MHA #10, Monday morning
The past week had been a nice one for Ben. He was feeling pretty good about Daisy, Matt Murdock lived across the hall (even if this one didn't actually know Ben and Ben had freaked him out), he'd spent some quality time with his other neighbors at the pool, Loki seemed to know some of his secrets but wasn't likely to tell, and business was going well. Ben was really starting to feel like he had gotten himself to a good place in life, something he never thought he'd manage when he first appeared in Fandom.
And then, as Ben's spider-sense started to tingle, he remembered that the Parker Luck still applied to him even if he had abandoned that last name...
Ben Reilly
As disconcerting as a danger sense could be under normal circumstances, it became downright creepy when it cropped up suddenly in the middle of the morning. He had been watching TV in the living room! What kind of danger couldn't wait until after Regis and Kelly? Inconsiderate danger, that's what kind.
Ben glanced towards the kitchen. The danger was clearly coming from there. He thought briefly about racing to the bedroom to grab his webshooters, but he decided to play it safe with his identity for the moment. He went straight for the kitchen, trying to figure out what - or who - could have gotten in there.
Ben Reilly
Ben opened the door and stepped inside the Kitchen of Doom. He never really understood why it was called that on the lease. His spider-sense was so strong now that it was starting to give him a headache, but he didn't see anything. Guided by the tingling in his head, Ben walked towards the pantry. Apparently it was a danger that liked cereal. If he died right now, he swore that his last words would mention a cereal killer. It was too perfect to pass up.
Bracing himself for virtually anything, Ben opened the pantry door. It was the one thing Ben hadn't been prepared for: nothing but a dark pantry. "Well, that was a let down."
But the shadows seemed strange. Ben stared at them for a moment as they shifted. Suddenly the darkness had reformed into a cloak covering a chalk white figure with bright red eyes. "A Scrier? Really?"
Scrier
"No, Reilly. I am the being who inspired the Cabal. I am THE Scrier," the figure said.
Scrier's voice wasn't the kind of voice you wanted to meet in a dark alley or, for that matter, in your pantry. Ben's kitchen didn't generally produce echoes, but this guy's voice seemed to do exactly that. Guys who produced their own reverb were usually trouble.
Ben Reilly
"Suuuuure you are. I know all about you guys. You used the technology paid for by the Green Goblin to pop in here and mess with me." Ben stayed on guard. Scriers were well trained martial artists and didn't seem to like fighting alone. But there didn't seem to be any others around... That was strange, even compared to how strange everything else about this situation was. "How does Osborn know I'm here?"
Ben reached to take what he assumed to be Scrier's mask off, but was stopped when Scrier held up a hand. When Scrier's hand closed, Ben felt an unbearable heat in his veins. He could feel it again, his muscles dissolving, his brain on fire, the burning arrival of a death reserved especially for clones. Kaine gave Ben a small taste of degeneration once. The first time his body actually gave into degeneration, though, he was already nearly dead due to being impaled on Osborn's glider and so he didn't feel a thing.
But this was it. This was the real thing. The end. If Ben screamed in pain, he wasn't aware of it. He wasn't aware of anything but the agony of his entire body failing on him.
Scrier
Scrier lowered his hand and Ben stopped twitching on the floor. "Osborn has no place in the Cabal any longer. Not now that I have returned."
Ben Reilly
"Okay," Ben said from his spot on the floor. It was going to take a while for his body to stop feeling like it had been set on fire. Until then, he was willing to let this guy believe his delusions. "Let's say you are who you say you are. If you're not here because of Osborn, then why are you here?"
Scrier
"It is time for you to know why you live again," Scrier answered.
Ben Reilly
"Did I get a Wolverine-style healing factor? If Norman can do it, I should be able to, too," Ben joked. If he couldn't stand, he was at least going to be a smartass.
Scrier
"No," Scrier said. "My power far exceeds your understanding, and the reach of my agents is greater than you suspect. I recreated your body and pulled your consciousness from the ether. And then my followers created a life for you here, providing you with a place to work and money to give you an adequate start."
Ben Reilly
"Why would a ghoul with a cult give me a thrift store?" Ben asked, finding the strength to sit up.
Scrier
"One of my Scriers found the thought amusing," Scrier said. "A store where used items are given a new life by a new owner. It seemed appropriate."
Ben Reilly
"No!" Ben yelled, his anger giving him the strength to start to make it to his feet. "I'm not an item! And I'm done being a pawn. I've had enough of this Jackal, Goblin, Traveller crap. I'm not going to let you use me, too!"
Scrier
"You have no choice in the matter, Reilly. In time you will grow to realize this," Scrier said. "You will help me shape our world whether you want to or not. It is the reason you now exist. Until I appear to you again, live your life as you will. But never forget that you are here to do my bidding."
Ben Reilly
As soon as Ben forced himself into a crouching position, he launched himself at Scrier with all his strength. Even if Scrier brought the degeneration out again, Ben's body would still hit him like a wrecking ball. If nothing else, he was willing to use his last act to hurt the guy a little.
But just as Ben leaped, Scrier seemed to fade back into the shadows. He was gone. And then, a second later, Ben was in his bedroom hallway and there was a hole in the pantry wall. Great. Now he was even more sore, the bad guy got away, he was once again someone's puppet on strings, AND he made a hole in the wall in the most painful way possible. That wasn't exactly what he meant when he promised Daisy he'd make holes in the building to see if Loki would notice. He would fix it. Later. Right now, his bed was just through the door in front of him and Ben needed some rest. Mentally and physically, he needed some time before he figured out what exactly this all meant for him.
"At least now I know why the lease called it the kitchen of doom..." Ben muttered as he crawled into bed.
