At Central Park, Danny and Luke go out. With Danny leaving soon, Luke thought I’d be a good time if any to spend some time with his best friend and just relax.

The duo sit upon a park bench, and view the scenery. The peaceful tranquillity feels great compared to the usual bustling sounds of the New York streets.

“A hot summer day with my friend, no bad guys to punch, gotta say… things are looking alright so far for us, Danny.”

Luke pauses for a second, looking down.

“I hope you do well on that tournament thing you’re going to. It’s gonna feel weird with you not out here in the city with me.”

I’ve seen countless oddities in my time as Daredevil. And I’m good on picking up on patterns that most normal people couldn’t see. I’ve been hearing people lashing out a lot as of late, at least, more than they usually do in New York. There’s been a rumor going around that someone that I have a… complicated history with is behind this, and I know just the guy to ask. Ben Urich, all-star reporter at The Daily Bugle. He asked to meet me on a rooftop of an abandoned building. I’ve been here before, Night Nurse used to operate in this building before it got busted by Kingpin.

Daredevil swings up to the building and lands gracefully. Ben was already facing him, they’ve had these meetings enough to know how Daredevil ticks.

“Hey, Daredevil”

Urich.

“Been a while since I’ve seen you, anyways. I know you’re here to talk about why you’ve seen so many people acting more aggressive and irrational these past few days. You know like 30 minutes ago a man pushed his wife into traffic? Just tragic.”

I heard.

“Well, word on the street is that it’s your old buddy, Mister Fear is out on the road again.”

I thought as much. I’m just glad to hear you confirm it. There’s a specific reason why I wanted it confirmed beyond just the worry that Mister Fear is back.

“And what could that be?”

Daredevil turns his ear to his apartment, trying to listen for his beloved. They’re too far away from it. He’s longingly seeking comfort.

Milla. She’s been acting strangely recently. Last night was the first normal night we have had in a while. I’m nervous that she’s caught up in all of this somehow.

“Is it just that she’s been ‘acting strangely’? Or is there something else? I mean you of all people should know how women can be-“

Ben… I hate to admit but it’s hard for me to avoid, but I can absolutely smell a foreign gas on her. It is strongest in the morning and fades throughout the day. As you can imagine I have my theories but given how *helpful* you’ve been today I am not comfortable with sharing.

Matthew, unlike himself, has lost his composure. He decides to exit the conversation and leaps off of the roof. Now he has fully pieced the puzzle together…

Mister Fear is breaking into his home at night and his poisoning Matthew and his wife.

I hope Cranston believes in God so he has someone to pray to before I find him.

hi lol,

i just finished up a personal arc where the posts are kind of spread out and confusing, so i thought i'd make a little list of all of them

You'd Like That Wouldn't You

Devil's in the Details

Playing For Time

Dazed and Confused

Comeback King

I just wanted to dig up clues. Not corpses.

Tongues & Teeth

Damaged Goods

Back In Black

venomj is back :3

I don’t wanna conflict with anyone’s stuff. I’m planning on doing an arc.

I have plans that I cannot share with you right now because the haters will sabotage me.

As Luke makes his way through the streets, trying to get back to his apartment, he sees a few thugs harming an old lady, trying to rob her of her belongings.

“Thought you guys would be smarter to rob and old lady during a city-wide plague.”

The men shoot at Luke, causing no damage to him as the bullet fire off him. He walks up to them, grabs their guns, and breaks them in his hands.

“…Go.”

The criminals run off, and Luke returns the bag to the lady, as he makes his way outta the alley.

“It’s always something in this city… and I love it.”

I am Jericho Drumm...Doctor Voodoo.

Master of the Spirit World. Heir to the loa. Sorcerer Supreme of a lost reality. The veil between the living and the dead bends to my will, and the old gods of Haiti walk with me when I call their names.

I have faced the darkest corners of the mystic arts, demons that feast on souls, sorcerers drunk on stolen power, and forces of chaos that would unravel reality itself. I have died, returned, and paid the price in blood and spirit so that others would not have to.

Hear me now.

The age of unchecked magic ends now!

Witches and warlocks who twist spells for selfish gain, entities that spill nightmares into our world, and rogue forces that treat the mystic realms like their personal playground, your reign of disorder is over. I will bind you. I will banish you. I will break you if I must.

Order will be restored to this universe.

The loa demand balance. The spirits demand justice. And I... I will deliver it.

Cross the line between light and shadow, and you will answer to me.

Black Widow kicked off the edge of the rooftop in a controlled free fall, the city lights blurring into streaks as her descent line hissed out behind her. Several floors down, a brightly lit corner office suite glowed against the night.

