agentscorpio (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
agentscorpio) wrote2011-06-04 02:42 pm
agentscorpio) wrote2011-06-04 02:42 pm
Entry tags:
Red Dawn
Who: Mikel Fury
When: During this event.
Where: On the Island Dancer just off the island of Kauai in the Pacific
Stepping out onto the deck of the Island Dancer, Mikel looked across the calm ocean at the island of Kauai—a blue black line along the horizon, silhouetted against the bright warm colors of a rising sun—as he sipped on a cup of tea and enjoyed the silence and cool morning air. He had done his daily kata while the stars were still dusting the dome of the sky like glitter flowing through the fingers of a running child, and was now cleaned up and dressed only in a pair of swim trunks as he rested his forearms on the chrome railing that encircled most of the yacht.
It had become his custom to take the Dancer out for a short cruise after a deep undercover mission. It gave him time to reset himself mentally and get used to being Mikel Fury once again. He’d considered asking Mike, his partner during the investigation of the Hellfire Club, if he’d wanted a few days of quiet as well but he knew Carter had to get back into the public eye to keep his other cover as the vain, spotlight hugging, superhero Booster Gold intact. He supposed the other reason for not asking Mike along was to avoid questions about the Dancer itself. The yacht was the only thing he had left of his past before finding out the man he’d been trained by his mother to kill was his own father. The Island Dancer had belonged to her and Mikel sometimes wondered why he held on to it. Not to remember her, that was for sure.
Shaking his head, Mikel turned to head back for the bridge to check the weather before moving the Dancer, when there was a flash like the flare off a sniper’s rifle off to his left. Throwing the cup over the side and crouching down, Mikel scanned the horizon for some sign of who he was dealing with, but there was nothing to see beyond a flat ocean that was beginning to sparkle with red and yellow highlights from the morning sunlight. As he raced for the cover offered by the cabin, Mikel caught sight of another flash—this one clearly red in color—out of the corner of his eye as he continued to scan for any potential attackers. He weaved in an attempt to dodge the shot but it changed course in midair, tracking him. Before he could process that, the projectile struck, searing a line across the bare skin of his back like a whip. The pain was staggering and Mikel cried out, his legs collapsing under him. Dropping to his hands and knees Mikel slid a few inches across the teak deck, the heels of his hands burning with a different king of pain as he fought back the urge to curl up and ride out the pain.
MIKEL OF EARTH
The deep rumbling voice vibrated through the wood beneath his hands and through his chest, stealing his breath and spurring him back in motion.
SON OF D’ALEXIS, PRINCE OF CARPASIA
Lifting his head he saw the spot of red again as it surged around the bridge in a wide arc. He turned and headed for the railing in the hope that he’d be able to lose whatever it was that was chasing him in the water.
YOU HAVE BEEN WELL TRAINED IN THE WAYS OF HATE—
For just a second the fact the voice was coming from projectile chasing him distracted Mikel, slowing his steps. The spot took advantage of his distraction and gained on him. Mikel swore and pushed his body back into motion, adrenaline overriding the pain radiating from his back. As fast as he moved though, it was not fast enough. He was struck high on the right hip then, as he reached out to break his fall, struck again, this time on his right hand. He slammed into the railing, hitting it waist high. Mikel doubled over and gagged.
There was a hissing sound like water hitting a hot burner, then a sizzle. Mikel forced his eyes open, the world tilting violently as a wave of vertigo hit, and saw the white paint on the side of the yacht peeling and shriveling where the vomit—red as blood—had hit. When he tried to suck in a deep breath, the taste of copper filled his mouth and triggered the gagging reflex again. Mikel threw up a mouthful of blood and it sprayed out over the water. The water boiled wherever it hit.
BUT YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN THE POWER YOUR RAGE GAVE YOU; THE RAGE THAT MADE YOU UNSTOPPABLE.
The voice filled his ears and his mind as he pushed away from the rail but he had only managed a few drunken steps backwards before he had to drop to the deck. A conflagration of rage raced through his blood burning the pain away. Doubling over, Mikel pressed his right hand, now clenched into a fist, against his belly as he fought to stay conscious against the fire burning through his body.
WHAT HAVE YOU ACCOMPLISHED SINCE YOU GAVE UP YOUR RAGE FOR A FALSE LOVE, SON OF CARPASIA?
Mikel bent forward, the sweat coating the palm of his free hand making it slide across the teak as he rested his forehead against the cool deck like a supplicant before God.
