2011 04 09 Welcome To New York Ares

Log Title:
Welcome to New York, Ares!

Invisible Woman, Phantasm, Ares

IC Date:
9 April 2011


Brief log summary::
The Invisible Woman and Phantasm go checking into an odd energy spike and find themselves as part of a welcoming committee for Ares.


There is no TS in this log::

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If Brooklyn were an independent city, it would be the fourth-largest in the United States. Signs posted for those entering the borough read, "Welcome to Brooklyn: How Sweet It Is!" — while signs for those *leaving* Brooklyn read "Fugheddaboudit" or "Oy Vey." And really, those signs sum up the character of Brooklyn: almost entirely residential, divided into a collection of diverse neighborhoods, often around ethnic or immigration lines. There are more Asians in Brooklyn these days than Irish, for instance … but sooner or later everyone picks up the same accent.

It's evenings like these that make Sue REALLY want to be like those women you see on TV who solve their problems by yelling at their families. But she's not. Instead, when the call came in that there was a VERY powerful anomalous energy reading in the Brooklyn area, she simply called for a baby sitter then informed Ben that she was running an errand. (Don't want to ruin his poker game after all.) So now she's travelling over the rooftops of New York, a handheld device directing toward the epicenter of the reading.

Hopefully Chelsea's behaving tonight because having taken up an invitation extended from an earlier encounter, Mike found himself in the building when things got wonky. And so Mike tags along, sort of. A blackish bird of a slight purplish tint follows. Fortunately for this raven, flying without a vehicle is an option.

Susan Richards HAD offered to let Mike-raven travel along inside the force field bubble with her, but he opted not to, and she's not one to pester. Thus, they're travelling at his pace. And that's fine. "We're almost there," she tells the raven.

What has drawn the attention of at least one of the Fantastic Four was the telltale warning bells signalling a surge of ethereal energy in the Brooklyn Greenland Heights area. It's a swell upon a reading, a computer roared its warning, and one of the only devices capable of sensing the shift in quantum power was at the Baxter Building. So now it is with Susan and Mike travelling that they come upon the location of that sensory reading. The readouts are prominent and it's somewhere down there in the graveyard that is the source of the signature.

Well, it is not like he tires in this form anyways. The bird gives a tilt of his head in response, the move not at all affecting his aerodynamics. "Any idea what it can be?"

Susan Richards points at the graveyard for the bird's benefit, and changes trajectory toward it. "Not yet. The type of energy it is though… it's a bit worrying."

It's that time of night when there should be not a soul in the cemetery. In fact it's mostly dark down there save for a handful of lights that are lit at the main gate. Yet there's a certain majesty to the Greenland cemetery, large statuary dominate the skyline upon the top of the hill that serves as the centerpiece to the land. Yet it seems the height of the energy swell seems to come from up there as then long shadows are seen, long shadows cast by what seems to be a swirling rift in reality that is lashing roiling tendrils of shadow and blood.

"Oh." Phantasm alters his flight path as well, "Well if you're worrying-" With the added visual, there's a bit of a pause as the approaching bird processes what it is he's seeing. "Ok that's weird," Quoth the projected raven.

Susan Richards looks at the rift, her eyebrow drawn together in a faint frown. "Weird's a good way to put it." She stops just short of the grass of the cemetary about 10 yards away from the rift, keeping her forcefield in place as a precaution. "Why does this always happen when Reed's not around?"

They do not have long to wait. The swirling portal mars the landscape almost like a profanity commited against reality. Blood flows slowly from its ethereal surface, spattering upon the ground even as the tendrils of shadow lash and swirl at the edge of it. Then, through it, a large figure emerges. A tall man, visible as a silhouette of shadow, garbed in some form of armor that seems made of the same stuff as that rift in reality. The ground literally trembles for one instant as he sets foot upon the grass, then with a whirling whispering hiss, the portal closes behind him.

"Now I'm not sure that'd be an accurate observation." The raven replies, stopping a bit closer to the ground, and likely not within range of Susan's forcefield, "See, it probably just seems that way because the ones without him just make more of an impression to…" The bird tilts his head to the stylistic choices for this portal. "If that turns out to be Wes Craven, I'm heading home."

Susan Richards says, "I'm sure it's not Wes Craven." A fan, maybe. A psychotic fan. She takes a moment to study the man closely, because there's something about him that is vaguely familiar. She takes a few cautious 'steps' closer. "Hello?"

There upon the hill, as the portal completely fades from view, several shadows dart from around the man. They seem in the shape of figures, wispy arms, a head, but little else. They race down the hill, gliding silently, not attacking but simply watching… looking at the woman and the bird.

