He Stays A Stranger

Yet another superhero is dead yet again. This in and of itself is nothing new.

Freaking Captain America is walking out of a courthouse and gets gunned down. Not fighting off Nazi robot cloned evil twins from Dimension X, or at least some Commies, but four shots after his trial and that's all she wrote. On the one hand, Crossbones was one of mine, so I take a certain amount of pride in a halfway sensible job well done.

On the other, that's actually kind of lame. We have TRADITIONS in place, people. I beat the crap out of the flag-man as much as anybody back in the day, don't get me wrong, but this shit is bananas. If I catch anyone else in the business being almost as practical as I am, I may have to kill them.

In related news, there's already a tremendous amount of betting going on in certain circles on whether the guy'll stay dead, and if not, how long until he (or a clone) shows up again. Looks to be some of the biggest dead-or-not pools in costumed history. I should get in on this.


((OOC: Remember that thing that hides any responses from hostage-bait friends from the rest of the world? Yeah, it still exists. Hell, just assume it always does. B| ))

( Tonight, my children, we speak of absolute power. )

( He sleeps, and the retcon looms over him. )

( All is, if I have grace to use it so... )

( To that same lot, however mean or high/Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven )

( Yet, be it less or more, or soon or slow/It shall be still in strictest measure even )

( Somebody's gonna die tonight. )

A couple days ago, this happened.

Tonight, this happened.

( Doctor Octopus vs. the Taskmaster: When Supervillains Disagree )

( It's just business )

[Encrypted, anonymous, and untraceable: to Lan's list of allies]

None of you know who I am, and none of you need to. What you do need to know is that as of some point in the last 24 hours, Lan Abhaya has gone missing. She left your names with me, as well as a list of those likely responsible, which I've attached to this message.

I will be looking into the suspects myself as well, and will forward any likely clues or further leads to the rest of you. Should anyone need to contact me, simply replying to this message will get it through the security measures.

***

[Encrypted: to Mathilda]

Keep an eye on your messages, kid. We've got trouble again. It's Lan.

It's just another day in downtown New York City, and just another yellow-eyed assassin perched on a rooftop, eyeing a man in a suit through a sniper scope. He's been here for almost half an hour, patiently waiting for the target to arrive, the bodyguards to stand just so. He's been waiting for the perfect shot.

Wait for it. Wait. Another thirty-six seconds, he knows how they move, sees how they--

Taskmaster's eyes miss no detail, including the sudden tiny flashing light on his gauntlet. Dammit. Take the shot take the shot take the--

The light is flashing the high-priority pattern. Double-dammit. He drops out of sight, puts down the rifle, and checks the message. If he does it quick, he still has another three minutes before the target walks.

He checks the message.

Four and a half seconds later, he's gone.

( When pups use the internet )

( Phone calls and villainous schemes )

Just when you think you've seen it all.

You know That Guy, the one sitting in the nice restaurant yakking loudly on his damn cell phone about shit nobody wants to hear? Today that was the guy I had to take out. (I wasn't going to make it that public, but I was trailing him, stopped in for appetizers while he ate, and finally couldn't take it anymore.) So first I kill a man with his own cell phone, and then there's this moment of silence.

A couple seconds later, I'm across the building and headed for the kitchen, right? Quick change of face and then I'm out. And then, I swear to God, suddenly the place erupts in cheering. The waitress for his table actually tried shouting her number at me from halfway across the floor on my way out of there.

Did I accidentally do a good deed? I feel vaguely unclean.


((OOC: That thing, that filter thing.))

Apparently some irresponsible spaz in the Nexus has stumbled across a magical notebook that will kill anyone...if you write their real name in it while thinking of their face.

This is the part where I gloat, I think. Gloat.


((OOC: The 'hiding certain people from everyone else he doesn't trust' filter? Yep, still here.))

People. People. I generally consider myself a fairly reasonable guy. I make an effort. However, there is one simple thing I would very much like to know: who in the HELL is fighting the fucking RHINO up and down New York at four-thirty in the fucking morning? Some of us have to be up bright and early killing people, you know.

If I have to come out there, it's not going to end well.

( Because memes are slightly less hassle than murder. )


((OOC: This entry is protected from the terrible secret of space. Also, for the purposes of continuity, I'm not considering the "threads from a hat" adventure to "happen" until the day the thread wraps up. ALSO. Though he didn't post this, I laughed hard that his first result on the quote random page was this.))

( I'm only posting this stupid thing because I like the answer. )


((OOC note: the "hostage bait? what hostage bait? >_>" protection program is in place on this entry.))

There's nothing quite like getting a panicked phone call at four in the morning from a dumbass in the supervillain community--I'm not naming names--who has gone and lost his doomsday device. He mentions what it's worth to him, though, and next thing I know I'm in Norway for the last ten days hunting it down. It should have been done in a night, but things got weird. Yes, even by my standards.

Incidentally, about two-thirds of the populations of Vest-Agder, Aust-Agder, and Rogaland probably remain very, very baffled as to what the hell just happened. Sucks to be them. They should just be glad they exist right now, because if I was the type to stumble, they wouldn't. So no bitching, Norway, or I'm sending the supervillain AND his weapon back over there in a crate, because you all deserve each other.

In short: not dead, yadda yadda, and the various job offers that came in during my surprise vacation will be dealt with shortly. Business as usual.


((OOC note: the "nobody here but us badasses! >_>" filter protection program is in place on this entry.))

Oh look, a meme. Try to contain yourselves.

Respond to this post and I will give you the three words (or phrases) that I think MOST accurately describe you. Whether you like them or not is your problem, not mine. I honestly do not give a rat's ass if you then post this meme yourself.



( OOC note )

I take offense at this.

You Are Elektra

There's really no superhero with more style than you. Because who could beat being sexy assasin ninja?

Not only was I a ninja way before she was, but Elektra is a crazy bitch and I will not be told otherwise.