[identity profile] mutant-science.livejournal.com
Louis Armstrong croons in a scratchy recording over the antique speakers. The old turntable is an oddity amid the menagerie of mad science technology that clutters the room.

A cyborg cat moves like a spider across the ceiling with it's extra limbs as it stalks a fly buzzing around the overhead lights.


"Mittens, you're gonna break the lamp again." The Maker chides his pet. He really needs to upgrade the cat's logic routines.

A vacuum attachment on his hand busies itself with cleaning up the errant feathers on the floor. Warren really thrashed around at first during the procedure. The Maker felt a sense of happy satisfaction knowing that his new friend would never know doubt or fear again. A wave of sublime contentment washed over him as he considered his accomplishment. The Summers family needed good men like him.
[identity profile] marvel-citizens.livejournal.com
It's been said there are eight million stories in the Big Apple. Modern New Yorkers scorn this as an underestimate, though the more cynical ones will hold forth on the topic of how many stories are the same old, same old. Others will argue that every story is different, because New York makes them so. This surging, seething city: the hot spot of the American melting pot, where so many first set foot on American shores, where so many come seeking fame and fortune, where so many find only disappointment or despair or even death, where a few manage to hitch their dreams to that morning star.

"Every person on the streets of New York is a type. The city is one big theater where everyone is on display," said Jerry Rubin. All the world may be a stage, and all the men and women merely players, but who plays what? Who gets the leading role, and who will forever be stuck in the chorus line? Who will remain a stage-door Johnny, and who will be able to move from lead actor to director ... or the even more powerful position of producer?

Cast, crew, backers, and audience ... each one brings their own meaning to that granite beehive where people jostle and whir like molecules in an overheated jar.

New York City. Center of the universe.

If you can make it here, you'll make it anywhere.
[identity profile] spidey2099.livejournal.com
Butte, Montana. The outskirts.

Town looks pretty well beaten down, so the intel may still be spot on.

It's hard to get used to following this hairy runt around after he was such a terrifying psycho killfreak just two worlds ago, but chances are, if he flips out, Raven will be the first one to go, and he likely wouldn't lose much sleep over that.

Spider-Man's head has cleared, and he's crawling up a steep hill to get a better view over the bluff.

"I'm not seeing anything yet," he mutters down to the rest of the crew, through the comm.

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