As for Ares high above he turns his helmed head to consider the two beneath him. His brow furrows, only perceivable in the shift in the red gleaming eyes. He steps forwards slowly, the shadows clinging to him closely like the pieces of heavy armor. "Hello." He says this simply, levelly. So strange though, normally big bads announce their plans and their awesomeness to start, not so much a greeting.

"Oh good." Phantasm mumurs, landing on the ground. With the armored figure's response he lifts up a wing in a wave. His head turns, looking towards the darting shadows. "Hmm." Perhaps landing on the ground was a bad idea.

Susan Richards watches the shadows warily, but when they simply circle a bit she returns her attention to the imposing-looking man. "Sir… your method of arrival was… a bit unusual. May I ask your name?"

Those shadows seem to sputter, their voices raspy and wicked as they surge forth into the dim light. No features are seen on them, no mouths, yet they speak.

// This is Lord Ares you speak to, mortal! //

The other one hisses and draws back, // You should be on your knees before him! He graces you with his presence! //

Still Ares descends and he stops before the Fantastic One and the Feathery One. He holds up a hand, as if staying the shadows, then tells them. "Forgive them, they are lost souls and they wish to travel with me. I do not deny them. But yes, I am Ares." That having been said the shadows positively writhe in annoyance, circling around the base of a tree to watch from there like annoyed serpents in the garden with no apples.

"Ah entourages." The raven replies, glancing from them back towards Ares, giving a wave of the wing in greeting. "I am Phantasm."

Susan Richards blinks, glancing to the sides a few times with just her eyes. Ares? Seriously? But she can't exactly say that out loud, so instead she follows the raven's lead. "My name is Susan Richards. Um… welcome to New York City." How DOES one greet the god of war?

"I've been here before," Ares tilts his head to the side as he considers them. Slowly, as he becomes more at ease, the armor subtly fades into the ether, the blood remains trailing and tracked along the ground but no longer as staggeringly visceral or obvious.

// Of course he's been here before, fools. He is Ares! // The shadows hiss and rasp from the tree, only to be staid by the lift of one hand towards them from the god. He shakes his head, then looks back towards the duo. "Is there something I can aid you with?" He seems fairly reasonable for a god of war, his eyes light upon the raven, then back to Susan.

"Welcome back then?" Phantasm offers, glancing towards the shadows again with the narrowing of beaded eyes.

Susan Richards nods her agreement with Phantasm's welcome back, though the shadows get a brief stern glance to back up the avian's narrowed gaze. "No, now that we know that your arrival is the source of the anomalous readings my group's equipment detected, there's not really anything to be done." Well, unless those shadows decide to try something other than smack-talking.

A fingertip scritches the stubble upon his chin as Ares considers them. He cants his head to the side, looking upon the shadows, then back to the heroes. He lifts his chin and murmurs quietly, "I do not know if I like the fact of my movements being tracked. One way or the other. My business is my own. I trust you understand this sentiment?" Still terribly reasonable, considering.

Of course that's when the shadows pipe up, // You dare to spy upon Lord Ares! //

The other lashes forth with its slithery tendrilled form, striking the air for emphasis. // You are lucky he does not take your spines and use them for his belt! //

Again Ares grimaces and holds up a hand, "Forgive them, they are from a different place and time. What they have endured has… made them harsh."

Giving a shake of the body, the feathers of the bird starts to ruffle out as he gives a shake of his head before glancing back towards Ares, giving a slight chuckle, "I don't think the spine you'd get from me would make much of a belt. Maybe a belt buckle."

Susan Richards nods. "I completely understand your sentiment. We simply did not know the source of the readings, and thought it best to invetigate to prevent possible harm to the people that live in this city." She looks at the shadows and debates putting one inside a forcefield, just to see if she can. She doesn't actually do it, though, not wanting to antagnoize the non-corporeal beings.

"I understand," Ares looks from one to the other, and thankfully for the moment the shadows remain silent. He takes a deep and steadying breath, then starts to step forwards. "I have no intention of causing havoc. I wish to pay my respects, and to do so alone." He does not say to who, exactly, but it's clear to someone interred here in the cemetery.

A few moments pass, then he begins to walk down the path. The armor has now completely faded from him, leaving him as seeming little more than a large man in grimy and bloodied clothes that have definitely seen better days.

Susan Richards ohs faintly and doesn't try to follow the man. He's here to pay his respects to someone, that is sacrosanct. She turns to look at the bird. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm glad that this turned out to be nothing to worry about. Are you ready to head back to the Baxter?"

As Ares starts walking down the path, Phantasm looks over towards Susan and gives a shrug before struts over towards the Invisible Woman. "Sure. That's it I guess." He gives a glance over to the war god once more before turning back. "It'd probably be a bad idea to say 'have a nice day'."

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