Unbeatable [Closed] - Printable Version
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Unbeatable [Closed] - Tindome - 02-15-2015
[img align=center]http://alonimi.net/misc/images/graphics/unbeatable.png[/img]
Unbeatable [Closed] - Tindome - 02-15-2015
Time management was an important skill for any college student. Between lectures, homework, studying, fighting crime, and making sure to get enough sleep, there was barely any time left for things like socializing or tail brushing.
Not that there was any shortage of mutants in New York, but if there were other students at Empire State with tails, she didn't know how they managed. Keeping her tail stuffed in her pants lead to a fantastic figure, but also matted fur. Tippy Toe was utterly mortified by the state of her, and Doreen couldn't blame her. They had agreed to multitask in Central Park, with Squirrel Girl disagreeing with her compiler and her squirrel army trying to untangle the mess that her tail had become.
It would have been a very strange sight, if anyone bothered to look up that particular tree.
"What undeclared identifier?" she demanded of her laptop. "I've declared all the identifiers! All the identifiers have been identified!"
«Maybe there's a typo,» Tippy Toe suggested.
"I think I would have noticed something as obvious as a typo, Tippy Toe." Brown eyes narrowed at the screen. "Wait. No, I didn't. There's a typo. That was it." She corrected the mistake, then clicked the compile button again. "That didn't… well, at least it's an interesting new error," she said, looking on the bright side.
«Tail's done!» Tippy Toe said, which almost theoretically qualified as good news. Squirrels left the tree en masse, and Doreen brought her tail high enough that she could grab it and hug it to her chest, propping it under her chin like a pillow.
"I don't think Achieving Consistency Across Distributed Database Systems Girl is ready for primetime yet," she sighed, large front teeth sinking into her lower lip.
«I'm sure you'll get it eventually! Squirrel Girl can't be defeated by a simple programming assignment.»
"I wish we'd have a punching gorillas on the moon assignment every once in a while," she said. "I'd do great at those." Punching things, in general, was much easier than college. Which was the whole point, that this was a challenge and she was learning new things. She hadn't realized at the time how suspiciously learning resembled failing repeatedly.
Not that there was any shortage of mutants in New York, but if there were other students at Empire State with tails, she didn't know how they managed. Keeping her tail stuffed in her pants lead to a fantastic figure, but also matted fur. Tippy Toe was utterly mortified by the state of her, and Doreen couldn't blame her. They had agreed to multitask in Central Park, with Squirrel Girl disagreeing with her compiler and her squirrel army trying to untangle the mess that her tail had become.
It would have been a very strange sight, if anyone bothered to look up that particular tree.
"What undeclared identifier?" she demanded of her laptop. "I've declared all the identifiers! All the identifiers have been identified!"
«Maybe there's a typo,» Tippy Toe suggested.
"I think I would have noticed something as obvious as a typo, Tippy Toe." Brown eyes narrowed at the screen. "Wait. No, I didn't. There's a typo. That was it." She corrected the mistake, then clicked the compile button again. "That didn't… well, at least it's an interesting new error," she said, looking on the bright side.
«Tail's done!» Tippy Toe said, which almost theoretically qualified as good news. Squirrels left the tree en masse, and Doreen brought her tail high enough that she could grab it and hug it to her chest, propping it under her chin like a pillow.
"I don't think Achieving Consistency Across Distributed Database Systems Girl is ready for primetime yet," she sighed, large front teeth sinking into her lower lip.
«I'm sure you'll get it eventually! Squirrel Girl can't be defeated by a simple programming assignment.»
"I wish we'd have a punching gorillas on the moon assignment every once in a while," she said. "I'd do great at those." Punching things, in general, was much easier than college. Which was the whole point, that this was a challenge and she was learning new things. She hadn't realized at the time how suspiciously learning resembled failing repeatedly.
Unbeatable [Closed] - sir - 02-15-2015
Alexei Kravinoff was a scholar by avocation. Collecting information, knowing things, was his passion as well as role. In the old country, the dour-faced providers of blinis and shchi were certain, such curiosity would have been turned to the task of observation. He would have been a hunter of fellow-citizens, an informer- but this they were willing to forgive.
Gathering was simple. Explaining was hard.
Explaining why your room was full of small bottles. That they contained perfumes, scents, and not alcohol, pleased no-one. The drunkard was disappointed, the teetotaler mystified.
It’s to make sure I don’t smell you. That never went over well, even- especially- after someone had been kind enough to spend an evening in his immaculate little room. In his strong arms, his rough hands.
You smell strongly to me. I don’t want to smell you. If I don’t do something about it, I will smell you all of the time. These days, his English was quite blameless, and translation mistakes could not be used as a disclaimer.
They did not seem to realize- the various pretty little things who were not wise enough to recognize a sensitive issue- that all of the time meant all of the time. Continually, a thread weaving through a landscape of the indescribable sensorium.
