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Post by Ysmir on Oct 23, 2020 17:29:01 GMT -7
"I am a monster... but I don't feel a thing. It's my job."
While it seemed a hairbrained ploy on the surface, Castle had actually given it a fair amount of thought. The scenario played out in one of two ways: One, the easiest, no one bats an eye if he walks in like some common crook looking for a strong way to push himself into the seedy underbelly of New York by using the latest tech. Frank knew the lingo and he knew the names to drop to show that he had "connections", names that any self-respecting arms dealer would make it their business to know working in this field. He'd utilize his inside knowledge to get closer to the actual buyer, and from there him and this Future Webhead could hopefully get them alone and get the information they need to see this investigation through. Or, Two, they know who he is. Someone's seen his face, or seen a blurry photo and puts the pieces together. They call him on it, and maybe they threaten him. But there's another reason he's there; he wants the edge over his new competition. So what if they sell to the Punisher? As long as the money keeps flowing and the bodies keep dropping, it doesn't matter where their revenue comes from. Frank Castle armed with weaponry from another time would be sure to let all sorts of Hell loose on New York's gangs, and that would mean more cashflow for the people behind this. And the best part? If anyone asks questions, well... who knows how the Punisher got his hands on that tech? Maybe he crashed one or two deals and made off with his share of the haul. So long as they keep it on the down low, nobody can prove he was ever actually there. That was all an assumption, of course. There's always the chance they open fire as soon as they know it's him, and to be honest, Frank was almost excited by the idea. No matter how it went down, he'd get his way, and they'd get their information. Stronger thugs had tried and failed many, many times to put him down. It wasn't time to die yet. He nodded to Spider-Man out the window and the engine of the battle van roared to life. As soon as the doors were closed and Spidey swung off into the night, Frank peeled out from the parking lot and plotted a course to the warehouse where they'd find their dealer and make him squeal. ----- Thirty minutes later...
After navigating through New York traffic, Frank found himself parked on the side of the street just outside a large, encompassing chainlink fence. It surrounded a shipping yard set a few dozen yards from the docks, and from the outside, it looked normal as can be. No one would bat an eye at the loading trucks going in and out on any given day. The perfect front, as usual. But they'd expose it tonight. Frank lifted a finger and activated the two-way radio. "Alright, Sticky, I'm outside," Frank broadcast to Spider-Man. Luckily, their radio was a closed circuit frequency, so any external listening devices would fail to intercept their communications. "See anything out of the ordinary?"
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" That'd be me. The Spider-Man of tomorrow, here to save today... "
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Post by Rift on Dec 5, 2020 4:32:47 GMT -7
A short distance away the futuristic Spider-Man looked over the docks, cranes abandoned warehouses, and working fisheries all spread out in equal measure. Much like the rest if New York City, what the general population referred to as Old New York in his time, it was like looking at a different world. In 2099 while most of Old New York was buried beneath futuristic skyscrapers that stretched many miles high, suspended railways, hover platforms, and neon lights that helped the incredibly rich leaders of megacorpoirations like Alchemax remain blinded to the plight of those below, the docks too had undergone a change. Traditional fishing, like family farms, had all been swallowed up by various large companies. Instead of ocean bound ships, flying drones released frequencies that drew in fish, caused them to surface in a lull, and dropped stun nets to haul them up where they were then flown for processing. Raised platforms and a few maintenance bays existed for such devices. Old warehouses were paved over and armed Public Eye forces patrolled to make sure that nobody was trespassing or daring to interrupt the flow of money and goods. Criminals still struck deals, but they did so in brightly lit sterile facilities rather than darkened corners of burnt out buildings. It was all very different, but still the same. Crouched atop what he assumed had once been a restaurant sign, a place dock workers could grab a quick bite, Miguel glanced out across the area, eyeing the warehouse Frank was going to attempt to infiltrate. If there was once thing he was thankful for about the present day, it was the fact that his eyes did not have to adjust as often, the lack of light in the area actually playing to his advantage. The entire area was visible, enhanced by his accelerated vision. It was largely calm and empty, a lone security guard at the far end of the docks the only visible person aside from the Punisher. At least at first. Zooming in on the shipping yard and the trucks casually coming and going he caught glimpse of something that surprised him. It wasn't the man at the back door clearly acting as the contact for people coming to buy product, no that was expected. What was odd was the cylindrical object attached to a light pole in the parking lot. To most it would simply resemble a transformer or some kind of city installed equipment, but to Miguel it was familiar and concerning. "Good news is, only one guy near the rear of the building. Seems to do the general pat down, removal of weapons, and confirmation of cash thing. But the lamp post nearby? That's the bad news. It has a bio-scanner on it. Seen them before in my time. Long story short, it is tuned to ping a system inside of someone with certain genetic markers passes by. Corporate Raiders with gene splices, lab grown Freakers, or annoying wall crawling vigilantes. Whichever," he replied over the radio. They were expecting me, he thought glumly. "Doesn't change your approach unless you are secretly some kind of genetically engineered living gun container. But I have to deal with that shocking tech before I get close or I blow our cover. Shouldn't take too long since there is only one, but until then you might be one your own for a few."
