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As the range seems to be something of a Banner doppelganger (ha, ha, rhymes) zone, Emil's inside today. The cut on his lip from his previous venture outside is almost fully healed, but as for the man himself, he looks even more unwell (paler, sicker, leaner).

He's sitting at the bar, hunched over the counter, a shot of vodka untouched in front of ( Read more... )

He's not all that surprised to be back here.

It's a beautiful afternoon out by the lake.

Will has missed the sun.

He's standing in the grass with his hands in his pockets, eyes closed, face turned towards the light.

The target range is currently in use by one Emil Blonsky, dressed entirely in black, rifle held firmly in both hands ( Read more... )