WHAT GOOD DID THAT LOVE DO YOU WHEN CARPASIA FELL?
The rage burned away the guilt that surged up at the question. He lifted his head and placed his right hand against the cognac colored wood. There was a ring on his finger now, red as the blood of the men he had killed over the decades, and it flashed and pulsed in rhythm with the voice.
THE DEAD DEMAND VENGENCE FOR THE WRONG COMMITTED AGAINST THEM. THEY DEMAND THE SWORD BE LIFTED AGAIN.
Faces flashed through his mind—Jacob Fury as he left his wife and Mikel behind, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent David Nanjiwarra as he died by Mikel’s own hands, the dead of Scapia left to rot in the street after Hydra had ravaged the city, and so many others; some by his own hand and some that he’d been too late to save. The rage burned through Mikel and his hands slowly clenched into fists.
THEY DEMAND THAT SCORPIO RISE AGAIN.
Power flooded Mikel’s senses and demanded release, power beyond belief. The ring on his hand howled in triumph as his fingers twitched in reaction. But Mikel had been trained to use his rage as a weapon and he knew that a weapon could not be allowed to control the wielder. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, Mikel fought back.
The ring screamed its defiance but Mikel beat the rage back, turning it into something cold and sharp. When he felt the ring bow to his demands, Mikel took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. He opened his eyes.
“What a disappointment you’ve become, Mickey.”
Mikel froze at the sight of a woman standing a few feet before him, hands on shapely hip and a slightly mocking smile on her lips. Her eyes were hidden behind stylish sunglasses but Mikel knew what he would have seen if there were no glasses blocking his view; eyes as blue as his own. A sarong the color of the sunrise was wrapped artistically around her body and she wore black thin strapped heels that gave her the height needed to look Mikel straight in the eye.
Instinct made him step away from the woman.
“Mother?” The ring pulsed on his finger.
The smile became brighter but no less mocking as she closed the distance he’d put between them, tilting her head down to look over the top edge of the sunglasses. The eyes were sharp and there was a familiar anger lurking in those stormy blue eyes. “Just couldn’t finish it, could you, Mickey?” Amber D’Alexis said in a voice soft as a strip of velvet wrapped around a length of steel.
When she stopped in front of him, she ran a well manicured finger along his cheek then caught his chin in a firm grip. “Foolish boy. Did you really think I was telling the truth when I told Nicholas you were his son?”
The rage flared into heat and Mikel schooled his features to keep his reactions to that statement hidden. Liar! But this was his mother and she saw it all.
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Ah Mickey, did you learn nothing? That was just a distraction, nothing more. What better way to give us time to finish what we’d started than to make Jacob’s brother think he had a son he never even suspected he had?” A snarl slipped out and Amber turned away, a nail scraping a line across Mikel’s skin as she snapped, “If it hadn’t been for that damn animal, Wolverine, we would have finished Nicholas there on that rooftop and finally had our revenge on your father’s killer.”
He could feel a trickle of blood drip down and hit the deck. There was the smell of burning wood in the air. “He killed you,” Mikel said after a few moments. The memory of Logan driving his adamantium claws through his mother’s body still haunted his nightmares from time to time.
His mother gave him a scornful look. “Did he?” she hissed. “How would you have known that? Did you demand to see my body? Or did you simply accept Nicholas’s word that I was dead? The word of a master spy who’s stock and trade is to twist the truth to fit his own needs?”
Mikel could almost see the anger radiating off his mother; a fury that the ring on his finger eagerly reached out for. Mikel’s nostrils flared and the muscles in his jaw tensed as he reasserted control over the ring. He watched his mother’s lips part but before she could speak, a soft short buzz floated through the open door of the cabin.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was calling.
Amber D’Alexis’s lips compressed into a tight, angry line, then she waved a hand and turned her back to him. “Go on, answer it. Otherwise, he’ll start wondering what’s wrong and we don’t want that now, do we Mickey?”
The buzz sounded again and Mikel leaned forward, letting gravity help him get his feet moving again. As he passed his mother, she said in a sarcastically sweet voice, “Give Nicholas my love, dear.” Mikel didn’t look to see what her face looked like as she said that. He didn’t need to.
When he reached the phone, Mikel turned his head to glance out the forward windows. The deck was clear; there was no sign of Amber D’Alexis; the only marks showing that something had happened at all were the scorch marks on the deck. Looking down he noticed his hand was trembling—from fear or anger he couldn’t be sure—and the ring was glowing faintly. He finally noticed the symbol etched into the ring—a design similar to the one inscribed on the ring the Green Lantern wore.