Alexei was a perfumer by necessity, surely a rare distinction. His room was absolutely clean and largely bare, save for serried ranks upon ranks of bottles and pipettes, and a small rack of weight-lifting equipment, which was not dusty but was also not used. Empire State checked in every few months to make sure his situation had not become the drug laboratory it so clearly resembled, and never seemed entirely satisfied.
It was probably for the best they had not found his going-out clothes, or the handcuffs.
AlOnDaProwl: hay deets you were right she totes hates waffles
PoundDeeAlarmed: she h8 ur az u mean lol
whodafuq want a man smells like brekky erry day
she knows she gon be fat BC wafflelust
AlOnDaProwl: your suggestion was fish and chips so I don’t really think you get to make nutrition jokes
this is what I get when I talk to you in my hour of need.
well, my hour of need that doesn’t involve punching?
my hour of nonviolent need
PoundDeeAlarmed: fuck off ghandi I ain’t need nonviolence
dis girl 100% violence
all punches, no time for love dr. ruski
unless you punch da pussy
AlOnDaProwl: omfg
I hate you so much
Unbeatable [Closed] - megs - 03-22-2015
A pale hand snaked out from beneath the bountiful pile of blankets that engulfed the bed, and groped across the nightstand for the source of the offending sounds of an alarm. Nearly successful, but not enough, slender fingers instead pushed the cell phone off the table where it clattered to the floor, and kept sounding off. Gwen Stacy groaned and brought her hand back beneath the blankets to push herself up. She sat back on her calves and yawned, lifting her arms above her head in a stretch. Eventually, the room was quiet again, the alarm having settled into sleep mode. She dropped her arms and scrubbed her hands over her face with another groan.
This superhero business was not all that it was cracked up to be.
That was unfair, there was plenty of reward in this superhero business. Sleep was just not one of them.
She was more content to fall onto her stomach again and roll off the bed and onto the floor, than she was to get up properly. With her back pressed to the cold wood flooring, and her legs propped up on the mattress, she retrieved her phone. The screen lit up with a simple touch, and she made sure to turn off the alarm immediately before it went off again. "Whoops," she complains to herself, noticing that her text inbox was full to bursting with messages from various sources.
Efficiently managing your social life was also not one of the rewards.
Pushing blonde bangs off her forehead, Gwen mentally weighed the consequences of simply ignoring all the messages, versus attempting to appease everyone with replies. She would not get the chance to truly mull it over, because the device started buzzing erratically in her hand. Mary Jane Watson's ever-smiling features engulfed the entirety of her screen, along with the options to accept or decline the call.
She tapped the green button and settled the phone against her ear and shoulder. "Hello, Mary Jane, light of my life," she hoped the exaggerated sound of sleep in her voice, and buttery affections would quell whatever mood the redhead was affected with.
"You're late," came a sharp response from the opposite end of the line.
"Fashionably?" the blonde returned, rolling onto her stomach and propping her chin in the hand that did not replace her shoulder to press the phone to her ear. Her attempts to resolve the situation with humor would be easily contested.
"That remains to be seen," Mary Jane snaps. "You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago."
Gwen could not even remember where 'here' supposedly was. She wracked her brain, trying to remember as the other woman continued to scold her.
"Central Park. Ten minutes!"
Mary Jane's demands were the last thing Gwen heard before the line went dead.
"Yeah, okay," Gwen replied to the empty air. She sat up and tossed her phone onto the bed. She looked over to where her costume lay on the floor, discarded from the previous night.
Living a double life didn't look so hard on television.
Unbeatable [Closed] - Tindome - 05-03-2015
"That dinosaur has a gun!"
Doreen responded to this exclamation in the manner of most computer science majors.
"Oh, thank goodness." She shut her laptop and stuck it precariously in some nearby branches as she jumped out of the designated homework tree.
«Doreen,» Tippy Toe began.
"Gun-toting dinosaurs won't wait for my compiler to finish, Tippy-Toe!"
«This seems like procrastinating! Can't the Avengers take care of this?»
"Not if we take care of it first!" she said, because she'd be damned if she gave up an opportunity to punch a dinosaur. Which sort of meant Tippy-Toe had a point, but she was going to ignore that because it was inconvenient.
Leaping behind a tree to dodge a spray of bullets from a machine gun, Doreen immediately noticed something strange about the dinosaur. Aside from the fact that it was shooting at her, and also not dead.
"That's way too big to be a raptor!" she exclaimed. "And where are it's feathers?" She looked around the trunk of the tree, and yelled, "You're scientifically inaccurate!"
"I AM EXTREMELY ACCURATE IN SCIENCES BOTH PSUEDO AND REGULAR," the dinosaur shouted back, apparently able to talk, but not regulate its speaking volume.
