submariner: (grr)
[personal profile] submariner
[So the video is shot underwater (like usual), somewhere where it's still midday, and it's focused on a really hideous bloated green corpse.

A skrull corpse.

Next to it, Namor looks pretty pissy (also like usual).]


Someone has been littering in my waters.
submariner: (in cahoots)
[personal profile] submariner
[filtered to victor von doom]
I would speak to you of this Skrull problem, Doom.

[filtered to susan]
Have you been released?
submariner: (Default)
[personal profile] submariner
[Encrypted to Namora]

[Namor looks a bit tired. The dismayed clicking of dolphins can be heard from somewhere behind the comm. When he speaks, it's in Atlantean.] We must talk.

[Public]

[Schooling his expression back into one of haughty irritation for addressing the surface rabble! Obviously. The video is clearly shot in the ocean, somewhere sunny and tropical; the light is fractured by the clear water and wavering in odd patterns across his skin.] Must you people celebrate some new, inane thing every month? Someone explain this damned holiday to me.
submariner: (Default)
[personal profile] submariner
[A black-and-white clip begins amid what is clearly an attack, showing first the sky and then the deck of a massive aircraft carrier. A few of the planes are circling in the air above, but they can't fire down onto their own ship. The camera quickly refocuses on the relatively small figure of a man as he begins heaving the empty planes off the deck of the craft before they can be occupied. They go spiraling down into the ocean below, whacking against the sides of the ship in the process, springing a few great, groaning leaks. Military personnel shout commands and gunfire breaks out, but it doesn't seem to slow the attacker down. He dives suddenly straight through the deck of the ship, peeling the metal back with his bare hands like it is made entirely of aluminum foil.

In the interest of brevity, the video skips to a significant amount of time later. There aren't any planes left in the sky, but there is a veritable fleet of lifeboats making their way off the starboard bow. Then, suddenly, the video begins to shake and tip, and dozens of ruined, smoking still-floating aircrafts swim into view. The boat is being capsized. When the top of the ship is fully submerged, the video finally gets a clear close-up of the man responsible, zipping through the rapidly dimming water until he is staring directly into the security camera. He's got dramatically pointed ears, and arched eyebrows. An unmistakably arrogant expression plastered across his face. The camera doesn't capture any audio, but for anyone who can read lips, he clearly mouths "This is only the first," before the feed goes static and cuts out.]


This haunting footage was handed to our Channel Five correspondent by a man calling himself "Namor" at a press conference earlier today. Our sources confirm that he is an Import. He had this to say while claiming responsibility for the unprovoked attack:

[Cut to much more professional looking footage; Namor has clearly walked right up to a press conference already in progress and kicked the intended target out from behind the podium. He carries his trident, and is thankfully not wearing his green scaly panties outfit (he's wearing the one with an open shirt and super tight pants that end at his calves, barefoot.) He zooms in on an incredibly attractive, incredibly blond reporter, because he's Namor come on, and hands her a small tape with a smirk before talking, seemingly addressing her camera in particular. Y e p.]

I am Namor, King of Atlantis. The seas are my realm, and the people of this world have desecrated them. No more. The world has two weeks to cease commercial fishing, offshore drilling for oil, and to demilitarize the oceans before I start sinking every ship I come across.

[He raises his chin, haughty, and then shoots straight up into the air and away with the aid of his fancy, manly ankle wings. The Channel Five correspondent glances back at her camera, then down at the tape in her hand, looking completely confused. The feed cuts again.]
submariner: (Default)
[personal profile] submariner
[When the video clicks on, the backdrop is the face of the Porter building. Namor is holding a tall, gleaming trident, and he has clearly been working himself up into a good rant with excess stomping and fuming for a few minutes already (since attempts to /flip the Porter didn't go quite as planned). The moment he's sure the comm is good and on, he starts barking vitriol at it.]

I have neither time, nor patience for your problems, surface dwellers. Grovel to your fellow air breathers if you wish them solved without expending the effort to fix them yourselves. I will not waste any more of my energy protecting the mewling, idiot masses of your damned cities, when calls for the aid of my kind constantly go unheeded.

[Oh, except those surface guys (and gals!) that stepped up to help with his little Attuma problem like 2 issues ago-- Namor hesitates long enough for his lips to purse in distaste at the notion of shirking a debt, and then he narrows his eyes down at the communicator.]

Very well. Clearly, that is too much to ask. Direct me to your current disaster so I may do everything for you and be on my way.

[THEN HE TURNS UP HIS NOSE AND ENDS THE POST, SO THERE.]