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Post by Ysmir on Jun 22, 2021 19:44:21 GMT -7
"I am a monster... but I don't feel a thing. It's my job." Genetically engineered living gun container, huh?Frank mused to himself as he exited the van, making his way toward the chainlink and pushing it open. Not a bad thought, actually, but he very much preferred being as human as possible. "Right. Best not blow your cover before you even get in the place," he replied, keeping his head on a swivel as he walked through the shipping yard toward the warehouse's rear entrance. "Just keep me in the loop. And don't f**k up."Frank had donned an outfit that was simultaneously nothing like what he'd usually wear, but also managed to be somewhat inconspicuous. A quick stop by the Salvation Army bin gave him everything he'd need to look the part of a two-bit crook -- he'd make his own donation later as recompense. A brown leather jacket that looked like it had seen one too many years of wear, bootcut stonewash jeans with a tear in the left knee, fuzzy fingerless gloves with tactical padding on the palms to make it seem like he was a gangster with functionality in mind, and a black beanie that proudly displayed the logo of the Islanders. No large caliber weaponry for this endeavor; it was pretty obvious that he'd be patted down at the door, so he brought a holdout in the one place virtually nobody would think to look. His hands shoved in the pockets of his newly acquired chic jacket, Frank walked with exaggerated swagger to the back door guard. When his presence was noticed by the guard, Frank nodded his chin up. "Yo." He affected a strong New York accent -- some Italian sprinkled in. It was essentially his own unique way of speaking, but played up. It sounded natural as anything. "Buddy o' mine says his plug deals outta this dump. Think I can browse the merchandise?"
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" That'd be me. The Spider-Man of tomorrow, here to save today... "
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Post by Rift on Jun 25, 2021 9:47:30 GMT -7
If he'd suspected anything the doorman didn't show it. Instead he stared at Frank for a moment before tipping his sunglasses lower, revealing eyes that shined a mysterious blue-green hue and possessed two smaller glowing dots to each side of the retina. Clearly he'd received some kind of technological enhancements from his employer.
"Depends. You got da dough? We ain't runnin' no window shopping gig here. And you don't look like you can afford a drink down at Josie's let alone afford our services."
Pulling out a tablet-like device he handed it to Castle, clearly expecting to scan an account.
Meanwhile...
As the Punisher worked his way inside, Miguel focused on the genetic sensors. They were definitely 2099 tech, but they were not fully compatible with current day energy. Drawing a great deal of power from the already taxed electrical grid would have alerted authorities to the arms dealing in short order. To circumvent the problem whoever set them up seemed to connect individual generators to the scanners.
Idiotas. I would have gone digital and spliced them into cell towers. Would've caused a few dropped calls here and therebut nothing big enough to dfaw attention." he thought. Whoever was in charge of this operation clearly had no idea how to use the tech he or she was selling, at least not at a technical level.
His night vision clearly showing him the generators he prepared to disconnect them, but before he could move a familiar hum made O'Hara stick tothe shadows. A Public Eye drone, the likes of which patrolled Nueva York at all times, buzzed overhead. <
"Going to be a few minutes longer than expected. Whoever is running this show might be winging it when it comes to installing the hardware but they've got all kinds of nifty anti-Spider toys." Miguel told Frank over the radio. "Bet they'd have an aneurism over paper currency."
