Union plot: Operation White Tiger

One Doctor Edward Johnson aka the infamous Dr Mechano stood over a skeletal humanoid robotic form. The lights were down low, illuminating only the metallic body and a pair of faces. The grey skinned, elderly face of Edward who was making the last adjustments. The other the balding middle aged face of Professor David Thulian, Edwards' top research scientist and inventor of the blackhole gun.

"Well, lets begin this shall we, Mr Knightly was kind enough to provide the clothes, now we shall begin the next step, creating the replicant, now we've taken the holographic photos....I honestly can't believe she let me take those, we shall put on the synthetic skin over the...well you know how this goes, there's no point me telling you things you already know Professor."

"Oh quite Doctor, now since you've dragged me off my very important research for this, would you mind filling me in exactly why you've got it in for this particular woman?"

"Well she has always vexxed me somewhat, I don't hate her, I just find her a deeply annoying and I've decided that in order to get her back for all this vexing I should humilate her...well that and I feel it's been too long since I got into old fashion villainy business again."

Edward and David move the body into the mould, "oh...you did bring the wig as well right Dave?"

"Oh yes, made with real hair that I shaved off of many cats..."

"Good, Good..."

"Oh besides the humilation of course I will be getting her in trouble, we do have the holographic emitters correct?"

"Oh yes, while they won't strictly be Kheldian powers, they will look them and the overload will be highly lethal to those in the vicinity, activated at your command"

"This could affect the business you know?"

"Oh yes but boredom and villainy outweigh the needs to keep the company running."

Edward chuckled to himself, "well now, she'll be complete in a couple of hours we'll do a test run...and make sure the correct people don't interfere...the newspapers tomorrow will be filled with an interesting story...

((Stay tuned, there will be more tomorrow, this is just the setup post...oh and what happened in Pocket D last night was just the tip of the iceberg)).

Today: 4:30pm
Edward set infront of a desk, monitors arrayed infront of him.

"The world may have forgotten but I remember Ellie Stoneberg, I remember what got you in trouble a few years ago, let me see if I can't repeat that incident."

The Ellie Imposter ((henceforth refered to as the Elliebot)) had made her way into a very upmarket resturant, Edward having already pre-booked the table. Of course she got stares, that was going to happen after the charade in Pocket D.

Edward was looking through her eyes, making sure that there were no children present, he wasn't a complete monster after all. He observed her ordering from the menu, flirting with the waitress and now waiting for her food.

"Ok let us move from humilation to aggrevation..."

Edward entered the command code and the Elliebot doubled over in pain, he fired off the visual effects, making it look as if Kheldian energy was pouring from her uncontrollably, filling the place with an eyesearing blue and white light.

Then the explosion, the building shook to its very foundation and begun to collapse in on itself, burying the men and women underneath the rubble. He had made sure to make the Elliebot durable enough to survive, he needed her to be seen flying away from the scene after all. Blasting through the rubble the Elliebot took off at high speed, she would make a few stops to make sure to lose anyone or anything tracking her before returning back to the factory, after this her fuel cells would need recharging.

Edward chuckled to himself, Ellie had lost control of her powers many years ago and suffered majorly for it, hoping to repeart such an incident, especially since this time people got hurt.

He knew she would deny it, provide witness to prove she wasn't there but in denying it the distrust of her among the unpowered populous would only grow. This fear would drive up customers for his New You program, he would hold Ellie up as an example of how dangerous meta-humans could be...

Edward sat in his big, comfortable office chair, feet up on the desk. Reading a selection of todays newspapers...some of the less reputable ones were doing their usual thing, spouting off this and that about Ellie.

"Ah the guttertrash press, is there any bandwagon you won't jump on..."

He picked up the Paragon Times and read the article by Samantha Christophe.

"Hmm it seems as though there is one smart person among the press after all...now that just won't do will it...or can it...now if I silence opposition to the view that Ellie is a drunkard with uncontrollable Kheldian powers then it is going to look too suspect but all it takes is one dissenting opinion to sway the public...hmm I shall have to think about this...Steve fetch me my thinking coffee!"

Sunday Night, A mansion somewhere....



The woman screamed, almost silently, she had torn off the sleeve of her shirt, desperately balling it up and shoving it into her own mouth to silence the pain born sobs that leaked from her pretty pink lips, the reason for her pain, the cruel rusted teeth of a bear trap, that had savagely closed around her ankle, biting bone deep and resisting stubbornly each of her desperate attempts to pry it open.