Mikel took a deep breath and lifted the phone to his ear.
When: During this event.
Where: On the Island Dancer just off the island of Kauai in the Pacific
Stepping out onto the deck of the Island Dancer, Mikel looked across the calm ocean at the island of Kauai—a blue black line along the horizon, silhouetted against the bright warm colors of a rising sun—as he sipped on a cup of tea and enjoyed the silence and cool morning air. He had done his daily kata while the stars were still dusting the dome of the sky like glitter flowing through the fingers of a running child, and was now cleaned up and dressed only in a pair of swim trunks as he rested his forearms on the chrome railing that encircled most of the yacht.
It had become his custom to take the Dancer out for a short cruise after a deep undercover mission. It gave him time to reset himself mentally and get used to being Mikel Fury once again. He’d considered asking Mike, his partner during the investigation of the Hellfire Club, if he’d wanted a few days of quiet as well but he knew Carter had to get back into the public eye to keep his other cover as the vain, spotlight hugging, superhero Booster Gold intact. He supposed the other reason for not asking Mike along was to avoid questions about the Dancer itself. The yacht was the only thing he had left of his past before finding out the man he’d been trained by his mother to kill was his own father. The Island Dancer had belonged to her and Mikel sometimes wondered why he held on to it. Not to remember her, that was for sure.
Shaking his head, Mikel turned to head back for the bridge to check the weather before moving the Dancer, when there was a flash like the flare off a sniper’s rifle off to his left. Throwing the cup over the side and crouching down, Mikel scanned the horizon for some sign of who he was dealing with, but there was nothing to see beyond a flat ocean that was beginning to sparkle with red and yellow highlights from the morning sunlight. As he raced for the cover offered by the cabin, Mikel caught sight of another flash—this one clearly red in color—out of the corner of his eye as he continued to scan for any potential attackers. He weaved in an attempt to dodge the shot but it changed course in midair, tracking him. Before he could process that, the projectile struck, searing a line across the bare skin of his back like a whip. The pain was staggering and Mikel cried out, his legs collapsing under him. Dropping to his hands and knees Mikel slid a few inches across the teak deck, the heels of his hands burning with a different king of pain as he fought back the urge to curl up and ride out the pain.
MIKEL OF EARTH
The deep rumbling voice vibrated through the wood beneath his hands and through his chest, stealing his breath and spurring him back in motion.
SON OF D’ALEXIS, PRINCE OF CARPASIA
Lifting his head he saw the spot of red again as it surged around the bridge in a wide arc. He turned and headed for the railing in the hope that he’d be able to lose whatever it was that was chasing him in the water.
YOU HAVE BEEN WELL TRAINED IN THE WAYS OF HATE—
For just a second the fact the voice was coming from projectile chasing him distracted Mikel, slowing his steps. The spot took advantage of his distraction and gained on him. Mikel swore and pushed his body back into motion, adrenaline overriding the pain radiating from his back. As fast as he moved though, it was not fast enough. He was struck high on the right hip then, as he reached out to break his fall, struck again, this time on his right hand. He slammed into the railing, hitting it waist high. Mikel doubled over and gagged.
There was a hissing sound like water hitting a hot burner, then a sizzle. Mikel forced his eyes open, the world tilting violently as a wave of vertigo hit, and saw the white paint on the side of the yacht peeling and shriveling where the vomit—red as blood—had hit. When he tried to suck in a deep breath, the taste of copper filled his mouth and triggered the gagging reflex again. Mikel threw up a mouthful of blood and it sprayed out over the water. The water boiled wherever it hit.
BUT YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN THE POWER YOUR RAGE GAVE YOU; THE RAGE THAT MADE YOU UNSTOPPABLE.
The voice filled his ears and his mind as he pushed away from the rail but he had only managed a few drunken steps backwards before he had to drop to the deck. A conflagration of rage raced through his blood burning the pain away. Doubling over, Mikel pressed his right hand, now clenched into a fist, against his belly as he fought to stay conscious against the fire burning through his body.
WHAT HAVE YOU ACCOMPLISHED SINCE YOU GAVE UP YOUR RAGE FOR A FALSE LOVE, SON OF CARPASIA?
Mikel bent forward, the sweat coating the palm of his free hand making it slide across the teak as he rested his forehead against the cool deck like a supplicant before God.
WHAT GOOD DID THAT LOVE DO YOU WHEN CARPASIA FELL?