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Post by Ysmir on Aug 16, 2021 11:26:02 GMT -7
"I am a monster... but I don't feel a thing. It's my job." Shit.The electro-eyes weren't something Frank saw coming, but the Spidey of the future did say that they might possess some superior tech. Luckily, Frank was fairly certain no living thing that was against him had seen his face and lived to tell the tale in recent months -- with the possible exception of Billy Russo. He just had to trust that their fancy peepers didn't have some kind of uplink to local surveillance, or he might be blown before his cover even begins to work. Until that time, Frank intended on acting as though his plan would go off without a hitch. His brief worry didn't show in his stoic expression whatsoever. "Yeah, well, looks can be deceivin' slick," he responded, reaching into his pocket carefully, as not to make it seem like he was retrieving a weapon. He took the tablet handed to him simultaneously and produced his cell phone. Frank scrolled through the apps on the burner and then regarded the device in his other hand. It wasn't exactly too futuristic, but definitely well beyond the paygrade and technical acumen that any two-bit crook should have access to. He held his device toward the tablet and watched as the technology went to work. His burner was uploaded to one of his many, many untraceable routing numbers that all dialed back to a banking account he maintained under the guise of a European shipping company based out of the Netherlands. When the credit check came back, it quickly dissuaded any notion that this would-be buyer didn't have the capital. "Pro tip," he quipped, handing the tablet back, "there's a lotta bills to be made in dirty vehicles. I can get you an in after we're done." Frank winked to the door guard. He hoped his overconfident swagger would charm the guard enough for him to gain access. Moreso, he hoped Spider-Man didn't run into any hiccups of his own. He couldn't answer back in front of the guard; he just had to trust him.
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" That'd be me. The Spider-Man of tomorrow, here to save today... "
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Post by Rift on Oct 11, 2021 21:03:20 GMT -7
Miguel made his way silently over the rooftops, sticking to the shadows as best he could and dropping back behind any generators, air conditioners, or heaters that he could. It was moments like this that he was nearly envious of Peter Parker, the original Spider-Man. Not the personal life stuff because that was just crazy talk, but of all the powers they shared in common the one he most wished he had was Spider-Sense. It would have made dodging the Public Eye drones far easier. As it was he had to count his blessing. At least there wasn't a fleet of them connected to every satellite in orbit, cellphone on the ground, or security camera places on a building. With enough caution and acrobatics he was able to dodge being spotted, making his way to the generators where he opened a panel and began to tinker.
"Almost there Castle. You make it inside, I'll see you there. And hey, not bad. They say all kinds of things about you in the holos. You are crazy, maybe suffering from PTSD, anti-social personality disorder, all kinds of stuff. Even had a Halloween special where you are essentially a slasher who hates masks and so you go on a tear through Nueva York on Halloween killing any Trick or Treater for being a..." he paused to do his best Punisher voice. "Mask wearing criminal punk!"
He smiled to himself over just how ridiculous it really was.
"But they never mentioned you were a Thespian. I mean I almost believe you could get a guy an in with a chop shop. Except I'm pretty sure you'd actually chop the people in the shop..."
Meanwhile...
The man at the door scrutinized Castle, looking him up and down twice as if the motion would help him ascertain the validity of his claims. Truth was thug wasn't terribly bright and just assumed that most people were as morally bankrupt as he was. So after only a few seconds delay, only because it was what he saw doormen do in mobster movies, he nodded.
"I'll keep that in mind. Did my first stint for boosting this classic muscle car. Learned a lot since then and honestly this job is...it's weird. Anyway you are good to go. Just a word of advice? Guy who runs this show is odd. Eccentric I think they call it. Anyways, what you see might be weird, but just go with it. Dude is strange, but dangerous. Do your business, get your crap, get out."
With that he stepped aside, proud of the job he had done, and let the Punisher into the building.
"Have fun."
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Post by Ysmir on Jan 2, 2022 9:43:22 GMT -7
"I am a monster... but I don't feel a thing. It's my job."