Nearby on a thick brown leather chair sits a man, his fashion sense could be described as new romantic meets post nineties goth, or in a more timely manner, Johnny Depp in any Tim Burton film ever. Despite the young woman’s obvious suffering he was simply reading the paper, an article about the heroine Tiger White and her seemingly manic slip into to chaos.

A smile curled his lips as a wicked plot snuck into his brain, a way to hit two birds with one stone, no, he corrected himself, three birds with one stone. He peered over his paper at the terrorized young woman.

“One can survive almost anything in a dream...” he paused in brief thought “Well except death of course Katarina.”

The young woman’s fingers were white with strain as she desperately tried to open the trap, from outside the door came heavy footsteps, prompting her to squeal with terror, as a deep sound like Rumdiggerdiggerdigger started up, the library door lurched as the blade of a madly spinning chainsaw burst through it, a crazy looking, bug eyed bald and probably inbred redneck peering through the gash in the door and loudly hollering.

“Wooooheeeee lookie boss I done caught a sweeeeeeeet piggy!” he capered around before attacking the door again.

The dandy dressed man slid from his seat to give the woman, who now tried futilely to drag herself and the bear trap across the floor, a florid bow.

“Do try not to die Katarina...” he shook his head ruefully “Really now Mansion Maniacs Five, just before bed? You’re disappointing me young lady.”

With that said the man faded, forming into black smoke and disappearing like a dream in the morning light. With a lurch, the door broke open....

Kings Row apartment block, 5/5/2012, 21:37pm

Samantha Christophe had gone home earlier than normal, for an evening of take away Up-And-Away burger, fries and an old movie or two. The apartment was as much a tip as ever, with a steadily growing stacked pile of take-away boxes mixed with plates that had held meals that were at least making an attempt to be more healthy stood by the sofa. Sam currently occupied it, lounged out like a cat, with a tray on her stomach, dressed only in an old black tank-top and some grey boxer-shorts.

So it came as a mild surprise for the door buzzer to go, especially given the time. With a curse and stream of grumbling the reporter moved the tray to the table and traipsed to the door. Where she promptly began peering through the peep-hole.

There was no one on the other side. A quick check at floor level also showed that no one was simply crouching out of sight. That caused a raised eyebrow.
A moment later the three bolts and one security chain all slid back, and the door eased open.

There was a metallic humming at head level, before something embedded itself in the far wall. The thrower, a man in a full black bodysuit who was suspended from above the outside door-frame, frowned, before backflipping to the floor and moving slowly into the apartment.
Where the door was promptly slammed on him, crushing him agonisingly between the frame and old but tough wood. Before he could scream he was dragged out and thrown face-first into the wall, with the door slamming shut behind him.

Sam clenched and unclenched her fists, looking from the unconscious assailant to the shuriken throwing star embedded in the wall behind where she had been standing before opening the door from the coat-hanging alcove.
“Oh, you are kidding me…!”

Both windows shattered inwards, two more men in black taking stances as they rolled upright. Even as Sam’s eyes went wide they charged, screaming in what sounded like Japanese. Or, at least, what someone who had only ever watched action movies probably thought Japanese sounded like without even bothering to do research.
The first one swiped at her with a pair of Sai, shouting incoherently. Sam dropped into a crouch, punching him in the gut as she rose followed swiftly by a hard knee to a more sensitive area. The man dropped like a weighted sack, weapons falling to the floor.
The next was at least a little more versed in actual fighting, although he still seemed to be far more influenced by style than practicality. He managed to land a good punch to the chest that nearly winded her, then made the mistake of trying to round-house kick her. She caught the leg, twisting at the waist and slamming him viciously onto the low coffee table, which shattered under his weight. The would-be attacker tried to rise, until the woman landed knee-first on his chest and proceeded to punch him in the face until he blacked out.

Sam managed to pull herself upright, nursing a sore set of knuckles, to hear the kitchen window shatter as well. Turning, she was confronted by a man wielding an honest-to-god sword.
“Your life is forfeit, Christophe-Chan!” he growled, walking forward while swinging the blade with at least some measure of skill.
“Come on, you have got to be kiddi-” Sam went to say, before she had to leap to one side to dodge the overhead swing of the blade. Now she actually had to be properly on guard as, while the man was clearly no Eastern master, he was at least skilled enough to get the blade to go where he wanted it to.

