Tom BITD

The room where the cartoon scientist met his creator was shrouded in darkness. He moved around the man who claimed to send him off into the world of Heavenside fully formed, the evenly spaced mirrors only giving him his own reflection. "I am doing important work here." You are doing the work of John Reinhart, because he created you. "But you say you created me." I created all of this, just as I created other worlds with other people like you. The cartoon scientist raised his head up, causing his thick goggles to catch reflections of moonlight, altering it and twisting it in odd ways. "But my people must embrace the future...and make it their own." And there are other worlds whose future will end without your help, Doktor. I know this won't entice you, but I have a little carrot to go with that stick. "It's not a jet pack, is it?" Oh no, something far more interesting. You were created to be a tulpa of John Reinhart...a little Pinnocchio to enact the old cobbler's plans while he rots in prison. But what if I could make cut your strings, little puppet...and make you a real boy. "You can't do that!" Of course I can. All it takes is a number of keystrokes and you get to live a real life. And all you have to do is join the rest of my band on a handful of missions. So do you hunger to be a real boy, Pinnocchio? Or are you content to be just a toy that thinks it's a boy? The cartoon scientist turned towards one of the many mirrors. "I need to bring Nursie--" No "But I'm important! I'm a movement! An avatar of a movement! An avatar and a movement! I need protection." I've already provided for that. You'll like her. She has wings. The cartoon scientist continued to stare into the mirror, and the figure began to worry if he was about to go into a fugue state. So do you want your strings cut or not? "Think of what I can do." That's the ticket. Now come....time is at a premium. Let's meet your mates and get to work. "What sort of work?" The figure smirked. Revision. (Oh, and by the way, Des...before you figured out what I was doing, how did you come to the conclusion I was coming for David Kohl? chuckles)

I am so swamped with stuff to do today that once again I am caught with my pants--and my intro story--down.... So let me just throw out that my next pick is... Police exorcist and Christina Ricci lookalike Alice Hotwire.

Here's my problem, the voice inside her head said as she swooped in to surprise the small grouping of cybernetic terrorists. Her guns barked, each bullet reaching key exposed spots areas in their wetware, splattering the soft tissue and shattering the bones underneath. In gathering up this team, I've chosen certain members with skills essential to getting the job done--but they're fragile. Even one of the posthumans is so delicate he'd break like glass if the wrong psychopath comes at him in the right way. She opened her mouth to let out an ear-shattering shriek. This was her statement of existence and her battlecry. Two of the terrorists who remained alive turned weapons larger than they should be able to carry on her and fired--but she was already gone, powerful wings carrying her out of the blast range. They need a bodyguard. They need someone who can keep them alive under the most adverse conditions. Now at first, I had thought of getting a real bruiser of an operative...but then I realized that speed and accuracy might be the best way to go. As the woman lit down on the ground of the military compound, her eyes were already on the object she was set to shut down. She strode forward, expending the last bullets in the clips of each gun on routing the decidedly non-cybernetic terrorists charging toward her. "You are quite talkative for a figment of my imagination." The other way around, I would think, the voice in her head muttered before speaking up. You are the fastest flying mammal on Earth, Shen. You can keep an eye on my band of revisionists and strike from the air in the time it takes for some idiot with a gun to think about pulling the trigger. You are perfect for the job. "I have a job," the Asian woman shot back. She twitched slightly and swung to the left, letting one of her wings knock a rapidly approaching miscreant off his feet. With one fast, blindingly quick move, she dropped the used clip to the ground, reloaded her gun, and shot the man in the knee. He howled in pain. A job where you swore to defend the world. The job I offer you is one where you defend all the worlds--this one, the ones of your fellow team members, and more than you can possibly imagine. She approached the strange object which resembled a tall safe, with a number of color coded dials on its front. "I have a bioweapon to disarm, voice." Understood. But when you're done, go to the nearest door and walk through. You'll find me and your new team waiting for you. "You seem quite confident, voice." I am. I know you intimately. "So you're a stalker," she sneered as she kneeled down before the device. Not a stalker, per se. Let's say...a patron.

That's how I got away with Spider Jerusalem...and my next pick...

"I just want to understand this," the disheveled man with white-blonde hair muttered in the mirror at the shadow that lay within. Even though his instinct told him that this was just a manifestation of mental instability. "You say this is one of an endless string of Earths." Yes. "And something--or somethings--is happening that may destroy all these worlds." Yes . "And to stop this thing, or things, you need me." Yes. The form in the mirror shifted positions. The people I am gathering are different levels of brilliant--some are through the roof smart. But they're....problematic, narrow-minded, likely to overlook the fine details when they're out in the field looking for the threads that are unraveling into the aether. Sometimes, the threat isn't all that clear. Sometimes they'll need to uncover it. And I need you as a stopgap. You're a gifted detective; you can be the one to see those fine details and keep these loose minds focused. He rubbed the nape of his neck. "And why would I indulge my madness in joining you?" Why wouldn't you want to? You know this place is a cesspool, Richard. You're wasting your potential and you're wasting your life. Name one reason you would stay here. "There's Mayko." There are Snowtowns much better than this, Richard...with much more well-adjusted Maykos. You could find one that fits you better. The blonde man smirked. "I suppose you want me to do something like walk through this mirror." Of course not, the shade in the mirror said with a laugh. I have a more direct method of transport. Welcome to The Bastards, Detective Fell.

