Volume 1: Origins
November 23, 2019, 11:45 PM
Carlton Northstrider
Northstrider had just hit the time clock, ending an arduous shift. North America and across the pond, too, had a spike in supernatural cases, albeit some were, in fact, supernatural.
The investigation into the meta serial killer had him and his team working overtime. The killer was still in the wind, and no evidence pointed to anyone in particular; the man's signature was beyond normal, and his Motus Operandi remained the same.
Bright beams from an oncoming car poured through his windshield, blinding him; he gripped the steering wheel and squinted his eyes as he passed the violating. He cursed aloud, flashing his lights to caution the oncoming driver. He watched through the side mirror as the driver took his head and the bright beams lessened.
His hand went to his patrol lights to turn them off before he hesitated. The blemish skin on his ring finger still showed where his missing wedding band had once been; regardless of the sunlight, the discoloration never seemed to match the rest of his hand, even after a decade.
He rode in silence. His mind returned to that fateful night that changed his worldview and ended his marriage. He recalled the snow, the trudging, and rugged terrain that he and his man had to push through in search of a missing girl, lost hours earlier; she had wandered from the camp, her family asleep; the little girl could have wondered anywhere, but he and his man weren't going to give up on her, especially with the temperatures dropping, and the unforgiving wildness of New York untamed outback.
A bit of radio chatter was expected, but the constant chatter wasn't usually the case, especially if he was getting the codes on the frequency his task force monitored.
He listened intently before slowly raising the volume as the needed distraction was what he needed most now. When the calls began, dispatch had rerouted all available patrol cars near Brooklyn to a sleepy upper-middle-class neighborhood.
The call was from a lady claiming that a group of men in tactical gear had a gunfight with a single man in the middle of the neighborhood. He leaned from his slouch, pulling his car over as he listened.
Odd. Unfortunately, that could have resulted from a gang shootout, which is not unheard of in Brooklyn. Yet, another call had alerted him further and said 'Red Hood.' was cleaning up their neighborhood. A concerned citizen had gone into a tirade over a trap house being operated in the community, and no one had stepped in to stop it.
He hit his lights.
"Dispatch, this is Carton Northstrider task force SHIELD will take pointe." The dispatch confirmed the input before he called in his team.
"Jones," he said into the phone; he heard a hushed murmur in the background and recognized the voice, but that was talk for another time.
"Captain? It's late. What's going on." Questioned Detective Jones.
"Cod Six-O-Six. Red Hood has been sighted."
"I'm already-"She started.
Northstrider interrupted her. "I'll be outside in five; gear up. Call Clark and get him to head over."
"Got it," she said. "Do we need to activate the special assets?"
"Doubtful, he doesn't stick around for law enforcement," Northsrider said bluntly. "We will have a bird in the air; little that will do; he has a knack for vanishing.
He paused in consideration. "Get Daredevil to poke around. The two seem good at doing the vanishing act."
"Sir, Daredevil failed to stop the target when he had the opportunity. With the new information, we may deal with a mutant with access to advanced technology." Argued Jessica.
"No," sighed Northsrider. "Luke and Hood meeting up in a neighborhood is a bad idea. The greater public doesn't believe people like them exist, thanks to the federal government, and you want Luke and him to come to blows?"
"Sir. Luke has taken down other enhancements and metahumans for us already. I'm sure he can handle a teenager robbing drug houses." Jessica said adamantly.
"Hood's psych report has him being idealistic in his beliefs and pursuits. He won't go down easily. We must unravel his identity and understand why he's after the underworld."
Northsrider understood more than others even know. Hood wasn't like most; he had a feeling in his gut, and his stomach hadn't been wrong since the incident. Hood would put down Luke with impunity.
"Jessica, The fallout from that isn't something we can shoulder, and the Hood is a killer, Luke isn't, and I don't want Luke to have to kill a kid, even one that has walked the wrong path, to stop him."
"You think he can match Luke? Sir, Luke has been considered for the Avenger initiative. That should tell you more about his capabilities. I may be biased, but Luke could stop him. We should use the assets we have to their fullest."
"Detective, that's an order. I understand the need to stop these vigilantes, but we must tread carefully. Things are changing, and any missteps on our part will set a precedent for others in handling metahumans and the supernatural."