She ducked sharply to avoid a cross-cut, but had no time to counter as her opponent followed through with an over-head stab to the floor, causing her to roll aside. Even as she staggered upright he managed to spin, managing a shallow cut right across her stomach that caused her to stumble and fall beside the shattered coffee table and it’s unconscious occupant, hissing in pain through her teeth.
“Prepare to die, Christophe-Chan,” the man stated, stepping closer and raising the blade to impale her.
“Ok, first off, it’s Christophe-San if you’re even trying to be halfway accurate,” Sam snapped back, “Secondly, ‘Haaai, odishi naga noto haaa!’ is not Japanese and makes you sound like a pack of morons. And thirdly,” she jabbed an accusing finger, “that is a Chinese Dao, not a Japanese ninja blade, you @$£# head!”

The man froze, before lowering the sword and examining it almost frantically, as if somehow looking at it would make untrue the fact the sword was not, in fact, the weapon of even a Hollywood shinobi.
“Well, ok, but it still-” he grumbled, turning back to her just in time to catch a swung meal-tray across the face. The would-be ninja stumbled back as the tray snapped in half, even as Sam leapt on him like an angry cat. There was a moment of grappling, followed by a sickening snap and a scream of pain as Sam broke the man’s sword arm, the blade falling from limp fingers. He whimpered as she slammed him into the wall, holding him off his feet by two handfuls of vaguely black bodysuit.
“See? SEE?” she screamed at him, teeth bared and eyes wide, “Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean I’m not bloody right! Who sent you?!” She waited a moment while the man frantically shook his head, before headbutting him out cold.
“You can shoot me for all I care!” she shouted to the world in general, “I’ll just spit your damn bullets back in your face!!”

A few minutes later and the four cut-price ninjas were trussed up on the wreck of the coffee table, bound with some spare bungee cord. Sam was sat on top of them, with her tank top off and a band of bandaged now wrapped around her stomach, a cigarette in one hand and the phone in another.
“Hello? PPD, yeah. Want to report a break in and assault. Uh, yeah, I’m fine, or else I wouldn’t be ringing. Yup, still here, ‘contained’, yeah…Description, well…” she trailed off, glancing down at her seat, “Ahh, I think it’s best if you see for yourself. Because I doubt you’d believe me.”

After she hung up and waited for the sound of sirens, Sam cursed quietly as she flipped over and over between her fingers the one item of ID she had found; a Business card for a ‘discount ninja’ service, with her name on the back of it and the initials ‘DM’.
“I’m going to have to move. Again.”

Quote:

Originally Posted by Zwillinger GG, I would tell you that "I am killing you with my mind", but I couldn't find an emoticon to properly express my sentiment.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Captain_Photon NOTE: The Incarnate System is basically farming for IOs on a larger scale, and with more obtrusive lore.

Edward cursed as he slammed down the phone.

"If you want something done right, don't hire budget ninjas...I swear one of them wasn't even Japanese...infact I don't think any of them were Japanese...I knew I should have just sent the Goop minions after her, how was I suppose to know she was a trained combatant..."

Complaining to nobody in particular he looked about the room, "alright, looks like we'll have to move up the price range...now the Family won't work with me after the Chronodyne incident and common Helions or Skulls would be just as useless as those Ninja."

He sighed and swung in his swivel chair and begun typing at the computer.

"The Knives of Artemis are having their own trouble, Malta won't work for me, I can't send my usual troubleshooter because everybody and their mother knows about Steve thanks to his online blog...so it's either robots or more expensive ninjas..."

TVs throughout the land flickered, hissing into static for a brief moment before showing the symbol of a skull within a cog. It had been a number of years since such a symbol had appeared on Paragon and Isles.

A soft female voiceover follows.

"And now a presentation by Necrotech incorporated owner Doctor Edward Johnson."

Doctor Mechano appeared on screen, dressed in a smoking jacket, smoking a pipe and as the camera pans back out, a pair of pink fluffy bunny slippers.

"Hello there, now don't worry, I'm not about to attack the city, infact I've already done it, now over the past few weeks you've no doubt read the papers about one Ellie Stoneberg, you all ravished the news, printed the stories, even hunted her down and slapped a collar on her..."

Edward shook his head, "are you honestly that stupid? It was a FAKE! You morons were all fooled by this fake who acts so outlandish, so out of character and you bought it, you ALL bought it."

"I am a modern day professor Moriarty and you, you are all Detective Lestrade and one of you, ONE managed to be my Sherlock Holmes...well done to you Samantha Christophe...I shall be keeping my eye on you in future...and sending better ninjas damn you!"

"So yes, I've proved my point, the masses are ignorant. You know that you are better than this, I can make you better than this, stronger, smarter, able to throw fire or hurl cars, I can make you the best you can be for monthly payments, think about it...you can either be the schmuck that falls of such ruses or you can be the one that sees through them and defeats them."

"This is Dr Mechano signing off...oh visit the website for more information..."

