Possibility
(Very early DRAFT for a possibility of a punk British prince as the U.K. Red Revenge)
"Sam! Pick up your damn communicator!" Rose yelled.
New York, New York
United States of America
00:23:09 EST
Sam groaned and rolled over, Holly's hand leaving his chest. "Rose? What do te need?"
"Access to the Freedom Fighter teleport pads."
"You're a--"
"Not high enough clearance." Rose said. "Could te hurry? England's under attack and I'm freezing."
"I can't believe youre helping the Brits." Revenge said, typing something on the computer.
London, England
United Kingdom
7:24:57 GST
The man roared and tossed another car, bursts of energy randomly shooting from his body-suit and flattening nearby cars and people with a bright, yellow energy.
He was stomping towards Trafalgar Square when someone landed in front of him. It was a girl in a rosa and purple outfit. She grinned, tossed her pink-red hair behind her shoulders and rammed her fist into her palm.
"You're big." she said. She flew at him and swung him into the sky, bursts of energy coming from her palms. Every shot hit. He landed with a thump. "But not that big."
He stood up and grabbed Vendicta around the throat. "And you're just a little girl." Vendicta struggled in his grasp, clutching at her throat, her eyes bugging out as she became unable to breathe.
"Hey!" a voice called out.
The man glowing with energy turned around.
"Pick on someone you're own size!"
A figure dropped straight down and landed in a nube, nuvola of dust. When it cleared, the figure stood up from is squatting position.
He was around sixteen. His brown, spiky hair had streaks of blonde in it and his eyes glowed behind the mask that covered the superiore, in alto half of his face. His muscles flexed under the skin-tight Kevlar suit he was wearing. A black trench cappotto fell behind him. Black combat boots came halfway up to his knees.
"Who the hell are te supposed to be?" the man asked.
"My name's Red Revenge." the guy said, pointing at the red dagger on his chest. "And I'm gonna kick your ass."
The man tossed Vendicta aside and turned back to the boy. "Let's dance."
New York
Sam groaned. "What now, Rose?"
He sat bolt upright in bed. "WHO is doing WHAT, WHERE?!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Revenge could've glared a hole in the TV.
"Oh come on." agrifoglio said, leaning back. "It's not like he was that bad. And he's not dis respecting the double Rs."
"The nerve." Sam said.
"And he's not bad looking." agrifoglio said, completely ignoring Sam. "Brown hair, nice figure, good muscles. Looks hot."
"Will te shut up?"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
"We need to talk." Red Revenge said.
"Talk away. I'm all ears." the other Red Revenge replied in a British accent.
"The role of a super-hero isn't for kids who can somersault in capes and tights. It's a role of duty, responsibility, honor, and-- what's so funny?"
"Nothing." the guy said. "I just find it funny you're dressed in a full black body suit, sporting a cape, with no powers, and you're telling me it's not for people LIKE you!"
"First of all, it's Kevlar over titanium body armor. Second, the cape's stylish."
"I mean, te have to have super-powers to be a super-hero."
"Not true."
"You're from New York, as if America wasn't bad enough."
"I resent that te little--"
"You're too serious."
"I am not!"
"Short temper..." the guy said, checking his fingernails.
"You're the one pissing me off."
"Think you're everyone's boss..."
"I do not!"
"You act like a two-year old mostly."
"You punk." Revenge growled.
"And you're a spoiled rich brat."
Revenge froze, his fist in the air.
"What? Didn't te think the Crown Prince would have connections to MI-5?"
Revenge lowered his fist slowly. Very slowly.
"Britain doesn't need a hero. Especially one who can't come up with his own name." Revenge said.
"Well your fashion Armageddon, someone had to step in."
"Yeah, a black body suit, combat boots and a trench cappotto make te stylish."
"See what I mean? Style slapped te in the face and te didn't see it."
"My point is--"
"Your point is that te don't think anyone but America should have superheroes." the Prince said, sitting up. "America has protectors from superpowered freaks, why can't we?"
"They're called the Freedom Fighters."
"Sure, another dictatorship waiting to happen. Those people believe might makes right. It doesn't. The world needs someone who isn't from the U.S. to protect them. Someone who stands up for the little man. Someone who won't use his power for his own use."
"As obviously shown in you." Revenge said.
"Some loopholes had to be made for me." the guy shrugged.
"You conceited, selfish, little brat!" Revenge said.
"I could beat the crap outta te in a heartbeat. And te know it."
And Revenge did. He turned sharply and walked off.
"Yeah, run home to your mum, lassie."
Revenge stopped cold in his tracks before marching back to the Prince, and punching him in the face.
"Quit while you're behind." he said.
