Post by D. Golightly on May 11, 2012 10:03:37 GMT -5
“Sweet Christmas!”
A searing beam of yellow and white energy slammed into the sidewalk, cutting through the flat concrete like it was nothing more than tin foil. The blast quickly dissipated, revealing a scorched and blackened crater where a man had just been standing.
That man, a bulky black hero that went by the moniker of Luke Cage, ground his teeth in frustration. He wasn’t used to dodging attacks like that. His steel-hard skin usually put the kibosh on whatever was trying to do him harm. His shredded shirt and scarred chest, however, was evidence that his limited invulnerability was not going to be enough this time around.
He ran his hand over his bald head, now cleanly shaven from how he usually styled it. He had undergone many changes in the last few months, deciding that a new look would help give him a fresh start. Not that his new appearance was deceiving the person trying to kill him at the moment.
“With a name like the Eel,” Cage said, “I kind of figured on you being more of a pushover. Least that’s how I remember you.”
The colorful Eel growled as he unleashed another pinpointed electrical discharge at the original hired hero. The shocking power, easily double what the villain had once been capable of, burned down a street lamp, turning it into melted slag in seconds.
His suit, the source of his powerful electrical blasts, must have been modified somehow. The world was growing increasingly more chaotic, with the bad guys getting better and better tech. It used to be that Cage could shrug off this joke of a villain and walk right through his attacks without a second thought. Now he needed to think at least three or four thoughts ahead or else he would be fried on the spot.
Chicago in general had become a permanent danger zone. It was both good and bad for Cage. Good because it meant an increase in his business ventures and more revenue. Bad because he was getting worn down pretty thin, very quickly.
The Eel had broken into a pharmaceutical warehouse, which Cage had been hired to guard. This was one of his retainer clients, which meant that when the executives had received a bold threat from a disgruntled employee, he had been called into play. The threat turned out to be very real, with the employee hiring a known mercenary to burn the storage facility and destroy every trace of the experimental drug housed inside.
Another blast, forcing Cage to duck behind the sign by the entrance to the facility. The fight had started before the Eel had managed to get inside the building, and Cage had quickly angled him out toward the street in an attempt to put a little distance between the Eel and his target.
Cage ripped the remains of his tattered shirt off his burly chest and said, “Enough is enough. This fool is toast.”
He reached down, picked up a 200 lbs manhole cover with ease from where it was embedded in the street, and cracked his neck. Bending his legs slightly, Luke Cage quickly shot up into the air, his amazing strength catapulting him skyward. The Eel fired random arcs of searing electricity wildly, taken aback at the now high-flying Luke Cage. Cage whipped his arm around as he descended, hurling the manhole cover at the villain.
The plate slammed into his stomach, forcing the Eel to double over and be punched down into the ground. The small lawn outside the warehouse was now a burnt patchwork of grass and dirt. The Eel lay unconscious in the center of the war zone, smoke billowing up from his overcharged costume.
Cage landed a few yards away from him, content that the bad guy was taken care of and that he had earned another paycheck. The damage to the building wasn’t that horrible, considering that the Eel’s overall goal was to burn every trace of the contents inside. In fact, the only real loss was Cage’s shirt, which had been one of his favorites.
Sirens in the distance. He would have some explaining to do to the cops, and being an ex-con he really hated having that conversation over and over again. Danny was always better at dealing with the police.
But he had no clue where Danny Rand even was these days. His best friend had left Chicago after saving his life and he hadn’t heard from him since. That was six months ago.
It was a question that nagged at Luke Cage virtually every day: Where was Danny Rand?
A searing beam of yellow and white energy slammed into the sidewalk, cutting through the flat concrete like it was nothing more than tin foil. The blast quickly dissipated, revealing a scorched and blackened crater where a man had just been standing.
That man, a bulky black hero that went by the moniker of Luke Cage, ground his teeth in frustration. He wasn’t used to dodging attacks like that. His steel-hard skin usually put the kibosh on whatever was trying to do him harm. His shredded shirt and scarred chest, however, was evidence that his limited invulnerability was not going to be enough this time around.
He ran his hand over his bald head, now cleanly shaven from how he usually styled it. He had undergone many changes in the last few months, deciding that a new look would help give him a fresh start. Not that his new appearance was deceiving the person trying to kill him at the moment.
“With a name like the Eel,” Cage said, “I kind of figured on you being more of a pushover. Least that’s how I remember you.”
The colorful Eel growled as he unleashed another pinpointed electrical discharge at the original hired hero. The shocking power, easily double what the villain had once been capable of, burned down a street lamp, turning it into melted slag in seconds.
His suit, the source of his powerful electrical blasts, must have been modified somehow. The world was growing increasingly more chaotic, with the bad guys getting better and better tech. It used to be that Cage could shrug off this joke of a villain and walk right through his attacks without a second thought. Now he needed to think at least three or four thoughts ahead or else he would be fried on the spot.
Chicago in general had become a permanent danger zone. It was both good and bad for Cage. Good because it meant an increase in his business ventures and more revenue. Bad because he was getting worn down pretty thin, very quickly.
The Eel had broken into a pharmaceutical warehouse, which Cage had been hired to guard. This was one of his retainer clients, which meant that when the executives had received a bold threat from a disgruntled employee, he had been called into play. The threat turned out to be very real, with the employee hiring a known mercenary to burn the storage facility and destroy every trace of the experimental drug housed inside.
Another blast, forcing Cage to duck behind the sign by the entrance to the facility. The fight had started before the Eel had managed to get inside the building, and Cage had quickly angled him out toward the street in an attempt to put a little distance between the Eel and his target.
Cage ripped the remains of his tattered shirt off his burly chest and said, “Enough is enough. This fool is toast.”
He reached down, picked up a 200 lbs manhole cover with ease from where it was embedded in the street, and cracked his neck. Bending his legs slightly, Luke Cage quickly shot up into the air, his amazing strength catapulting him skyward. The Eel fired random arcs of searing electricity wildly, taken aback at the now high-flying Luke Cage. Cage whipped his arm around as he descended, hurling the manhole cover at the villain.
The plate slammed into his stomach, forcing the Eel to double over and be punched down into the ground. The small lawn outside the warehouse was now a burnt patchwork of grass and dirt. The Eel lay unconscious in the center of the war zone, smoke billowing up from his overcharged costume.
Cage landed a few yards away from him, content that the bad guy was taken care of and that he had earned another paycheck. The damage to the building wasn’t that horrible, considering that the Eel’s overall goal was to burn every trace of the contents inside. In fact, the only real loss was Cage’s shirt, which had been one of his favorites.
Sirens in the distance. He would have some explaining to do to the cops, and being an ex-con he really hated having that conversation over and over again. Danny was always better at dealing with the police.
But he had no clue where Danny Rand even was these days. His best friend had left Chicago after saving his life and he hadn’t heard from him since. That was six months ago.
It was a question that nagged at Luke Cage virtually every day: Where was Danny Rand?