Castle could see through the guard's visage; the guy didn't have a single f**king clue that he was being duped by the Punisher. He could play up the vigilant door guard act all he wanted -- sweeping him up and down with his robo-eyes, feigning curiosity and silence as he tried to discern whether or not he presented a threat. But it was all hollow. If something had come up on the scanners, Frank would know by now, and Spider-Man would have warned him. He was in. "Thanks, slick," Castle quipped, sliding the phone back into his pocket and shoving both hands in not long after. "Nothin' weirder than what I'm used to, I'm sure. See ya around."Castle slipped by the door guard once he stepped aside and entered through the front door of the warehouse. The hallway he was emptied into was dimly lit and clearly poorly insulated; the nighttime dewy chill made its way through the sheet metal walls and filled the interior with dampness. The concrete flooring was as industrial as it got, leading the Punisher into the bowels of this organizations base -- all while Spider-Man chirped in his ear. "One thing you and my Webhead have in common," Frank finally responded back to Spider-Man in a hushed tone, now that he was by himself, "you both don't know when to stop talking."Jury was out on whether Frank was joking around or being completely serious. His dry tone made it unclear. At the end of the corridor, the hallway brought him to another doorway that he began to push open slowly. As the seal broke and the sounds from the heart of the warehouse came through, Frank could hear rampant chatter and the sounds of whirring saws, groaning forklifts, and general work being done. When he caught a glimpse of a crate that resembled the one at the arms deal he and Spider-Man crashed, it became extremely clear that they were in the right place. From where he was inside, he couldn't get a good look at any sentries. He'd have to make his way further in to fully scout. "I'm inside," he updated, peering around each corner from the doorway to ensure he was alone, "Can't see much from where I am, though. ETA?"
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" That'd be me. The Spider-Man of tomorrow, here to save today... "
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Post by Rift on Jan 12, 2022 8:47:00 GMT -7
Miguel was silent for a moment or so as he worked on finalizing the sabotage of the sensors. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of specialized scanners designed to alert whoever their mysterious futuristic weapons dealer was, of any less than human visitors. Considering the data he was looking at indicated it siphoned out potential mutant DNA signatures he had to conclude that whoever it was expected him or at least someone very much like him. It's downright fascinating when you get down to it. Either this person knows me and expects me to be here even though I should be in 2099 or he's thinking that Parker might rain on his parade. But even then, a mutate like Peter may be too human to register on these things. The spider bite that made him who he is altered his DNA, made his blood slightly radioactive, but for the most part he's still human. Meaning they either didn't do their homework on the present day Spider-Man or they did their homework on me a little too well, he thought. Turning he nearly headed for the interior when a light bulb went off in his head. "Lyla, need an assist," he said. Instantly his holographic assistant projected from his wrist, her attire mimicking Marilyn Monroe. She shuddered as if the leg baring outfit left her cold. Not that she could feel cold, but her programming made her more than a little eccentric. "Of course Miguel! But can we make it quick? You and I will both freeze otherwise.""Yeah...look I could reverse the frequency of this scanner if I had time, but our friend inside doesn't strike me as the sort who wants to wait while a bio-engineer fiddles with this shocking device for an hour. I need you to interface and see if you can adjust the signal so we can get readings from the inside."Closing her eyes Lyla, now projecting at about the size of an action figure, stepped into Miguel's palm and then seemingly phased into the scanners. A second later she reemerged and gave a playful wink and thumbs up. "Good. I'm headed in to help Castle. Keep track of any pings you get from inside. Just in case laser based weaponry isn't all this guy is selling on the black market," he told her. Swinging over to the main building and prying a grate off of a vent, he began crawling . "I'm in the vents, ETA three minutes. See anything yet?" he asked, expecting an affirmative or negative grunt. Inside...While the interior looked like you average warehouse in many respects, it was far from it. Crates of weapons that looked like they stepped out of a cyberpunk movie were guarded by beings who seemed to straddle the line between man and machine, each holding their own sci-fi weapons. Holographic projections showed field tests of plasma rifles, smart tanks, and robotic soldiers all on a loop for potential customers to watch as the shopped around. Security cameras with mounted weapons scanned the room while football sized drones darted here and there using facial recognition software on the various criminals browsing the wares. Lining the far wall were cages, the bars made of crackling red energy, each containing shadowy figures that appeared to sport appendages, teeth, and claws well beyond the scope of the human form. "Castle? I reversed their scanners and just got a hit. Multiple hits. They aren't just selling guns and explosives. They have Freakers," Miguel told Punisher over the ear piece. "Uh, transgenic soldiers for you retro guys. Basically animal DNA spliced into human. No telling what they are capable of. Could be scorpion men, tiger soldiers, or different kinds of mishmashed monsters in there. They may have started as people, but now they are anything but. Might be able to reverse it if I was in my time, but..."It was then that he remembered who he was talking to. The Punisher wasn't Spider-Man or the Avengers. He dealt with humans the same as he would monsters. The buyers, the Freakers, the thugs helping whoever the seller was. It was all the same. Just remember, everyone here is dead long before you are even born O'Hara. And the ones from 2099 haven't been born yet. Can't save everyone.