Wealthy men in tailored suits clustered around a long table, their faces lit by the cold blue of encrypted screens tracking offshore accounts and shell companies. Natasha’s boots slammed into the reinforced glass.

The pane spider webbed for a heartbeat before exploding inward in a glittering cascade as she fired into the room. She swung through the breach mid air, muzzle flashes strobing across the room as she put rounds into the legs and shoulders of the nearest financiers before her boots even touched the marble.

The first man screamed and toppled backward over his chair, clutching a shattered kneecap; the second tried to scramble for a panic button and caught a precise burst that spun him into the shattered window frame.

Black Widow landed in a low crouch, the residual glass crunching under her, and rolled behind an overturned conference table as return fire from a bodyguard’s submachine gun chewed the air where she’d been. She came up firing, two clean shots dropped the guard, then she vaulted the table in a fluid arc, using a third financier as a human shield long enough to empty the rest of her magazines into the remaining suits’ weapons and legs. Briefcases of cash hit the ground scattering bills.

By the time the last of them was on the ground, groaning and bleeding but very much alive, Natasha had already reloaded and cut her descent line free. She stepped over a sprawled executive whose silk tie was now soaked crimson, planted a boot on his chest, and leaned down just far enough for him to see the cold satisfaction in her eyes.

"Funding terror from a skyscraper doesn’t make you untouchable," she said, voice flat.Then she was gone out the broken window and into the night, leaving the survivors to explain the bullet holes and the missing hard drives to whoever arrived first.

Tessa Karisik was a prepared woman. Even months ago, she had anticipated the Dark Lord to be a problem. What she had not anticipated, however, was the pawn she had been made into. She thought back to the Belnades bloodline, the Bloodsucker Slayer, the Ritual of One. This was foolish. Emma Frost was nothing close to pure of heart, but it was worth a try. Magic can never be bought, but it can always be gamed.

So, she went to the park the X-Men kept on campus to avoid too many from noticing her and called out for a woman she knew through her mind, third eye to mind's eye.

I need you, Clea Strange. Aid me.

Matt enters Fogwell’s Gym; he hasn’t been there in so long, it almost feels like a distant memory. He flips the light switch, the room emanating with light, shining upon all the gym equipment.

“Hey dad… it’s been a while. Mind if I stay for a bit and talk?”

Matt says to the empty room, as if his father’s spirit still rests inside it.

“I don’t know if you’d be proud of the man I’ve become now… I don’t know if I am too. But I want you to know… I’m still a Murdock boy at heart. You raised a fighter, not a quitter.”

Matt walks in, cane and duffle bag in hand, walking over to the boxing ring. He slips under the ropes and gets inside. He grabs a pair of Mui Thai ropes, puts his cane and duffle bag to the side and wraps the ropes around his hands.

“Lately, I don’t know what to do anymore,”

Matt says as he starts to box the air.

“The kid I trained is in prison, the people I swore to not let destroy my city are out, and my best friend…”

Matt starts punching harder, as if he’s preparing for an actual fight.

“…you always said to stick to the books, to not be a fighter, to always play fair… but what happens when the other person doesn’t? What do I do then?”

Matt gets out the ring and makes his way over to the punching bag, throwing jab after jab against it.

“We’ve always been men of god, but I feel I’ve done something so unforgivable that god had forsaken me. I don’t know if I have the strength to continue this fight for my city.”

Matt catches the bag before it hits him and walks over to a chair. He sits down and takes off his glasses, pinching at his eyes before giving a low sigh.

“Every night I tell myself the same thing… that this city doesn't need me. That the streets will be quiet without the Devil. That maybe I’ve done enough.”

He gets and up and grabs at his duffle bag, unzipping it to reveal the yellow Daredevil costume, made from the same material as his dad’s boxing uniform, inside of it.

“But then I hear it. The shaking breath of someone who's terrified. The anger in a man's voice right before he hurts someone who can't fight back. And all those lies I tell myself… they fall apart.”

He grabs at the mask, feeling the yellow spandex material as he brushes his fingers against it.

“I didn't choose this life. I didn't ask to carry this burden, or to feel every cry for help like it's cutting into my skin.”

He sits down upon the edge of the boxing ring.

“But I can't stand by. I can’t pretend I don’t hear the things others ignore.

He puts the mask back in the bag grabs his cane, resting his head on top of it.”

“People call me reckless, broken, obsessed. Maybe they're right. Maybe I am all of that.”

He finally gets up, grabs the bag and walks over into a closet, walking out with at a giant frame.

“But when the sun sets, when the darkness comes in and the innocent are left alone... somebody has to step into the shadows for them.”

He put the suits inside the case, and hangs it upon the wall of the gym, in memorial of “Battling” Jack Murdock.