"They must not be working, these drugs. Must get the filthy assistant to buy new ones. Sparkly ones. Ones that make me think angularly." I would think you wouldn't resist, Spider. The opportunity to explore new vistas don't come along every day. The thin man who could be thirty, could be a very well preserved ninety, pushed his glasses up onto his nose and shuffled across the cluttered confines of his bedroom. Dozens of screens showed dozens of different channels, their innane chatter all contributing to the weird white noise that was a counterpoint to their conversation. "I don't like adventure. I don't like places adventures take place in. I don't like people you have to talk to to have adventures." So that includes me . "That fact does not make you a special snowflake." But we need you . "And why are you deluded thusly?" The man was presently sorting through a chest of drawers, removing an impressive variety of pill bottles and shaking them to see if anything remained within. Because every band of bastards needs its troubadour, the one man who will put pen to paper and tell their stories. The man who will spread their legend, make them into what they will be. I had hoped the bastards would have you, Spider. I had hoped the chance to see The Editors brought low-- The man rose. He turned slowly, one eyebrow raised above the mismatched lenses. "Editors?" Yes. I'd wager you'd hate them more than anything. He faced the place in the room where he thought the drugs had placed the figure. "I've got too much to do here." What, sitting in your room? When you could be discovering one thing you love more than anything? When he remained silent and motionless save for the absent way he scratched his belly, the hallucination in human form continued. The Truth, Mr. Jerusalem. Come with me, and you get to reveal The Truth. The man stood there for a moment. Slowly, his mouth twisted into a grin. It was not an improvement to his looks. if anything, it made him appear predatory.. "Let me get my jacket."

On what my theme is...or who it is, Des?

It was proving to be a very, very dark and stormy night. She could feel the chill of the downpour on her face, matting her rather impressive coiffure of crimson locks to her skull. Droplets slid down her leather outfit to pool at the edge of the small cornice that jutted out less than a foot from the facade. She checked her pistol, cocked it, looked down the twenty stories to the streets below. Later on, when her handler would pull her out of this city made of 1's and 0's, her world would turn grey and lifeless again, and she would struggle to show any interest in what happened around her. But here...here she was dangerous. Have you thought about what it might be like to be like this, wild and beautiful and dangerous all the time . "Not now," she whispered. "Working." You can't pretend to ignore me all the time. I know you. I know how much you hate emerging from these artificial worlds and moving through the here and now. I know how you want to romp through worlds full of electric light bulb pistols and flying viking ships all the time. I know you want to be Anna all the time. "Not now," she whispered again, more insistent. "Working." You have a certain skill set. You have experience in moving between different realities. You can help the other chosen operatives cope. And you can have what you always wanted. You can be the woman of our dreams 24/7. And all you have to do is come with me." "In case you hadn't noticed, you're a disembodied voice and I'm on a window ledge on a very tall building about to leap off in an effort to land on a floating ship destined to destroy hundreds of sad psuedo-people." Don't worry about. I can provide transport. All you have to provide, Anna Mercury-- "Not my name." It will be to me, and to everyone I recruit. Are you game? When Anna Mercury leapt into space, there was a hole hanging in the air beneath her. The raiders preparing to commit a terrorist act in the name of Nikolai Tesla looked up, swords and guns at the ready to defend their beautiful ship. And she was gone. There was a bigger matter to attend to.

The fire was at his back. He knew this because he caused the inferno that scorched the air around him and brought the smell of burnt flesh to his nostrils. For a moment he was going to walk away...but first he stopped and lit his cigarette in the dancing flames. He took a first inhalation of nicotine before snapping up the collar of his trenchcoat and heading away. He was thirsty. A pint would taste rather good right now. Why did you do that? "Go away, voice in my head," he muttered. "It is time for drink." Let me guess, the voice in his head sneered. It needed doing. "Those now ex-bastards," he replied with gritted teeth, "were abducting nascent mutant children and slaughtering them, utilizing their DNA to create a designer steroid. If removing them from the human race didn't need doing, I don't know what does." Is this what you're going to do for the rest of your life? Go from one backwater to another snuffing out the lives of those who would prey on mutants for heinous purposes? "Did I not already tell you, voice, to go away?" What if I told you, the voice countered, that there's something else you can do with your life, Pete Wisdom? Something that can affect all mutantkind positively? Something so massive it can shake the foundations not only of this world, but all the worlds that's out there, worlds you may have suspected existed but had no proof? Something...that needs doing. Pete Wisdom, formerly of MI-13, stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to watch his handiwork and took another drag off his cigarette. "Alright," he muttered. "I'm listening."

I just figured out the unifying theme of this crew...and if I can pull it off, it will be The Single Most Awesome Series Eeeevvvah...

Another question-- If you want a Wildstorm character who appeared BEFORE Wildstorm was absorbed into DC, and who hasn't appeared in the mainstream Wildstorm Universe (this character is a Homage imprint character)--would it be allowed?

Although it occurs to me...if the non-comics character I want was, let's say, published by DC--does that eliminate my DC pick?

I'll give it a shot...

Oh no. Kurtzman and Orci....two names that, like Purvis and Wade, chill the blood of anyone who enjoys movies.....

The Engineer The Soldier The Force of Nature The Enforcer The Gentlemen The Monstrosity The Fatal Beauty Someone has to keep an eye on the darkening clouds on humanity's horizon.... Welcome to Justice League Stormfront.