[ voice; ]

Jun. 11th, 2009 06:42 pm
[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com




















I'm going to go drink. None of you crazy people make sense without a shot or five or bourbon.

Playing superheroes, I swear. It's like the Reds don't have enough ways to get us to screw the pooch.

[ voice; ]

May. 31st, 2009 11:27 pm
[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

Captain America is dead.


[ a -- oh god. Namor does not take these things well. ]


Captain America is...dead.


[ A rather long pause. ]


...A memorial service will be held on the second of June at [this] location, from seven-pm until nine. There will be no body to bury or ashes to venerate, and attendance is compulsory for anyone even daring to call themselves an Inavder, an Avenger, or a member of the Fifty-States Initiative. [ another pause ] Do not -- do not force me hunt you down and make you attend, Surface Dwellers. You will not enjoy it and I refuse to have the man's memory sullied by your ineptitude. Similarly, any villains caught showing their face at the ceremony will be apprehended and imprisoned on sight -- I don't care if you want to pay your respects.

[ he trails ]



...Long live the American Dream. Those of you who wish to speak to me on the matter know where to find me.

[ voice; ]

May. 24th, 2009 01:41 pm
[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

I am surprised you're still able to walk after all of that, Stark.

[ text; ]

May. 15th, 2009 11:21 pm
[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

There is a mute audio function on your communicators, air-breathers.

Learn to use it.

[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

[ the sound of various people chatting in the background, along with footsteps sounding down a hallway ]

Sir, I've finally got those carbon emission assessment report for the entire Western seaboard you asked for, along with the research papers Dr. Kinney left behind before being, ah "ported out".

Thank you, Jacqueline; is there anything else I should look over before lunch, or...?

[ a male voice, this time ] Uh, well. [ papers being shuffled ] -- Your four o'clock rescheduled for tomorrow afternoon, and Mr. Booth, from Fjord cars, still won't answer any of our phone calls --

Idiot.

-- Ah, yes. I-i suppose. Uh, the members of the board over at Sasol are still waiting to hear back from you regarding their new synthetic fuel proposal, and --

Mr. Kirby, is there anything I need to focus on right now, or should we all break for lunch?

A-ah. N-no, sir.

Good, if that is all, then I suggest we break for lunch and meet back -- under the sea, under the sea; under the sea, under the sea.

[ absolute. silence ]

...Sir?

What more is you lookin' for?


Uh.

[ You can almost hear Namor grinding his teeth. ]

But that is a big mistake.

[ SILENCE. maybe some laughing. ]


Nnn. It seems that my..."associates" back in New York have -- the seaweed is always greener in somebody else's lake -- Hhhhnnnn. Once again done something idiotic to affect their populace at large.

Is it bad, sir?

Darling it's better down where it's wetter; take it from me!

[ restrained laughter ]


I suggest you sing along if you want to keep your jobs.

[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

Predictable chaos. How droll.

I suppose this would be as proper a time as any to make my offer yet again -- [ a pause, and then a breath ] -- As of today, any heroes or mutants seeking physical sanctuary, or "protection" from the forces arrayed against us need only to use these codes to get the attention of any of the Invaders still present in the city. The "hotline" is open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week; do not inundate it with mundanities, however. Until the team grows in size, we will not be able to help you with things that you could surely take care of yourselves.

This includes cleaning up after any of your nightly "escapades," Stark.



[ ooc | as of now, the Invaders only consist of: Bucky, Namor, and Captain America. ]

voice;

Apr. 8th, 2009 01:06 pm
[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

[ rustling of various papers ]


...I believe that I will never understand how your air-breathing economy works. Its ups and downs are truly "One of the great Mysteries" of your time.

[ a pause ]


Hhn.

Tony, Bucky: a word?

[ voice; ]

Mar. 30th, 2009 04:46 pm
[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com
I could have overlooked the sadistic cruelty towards everything else in the City. I could have. What little difference does it make to me if one of your lot  begins to kill all of the other air-breathing mammals Homo Sapiens have stolen the right to exist from?

As it stands, however, this is a gross violation of the rights of every sea-dwelling creature abducted from their homeland, and it will not go unpunished. I am taking the Lizard King's head for his crimes against what little remains of Atlantis' underwater allies.

Do not get in my way, or try to dissuade me from my course; the beast is mine, and anyone so foolish as to try and stop me will find out first hand what the term feeding frenzy means.

IMPERIUS. REX.



[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

How is it that one man wearing almost a metric ton of cybernetics and Stark Tech can be so infernally hard to find? And don't dare insinuate that it's due to lack of trying; while the rest of you concentrate on frivolities -- such as trying to save that farce of a building this world's Iron Man sought to imprison us in -- some of us remember that there are more important things to do.