The TV flickers to static and returns to normal programming.

"MECHANO!" The scream of rage was followed seconds later by a crash as a wine bottle slammed into the centre of the large plasma screen TV, shattering both and causing a shower of sparks to spray from the destroyed screen.

"YOU SON OF A *****!" Ellie stormed from her position in the sofa and headed to the bar, picking up her cellphone laying by several empty bottles. Dialling quickly, her expression one of fury, she jabbed at the screen, dialling rapidly.

"Detective Parks? Ellie Stoneberg. I need to see you. Now."

Ellie Stoneberg was not the only one in a rage at the time of broadcast.

The coffee table, badly repaired after its close encounter of a failed-ninja kind, gave up the ghost and snapped clean in half as Samantha Christophe landed a punch squarely in the centre of it.

"You *******! Ow, ****, ****," she snarled, massaging her knuckles and trying to rub some feeling back into them. "You **** the truth, you mess with people like it's a game, you send ninjas into my home, and you don't even have the decency to make them GOOD ones?!"

The reporter slumped back on the sofa, before leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her fingers steepled in front of her nose, glaring at the television.
"I'm your 'Holmes' am I, 'Moriarty'? Well, in that case, 'Doc', you will be hunted. You be hunted and hounded and chased to the ends of this damn country and this damn planet, and I will bleed you. I will bleed you of every asset, every twisted little plan, every maniacal gesture you ever though fun. I will get you and, when I have you? The Truth will have you, Doctor Edward Johnson. And the Truth will bring you down. I swear it..."

Quote:

Originally Posted by Zwillinger GG, I would tell you that "I am killing you with my mind", but I couldn't find an emoticon to properly express my sentiment.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Captain_Photon NOTE: The Incarnate System is basically farming for IOs on a larger scale, and with more obtrusive lore.

GD still disliked TV in any form, it just seemed so unreal to the her perception. But she was needed to keep up to date on the developing story of Statesm…

......and then there was a mass of flickering, hissing into static for a brief moment before showing the symbol of a skull within a cog. GD frowned as her data sources informed her about the symbol, then the face appeared an the information fell into place. GD drank in the broadcast, a smile creeping onto her face as the website information appeared…



Three phone calls later and the room was once more quiet, and GD was on her way to the Paragon house.


(( Mech what infomation is on the website, ie contact details...))

((oh the information on the website is stuff about the New You and Dream Partner program, Here be a link to the Unionverse page))

At midday a boring, "nothing to see here" white van arrived at the gates of Dr Mechano’s Sharkshead factory gates, three tall crates marked farm machinery were soon unloaded and vanished into the building, the van departed heading south, as unseen as they had appeared the two watchers left moments after the van.
At the same hour a jiffy bag found its way into the factory’s mail box, three data disks and a printed note explaining them made up its contents.


(( Mech , deliveries as promised from GD, I will PM you with the details ))

Near Earth Orbit

Ellie studied the vista below her carefully, her armour's targetting systems tracking her target below her and feeding her speed and vector data, allowing her to keep pace with a precise point one hundred and fifty two miles beneath her feet. Energy crackled silently around her as she continued to build to her maximum charge and a small smile lingered on her lips.

"Almost time." She thought, "Just a few more seconds now..."

Her attention wholly on her target, she whispered a soft word inaudible in the vacuum of space. Beside her, a small sparkling point of light flickered with alien energy and, obedient to the silent command, flared once and vanished.



*********************************

Etoile Islands, Necrotech Industries Headquarters

Edward Mechano hummed softly to himself as he tucked into a meal of roast lamb with all the trimmings. Spread before him, or rather to one side of his meal platter, and covering the remainder of his luxurious desk, detailed plans for the Ellie mark three clone where under final review.

Ed suddenly paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, as a tiny flicking light suddenly appeared a few meters away from his desk. He had barely begun to frown, the realisation that somethong wasn't quite right just starting to register on his mind, when his ears were caved in by a hideous sound.

A voice, magnified many hundreds of times into an almost mind shattering cacophony, smashed the windows as it thundered.

"BOO!"

Three seconds later, a terrible beam of light burst through the roof and bore down on him; engulfing his meal, his desk, and the plans for his next creation in a staggering column of raw energy. The thick beam slammed through the antique wood, slowed down not one bit, and carried on through the floor below before suddenly winking out less than a second later.

A faint sound came from Ed, almost a squeak, as his stunned eyes stared at the gaping hole burned through his desk and the floor beneath, exactly six inches from where he sat.


*********************************

One hundred and fifty two miles away, Ellie shut off the beam and smirked softly to herself before turning and flying towards home.