The rage burned away the guilt that surged up at the question. He lifted his head and placed his right hand against the cognac colored wood. There was a ring on his finger now, red as the blood of the men he had killed over the decades, and it flashed and pulsed in rhythm with the voice.
THE DEAD DEMAND VENGENCE FOR THE WRONG COMMITTED AGAINST THEM. THEY DEMAND THE SWORD BE LIFTED AGAIN.
Faces flashed through his mind—Jacob Fury as he left his wife and Mikel behind, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent David Nanjiwarra as he died by Mikel’s own hands, the dead of Scapia left to rot in the street after Hydra had ravaged the city, and so many others; some by his own hand and some that he’d been too late to save. The rage burned through Mikel and his hands slowly clenched into fists.
THEY DEMAND THAT SCORPIO RISE AGAIN.
Power flooded Mikel’s senses and demanded release, power beyond belief. The ring on his hand howled in triumph as his fingers twitched in reaction. But Mikel had been trained to use his rage as a weapon and he knew that a weapon could not be allowed to control the wielder. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, Mikel fought back.
The ring screamed its defiance but Mikel beat the rage back, turning it into something cold and sharp. When he felt the ring bow to his demands, Mikel took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. He opened his eyes.
“What a disappointment you’ve become, Mickey.”
Mikel froze at the sight of a woman standing a few feet before him, hands on shapely hip and a slightly mocking smile on her lips. Her eyes were hidden behind stylish sunglasses but Mikel knew what he would have seen if there were no glasses blocking his view; eyes as blue as his own. A sarong the color of the sunrise was wrapped artistically around her body and she wore black thin strapped heels that gave her the height needed to look Mikel straight in the eye.
Instinct made him step away from the woman.
“Mother?” The ring pulsed on his finger.
The smile became brighter but no less mocking as she closed the distance he’d put between them, tilting her head down to look over the top edge of the sunglasses. The eyes were sharp and there was a familiar anger lurking in those stormy blue eyes. “Just couldn’t finish it, could you, Mickey?” Amber D’Alexis said in a voice soft as a strip of velvet wrapped around a length of steel.
When she stopped in front of him, she ran a well manicured finger along his cheek then caught his chin in a firm grip. “Foolish boy. Did you really think I was telling the truth when I told Nicholas you were his son?”
The rage flared into heat and Mikel schooled his features to keep his reactions to that statement hidden. Liar! But this was his mother and she saw it all.
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Ah Mickey, did you learn nothing? That was just a distraction, nothing more. What better way to give us time to finish what we’d started than to make Jacob’s brother think he had a son he never even suspected he had?” A snarl slipped out and Amber turned away, a nail scraping a line across Mikel’s skin as she snapped, “If it hadn’t been for that damn animal, Wolverine, we would have finished Nicholas there on that rooftop and finally had our revenge on your father’s killer.”
He could feel a trickle of blood drip down and hit the deck. There was the smell of burning wood in the air. “He killed you,” Mikel said after a few moments. The memory of Logan driving his adamantium claws through his mother’s body still haunted his nightmares from time to time.
His mother gave him a scornful look. “Did he?” she hissed. “How would you have known that? Did you demand to see my body? Or did you simply accept Nicholas’s word that I was dead? The word of a master spy who’s stock and trade is to twist the truth to fit his own needs?”
Mikel could almost see the anger radiating off his mother; a fury that the ring on his finger eagerly reached out for. Mikel’s nostrils flared and the muscles in his jaw tensed as he reasserted control over the ring. He watched his mother’s lips part but before she could speak, a soft short buzz floated through the open door of the cabin.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was calling.
Amber D’Alexis’s lips compressed into a tight, angry line, then she waved a hand and turned her back to him. “Go on, answer it. Otherwise, he’ll start wondering what’s wrong and we don’t want that now, do we Mickey?”
The buzz sounded again and Mikel leaned forward, letting gravity help him get his feet moving again. As he passed his mother, she said in a sarcastically sweet voice, “Give Nicholas my love, dear.” Mikel didn’t look to see what her face looked like as she said that. He didn’t need to.
When he reached the phone, Mikel turned his head to glance out the forward windows. The deck was clear; there was no sign of Amber D’Alexis; the only marks showing that something had happened at all were the scorch marks on the deck. Looking down he noticed his hand was trembling—from fear or anger he couldn’t be sure—and the ring was glowing faintly. He finally noticed the symbol etched into the ring—a design similar to the one inscribed on the ring the Green Lantern wore.
Mikel took a deep breath and lifted the phone to his ear.