His phone line clicked. He removed it from his face to see who it was. It was SHIELD's liaison special agent to the NYPD agent, Misty Knight.
"Coming around the corner. Boss on the other end. See you soon." He said to Jones, clicking over.
Cole Stephens
The haze poured from his body like a sauna. The heat emanating around him sizzled as the cold chill from the dropping temperature of the New York night ticked on.
Red Hood inhaled and exhaled as he took a breather. He hadn't been noticeably tired in a while. He tightened his hand on the shaft of the Kinetic Hammer and stared across the destruction. Men and women lay dead, and the wailing from the dying sang to him, soothing his rage.
Countless system notifications began to populate his vision. He had to clear many prompts from each takedown of a hand merc.
System message: Villainous Martial Artist Crippled. The Hand relationship: Inreconcialble. Rewards: +Hero alignment. $850.
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System message: Neutral Mercenary Slaughtered. Keane Industries relationship: Hatred. Rewards: Neutral alignment. $400.
And who was this Keane Industries? How did they get embroiled with The Hand? He had a sudden realization. He had forgotten that hand had taken over a few industries unbeknownst to the public; their ploy was usually strong-arming the heirs or CEOs, even assassination, the latter being what happened to his predecessor's parents
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System message: Villainous Martial Artist Crippled. The Hand relationship: Inreconcialble. Rewards: +Hero alignment. $850.
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....
He had crippled, defeated, or slaughtered countless men and women tonight. He had held his breath unknowingly, reading off the prompts, thinking his indiscriminate rage-fueled warpath through the mercenaries and Hand soldiers would have had collateral damage.
He was wrong. He exhaled, albeit raggedly; he was tired, hadn't even pushed his body to such limits, and had hopes that his status would improve, but he had more prompts to clear before he could get to this status.
Host-Generated Mission: [Neutral] Reaffirming your resolve has led you to righteous carnage. Choices have consequences, but your rage knows no bounds.
Reward: Tumbler-Batmobile.
He stared at the prompt in wonder. He hadn't seen the Batmobiles in the shop. Truthfully, he hadn't looked; transportation didn't rear its ugly head until he began to operate in greater New York and its Burroughs. He had purchased a motorcycle not long ago, and to think he had gotten his hands on his first set of wheels.
It seemed his reaffirmation had unlocked access to more Bat technology. His earlier endeavor would have been marginally more complicated without the boas drones. Who needed Lucius Fox when he had access to everything the man had or would create locked in the shop? The System Shop wasn't straightforward, though; his action affected what was available and could be purchased. Some items need prerequisites met; similar to the Scarecrow's specialized gear, his intimidation mutation unlocked it.
The Tumbler wasn't the Arkham Knight Tank class Batmobile. It was the predecessor, powerful, versatile, and menacing when taken out. It was amazing how his inventory wasn't considered an ability but a side-effect of the system; it reminded him of the Hammer-Space theory belonging to cartoons.
Host-generated mission-(Completed): [Heroic] The Hand's grip on the city underbelly is almost unquestionable. If possible, hinder the Hand operation and their ability to function brazenly.
Reward(s): Captain Cold's Cold Gun. Positive Alignment percentage increase.
He had forgotten about that mission. He had a few that were waiting on his completion. Each and everyone awarded him rewards. Captain Colds' gun was another great weapon that had made it into his hand; his Persona resonated with guns and gadgets, and the Cold Gun would see a lot of use.
The following prompt flashed in his peripheral, and he soon realized why.
Integral Mission- Jeremy's legacy: The Hand and Red Hood are now irreconcilable enemies. The hand will actively seek to destroy you and anyone dear to you. There is no turning back. Because of Jeremy's grudge, you will seek The Hand out wherever they go and deliver justice.
The System has awarded you unlocked memories about your resentment against The Hand.
Reward(s) Hidden??. York Enterprises
The Yami no te (闇の手), commonly known as the hand, was an ancient and powerful ninja clan with the ultimate goal of gaining immortality.
The System held reality-warping capabilities on a scale Cole couldn't even fathom. However, time stood still then, and the world greyed as the System downloaded the information. It was like a movie being played, and each scene cleared the fog over his memories.
