[HELLZONE] War Front [Villains]

[Deleted]

Three Weeks. Three long weeks did Elektra watch as the greatest city in America turn from the hub of all superhuman activity to a battleground of mortal men. Once gleaming towers now stood barren and burning. The usual bustling streets stood empty. And the sounds of horns replaced with that of bullets. She felt sick. She may not have cared for any individual person, or at least she could fool herself into thinking that, but to think she was responsible for all this madness...

No, she told herself. Mephisto was; The Kingpin was; Mister Negative, the Hood, Norman Osborn, all of them! Even...

She stopped herself and adjusted on the rooftop's ledge as she saw Matthew almost as if she summoned him on cue. He was flanked by his sidekick, Spider-Man. She had tried several times to create situations to get Matthew alone and get him out of the city before her reason for all of this was for naught, but he was always flanked by the webslinger, or the other 'Heroes for Hire' he had managed to pull out of nowhere. It rankled her; she knew full well she stood little chance against their combined assault, and if she went with the diplomatic route it would not take long for them to figure out she had manipulated the gangs into this war. Would they care if they knew the truth? Not likely, she conceded. Even so, it was only a matter of time until somebody put two and two together, and given the assets despite the reduction in numbers all four of the gangs had taken, she hoped she could succeed in her task before they do.

She went in the opposite direction of Matthew and the wallcrawler and headed east. Aside from the single blocks surrounding the Baxter Building, Avengers Tower, Avengers Mansion, Yancy Street, and oddly enough, the Daily Bugle building and Stephen Strange's Sanctum Sanctorum, The city had become territorial with makeshift flags cropping up here and there to denote a gang's territory:

The entire northern section of New York was controlled by men flying gear and the flag of Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin. He tended to keep his assets in neutral black to not attract attention, as any veteran crime lord would, but you knew it was his territory due to the occasional sightings of the costumed assassins like the Enforcers or Bullseye in far greater volumes. She was very conscious to evade Bullseye in case the Kingpin discovered the source of the matter, he was resourceful afterall.

The eastern quarter of New York was controlled exclusively by Mister Negative's forces, ode to his many many Inner Demons and heavy military grade arms being sighted daily. Elektra knew that over ten thousand civilians were killed, and she knew full well where the majority of those casualties were. The big boss himself, however, was a ghost. She had a good lead on him, even managed to tail him for a few days before he dropped off the grid. Still, it was more intel than she saw the amateur detective Jessica Jones try to pull in the same period.

The core was dominated by Norman Osborn and his Thunderbolts. Sure there were masked hoodlums that Osborn had hired on the quiet to serve as his "Goblins," but they were largely teenagers and young adults who had all served stints in juvie because they were all captured, or had family that were captured, by Spider-Man. Inexperienced and cowardly as they were, they had plenty of firepower and coupled with their instinct to survive and run, it made them notoriously hard to kill for the other gangsters, even the Inner Demons.

The Southern port was entirely the Hood's forces, but it was diminishing rather fast. After blowing up Negative's weapons facility, the Demon Lord had made it his personal mission to extinguish the Hood's forces down to nothing before taking Mister Robbins' head personally. It would be tough, Elektra knew, given that the cloak that Parker wore was more than just a cloak, but that wouldn't stop Mister Negative.

Hell's Kitchen, strangely enough, was the contested area. Daredevil and his forces have been defending it and the neighbouring neighbourhoods, but with Fisk moved entirely into the northern territories, it had become a hot bed. Despite the fact that this war began in the Kitchen, it was the Kitchen that was the place nobody could gain a foothold, whether you fought to save the city, or to control it.

She landed in a building that was only lightly damaged and placed her sais at her sides and began to meditate. A battle was coming, she knew (not that she needed to foresee one,) and she needed the rest and focus for the storm.