[OOC: The fact that Ben had company and that there was yelling is okay for broadcast. The contents of the conversation are NFB, please. Post is open in case Ben's neighbors might have heard that there was yelling, even if most of them are probably at work and he won't exactly be great company. But there shall be SP as I am running to work now!]
And then, as Ben's spider-sense started to tingle, he remembered that the Parker Luck still applied to him even if he had abandoned that last name...
Ben Reilly
As disconcerting as a danger sense could be under normal circumstances, it became downright creepy when it cropped up suddenly in the middle of the morning. He had been watching TV in the living room! What kind of danger couldn't wait until after Regis and Kelly? Inconsiderate danger, that's what kind.
Ben glanced towards the kitchen. The danger was clearly coming from there. He thought briefly about racing to the bedroom to grab his webshooters, but he decided to play it safe with his identity for the moment. He went straight for the kitchen, trying to figure out what - or who - could have gotten in there.
Ben Reilly
Ben opened the door and stepped inside the Kitchen of Doom. He never really understood why it was called that on the lease. His spider-sense was so strong now that it was starting to give him a headache, but he didn't see anything. Guided by the tingling in his head, Ben walked towards the pantry. Apparently it was a danger that liked cereal. If he died right now, he swore that his last words would mention a cereal killer. It was too perfect to pass up.
Bracing himself for virtually anything, Ben opened the pantry door. It was the one thing Ben hadn't been prepared for: nothing but a dark pantry. "Well, that was a let down."
But the shadows seemed strange. Ben stared at them for a moment as they shifted. Suddenly the darkness had reformed into a cloak covering a chalk white figure with bright red eyes. "A Scrier? Really?"
Scrier
"No, Reilly. I am the being who inspired the Cabal. I am THE Scrier," the figure said.
Scrier's voice wasn't the kind of voice you wanted to meet in a dark alley or, for that matter, in your pantry. Ben's kitchen didn't generally produce echoes, but this guy's voice seemed to do exactly that. Guys who produced their own reverb were usually trouble.
Ben Reilly
"Suuuuure you are. I know all about you guys. You used the technology paid for by the Green Goblin to pop in here and mess with me." Ben stayed on guard. Scriers were well trained martial artists and didn't seem to like fighting alone. But there didn't seem to be any others around... That was strange, even compared to how strange everything else about this situation was. "How does Osborn know I'm here?"
Ben reached to take what he assumed to be Scrier's mask off, but was stopped when Scrier held up a hand. When Scrier's hand closed, Ben felt an unbearable heat in his veins. He could feel it again, his muscles dissolving, his brain on fire, the burning arrival of a death reserved especially for clones. Kaine gave Ben a small taste of degeneration once. The first time his body actually gave into degeneration, though, he was already nearly dead due to being impaled on Osborn's glider and so he didn't feel a thing.
But this was it. This was the real thing. The end. If Ben screamed in pain, he wasn't aware of it. He wasn't aware of anything but the agony of his entire body failing on him.
Scrier
Scrier lowered his hand and Ben stopped twitching on the floor. "Osborn has no place in the Cabal any longer. Not now that I have returned."
Ben Reilly
"Okay," Ben said from his spot on the floor. It was going to take a while for his body to stop feeling like it had been set on fire. Until then, he was willing to let this guy believe his delusions. "Let's say you are who you say you are. If you're not here because of Osborn, then why are you here?"
Scrier
"It is time for you to know why you live again," Scrier answered.
Ben Reilly
"Did I get a Wolverine-style healing factor? If Norman can do it, I should be able to, too," Ben joked. If he couldn't stand, he was at least going to be a smartass.
Scrier
"No," Scrier said. "My power far exceeds your understanding, and the reach of my agents is greater than you suspect. I recreated your body and pulled your consciousness from the ether. And then my followers created a life for you here, providing you with a place to work and money to give you an adequate start."
Ben Reilly
"Why would a ghoul with a cult give me a thrift store?" Ben asked, finding the strength to sit up.
Scrier
"One of my Scriers found the thought amusing," Scrier said. "A store where used items are given a new life by a new owner. It seemed appropriate."
Ben Reilly
"No!" Ben yelled, his anger giving him the strength to start to make it to his feet. "I'm not an item! And I'm done being a pawn. I've had enough of this Jackal, Goblin, Traveller crap. I'm not going to let you use me, too!"
Scrier
"You have no choice in the matter, Reilly. In time you will grow to realize this," Scrier said. "You will help me shape our world whether you want to or not. It is the reason you now exist. Until I appear to you again, live your life as you will. But never forget that you are here to do my bidding."
Ben Reilly
As soon as Ben forced himself into a crouching position, he launched himself at Scrier with all his strength. Even if Scrier brought the degeneration out again, Ben's body would still hit him like a wrecking ball. If nothing else, he was willing to use his last act to hurt the guy a little.
But just as Ben leaped, Scrier seemed to fade back into the shadows. He was gone. And then, a second later, Ben was in his bedroom hallway and there was a hole in the pantry wall. Great. Now he was even more sore, the bad guy got away, he was once again someone's puppet on strings, AND he made a hole in the wall in the most painful way possible. That wasn't exactly what he meant when he promised Daisy he'd make holes in the building to see if Loki would notice. He would fix it. Later. Right now, his bed was just through the door in front of him and Ben needed some rest. Mentally and physically, he needed some time before he figured out what exactly this all meant for him.
"At least now I know why the lease called it the kitchen of doom..." Ben muttered as he crawled into bed.
[OOC: The fact that Ben had company and that there was yelling is okay for broadcast. The contents of the conversation are NFB, please. Post is open in case Ben's neighbors might have heard that there was yelling, even if most of them are probably at work and he won't exactly be great company. But there shall be SP as I am running to work now!]