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Post by Ysmir on Jan 13, 2022 10:19:05 GMT -7
"I am a monster... but I don't feel a thing. It's my job."
Frank hated playing the part of the dumb-as-bricks gangbanger with fewer brain cells than he had fingers, but sometimes it was the necessary sacrifice. It was definitely a much better alternative to running in blindly with zero idea of what he was up against. He wasn't spooked, just pragmatic; if ever there was an enemy he couldn't outgun, then he'd simply have to out smart them instead. Once he was certain the coast was clear, Frank walked down the last hallway of the entry corridor and exited through double doors into the main factory floor. It was a large, open space. The new occupants had sealed off the skylights as to dissuade any prying eyes from looking in from above, and altogether the general vibe of the place was one that had long since been abandoned, like several other dockside warehouses that lined New York's harbor. On the floor itself, many thugs armed with bizarre and futuristic-looking weaponry, not unlike the ones he and Spider-Man had found, stood around and patrolled the sector, on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. Thugs in suits -- no different from your average street peddlers, just prettier -- inspected advanced PDAs and talked out loud on their inner ear communicators about manifests, shipping numbers, and clientele who they referred to using codenames; "Warhawk", "Big Daddy", and "Gold Lion" were a few Frank picked out. Who knows who those buyers might be? And Jesus Christ, not to mention the things lining those cages in the far back, blocked off by glowing red bars of energy. Castle leaned on a railing overlooking the sales floor. No one had taken note of the lonely guy yet. "Yeah." Frank nodded affirmatively when Spider-Man contacted him. "Yeah, I'm seeing some shit, alright. And you're not gonna like any of it, Webhead."The scanners and security devices, admittedly, were starting to make even the Punisher nervous. This was tech he was wholly unfamiliar with, and he hadn't the slightest clue what its capabilities might be. Careful though he was, even Frank Castle wasn't slippery enough to prevent samples of his DNA from floating around cyberspace. He wondered if any of these devices had the ability to scrub people for such traces. If so, his cover might be blown sooner than he was hoping. But he had to press on like that wasn't the case. He had made it this far; no turning back, now. When Spider-Man contacted him once more, he breathed a sigh of relief. No scanners was a very, very good thing. "Good work. Should make this go a lot smoother," Frank spoke as he began descending the steps to the sales floor. "You're gonna lose me soon. Can't be seen talking to myself, for pretty obvious reasons. I'm gonna mingle and see if I can't deduce who the seller of all this shit might be, if he's even here. Lemme know on the comms when you're inside and can start providing overwatch."
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INFORMATION Male
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" That'd be me. The Spider-Man of tomorrow, here to save today... "
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Post by Rift on Mar 19, 2022 12:48:56 GMT -7
Miguel gulped as the line went silent. Again, he knew that whatever was going to happen would haunt his dreams later, that the original Spider-Man would be opposed to working with someone with the Punisher's reputation to get the job done, but that was not something he had the luxury of worrying about. The future, his whole world, was at stake. Sure, a few more plasma rifles, holographic armors, or genetically modified soldiers may not seem like a big deal in a world rife with alien invasions and a new supervillain every other month, but it was so much more than that. The existence of tech in a time well before it was developed could launch conflicts that otherwise wouldn't have been possible, win unwinnable wars, or jump start dangerous Artificial Intelligence. Maybe Freakers would help usher in a premature end to the Age of Heroes by forcing humans to think they had to upgrade themselves into something more than human. Perhaps a violent third world nation would get their hands on weapons more dangerous than nukes. It could even be as simple as someone not innovating existing tech, changing the course of the world because they instead focus on reverse engineering 2099 tech instead, leading to disasters big and small.