[Martyr]

Upon this a question arises: whether it be better to be loved than feared or feared than loved? It may be answered that one should wish to be both, but, because it is difficult to unite them in one person, it is much safer to be feared than loved, when, of the two, either must be dispensed with. Because this is to be asserted in general of men, that they are ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly, covetous, and as long as you succeed they are yours entirely; they will offer you their blood, property, life, and children, as is said above, when the need is far distant; but when it approaches they turn against you.

— The Prince, Chapter XVII, Nicolo Machiavelli

Wilson Fisk was a student of many things. Some would argue that this was in spite of his humble background. The Kingpin himself would argue to the contrary that was because of it. He was never handed anything. He had to fight tooth and nail for everything he ever had, including knowledge. He had to devour the works from Machiavelli to Musashi in order to not only survive, but to thrive. He thought in years where others thought in days. He parlayed his work ethic, ambition, and ruthlessness into an empire, legitimate and otherwise. He had fallen more than once but always managed to claw his way back up with a vengeance and a viciousness that made his name synonymous with crime.

It more than others understood the value of people. They were easy to bend to his will. Some needed guns, others gold, other glory. Still others who could not be bought with money, could be bought with fear. Fear of backmail. Fear of harm to themselves or their family. Fear of their personal demons. Whatever the loyalty, Fisk knew it was temporary. It always was. He was only as respected as his position, but for now, he was on top. 

A general has no business in the trenches or digging a trench. Part of leading an army was and is delegation of time and of duty. The Kingpin understood this well. He directed his generals and let them live with the consequences of their actions, for good or ill. It was rare and frightening when he felt a need to personally see to a criminal matter. So too did his soldiers report up a chain of command. That chain had changed over the year. Cell structure was something he adopted fairly recently and it worked wonders at minimizing the threat of RICO or the Punisher. He had untold assets that were unaware that they ultimately worked for him.

He considers his options. Mr. Negative was the strongest of his rivals for the moment, but he would need to bleed them all dry. He could not afford a war of attrition in Hell's Kitchen against Negative but against a less foe he might. Of course, Negative would then attack when Kingpin was weakened. His best option for now was to make the others fight without his own forces getting involved. While the Green Goblin seemed like a madman, he was canny, a tiger with the voice of a hyena. He would see a set up fairly easily. His men however, could be provoked easily. He employed child soldiers. The Hood was weakened and was weakest. The Kingpin may be able to bring both into a meat grinder in Hell's Kitchen itself before he toppled two rivals and was then ready to behead Mr. Negative's organization.

The mountain of a man pushed his massive frame away from his desk. Dressed as always impeccably in white, smoking a fine Cuban cigar, he cracked his knuckles before grabbing a bejeweled cane. He headed out of an office. "Hold my calls, I'm going out.", he instructed his underlings before descending a staircase to a waiting fleet of armored limousines. He entered one of a two dozen. Each went on a different path. Only one truly held Fisk himself.

[Deleted]

Green Goblin\Norman Osborn

Norman Osborn over the past few weeks has stayed in shadows his conscript gangs were not getting the job done. He turned to the Thunderbolts. His top assassin Bullseye has been missing for days after trying to find Electra. A few of his members left the team due to suspicion of illegal activity on Normans side one being Venom.

Norman was laying low. He calls in a few favors due to the Avengers. He is aware they are looking for a nuke so he sends out a small group to investigate. If only he can get his hands on it first. They have authorized him to put together a new team very soon based on his success with the Thunderbolts. Due to his sources the Hood had seized his territory about 30% before getting his forces slaughtered at the docks by unknowns the rest was split between Mr. Negative and the Hood. Rumors had surfaced that Hammerhead has fallen leaving the Hood in a desperate situation. Norman was not about to accept defeat almost eighty percent of his territory now gone. Norman was now in full defensive mode. At the moment he was most concerned with the Hood. If Hood fails that would limit Normans reach. If he succeeds there was no telling the out come. So Norman was going to seek out The Hood.