(Very early DRAFT for a possibility of a punk British prince as the U.K. Red Revenge)
"Sam! Pick up your damn communicator!" Rose yelled.
New York, New York
United States of America
00:23:09 EST
Sam groaned and rolled over, Holly's hand leaving his chest. "Rose? What do te need?"
"Access to the Freedom Fighter teleport pads."
"You're a--"
"Not high enough clearance." Rose said. "Could te hurry? England's under attack and I'm freezing."
"I can't believe youre helping the Brits." Revenge said, typing something on the computer.
London, England
United Kingdom
7:24:57 GST
The man roared and tossed another car, bursts of energy randomly shooting from his body-suit and flattening nearby cars and people with a bright, yellow energy.
He was stomping towards Trafalgar Square when someone landed in front of him. It was a girl in a rosa and purple outfit. She grinned, tossed her pink-red hair behind her shoulders and rammed her fist into her palm.
"You're big." she said. She flew at him and swung him into the sky, bursts of energy coming from her palms. Every shot hit. He landed with a thump. "But not that big."
He stood up and grabbed Vendicta around the throat. "And you're just a little girl." Vendicta struggled in his grasp, clutching at her throat, her eyes bugging out as she became unable to breathe.
"Hey!" a voice called out.
The man glowing with energy turned around.
"Pick on someone you're own size!"
A figure dropped straight down and landed in a nube, nuvola of dust. When it cleared, the figure stood up from is squatting position.
He was around sixteen. His brown, spiky hair had streaks of blonde in it and his eyes glowed behind the mask that covered the superiore, in alto half of his face. His muscles flexed under the skin-tight Kevlar suit he was wearing. A black trench cappotto fell behind him. Black combat boots came halfway up to his knees.
"Who the hell are te supposed to be?" the man asked.
"My name's Red Revenge." the guy said, pointing at the red dagger on his chest. "And I'm gonna kick your ass."
The man tossed Vendicta aside and turned back to the boy. "Let's dance."
New York
Sam groaned. "What now, Rose?"
He sat bolt upright in bed. "WHO is doing WHAT, WHERE?!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Revenge could've glared a hole in the TV.
"Oh come on." agrifoglio said, leaning back. "It's not like he was that bad. And he's not dis respecting the double Rs."
"The nerve." Sam said.
"And he's not bad looking." agrifoglio said, completely ignoring Sam. "Brown hair, nice figure, good muscles. Looks hot."
"Will te shut up?"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
"We need to talk." Red Revenge said.
"Talk away. I'm all ears." the other Red Revenge replied in a British accent.
"The role of a super-hero isn't for kids who can somersault in capes and tights. It's a role of duty, responsibility, honor, and-- what's so funny?"
"Nothing." the guy said. "I just find it funny you're dressed in a full black body suit, sporting a cape, with no powers, and you're telling me it's not for people LIKE you!"
"First of all, it's Kevlar over titanium body armor. Second, the cape's stylish."
"I mean, te have to have super-powers to be a super-hero."
"Not true."
"You're from New York, as if America wasn't bad enough."
"I resent that te little--"
"You're too serious."
"I am not!"
"Short temper..." the guy said, checking his fingernails.
"You're the one pissing me off."
"Think you're everyone's boss..."
"I do not!"
"You act like a two-year old mostly."
"You punk." Revenge growled.
"And you're a spoiled rich brat."
Revenge froze, his fist in the air.
"What? Didn't te think the Crown Prince would have connections to MI-5?"
Revenge lowered his fist slowly. Very slowly.
"Britain doesn't need a hero. Especially one who can't come up with his own name." Revenge said.
"Well your fashion Armageddon, someone had to step in."
"Yeah, a black body suit, combat boots and a trench cappotto make te stylish."
"See what I mean? Style slapped te in the face and te didn't see it."
"My point is--"
"Your point is that te don't think anyone but America should have superheroes." the Prince said, sitting up. "America has protectors from superpowered freaks, why can't we?"
"They're called the Freedom Fighters."
"Sure, another dictatorship waiting to happen. Those people believe might makes right. It doesn't. The world needs someone who isn't from the U.S. to protect them. Someone who stands up for the little man. Someone who won't use his power for his own use."
"As obviously shown in you." Revenge said.
"Some loopholes had to be made for me." the guy shrugged.
"You conceited, selfish, little brat!" Revenge said.
"I could beat the crap outta te in a heartbeat. And te know it."
And Revenge did. He turned sharply and walked off.
"Yeah, run home to your mum, lassie."
Revenge stopped cold in his tracks before marching back to the Prince, and punching him in the face.
"Quit while you're behind." he said.