Not that Castle's bullets or the ones they find themselves in are gonna understand the Butterfly Effect or time paradoxes, but I can't worry about that now. Whoever is running this show has to be insane or worse, wants to wreak havoc across the timestream. They have to be stopped, whether Parker would give me a glowing review for the how of it or not.
Meanwhile, inside the warehouse, a young woman approached Frank. Like a handful of others in attendance, she was dressed in a tailormade pantsuit, her blouse not fully buttoned up, long blond hair pinned up in a professional bun. It wouldn't take a detective to see that she and the handful of nearly identical women (so similar they could almost be twins) were there to act as guides for would be customers.
"Greetings," she said, hand outstretched. "Is there anything specific you are in the market for today sir?"
Her singsong voice was almost off putting, her friendliness somehow both sincere and unnerving all at once.
"If you are looking for some assistance with demolitions we have a fine variety of options over here. We also provide assistance with acquiring skilled, specialized professionals to assist with operations," she said motioning towards a cage with a man with snake-like eyes and fangs. "Or perhaps you are interested in pest control? We provide all manner of services for our clients, provided they have appropriate funding."
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Post by Ysmir on May 8, 2022 8:45:07 GMT -7
"I am a monster... but I don't feel a thing. It's my job."
On the floor, Frank felt like he was at some twisted, fucked-up convention that catered to terrorists and sociopaths alike. And in a way, that feeling wasn't completely inaccurate. Under different circumstances, the Punisher would have felt like a kid in a candy shop, eyeing every weapon on the shelves as potential tools in his personal crusade against crime and injustice. But knowing the stakes from the Spider-Man of the future, he couldn't help but feel just a bit uneasy. This unease was exacerbated when, unprompted, a woman found her way toward Frank wearing a plastic grin and clothes that were clearly a size too small for her, meant to accentuate her hourglass figure and make her visually appealing. In his initial sweep of the room from the walkway above, Frank identified several other individuals who looked as though they were carbon copies of this one. Disgusting sales strategy.But he couldn't wear his distaste on his face. Instead, Frank wore a cocksure grin and extended his hand out to grasp hers. He acted rough as a violent criminal should be, shaking her hand with perhaps a bit too much force and a tighter squeeze than one usually received. And to top it off, the shake lingered. Frank glanced at the caged monstrosity. He didn't often feel sympathy, but he managed to feel the slightest bit sorry for the man within. Frank doubted he was there by choice. However, "pest control" almost made him chuckle; he thought of Spider-Man, and how he might have been an inspiration for that particular service. "Y'know, actually," he began, releasing her hand and shoving his fists back into his coat pockets, "was hearin' a lotta talk on the street about some real exotic stuff comin' outta this warehouse. I'm talkin' big scores, hush-hush and all. You pickin' up what I'm puttin' down?"Frank glanced over the woman's shoulder at one of the armed guards who wielded what looked to be a silvered, highly-specialized energy rifle. He pointed. "Like that guy's."
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Post by Rift on Jun 3, 2022 16:58:15 GMT -7
The saleswoman paused for a moment, blinking unnaturally fast as she processed his request. Turning slowly she observed the guard that Frank had pointed out. Suddenly, she smiled extra wide, head cocked at an angle as she spun back to him, her voice extra cheerful.
"Why of course sir! Items for personal defense and security are among our top selling merchandise. This way please!"
Walking away she led him to another portion of the warehouse where guards stood by watching as potential buyers tested out a variety of high-tech weapons. One thug, obviously little more than a gangbanger and drug dealer, took aim at a can of peas set up in the distance. A red light lanced out of the large pistol, striking the can, and melting it into molten slag.