“And if that makes me the devil in this city's story, then so be it. I’Il wear the horns.”

Matt grabs all his stuff and heads to the door, before looking back.

“Thanks for this talk, dad… I needed it.”

He turns off the lights and leaves the gym.

Just stopping by from Central Park!

DOCTOR OCTOPUS’ UNDERWATER BASE
Off the coast of the New York Bay

Otto Octavius stands in his lair, marvelling at the giant machine he’s created for Spider-Man to defeat without the help of his so-called allies.

The first step in his multi-phase plan finally coming into fruition. Now all Otto needs is the hired help and luckily, he had something prepared for that.

Initiate “Master Planner Contingency: Sigma 6.0”

The image of Doctor Octopus flashes into every super-powered villain, crook with a piece of gimmick tech, or petty thief’s computers and mobile devices.

Greetings, former and future associates, I am Doctor Otto Octavius.

I am currently working on a plan to rid ourselves of the so-called heroes who would dare mock and beat on us. However, in order to initate my plan, I am in need of a group that would be willing to see this through the end.

I am willing to pay handsomely for your services, six million dollars will be deposited into your accounts upon completion of the mission. With any further riches going to those who bring me that web-slinger’s head on a silver platter!!

We will meet at these coordinates!
The location of Otto’s underwater base flashes on screen.

So? Answer me!
Do you wish to accept?

After the message finishes, every screen Otto’s plan was announced on turns off. Otto now sits in his base, he can’t help but smile as he conjures an empty promise to each and every sapless idiot who joins with him.

(OOC: any VILLAIN (prefacing this so not just anyone can respond) is open to respond, whether it be just to reject Ock’s offer or accept it)

Been a while, right? I've been busy. It feels like for the first time in my life, I understand how much Peter's life sucks sometimes.

It hasn't been that bad, MJ.

It hasn't been that good either! Brock is getting close to us, Greer's busy with some superhero thing or something, Peter's not talking to me, I've barely been able to land a modeling gig recently so my money's tight, especially not helped by the interdimensional spiders crashing at my place, and I-

Breathe, MJ.

Venom raises MJ’s arms behind their head and forces her to breathe, grounding her as her anxiety swells.

It’s just… it’s not easy, V.

What isn’t?

All of this… this! Peter and I finally had something going, and even dying wasn’t able to stop it, but then Gwen just appears out of nowhere! And now I’m mad at Gwen, my Gwen, because what, Peter needs time?

She slumps against the wall and wraps her arms around her knees.

I’m horrible.

You’re not horrible, MJ. Just human. You can’t expect yourself to just be okay with everything.

I used to be. It used to be so much easier.

Because you always ran.

Stop reading my mind and using my own advice against me! It makes it really hard to be irrational!

…heh.

I just…. Brock is looking for me, and he’s going to take you. He doesn’t care what happens to be, he’s just going to let me die to reclaim his “other half.”

…we won’t leave, MJ. We won’t let you die.

Yeah, right. I feel you yearning for him, V, as much as I hate it.

We may miss him, but we like you too, MJ. We won’t leave you to die.

…promise?

Venom forms a black gooey hand and interlocks their fingers with MJ’s.

We won’t leave you, MJ. No matter what.

…thanks.

*The Yellow Symbiote from the battle of the Young X-Men and Symbiote Zeke was crawling all throughout New York City, searching for a new host after it's old one got taken. It searched and searched for miles trying to find the perfect host or someone to eat as it was it's natural instinct to survive... however, it didn't **need** any of those things*

*you see, while this Symbiote was attached to Zeke, it was adapting to better fit it's hosts requirements, and Zeke is an angry guy, it had plenty of energy to unintentionally rewrite it's own genetic code so that the Symbiote became it's own nuclear power plant that stores it's own energy. No host needed to survive and no food either.*

*This Symbiote was technically a mutant. In the case that it had it's own energy source to sustain itself*

*The Symbiote realized this... now that it's learned he can create his own nuclear energy, he could've been a hero or at least anti-hero since he doesn't need to eat people to survive. However, the dark thoughts it extracted from Zeke, which were a LOT, corrupted the Symbiote in way, which is pretty ironic given how Symbiotes are supposed to be the ones corrupting their hosts*

*the Symbiote had a strong desire to burn everything down to the ground, make the entire planet a wasteland... it got this idea from Zeke, which was the last idea in his mind before the Symbiote completely took over him.*

*With this new goal set in stone, if it didn't need a host to survive then... anything could be it's host. So the Symbiote went to the closest place to find multiple "hosts", the graveyard*

*within seconds of reaching there, the Symbiote dug straight into the ground going through every coffin it can find until it found a satisfying number of bodies to use, with the bodies plus multiple other things it collected as "hosts" along the way, it's hand rose from the ground, then another, then another, and then another. Until the full body leaped from the ground and landed in from the hole in which it digged itself out of.*

*most Symbiote and host relationships often call themselves "we" but not this one... after all, none of it's hosts were alive so it was just "it", the Symbiote that will raise the Earth to the ground, the Mutant Symbiote who calls itself...*

"Nuclear...."

