first few seconds she did not get a good impression of the people gathered.

“I’m sorry!” the deep voice of the skull thing had calm softness to it that Murphy only heard once before—from a surfer who she pulled over as a rookie. “I-I just. Well. We’ve been here for a bit and I wanted to see if anyone was coming.”

Murphy couldn’t help but look him over as he stood up, he easily dwarfed Dresden, over 7 feet if he was an inch. He has a strong, muscular, V type build on top of that, making him more imposing. His skull-like face with inset eyes was quite unnerving, especially considering he was blood red and metallic.
“Because, ya know,” a gothic Asian girl with a black staff in her hand sneered as she leaned against the wall, “It’s not like being abandoned or used by authority figures is something that happens to guys like us on a regular basis. No big deal.” She eyed Murphy with a look she’d seen from Molly Carpenter a few times, given to either Molly’s dad or to Harry Dresden.

“Alright kids,” Bluestone said, “This here is your Commanding officer, Karrin Murphy. She’ll be leading you in the containing this invasion and civilian rescue operations during the attack. That good with you?” He eyed the contrite goth girl as he said it.

“If meet’s UNIT’s quota, I’m good with it.” She shrugged.

Bluestone turned to Murphy without regarding the goth girl and said, “Well, Sargent, they’re all yours,” and left.

The young heroes (Murphy was shocked by just how young some of them looked, she doubted one of them was older than 17) regarded her for a moment, none of them speaking for a small eternity. She decided to speak up first, “There’s a bit of rush going on with an effectively unstoppable terrorist threat out there that’s going to hit the city in moments. Between that, New York being a high density target and a lack of higher ranked people with experience in this sort of thing, I’ve been made your commanding officer. I got your files about a minute before walking in the door, so you know about me as much as I know about most of you. Sargent Karrin Murphy, Chicago PD. I’ve worked on some odd cases in my time, but running the rear of a defensive line is going to be a new one on me. So I need your help on this one.”

A mild surprised look went over the goth girl’s face, the faintest hint of what could be a smile peaked out. But she decided to be sarcastic anyway, “Can you ask nicely?”

This earned her a punch in the shoulder from the girl next to her. In contrast to her subcultural comrade, she was dressed in something akin to military grade equipment, but built for a different form of combat than SWAT. The purple highlights to what looked to be a modified version of Class V Military grade body armor were a bit much, but the lighter construction of it all seemed to work for the bow-woman. Said other girl walked towards Murphy with a firm smile on her face and gave a little salute before she spoke, “Kate Bishop. Call sign ‘Hawkeye’. I’ll be your second in command on this mission.” She extended her hand to Murphy and she took it. Girl had a very firm grip, “I’ve worked with most of these guys before, so I can help you through where needed.”

Murphy acknowledge her briefly before the next one spoke up – the skull faced one she first met.
He stumbled over an ‘um’ before he started, “My name’s Ken. Uh, my ‘work name’ is Mettle. I’m your Brick for this mission. Um. That means I’m really, really strong and tough. I’ll handle the heavy lifting, I guess.”

“Good, because I guessed that to,” Murphy gave him a smile. Without features on his face, she could only really guess that he appreciated the little joke.

A yellow hand got her attention next as it peaked out from within Mettle’s. It connected to a young woman in what appeared to be a yellow diver’s skin with a massive helmet. The suit was lined with black highlights and one very clear symbol on her chest: Biohazard.

“Hazmat,” she snarled. Hers was the muffled voice, and the large helmet around her head was the obvious reason for that. “I’m your offense.” Her hand glowed white, “Hopefully. They didn’t give me much time to practice their ‘anti-super soldier’ ray thing.”

As Hazmat clung to Mettle, the main source of laughter when Mettle fell dropped down in front of her, the one Hazmat had called ‘Mayday’. But her attire made it clear who she was: Spider-Woman. This was it, a true red and blue superhero with a full face-covering mask. Looking at it closely, she could tell it was a light armor of some sort. It probably couldn’t take a bullet from a high caliber weapon, but overall protection was covered. The young woman hopped down and extended a hand to greet Murphy. “The Spectacular Spider-Woman at your service.”

“Spectacular?”

The girl’s fists went to her hips, “Hey, there’s like a dozen Spider-Ladies out there. Gotta make your mark.”

Murphy simply nodded, still getting used to the idea of superhero franchises beyond Batman Inc. as she turned to the last member of her ‘team’.

“I don’t have a codename,” The goth girl’s voice was cold, “Call me Nico. I’m your magic user. After Kate, I’m the girl you go to for getting things done.”

Murphy kept her game face on, “Any magical specialization I should know?”

Nico smirked, “I speak softly and carry a big stick. If there’s something the others can’t do, I could probably do it if you ask nicely.”

*

The plan was a simple one all things considered. Each squad would have a section of the city guard. They knew from places like Rome and London that they would be dropping via stealth Zeppelins with one primary goal: kill as many people as they could. They’d also be raiding at least one unknown site to steal a store of occult or magical power. Her sector, right in front of the Empire State Building, was one possible site. Though another team was guarding the 86th floor, they had the ground. Waiting for the Super Nazi’s (something Murphy was still having trouble wrapping her head around) was a pretty tense affair as most of the people in their area had evacuated, which filled the Most of the places around them were businesses: restaurants, independent lobby groups, architectural firms and so on.
Of course there was also a Starbucks on the corner of 33rd and 5th avenue that she couldn’t help but stare at every now and then. Not many residences to defend, so they didn’t have to worry about people, except maybe a stray morlock.

