Dark Reign - Marvel Bobic Roleplaying

[Samurai]

Iron Fist is still manipulating his nose.

"No police station can hold Tombstone, and we can't just let him go. But something about this feels wrong -- it's almost like he's trying to convince us to take him with us. Before we take him anywhere, we should check him for a wire or tracker.

"Volunteers?" he asks, looking pointedly at Cage.

[Rip]

"Man, I ain't friskin this mofucka. If he bein' tracked, and it leads back to Osborn, then it's nanites anyway. Anyone o you wanna feel 'im up tho, hey, it's a New Avengers kinda world."

[Rip]

((Just FYI, I'm totally cool with just jumping to the next Action Scene to get the game going again. If there are no objections, actually, I'll go ahead and take the reins this evening, and will probably just render the decision moot.

This also might be a good time to check in on who's most interested in continuing on a more regular basis, and who's already got their taste of the system and ready to bow out?))

[Samurai]

((OKwithjumpcut.com -- and as you likely surmised, still in.))

[Zengus]

((Yeah, jump is fine. I am definitely still in))

[Rip]

((Okilydoke; I'll move you two into the next phase of the game ASAP either today or tomorrow afternoon))

[Zengus]

((I will prepare myself))

[Nick]

((shit this is still going?? fuck I'm out of the pool))

[Zengus]

((RIIIIP shots fired (or soon planned to, anyway). Riff off this if you want or let it die, the choice is yours))



"Motherfuckers didn't know shit," Clint mumbled, only it came out more like "Mrrffrgrs d'in know shiiii." He brushed his teeth a little more angrily, pacing around the dingy offgrid apartment he'd been crashing in since the escalation of the war. A few days since the dock incident, and none of their leads had gone anywhere. It was getting harder and harder to feel like this ragtag group was accomplishing anything at all. All they were doing was failing to stop shipments of god only knows what, questioning enemy combatants that never crack because they know they'll just be released unharmed, and all the while the true powers at play must surely be making strides toward whatever their awful goal is...

"This ain't working!" he proclaimed, to no one in particular.

He spit, rinsed his mouth, drank some water, and sat on the john, thinking man style. Yeah, maybe it was time to try a new approach.

I'm gonna kill Norman Osborn. I'm seriously gonna do it. We're running out of chances, I have to do something. Today's the day I start planning.

Twenty minutes later he was dressed in loose jeans, a baggy hoodie, and douchebag sunglasses. A cursory inspection in the mirror showed him an aging hoodrat and not an internationally known asskicker. He patted his side and felt his bow strapped to its holster there, collapsed into a square shape about the size of a dictionary. One more reason to be glad he'd made the switch to composites a few years ago, couldn't do that with a longbow. He turned and posed a little bit to see which motions made it or the low quiver down his back visible through his clothes. The hoodie did a pretty good job of masking them and the tactical compression suit he had on under all, god bless stupid kids these days. Today was going to be spent casing Norman's known hangouts, looking for a good place to stage a hit, and if he could learn anything new about the man, that would be good too.

I'm ready, he thought on the exhale, and stepped out.

[Samurai]

Danny Rand has been concentrating on some shipping manifests liberated from some of the most recent shipment, trying to make sense of their destinations, so he barely notices as Barton crosses the room in civvies. But he certainly hears the door and looks up as it closes.

"Clint? Where's he going, I wonder?"