#V : MERGING TECH (mcu)

[swarmdiagnostics]

@somnus-lucis-caelum​

    Sylle. She’d first heard of the drug in the halls of Murkoff, a consideration the higher ups had made before their chance was nixed by its creator. The second time she’d crossed its path was during her search for ways to subdue the Walrider bound to Miles Upshur. Once again, she had no luck obtaining a sample. Sylle. It’s a name that clung to her memory like molten tar, seeping through her mind while what was left of her sanity teetered on the brink. Sylle could help. Sylle could stop it. Or at least that’s what she forced herself to believe. Her desperation was palpable. 

                         She’d do anything to rid herself of the parasite feeding on her. 

    Somnus Caelum was the drug’s creator, the owner of a well known pharmaceutical company. Sylle was not on the company’s conventional list of drugs, but Jennifer knew where she could get access. She had to try. If she didn’t it wouldn’t be long before Mara sucked her dry, took everything and left her as nothing more than an empty, hollow husk. 

    Looking like death worn over, Jennifer found herself at the base of the tower. Moonlight hung high in the city’s sky, natural light soaked up by New York’s orange glow. She had no plan. No point of entry. All she knew was she needed Sylle. The lucidity of her thoughts was enough to push her forward. Mara was not as keen. The swarm saw the plan circling in Jennifer’s head and was determined to stop her. An internal struggle rose as Jennifer forced herself through the tower’s back entrance, using Mara’s strength to do so. The swarm hissed and snarled in response, threatening to toss Jennifer onto the ground, but the woman pushed forward. Time had given her an advantage. She was learning the swarm’s tricks, and though Jennifer did not have near enough strength, she found the gaps in Mara’s abilities, pockets of time she could use the abilities as her own. 

     Security alarms blared around her, and still Jennifer pushed. If anyone were to stop her, she’d tear through them. It was as simple as that. At the empty front desk, she pressed a hand to the computer’s tower, forcing Mara to search its data banks for the drug’s location. The swarm screamed inside her head. The alarms grew louder. It was all too much. She had to get the drug. She had to. 

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #474

Top Ten Characters Who Came Back from the Dead

I am stunned – stunned! – that I’ve not done this one before. I mean, come on! It’s right there.

So there’s obviously a thematic resonance going on here. This weekend – the weekend you’re meant to be reading this – is famous where I come from because of a story where someone came back from the dead. Unlike other holidays – Christmas, Halloween, the release of a Star War – I’ve actually been a little slow off the mark in making lists that celebrate Easter. I’ve done eggs and bunnies, but incredibly I’ve never done resurrections, which really is the day’s whole deal. I mean, if you get down to brass tacks, it’s kinda the big selling point of the entire religion really. I hesitate to say “USP” because, well, it’s been done elsewhere, but it’s still supposed to be one of the big Christian takeaways (there’s definitely a chain of Christian takeaways in the States, isn’t there?).

Anyway, resurrection. It’s actually more common than you might think. Certainly in terms of comics there are probably more characters who’ve “died and come back” than have never “died” at all. But! And this is where I get pernickety. Most characters who “die” don’t actually die. Take Batman for instance: he’s shot in the face by Darkseid, and then Superman ups and finds his charred corpse, but – shocker! – he’s not actually dead, he was just sent back in time, where he Quantum Leaps his way back to the present day, accumulating enough Omega Energy with each leap that by the time he reaches the present day he’s blow a hole in reality. Or something, I’ve not read that story for quite a few years. Anyway: he wasn’t dead. Neither was Sherlock Holmes, or for that matter Dirty Den. Generally speaking, if someone dies in a story and then reappears, they’re not dead. Not really.

So this list here is supposed to be people who actually died. Now, even here, it’s debatable; I mean, is E.T. dead, or does his body just go into some kind of hibernation? If Optimus Prime’s brainwaves survive, does he ever really die? Is a clone someone coming back to life or not? It’s all a bit wishy-washy really, which kind of makes sense when you’re talking about resurrection. And let’s not get onto the chief resurrector, the Doctor; do they die every time they regenerate? Or is the regeneration itself a way of staving off death? When David Tennant turned into Matt Smith, did the Tennant-Doctor die? “I don’t want to go,” and all that; there’s always a subtle (or not-so-subtle) change in personality. Does that count? Well, for the purposes of this list, I’ve kinda decided it doesn’t. But it’s an interesting discussion to have, if you’re a big old nerd like me.

So yeah: people who have died – properly, I suppose – and then come back to life. That’s the list. No fakery, to mistaken identity, no alternate universe shenanigans; they were dead but they got better (no Chev Chelios either; sorry, Stath stans). No zombies either! Or vampires! They’re not undead; they were dead, and now they’re alive again. That’s the rule. Also I’ve seriously tried to limit comic book characters. And I’m sure there are some big omissions (like, I know there’s one from Game of Thrones that’s not on here, but that’s because I’ve not seen that far into the show yet; I know, I know). But I reckon these are the best at being back.