Honestly, it's a wonder anything gets down around this city at all.


[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

I think this day calls for organization, heroes. Without it we might as well be beasts scrounging for our next meal.

Teleport Guard Duty / Perimeter Guard Duty / On-Call Technopaths / Icon Cross Search and Apprehension / Iron Man Guards / Heroes on Patrol )

Give me a moment to outline what your duties should be, should you chose to lend a helping hand.

[ voice; ]

Mar. 13th, 2009 08:49 pm
[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

Forty-eight hours, and neither hide nor hair of the false tin can to be seen
.

Hm. This may not bode well.

[ private: Tony Stark ] )

In light of recent events, I would like to remind any and all of the City's unaffiliated residents that: no, you are not required to follow the masses and want to aid any of these so-called "heroes" in their mad-dash back to their own worlds. It is perfectly fine if you decide to stay here and rot with Iron Man and the rest of his insane sycophants, as far as the rest of us are concerned.


ooc | is anyone else's version of the main page being streched to insane lengths, or is it just mine?

[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

[
After the introduction plays, the camera shows us a short, balding man sitting in the middle of an upscale newsroom. He looks slightly distressed, but seems professional enough to maintain his composure. ]

G-good Evening, City: I'm John Stinson bringing you live, up-to-the-minute breaking news -- [ he clears his throat, and the camera switches to a rather blurry view of what appears to be a man slowly descending from the sky, the video continuing to play as John speaks ] -- Shortly two hours ago, a mysterious man claiming to be the Emperor of Atlantis arrived just outside of Liberty Square, blockading traffic in all directions as he then proceeded to somehow short-circuit all terrestrial electronics in the vicinity.

[ The recording focuses on Namor, who has now landed on a raised slab of concrete in the middle of the square. He appears to be dressed in
royal atlantean garb, and carries with him a rather ornate trident in his off hand, with the rather large swath of people around him looking on either fear or in awe. ]

Though the "Atlantean" has yet to actively harm anyone, we are being told that he has met all questions and shows of force with equal amounts of stoicism and silence, and that he is also seemingly refusing to let traffic move at this time. Whether or not the situation will worsen is yet to be --

[ The man pauses for a moment, as if listening to something. ]

I -- it seems that the "Atlantean" is finally going to speak! We now go to Trisha Takanawa for the live report!

[ The camera hastily jumps away from studio, and focuses back on where Namor is, coming to rest on an asian woman who is standing a good twenty feet away from the action. She doesn't look at all pleased with herself, but it's live television so she apparently sucks it up. ]

...Good evening, City: as you may have already heard, the man standing behind me has, after two hours of silence, finally allowed a single news crew the chance to interview him regarding his motives. [ she pauses, for a moment ] We will attempt to make contact with him shortly, and hopefully learn what it is that this man of mystery wants from our fair city..

[ The camera moves closer and closer to Namor, with Trisha actually coming within a foot of a man before he levels his trident at them. ]

Your microphone
.

[ Trisha, understandably, looks shocked. ]


M-my what?

[ Namor sighs. ]


You microphone, woman. Give it to me.


[ Trisha hands it over, and Namor turns to the camera, setting down his trident for a moment. The camera-man takes a step back, but stops after Namor gives him a look. Namor then clears his throat, and begins to speak. ]

Citizens of Iron Man's City -- I am Namor, Emperor of the Soveriegn Nation of Atlantis, and Lord of all who dwell beneath your oceans; Imperious Rex! [ he pauses, seeing if anyone laughs at that ]  -- On this day, however, I have come to you on behalf of those who you have, and who you continue to wrong on a daily basis by spreading your anti-mutant propaganda. [ he holds up one of the fliers Hodge's goons have been hanging up, and crumples ] This filth litters your street corners, inciting the populace to riot against the only force for good this City has left, and I will not stand for it any longer.

[ There's a flash of electric light, and a slight wave of static travels across the screen. Namor holds the now burning paper up as he speaks. ]
Mutantkind are not your flavor of racism for the year, City. We are also not monsters, or slaves, or creatures bereft of souls and consciousness -- we are people, living and struggling as every black man or homosexual has lived and struggled before us, and we deserve to be treated as such. Not because we may be stronger, or faster, or brighter than any of you, but simply because we are human, and human decency is a right everyone should have.

[ As the paper crumbles to dust, Namor wipes his hands, and smiles into the camera. ]


That said, the next man or woman I find harming a mutant, or who still seeks to support Cameron Hodge in his insane vendetta against mutantkind, will be tried and executed to the fullest extent of Atlantean law.
 