Especially after she saw Mettle come out of it with a few cups. He locked the door behind him and calmly walked up to her, scrambling over the makeshift fortification of sandbags and steel plate fencing, a store bought Spider-Man mask over his normal skull face. He handed her a cup.

“You looked like you could use some tea,” He said.

Murphy could only stare at him, “Did you just rob a Starbucks?”

“Well, technically I quartered it, but I totally paid for ‘em and left a tip too,” a nervous quality overran his voice.

Murphy pressed him anyway, “Who’d you tip?”

“The jar.”

After a while, Mettle added, “Back when I had,” he took a moment, searching for the right word, “skin, I had a part time job at one, so I know how the machines run. Besides, Tea just needs hot water anyway. I figured you could use something to keep you awake and not over-energize you either. So, Tea?”

“And the lock?”

“Bent the chain back into place after I snapped it. It took me a little time to get it just right, but it should work still.”

Murphy took the young monster man at his word and accepted the tea. It was fruity, warm and not too sweet. She preferred Coffee, but Mettle had enough things to worry about. “You’re a thoughtful guy, Mettle.”

His body shifted, if he still had lips (and wasn’t wearing a mask) he’d probably be smiling. He accepted her complement with a nod and shrinking shyly from her before turning around, “Got your tea too, Jenny!” He called out to Hazmat who responded with a slightly more vulgar version of “Thank God.”

She watched green smoke escape her helmet as she opened a flap of it the lower portion to drink through a straw. Nico shifted slightly near Murphy, “Who knew waiting for war to erupt in a major city could be so . . . Dull.”

“Ever been on a stakeout?” Murphy turned to the witch.

Nico’s face soured, “Not really my thing. I tell little old ladies their fortunes and whether some norm’s being cheated on by his girl or boy or whatever.”

Murphy tilted her head in a half shrug, “Sorry, the wizard I’m used to working with is a P.I. He knows it better. Basically, long boring waits with an air of nervousness running through it? You can get used to it.”

“I’d rather not.” A moment later, Nico added, “Wait, what Wizard?”

“Harry Dresden.” Murphy watched her reaction to the name. She knew a bit more about the world of Wizards and magic than Harry believed she did. She knew his name carried weight for a lot of reasons: former bad-boy Wizard who went and became a Wizard Cop and big shot in the White Council’s war with the Red Court.

She tightened her grip on that odd staff she held. “After all this calms down, can you get me in contact with him?”

That nervousness she heard in Mettle was much more pronounced in Nico’s request.

“He is in the phonebook—”

Her face hardened and Nico cut her off, “There’s a few problems with—”

Murphy returned the favor, “But! I’ll tell him about you anyway.” That calmed Nico slightly. Murphy then added, “If you tell me what the problem is, I can get him a bit better prepared. So what’s wrong?”

Nico cast a quick aside look before she answered, “I think the White Council wants my head.”

Murphy knew that was no exaggeration. When the Wardens of the White Council felt you did something wrong, they came at you with one draconian system. They had their laws and if you broke them, off went your head. She hated them for this. Part of it was for what they put Molly Carpenter through. Dresden managed to save her life for her unknowing, well intentioned infraction. But mostly, she hated them for breaking the law right under her nose, in her city, and she couldn’t touch them for it. She knew the reasons, she knew the justifications, but it just rotted her gut anyway.

“Harry’s got experience on being on the other end of the sword,” Murphy softened her voice as best she could.

Nico nodded, nervous, “Good. Good.”

“Can you think of a reason why they’re after you?”

“I can think of four,” she answered, “And I think one of them might be spite.”

Their radios crackled to life before Murphy could learn more, “They’re here!”

“And it’s a lot of them,” Spider-Woman’s voice added.

Murphy snapped to her feet and readied her weapon. Hawkeye called out the direction the first wave would come from. “We got Hellhounds, Kaijin.”

“And Labors!” Spider-Woman added.

Labors, piloted humanoid vehicles over 25ft tall. That’s just what they needed. Murphy growled.

“Confirmed, they have labors on the ground. Four, pretty crude design. Half the size of normal to boot. But they have Gatling guns.”

“Alright, Hawkeye, snipe at your discretion. Spider-Woman, slow down those labors. We can’t focus on them until we take down the ground troops.”

“Roger,” Spider-Woman answered. The man made canyons echoed the high pitched whip of her line as she swung off.

“Mettle, you’re on defense. Put down anything that gets too close. Hazmat, Nico, you’re with me.”

“In what?” Nico hadn’t quite caught up to the action descending on her.

So Murphy gave her a simple explanation that Harry would have definitely approved of as an action one liner, “Blowing all these Nazis back to hell.”

{{Mission 13}}
{{Sacrifice}}

[SAMAS]

WHOO-HOO!!!!