Optimus Prime (Transformers franchise, from about 1987): OP is the OG when it comes to coming back to life. Dying and then stopping being dead is pretty much his thing. Technically the first time he came back from the dead was in the original animation; famously being offed by Megatron in The Transformers: The Movie (1986), he came back to life a year later. Subsequent media have frequently killed him and brought him back, even in the live-action movies, but I want to talk about the comics. Because the original Marvel run killed off Optimus at a similar time as the cartoon; he’s blown up in slightly contrived circumstances, but his brain is saved on a floppy disk. Two years later he has his body rebuilt and his brain restored and he’s off to the races once more. Then in 1991, when facing down planet-eating mega-bastard Unicron, he sacrifices himself again, but this time his personality has begun to merge with that of his ostensibly-human companion Hi-Q. Hi-Q/Prime is converted/rebuilt into a new body, and he wins the war. So there you go: even in this one sliver of continued continuity – not including off-shoots or spin-offs, let alone other iterations of the overall franchise – Optimus Prime died and came back to life twice. Beat that, Easter.

E.T. (E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, 1982): not much to say here that we don’t already know from the Book of Spielberg. E.T., doddery little alien magic-man, grows sicker and sicker as he’s stuck on Earth, until in a thrillingly-edited set-piece he seems to expire, human doctors unable to help him. “I know you’re gone,” says best bud Elliot, “because I don’t know what to feel.” But then! His heart glows! His colour returns! And he positively yells, “E.T. phone hooooooome!” – and Elliot’s euphoric laugh is just devastating. The whole sequence – what is it, ten minutes? Fifteen? – is masterful in every way, from the technical to the performative to the emotional. Bloody magic is what it is.

Gandalf (The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, 1954): Gandalf the Grey famously leads the Fellowship of the Ring across the Bridge of Khazad-dûm, where he faces off against a Balrog. After a bit of “you shall not pass” and all that, they both fall from the bridge, battling each other on the way down, before both perishing at the bottom. Gandalf, though, is not really Gandalf, but Olórin, one of the Maiar – basically a kind of angel, I guess. He is returned to Earth by the powers-that-be to complete his mission, and is promoted to Gandalf the White, supplanting the corrupt wizard Saruman. This new iteration of Gandalf is a bit more serious and steadfast, although he does retain his fascination with hobbits. Regardless, he gets a terrific death scene and a triumphant resurrection, and how it ties into Tolkien’s wider mythology is interesting.

Superman (DC Comics, 1993): comic book characters die and come back all the time; it’s pretty much a staple of the medium. I guess Jean Grey/Phoenix is probably the most famous, but they’ve all done at some point (even if, like in my Batman example earlier, sometimes they don’t actually die). Anyway, Superman died, very famously, after getting into a tremendous barney with genetically-engineered super-git Doomsday (as famously, and atrociously, depicted in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice). The whole “Death of Superman” arc is interesting and entertaining as an example of mid-nineties big-panel EXTREME storytelling: as the issues tick down to the fateful scrap in Metropolis, the number of panels-per-page is reduced until the final issue is basically just full of splash pages. It’s a terrific, exhilarating rumble, really selling the heft of the confrontation. Interestingly, the comic spends a lot of time afterwards dealing with life without Superman, as a raft of imitators/wannabe successors emerge from the woodwork; these include the best-ever Superboy, Conner Kent, and Steel, who’s basically Superman meets Iron Man. Eventually, of course, Superman comes back, his body essentially having been sent to a Kryptonian day spa to recuperate; he emerges clad in black and with a mullet, so death obviously has some lasting repercussions. Overall, it’s a whopping arc with long-term consequences, and whilst it’s easy to make Christ parallels when discussing Superman, this story doesn’t really hew that way (unlike the Snyder-verse which really goes all-in on that plot point, much to the films’ detriment). One of the better aspects is how, even in death, Superman is an inspiration, which in itself has a long trail; leading, eventually, to Batman’s famous withering diss, “the last time you inspired someone was when you where dead.” Anyway, I’ve gone on about this far too long.

Spock (Star Trek III: The Search for Spock, 1984): let’s start by acknowledging just how great Spock’s death is in Wrath of Khan. As a plot point within the film, as a piece of staging and performance, and as a landmark moment in this franchise, it was seminal; a death for the ages (as an aside, it’s crazy to think Star Trek as a whole was only sixteen years old when Spock died; the MCU was eleven when Tony Stark clicked the bucket). Anyway, they built an entire film around how to bring him back, and Spock as we know him is absent for much of it; a presence looming over everything as he rapidly ages, going through his Vulcan super-puberty and everything. It’s actually a rather sombre film as Kirk’s son is killed and the Enterprise blows up; bringing back Spock comes with a very real cost. Trek III is not one of the top-tier films – in the loose trilogy that comprises Khan, Spock, and The Voyage Home it’s certainly the weakest – but it’s still pretty good, often underrated. And, of course, it brings back Spock, which is nice.