[ The newsfeed goes on for a few more minutes -- mainly people try to interview Namor, to no avail -- before cutting out. ]

[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

And so, heroes, I trust that this --


[ there is an INTENSE amount of rap music being played fairly LOUDLY in the background. Namor, admittedly, sounds a bit pissed at this. ]

--Dear Neptune, can there never be peace in this City? It's as if they actively try to test my patience.

Maybe ya should jus' go back t'your fuckin' MAC, then, wingboy!


--Excuse me?


You heard me, dawg! If ya can't chill with the music, then get'the fuck offa the street!


[ Cue a bit of VERY LOUD static, followed by said rap music cutting out almost completely. Namor is still obviously not pleased. ]


Is that "chill" enough for you, peon?

Yo, what the fuck, man?!


I think this entire block has had quite enough of listening to men talk about their "bitches" and "hoods" for an entire lifetime, thank you.

You better be packin' heat, motherfucker. That shit y'just ruind cost more than your life!

[ More static, intermixed with a few screams. There's about two minutes of silence before Namor begins speaking again, his mien remaining as if nothing had even happened. ]

*Ahem* -- I trust the situation with "The Joker" has been taken care of, Heroes?
[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

The next moron to scream over the communicator is going to be held responsible for another portion of the City being flooded.

Fair warning.



[ ooc | bed time, folks. ]

[ voice; ]

Jan. 2nd, 2009 01:32 am
[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

Barnes, where are the recordings of Full House I asked you to tape!?
I swear, how any of these peons get by without having sometime to sit down and watch simply amazes me.



ooc | I -- I couldn't resist.

[ Voice; ]

Dec. 21st, 2008 12:28 am
[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com
[ a LOUD crash, and then the sound of wrenching metal. ]

Let that be a lesson to you, mongrel: the Avenging Son of Atlantis is not one to be pick-pocketed.

[ there's a few seconds of silence; if anyone listens closely, they can hear sobbing in the background. ]


Blasted piece of Stark-tech -- Hello? Is this thing even picking up voice transmissions with the City's powergrid offline? [ more sobbing, following by Namor obviously kicking someone. ] Hello? To any out there who can hear this, I am in need of directions to the City's prisons, lest the next idiot seeking to accost me be thrown bodily into the ocean and never heard from again.


[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

-- May I remind all of you sadly mistaken air-breathers that your holiday began as a pagan celebration of the Equinox? Honestly: there were no kung fu Jesuii involved, nor were there "robotic chickens of doom" sent from the future and into the past to kill a gorilla named "Satan Clauses."

That is all.




By Neptune, what will these morons think of next.

[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com
If any of you air-breathers had wanted to see my old costume, all you would have had to do is ask.

Bucky -- a word, if you would?

[ Voice; ]

Nov. 29th, 2008 07:05 pm
[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com
Though I am loathe to admit it over this...piece of trash Starktech, if I do not return to the ocean within the next week, I will become dehydrated. As many of you realize: this is something that no one in this city would appreciate in the least, so --

[ Silence, followed by a slightly royal harrumph ]

...Who amongst you would enjoy a day spent at the beach?
[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com
Hphm.

[ An ambulance sounds off int he background, followed by a burst of static. ]


I knew the creature would be more bark than bite.






ooc | In reference to this. No one was killed, for once!

[ Voice;

Nov. 23rd, 2008 02:28 am
[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com
...Tch.

Happy Birthday, Barnes.







EDIT:
Citizens of the City, I have need for your ears:

In your opinions, which would be better to give a twenty-one year old American  male on his birthday: an exotic dancer, or a companion for the night?

[identity profile] fuckaquaman.livejournal.com

I HAD THOUGHT YOU BETTER THAN THIS, TONY STARK! MUCH BETTER!

[ the sound of shit getting wrecked ]

…Honestly, whom in the name of Neptune did you think you were dealing with, man?! I am not some weak little air breathing mutate dependant on the protection of your country’s idiosyncratic sense of “law” or “justice”! I am not the Black Panther T’challa, or Victor Von Doom, posturing and preening to your United Nations so that my kingdom may be seen as “equal” to yours!

I AM NAMOR, THE AVENGING SON AND IMPREIUS REX OF ATLANTIS!

[ More sounds of shit getting absolutely wrecked. ]

Who in all of the Seven Seas do you think you are, you tiny little man? Was shooting the Hulk off into space not enough to satiate you egocentric ideal of fascism? Was trying to coral every single mutant on the planet in one of your internment camps not enough of a “peace-keeping” measure?

[ Ka-boom. ]

DO YOU THINK ANY OF THIS WILL CONTAIN ME?
[ / Voice ]

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