capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

(no subject)

WHO: Carnage (

antiduality), Norman Osborn (

greengosborn)
WHERE: outskirts
WHEN: Tuesday noonish, after the EMP hits
WARNINGS: none really
SUMMARY: Carnage has broken out of prison. Osborn finds him.
FORMAT: quickpara whatever

He'd been trying to sleep when the forcefield abruptly died. It'd made some loud electric noise, startling him, but not long after he was testing the barrier. There was none. SCORE.

So, without stopping to slaughter the guards like he'd been planning, the symbiote smashed out of his cell rather violently and destructively as possible, freeing himself into the outside world once more.

... And then he took off. Avoid the inner city for a few days, because he had to get his strength back. He made his way to the city limits and then slowed to a more leisurely pace, extracting the communicator from his pocket - well hidden under the symbiote covering - and fucking with it. Had to find Bullseye or someone.

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The brownout had hit at one of the worst moments; flying was as inopportune a time for his suit to stop working as any. Well, he was intact, anyway, so the situation could have been worse.

So for now he would walk.

It didn't take him long before he spied a familiar-looking symbiote; not one he was acquainted with personally, but that didn't matter. Gargan wasn't here, Kasady was acceptable.

"Carnage. I see you're out of prison."

No response from his best buddy on the communicator. That pissed him off.

Suddenly, a voice. Directed at him. He turned sharply, on the defensive.

Oh, fuck. Iron Man.

"Back th' fuck off!" he snarled, tentacles exploding out of his body. Okay, so if he actually got into a fight right now he probably wouldn't win due to his weakening while in prison - but why the hell not?

Edited 2009-06-17 01:20 (UTC)

An Iron man, maybe. But the Iron Patriot was a horse of a different color -- quite literally, at that. He put a hand out, using his other hand to take the face-plate of his armor off.

"Relax." He said, taking a step closer to Carnage. "I thought we could talk."

Letting the tendrils waver a bit before they slid back inside of him. Still pretty cautious, though. Who the hell was this guy?

"Who th' hell are you?"

That's one way to get an answer.

Norman smirked, stepping a little closer, though still keeping a good distance. His suit was not actually working at the moment, but Carnage didn't have to know that.

"Osborn."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're acquainted with Bullseye, if I'm not mistaken."

Carnage tensed up a bit more, symbiote bubbling over him like some kind of lava.

"Yeah, and? Y'got him locked up or somethin'?" came the response, harsh and hostile.

"No," Norman said, keeping his gaze level. "Bullseye is an... employee of mine. I don't intend to let him stay locked up for long -- and you can be sure I'm serious, considering who let you out the first time."

He smiled. "I think you and I could work well together."

So then it clicked. This was Norman Osborn. The dude Bulls'd wanted to kill. Guess he didn't want to anymore.

"... Heh."

Carnage dropped the defensive act and sunk over, crouched on the ground.

"Ya think?" he asked, almost mockingly.

Bullseye's plans of killing Norman had, luckily for him, never reached Norman's ears. He had endured an attempt already, that failed try on his life between the two of them during their initial re-meeting, but nothing since then.

"I do," he said, ignoring the facetious tone of Carnage's voice. "You might even do a better job than Venom."

That struck a nerve. Venom. That fucking asshole. Carnage let out a low growl, closing some distance between himself and Osborn.

"An' what's that job?" he demanded. He wasn't about to turn down a chance to show how much better he was at being a symbiote than Brock, but he did want to know what the hell that entailed.

The effect the words had on Carnage was obvious. Norman's smile did not fade, and he continued.

"I'm sure you noticed Bullseye's change of costume." He said, pausing for a moment for effect. "I'm forming a new Avengers team. One that's better than Iron Man's. Someone who'll enforce justice properly."

The look in his eyes implied that Norman's idea of justice may not exactly have aligned with the widely accepted definition.

"I don't give a shit about justice, I want anarchy," he replied with a dry laugh, fairly humorless, but. Why the hell was Bullseye on this team? There must be something in it. Apart from really gay costumes.

"... But you want me t' join. Heh. Boy, don't I feel honored. What's innit fer me?"

"Justice, anarchy..." Norman waved the notions away with his hand. "Tomato, tom-ah-toe, when you think about it. Which one is which all depends on who you ask."

Again he let his mind skate over the sarcasm.

"You'll be paid, of course. You'll be given a place to live, protection, a new identity... and the means to stand above your enemies. Iron Man." A pregnant pause. "... Spider-man."

Just as he was losing interest, "Spider-Man" was uttered. The mere mention ensnared him. He still needed to eradicate that bastard... before anyone else did.

"Heheh, alright, ya got me," he sneered, coming even closer. "Guess I kinda owe ya anyways."

Norman had guessed the name would garner a reaction. After all -- it had a similar effect on him, on worse days. He grinned, satisfied with the man's answer. And surely Nygma would be satisfied, as well, when Norman affirmed that he'd collected Carnage just as planned.

"That's the spirit." He said, replacing the faceplate of his suit where it belonged. "I happen to think you'll make an excellent Spider-man."

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