"As you can see, this is one of the most requested items. The sidearm may resemble laser based weaponry, but in actuality it is an engineering marvel! Superheated gas is generated within and small spark assembly heats the gas with the force of a single lightning bolt. The beam that is produced is actually plasma capable of melting organic material and lesser metals alike!" she explained in a cheerful, sing-song voice.
Moving her hand like a model on some game show she indicated another individual, this one brandishing an oversized rifle. He took at a mannequin set up in the near distance and squeezed the trigger, sending a yellow streak of light out. The light passed through the makeshift target causing no apparent damage. Seconds later however the thing fell into four smoldering pieces as if it had been surgically cut.
"The yellow light is actually to assist with aim and targeting. The actual energy produced is invisible to the naked eye, but forms a superheated grid-like pattern that can be tightened or expanded to a more net-like formation as desired," she explained. "Of course these are the high-end models. Lesser plasma and arc energy based devices are also available should these be outside of your price range. Exactly how much are you looking to purchase sir?"
Meanwhile, unseen by anyone else, Miguel had managed to enter the warehouse. His long trip through the vents over he carefully crawled along the ceiling making certain to stop within the shadowed portion most likely to be out of range of the security cameras.
"Okay, I'm in. I see you're making friends already," he said over comms. "These women all look very similar. Like too similar. Either clones or...more likely androids. Chances are they have defensive protocols too, so no need to worry about collateral with them."
That is, of course, assuming he'd even care. I mean this is the Punisher and I only have records to go off of. Since they know what they are doing, maybe he'd see them as fair game even if they were human. he thought, a chill running up his spine.
"I'm going to try to get into position to shut the drones down. Not sure I can do it without being seen, so be ready for the party to start sooner rather than later. Oh and be careful. Those shocking drones and androids are a lot more accurate than street thugs."
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Post by Ysmir on Jul 15, 2022 8:13:30 GMT -7
"I am a monster... but I don't feel a thing. It's my job."
Frank caught her rapid blink -- caught the way she looked through him more than at him. Synthetics.Dealt with them before, retired a whole lot. Once you got past the exoskeletons, they were just as vulnerable on the inside as any human. But still, it meant they had to tread carefully. One slip-up would be all it took to set her and every one of her freaky, mechanical siblings off. Without hesitation, "Frank the Thug" nodded and began following the android saleswoman through the warehouse, bobbing and weaving past the patrons that were being tended to by sellers and brokers alike. Now, his disguise was solidified; instead of a window shopper, he had upgraded to a potential buyer, and felt eyes slipping off of him. Good. He observed the other buyer testing out the weaponry, reaching a hand up to stroke at his stubbled chin, eyes narrowing to get a better look at the mechanics. A purveyor of weaponry of all types, Frank would be lying if he said he didn't genuinely find the technology fascinating. His escort's explanation was all the more intriguing, and terrifying. If every small time crook was outfitted with something capable of this devastation, it would mean Hell for him, New York's finest, and every other costumed hero on the city's streets. When the next demonstration began, Frank took heed of Spider-Man's narration through his earpiece, but of course made no physical indication that he'd heard it, lest he arouse suspicion. Instead, he continued dutifully playing the part of interested buyer, stepping up to a table and examining some of the pieces on display. He invited himself to reach down and lift a rifle identical to the one that had just been shown to him -- he tested its weight, balance in hand, and aimed down the sights at the makeshift firing range, practicing good trigger discipline the whole while. "I run a racket with a few boys outta the Bronx... real rough types, but they've all got munitions training," he relayed to the salesperson, looking over his shoulder at her. "I'm in the market for a full suite -- whatever you've got that's small, dependable... and destructive."He capped this sentence off with a wicked grin. "You mind if I dump some rounds down range with a few of these beauties? Would very much like to test out what I'm purchasin'," he requested. It would give him the chance to familiarize himself with the operations of some of these weapons. It would also ensure he was armed and ready, when the time came. And he assumed that would be soon.
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" That'd be me. The Spider-Man of tomorrow, here to save today... "
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Post by Rift on Oct 2, 2022 1:12:23 GMT -7
As Miguel moved slowly and silently across the ceiling, he made sure to keep the drones flittering here and there within his line of sight. They didn't look like much, but he knew from experience that the weapons they were packing were deadly even if the targeting systems were less than accurate.