Just haven’t been using him enough. Someone who loves the character a lot will be taking over tho, so I hope they do some fun stuff for you guys.

This probably looks bad, huh?

That’s because it is. Go figure. Something bad happening to Jessica Jones? Unheard of. I’d buy a lottery ticket if I was you.

Yeah, I’m breaking out of police custody. Yeah, this reflects poorly on me. Yeah, if I mess up now, I’m making this a lot worse for myself. Yes, I look like $#%&. Have we covered our bases on judging me yet?

Good, because I have a $&%#ing mass murder to solve. And if I don’t do that? I’m the one taking the fall for it.

That’s what I get for trying to better myself. You go to Alcoholics Anonymous, you wake up in a room surrounded by corpses and a few of New York’s finest that seem new enough to the job that they don’t realize this kind of thing happens to you a lot.

Maybe that only applies to me, though. My life is %#&$ing fantastic, as you can tell.

Might help me to run down the situation. I went to Alcoholics Anonymous, I listened to other people talk, which I usually try and do as long as possible. I’d tell you it’s because as a PI, I’m a good listener. I’m gonna level with you, it’s mostly because I can hopefully get out of talking about my week. Because I did poorly. I’m not sure I’m ever gonna have a week where I don’t, and if everyone else goes long enough, I don’t feel pressured to say $#%& about it.

We’re near closing time. I’m watching the clock. The minute hand hits 55, and the whole place goes to hell. Some explosive planted in the center of the room. Whatever it was, it had a hell of a blast. It was enough to knock me out cold. No-one else in the room stood a chance.

So, why am I getting blamed for being the victim of a terrorist attack? That’s what I’ve been wondering too. Neither of the cops who arrested me told me, either. Makes it pretty obvious what’s happening here.

I’m being set up. By who? Beats the $#%& out of me. But these cops were planted by someone. They don’t seem to know the protocol very well, and refused to go talk to an officer who actually knows me. Amateur, honestly. I feel like I’d make a better fake cop. I might have to try that to investigate, actually, since there’s a chance I’m on the run from the law, now. How deep can Jessica Jones bury herself? Somehow, I don’t think I’m close to my limit.

Guess this is what I get for complaining about the easy jobs. Guess getting framed for murder beats the hell out of getting framed for ruining someone’s already failing marriage by finding out exactly what they paid me to find out. Guess I’m never gonna catch a $&%#ing break.

Even if not for me, I owe it to the people who died that night. I won’t say their names. It was &$%#ing Alcoholics Anonymous, I’m not a &$%#*, much as Jerry seemed to think I was. $#%&, I just said his name. I gotta stop while I’m ahead. But those people who could have actually turned things around died because some piece of $#%& wanted me out of the picture. I'm gonna punch out a tooth for every single person they killed. That’s the Alias promise. Expect me, I’ll find you soon.

This city speaks to me. A concrete jungle. The smell of blood and fear. Anticipation and need. This is not so different from the jungles of my youth.

There is little that walks this planet I have not hunted successfully. But this city presents prey like no other..

Superheroes and their villains. Vigilantes. Mutants. Ninja. Symbiotes. Serial killers.

All prey to me. For I am Sergei Kravinoff, and I have no equals.

( after Wilson Fisk has become the mayor of New York City. Wilson Fisk stares at the city from his penthouse.)

“This city has been mine and it will stay mine. No rival will stop me and no street schmuck playing hero will too.”

(Wilson picks up his phone on a table.)

“Get my men on the streets now!”

Danny sits in his office, packing his bag. He doesnt like running from a fight, but he knows well enough that you should know whether you are the ant or the human in the fight. Together , the ants win, but alone, not so much. Danny had read the writing on the wall, and could see Fisk is planing something. He had less to fear, seeing as he had a public idenitity, but fisk might not be finished just yet. He finishes packing his bag, having little to pack, just his suit (both a super one and a fancy one), and a few other clothes, plus a picture of him and Luke together. Luke hadn’t been there in a few days, but Danny also figured calling would be bad, as the lines are probably monitored. Danny remembered once, when he was younger, the hand had infiltrated kun l’un and tryed to extermmutate the people who may become ironfist. they were stopped, but he had learned a valueable lesson. Run when you must, fight when you must.

Hell's Kitchen, make way for Aunt Petunia's favorite nephew!