So: not-very-accurate looking dinosaur, able to speak and use firearms. Doreen looked through her cards to double-check, but her hunch was accurate: this was not a known villain. Maybe it was new! Maybe it was finally her chance to get an archnemesis!
"Are you a robot?" she suggested, and was met with another spray of bullets that followed her as she leapt up into the tree.
"HOW DARE YOU I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO OFFENDED IN ALL MY DAYS," the dinosaur said. Or screamed. There didn't seem to be much of a distinction.
"Look, dude, it was a reasonable assumption! You don't look like a real dinosaur!"
"I AM A DINOSAUR AND ALSO REAL, THEREFORE YOUR ARGUMENT IS INVALID."
"Wow, that's really circular logic. What about an alien? Are you an alien?"
"IS THIS EARTH?"
"Heck yes!"
"THEN I AM NOT AN ALIEN, I AM AN EARTH DINOSAUR, FROM THE PLANET EARTH."
"But Earth dinosaurs had feathers!" Doreen said, leaping out of the tree but failing to catch the dinosaur, which dodged her attack as it reloaded.
"THAT IS ALSO OFFENSIVE," the dinosaur said.
"It's a fact!" Doreen said impatiently, launching Tippy-Toe in the dinosaur's direction. The dinosaur flailed its limbs and gun at the squirrel. "There are fossils and everything!"
«I think I've found the problem,» Tippy-Toe said from the spot on the back of the dinosaur's head that it could not reach. Doreen ran and jumped to sidestep the dinosaur and see what the squirrel was talking about.
... that was almost definitely a hole in spacetime.
This presented exciting possibilities.
"Are you from a universe where dinosaurs rule the Earth??"
The dinosaur paused, then narrowed its eyes. "... yes."
Doreen responded to this exclamation in the manner of most computer science majors.
"Oh, thank goodness." She shut her laptop and stuck it precariously in some nearby branches as she jumped out of the designated homework tree.
«Doreen,» Tippy Toe began.
"Gun-toting dinosaurs won't wait for my compiler to finish, Tippy-Toe!"
«This seems like procrastinating! Can't the Avengers take care of this?»
"Not if we take care of it first!" she said, because she'd be damned if she gave up an opportunity to punch a dinosaur. Which sort of meant Tippy-Toe had a point, but she was going to ignore that because it was inconvenient.
Leaping behind a tree to dodge a spray of bullets from a machine gun, Doreen immediately noticed something strange about the dinosaur. Aside from the fact that it was shooting at her, and also not dead.
"That's way too big to be a raptor!" she exclaimed. "And where are it's feathers?" She looked around the trunk of the tree, and yelled, "You're scientifically inaccurate!"
"I AM EXTREMELY ACCURATE IN SCIENCES BOTH PSUEDO AND REGULAR," the dinosaur shouted back, apparently able to talk, but not regulate its speaking volume.
So: not-very-accurate looking dinosaur, able to speak and use firearms. Doreen looked through her cards to double-check, but her hunch was accurate: this was not a known villain. Maybe it was new! Maybe it was finally her chance to get an archnemesis!
"Are you a robot?" she suggested, and was met with another spray of bullets that followed her as she leapt up into the tree.
"HOW DARE YOU I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO OFFENDED IN ALL MY DAYS," the dinosaur said. Or screamed. There didn't seem to be much of a distinction.
"Look, dude, it was a reasonable assumption! You don't look like a real dinosaur!"
"I AM A DINOSAUR AND ALSO REAL, THEREFORE YOUR ARGUMENT IS INVALID."
"Wow, that's really circular logic. What about an alien? Are you an alien?"
"IS THIS EARTH?"
"Heck yes!"
"THEN I AM NOT AN ALIEN, I AM AN EARTH DINOSAUR, FROM THE PLANET EARTH."
"But Earth dinosaurs had feathers!" Doreen said, leaping out of the tree but failing to catch the dinosaur, which dodged her attack as it reloaded.
"THAT IS ALSO OFFENSIVE," the dinosaur said.
"It's a fact!" Doreen said impatiently, launching Tippy-Toe in the dinosaur's direction. The dinosaur flailed its limbs and gun at the squirrel. "There are fossils and everything!"
«I think I've found the problem,» Tippy-Toe said from the spot on the back of the dinosaur's head that it could not reach. Doreen ran and jumped to sidestep the dinosaur and see what the squirrel was talking about.
... that was almost definitely a hole in spacetime.
This presented exciting possibilities.
"Are you from a universe where dinosaurs rule the Earth??"
The dinosaur paused, then narrowed its eyes. "... yes."
Unbeatable [Closed] - sir - 05-07-2015
Midway through an interminable lecture on the Anglo-Saxon literary tradition, heavy on wergild and ennui, Alexei was somewhat surprised to realize that his phone was ringing.