If I can just make it to what looks like the control center, I should be able to shut them down without too much trouble. Leaving just the synthetics and the would be customers to contend with. I just have to move fast enough to not be spotted. Can't tell from here what model of sensors they have, but here's hoping they are not the advanced model that Alchemax used back home. Those shocking things could pick up movement, see in low lighting, and even dart across Nueva York's skyline with little problem. he thought.
Meanwhile the synthetic saleswoman looked at Frank and offered an eerily lifeless smile, her programming apparently not including a timer for blinking.
"Demolitions? Excellent!" she beamed, her voice sing-song in cadence. "You'll love this line of miniaturized explosive discs."
Walking over to a table she picked up what looked like a metal tube approximately the size of television remote control. Opening a compartment she removed a row of chrome discs no larger than a quarter, each with what appeared to be a small indentation at the edge.
"With these, you simply arm them by sliding a fingernail into the groove. The low beep and golden glow around the edges alerts you to it's armed state. From there you can throw it or attach it to a surface where it magnetically seals in place. The resulting explosion happens within 3 minutes, but only if there is no longer organic matter touching the disc! Furthermore the device they are stored in can act as a launching mechanism, a twist of the end arming all of them before sending them out at the same rate as a standard handgun. The yield is approximately three times the power and range of standard C-4 packs!"
Upon hearing his request she paused, cocked her head to one side, and smiled again.
"Why of course!" she beamed, handing him the tube.
Leading him over to an area where other customers were testing weaponry, she picked up a small compact gun. It was similar in size to a Saturday Night Special, but the design was far more advances, with lines of circuitry showing through the translucent barrel.
"You might also be interested in this. Don't let it's size fool you. This pistol fires a beam of energy that upon contact with a surface caused a blast equivalent to a hand grenade. If that beam happens to hit organize tissue it instead has an effect not unlike plasma causing severe burning. And the entire weapon is DNA encoded to individual wielders meaning it truly become your weapon and should it ever end up in the hands of another is simply a nice paper weight!"
As she handed the gun over, casually mentioning a larger rifle from the same line, she suddenly moved inhumanly fast, placing her hand on Frank's shoulder with more force than a real human could have done.
"WAIT! I almost forgot. Silly me. You should don a pair of safety glasses to protect your eyes from both shrapnel and potential backwash heat! Would you like for me to secure the rifle and the safety equipment for you?"
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"Keeping the Dream alive."
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Post by Ysmir on Jan 2, 2023 11:10:17 GMT -7
"I am a monster... but I don't feel a thing. It's my job."
Frank took the small, metal tube from his "host", examining it between his fingers and inwardly admiring and abhorring the information she had relayed to him. Three times the yield of standard C-4 in a package no bigger than a United States quarter? It was incredible engineering, to be sure, and something to be feared. Needless to say, he was happy that it was in his hands now. Could be useful later. "Thanks, doll," he relayed in his accent. Normally, he'd never be caught dead speaking this way to a woman, but it fit his character and that was the important thing. Tube of detonation discs in hand, and with the rifle hoisted up on his shoulder, Frank followed her down the line to another portion of the shooting range, where a display of weaponry was laid out. Everything was going smooth -- intensely so. In fact, something about it... unsettled him. He wondered as he walked what Spider-Man was up to. Had he been discovered? Was he successful? Had he not made it to the drones yet? All questions that, at the moment, wouldn't be answered. Frank simply had to wait for the signal that his compatriot's goal was achieved, playing the part all the while. He took hold of the small handgun with his one free hand, turning it over and examining it in his grasp. Then, she moved with inhuman speed and accuracy and took hold of his shoulder, fingers curling over the fabric of his coat with more force than should be possible. To say it startled him was an understatement, but even with his own incredible reflexes, Frank didn't even have time to react to her movements. He blinked, wondering for a split second if the action was hostile, before realizing that it wasn't at all. A safety briefing? In this place? Gimme a break.He sighed out a chuckle, sniffed, then nodded his head. "Yeah -- yeah, that'd be great, hun. Thank ya," he answered. Frank was armed. Those surrounding him were completely unaware. If ever there was a time for Spider-Man to take down their defenses and unleash chaos, it was now.
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