Norman was wearing his goblin suit as he puts on his face mask." Hahaha... Has anyone located the Hood yet? I need to speak to him now...Hahaha. I sent out an invite let us see if he shows up."
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Mr.Li entered a limo heading out approaching Hells kitchen when two of his escorts cars were hit with rpgs. A group of armed men approach his Limo. Mr. Negative was absent from the area for a few days no one was able to find him, unknown to all Mr. Negative is actually Mr. Li. So inside the limo, Mr. Li looks scared to his driver a agent of S.H.I.E.l.D. who was supposed to get him out of the city."You are supposed to keep me from getting killed. Help... we need help call in your buddies. This is getting out of hand."

[Deleted]

Parker Robbins, known to many simply as the Hood, sat in his office, his famous shroud ebbing and flowing with a will of its own. Three weeks. Three m*th*rf**k**g weeks was all it f**k**g took for this whole thing to become a shit show. It started as a simple crossfire between the walking photoshop filter and the Hood after that asshole nearly had them all killed in Fisk's tower a few weeks back, which was fine, he could handle Mister Negative.

What he didn't count on was a bunch of goddamn army vets led by the freakin' PUNISHER cutting into his resources and turf for the few civilians dumb enough to stick around, Hell's Kitchen being a hot bed, and Osborn being more of a pain in the ass than a help OR a hinderance. Political gladhandling sack of shit!

Braum entered the Hood's office, which was well fortified and well outside of city limits (not that it meant much since he could easily teleport either of them in and out of the city without so much of a blip on SHIELD's radar with those magic jammers Braum managed to steal from Fisk last week.)

"Did you get it?" he asked, and Braum nodded.

"Right here," his enforcer replied and pulled out a vial of oozing liquid.

"The Hand were fools to think we couldn't find their storehouses eventually, especially on our turf!" said the Hood. "Mister Negative's about to become about to go from in the red, past the black, and into the green in our books,"

"What about the others? Fisk is moving out of the Kitchen and into SoHo and Osborn's shoring up Midtown," said Braum.

"Send token defenses to keep the vigilantes and Osborn's child soldiers at bay. Heck why not send a few olive branches, maybe they'll switch sides, who the hell knows. But Negative. Ooooh dear, his ass is grass. And it's mine," he said looking at the vial with glee.

[Martyr]

Fisk opened up a side compartment in his limousine. From that compartment, he took a glass and a bottle of whiskey. One good vice deserved another. He poured himself a drink and he contemplated his new reality. Wilson Fisk did not believe in fate or destiny. Those were fairy tales to provide solace to those who lacked the will to succeed, and if there was one thing he did not lack, other than girth, it was will. His own empire had ebbed and flowed repeatedly from the peak of power and prosperity to the reality of an army of a single man. Regardless of how he then ended up, if he soared or fell, the triumphs he would build on and the tribulations he would make sure would never be repeated.

If the Kingpin had a thirst, it was for power. He wanted to be feared and to have his hand in everything. It was right there in his name: The Kingpin. One of the many limos which had scattered to the four winds returned to him. He and they were on the edge of Hell's kitchen. The secondary limo was filled with firepower, loyal muscle. They remained there as a contingency. Fisk himself had body guards in his own who accompanied him. He was not going to risk a direct attack without backup.

He entered into a warehouse. He had been trying to buy or coerse the loyalty of some of the Owl's old guard. The better men who tried to venture out on their own than join his or another outfit. Among them were gunrunners and information brokers. Valuable assets each.

"Gentlemen, we are at war. It will be long and it will be bloody. Skilled men and loyal men are two separate things. One can be neither, one can be either, one can be both. I am looking for both. This is my final offer. I come as a headhunter. The next day, I come as a butcher."

The Kingpin snapped his fingers. Two suitcases filled with money were produced. It was certainly not quite as valuable in the short term as necessities such as food. But this endless morass of death would eventually be cleaned and cleared and those left alive would be fabulously rich from the backs of the dead.

The Owl's old crew agreed to service and the Kingpin bid them adieu with a handshake. He left under protection of his men. As he did so, the Kingpin gave a signal. They had agreed to the deal. They would be left alive until they failed.

Fisk returned to his office for more work before the true opening salvo.