Not vibrating, as would indicate an alarm, nor gently chirping as would indicate a (rare) text message, nor even the distinct vibration that would indicate a message from a ‘lady caller’ via one or the other of his numerous discreditable apps. It was ringing: a horrible but euphonious sound, unchanged from factory default.
He stood and shuffled his way sidewise out of the back row, ass politely displayed to his back-of-the-room companions. Old (possibly Olde) professor Yarmstein was not likely to forgive this, despite his best smile, the one he mentally filed under Rom Com special; at age 65, balding, and heterosexual, he was not precisely the intended target.
“There’s a fucking wormhole in Central Park.”
The vaunted Kravinoff cunning took a moment to parse this statement and recognize the voice- husky, vague, always on the verge of laughter at undignified volume.
“Dee? Why did you call me? You have my number, you could have…you know what, never mind. There’s what now?”
“A wormhole. In the park. It’s big and sort of…purple? And a dinosaur came out. You need to hunt this dinosaur, hunter dude.”
Alexei felt a sharp pain, realized it was the pressure of his own teeth on his lower lip.
“I’m choosing to believe you aren’t insane.”
A brief pause while he considered the wisdom of this course.
“…I don’t do animal hunting stuff. Way too Cecil Rhodes and shit, you know? I am not going to turn into the guy who has like a stuffed elephant butthole and five tiger dicks on his wall.”
The resulting snort would have done justice to a basking hippo.
“What you do with your personal life is your business. The dinosaur has a- FUCK- hang on, fuck, okay. He has a gun, though. He’s shooting at things.”
Alexei gave this due consideration.
“Are you saying this is some sort of dinosaur criminal? A crimeasaur? Dino-delinquent? Paleolithic Palooka?”
Dee’s heavy sigh was backgrounded with the firecracker pop of automatic weaponry.
“Please save your witty shitty for those who give fucks and come hunt this dinosaur, dumpass.”
“Coming bringing screamers and the spear don’t get shot.”
“What are you going to do with the fucking spear, don’t bring the spear, fucking-“
“I’m bringing it, shut up.”
Unbeatable [Closed] - megs - 05-18-2015
Gwen did not mean to make a habit of skipping classes or neglecting school work. It was apparently something that just happened as a side of effect of being a vigilante. Ugh.
The word made her cringe, and she adjusted the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder before it could fall off. It was unlikely there was another word for whatever she was doing, but typically the only thing she could think of was the way her father used to say it with disgust. He often spoke of the Avengers or the Fantastic Four with the same amount of disdain as anyone else who seemed to hold themselves above the law. Sometimes the law just wasn't high enough. Sometimes the law needed help.
But the law was a fickle and subjective thing; typically not very grateful.
News of what was happening in Central Park, began as a murmur. A subtle change in volume as riders on the subway received alerts on their phones. Faces twisted in concern as information was shared with friends and fellow passengers. Gwen was silently observant to the change, she left her ear buds in, but turned off the music so she could eavesdrop without being obvious. Looking down at her own phone only revealed a message from Mary Jane with a single word. Don't.
Gwen Stacy was a lot of things, but she was not a very good at following directions.
Pushing her way off the subway at the next stop, she attempted to decipher bits of conversations that she heard in the crowd. Words like wormhole and dinosaur seemed to fall into place neatly. Others such as machine gun and squirrel seemed out of place.
Further investigation required.
Changing into your Crime Fighting Costume in a low-traffic alley, left a lot to be desired. Gwen contemplated this as she tossed her hood up over her mask and began to scale the brick wall of the towering apartment building. This is why she needed a cool hideout, like Avengers Mansion or the Baxter Building. It was needless to say that she was a bit jealous.
She briefly wondered if either organization accepted applications.
She scolded herself, because now was certainly not the time. She should probably be focusing on how dinosaurs and machine guns went together; also, jumping off this roof.
Too late, she'd jumped. And now she was falling. She pushed her hand forward and webbing shot from the canister on her wrist. Catching a nearby flagpole she used the momentum to propel herself forward.
Forget the subway. This was the easiest way around New York.
She made it to Central Park in what could have been record time if there was anyone around that kept track of those things. She alighted upon a lamppost and crouched down do check out the scene.
Wormhole: Check.
Dinosaur: Check
Oh, wow. Even a machine gun. This still didn't make any sense but all the pieces were there so far. So that was cool.
She hopped off the post just in time to miss a spray of bullets. This dinosaur was not a very good shot. She decided to tell it that.
"You're not a very good shot!" She calls, touching ground as the dinosaur continued to flail. It was trying to remove something she couldn't see from a spot it couldn't reach. While simultaneously arguing with someone else. Gwen looked around.
"Oooh, heeey. Squirrel Girl. Now that makes way more sense."