The hand arose in K'un-Lun when the five founders were banished from the hidden pocket dimension. They have since lived in the shadows of humankind for centuries, facilitating their purpose through proxy wars, corruption, and leverage on influential people.
Five years ago, the hand arrived on the shores of New York City; the branch lieutenant Nobu Yoshioka used Wilson Fisk connections to bring to the city a Black Sky. However, his plan was interrupted by Baptise York, Jeremy's father.
Cole's hands balled as the scenes played in his mind's eye. Accompanied by the memories he had as a child, he began to piece together the story.
Matt Murdock learned of the heinous actions from his friend from college, Baptise York. Matt, wanting to help his friend, contacted the police on his behalf. Unfortunately, the chief of police was under the thumb of The Hand.
Cole watched as his father was dragged into the corporate board room and beaten in front of his friends and board members. His father had been betrayed. The faces of his attackers weren't clear, but he could discern one person in the room: Tombstone.
Yoshiolka threatened the York CEO with a blade to his wife's neck. Cole couldn't hear their conversation. But he understood the body language. The Hand wanted something, and his father didn't budge, refuting the man even as his mother was being threatened.
Jeremy's mother, Yuko York, was bruised but still radiated the same aura he had now begun to recall. She smiled at her husband, mumbling words that made his dad tear up.
Baptise York watched his wife's head roll across the floor. His father screamed and fought against his captives. Cole began to cry, wanting the playback to end. Unfortunately, he had no control over the System.
Matt learned of the death of the Yorks. The scene shifted. Each stage was like an episode or comic reel, only giving him snippets; the rest was fragmented.
The city was in uproar about the self-made billionaire and wife's demise. The chief of police made empty promises about finding their killers, and his uncle and aunts gave interviews. They soaked up the public's sympathy, and in the shadows, his father's siblings fought over their youngest brother's fortune.
He originally wanted to forget York Enterprises and focus on the mystery of their deaths. He could admit he hadn't done much but go after the organization that he had thought only facilitated his family's demise. Still, now, he had another group of people to focus on.
He wouldn't let them continue to have their way with his father's company. That was Jeremy's legacy; he would do everything he could to see it back in their hands.
Matt had made a mistake. The justice system he believed in failed. He wasn't the devil of the hell kitchen then as he is today. Matt, learning the folly of his errors and the need for justice to be served, created the alter ego, Daredevil, to bring justice to those above the law and in memory of his best friend and wife.
He screamed. Tears flowed from his eyes, burning crisscrossing grooves into his face. His rage began to rise.
"No more!" Cole said, his voice warbling.
Yoshioka and the devil fought, and ultimately, the devil defeated him for a time. They had to stop their operation after Yoshioka's death at the hands of Daredevil.
Hand using its power over resurrection, Yoshioka returned from the dead to lead the Hand in New York City; again, he set out to find a new Black Sky for their war against the Chaste.
Memories continue to flow to his mind, his body frozen in the gray-scale world.
Elektra is supposed to be the new Black Sky, but she refuses to join them, and after the attack on the hand by the Chaste, led by the betrayal of Izo, both she and Yoshioka are now dead.
Madame Gao, another branch leader, continued her heroin distribution in the city with the help of her influence over Rand Enterprises.
Rand Enterprises was their next takeover target. Danny Rand hasn't returned. The hand had to have him, he thought. The Defenders were down a member. If he was captured before his power-up arc, then Iron Fist doesn't exist.
That means The Chaste is the only spiritually aligned force he was aware of standing in the way of the otherworldly power. Sorcerer Supreme wouldn't lift a finger for obvious ludicrous reasons. And K'un-Lun, like usual, won't lift a finger to help those they see as mortal against people they cast out.
Alexandra Reid, leader of the overall organization, used the last of The Substance, their regenerative elixir, to bring back Elektra to serve the hand as their Black Sky.
That had caught him up. The final pieces were still out there, but he had a lead. And it was Daredevil.
He had recalled warning the man about crossing his path, but it seemed the devil owed a debt. To think the friend of his parents who was also a lawyer, and yet he hadn't once come to check on their son—the son who, by his actions, had contributed to his orphan status.
The color returned to the world. He shuddered where he stood, notifications still flashing before him.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, flattening against his cowl. He turned his head, making eye contact with the shooter.