Agent Coulson (Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., 2013): Coulson’s death in Avengers comes as a huge shock, one of the fan-favourite characters being brutally offed in surprising fashion. In a film chock full of super-people, it’s the ordinary guy who buys it tragically. However, did any of us really think he was dead-dead? And so barely a year later he pops back up in the TV series Agents of SHIELD. However, his reincarnation became a recurring plot point; his references to spending time in Tahiti (“It’s a magical place”) becoming increasingly sinister as we come to understand even he doesn’t know how he’s back up and running. The eventual truth – Nick Fury using painful and transformative alien tech to basically bring Coulson back to life – may be a bit underwhelming, but it gave Clark Gregg a lot of meat to chew on dramatically speaking, and it underscored a lot of his character development going forward (especially when he, yes, died again, and then sort-of came back, twice).

Buffy Summers (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, 2001): full disclosure: I never watched Buffy religiously. I think I just missed it at the start and it was only when all my friends were talking about how great it was that I started tuning in more regularly. Weirdly, I think the most I watched it was around the time Buffy died and came back. It’s fascinating, really, and full credit to the show for the way they explored it; in a series full of magic, the afterlife, and the undead, bringing a character back to life isn’t too shocking. Willow, Buffy’s witchy mate, resurrects her with magic; but in an excellent twist, it turns out that she was in Heaven, and is super pissed off to be pulled out of paradise and stuck back on Earth, leading to her feeling depressed and alienated all season. That’s a great hook for bringing a character back, and leads to some meaty stuff for Sarah Michelle Geller to do.

Agent Smith (The Matrix Reloaded, 2003): do you ever feel that The Matrix has slipped from popular culture a little bit? Twenty years ago it was ascendent, rivalling Lord of the Rings for the title of “the new Star Wars”. Everyone was copying it. but now hardly anyone talks about it. probably because it hasn’t had a multimedia shelf-life comprising dozens of games and spin-off shows. Maybe the new film will change that. But I digress; Hugo Weaving is tremendous as Agent Smith in the first film, and is exploded at the end (spoilers) by Keanu Reeves’ Neo. Unsurprisingly – especially as he’s, well, just bits of code – he’s back in the sequel. However, he’s now been corrupted; he becomes, basically, a virus, self-replicating and threatening not just our heroes but the Matrix itself. This builds across two films, as Neo has to fight dozens of Smiths in the famous “Burly Brawl”, before the final conflict in The Matrix Revolutions when it seems everyone in the program has been Smithed. It offers Weaving a lot of scenery to chew on and makes for some great set-piece battles, even if the films themselves are a little disappointing.

Olaf (Frozen II, 2019): let’s not beat around the bush here – Olaf carks it in Frozen II. Okay, maybe Elsa dies; maybe Anna dies in the first film. They’re frozen, right, but I feel like it’s “magic ice” and there’s something going on there. Do they come back to life or were they ever really dead? Anyway, Elsa is effectively “gone” but we get a protracted death scene for the comic relief talking snowman. He literally fades away, slowly dying in Anna’s arms, and melts into a flurry of snow that blows away. People talk about Bambi’s mum all the time, but mark my words; “Olaf’s death” is going to be cited as a major traumatic incident for twenty-year-olds in 2030. His resurrection, truth be told, is slightly less great, Elsa just straight-up bringing him back to life, reminding us that “water has memory” to let us know that it’s the same Olaf and he remembers everything (including, presumably, dying? That’s creepy). And that, to be honest, is where I draw the line; sentient wind and rock monsters I can handle, but we all know homeopathy is bollocks.

Emperor Palpatine (Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, 2019): look, I hate this. But let’s deal with it anyway, because I have a funny feeling it’s going to lead to some quite interesting stories being told in spin-off Star Wars fiction. I personally feel quite strongly that Palpatine should have stayed dead. And maybe he did? We are led to believe that the Palpatine we see in Rise is a clone; there are jars of stilted Snokes floating in the background. He’s all knackered and broken, eyes blackened and fingers dropping off; clearly he’s not well. So is he really the same character at all? Is his Sith essence somehow fed into this new body, the way Prime’s mind is downloaded from a floppy disk (“run prime.exe”)? Let’s say it counts, let’s say he’s the same slimy Palps we know and love. He is, at least, a sinister presence, and like I say, the whys and wherefores of how he came to be back is quite interesting. There’s a fascinating story to be told about the rise of Snoke and the seduction of Ben Solo – a more interesting story than anything told in The Rise of Skywalker, for starters. Moff Gideon in The Mandalorian seems to be researching cloning and seeks to extract midichlorians from a Force-sensitive being; are we to conclude that this in service of making a new body for the Emperor? All this – stuff hinted at but not explored in the film itself – is, like I say, interesting if not outright fascinating. And I agree, there is a certain degree of circularity in bringing back the series’ Big Bad for the final instalment. But I still feel, hand on heart, that it undoes a lot of the victory of Return of the Jedi (as did The Force Awakens, if I’m honest), as well as throwing away all the development of Rey and Kylo in The Last Jedi. So: Palpatine is cool, his presence and backstory in Rise of Skywalker is suitably creepy and interesting, but on the whole it’s crap and they shouldn’t have brought him back. The end.

Ten people who definitely died and definitely un-died! What could be more Easter-y? Honourable mention goes to the episode of Red Dwarf where Rimmer changes history and ends up not being a hologram, only to accidentally blow himself up in the final seconds.

[swarmdiagnostics]

@iscariotsdeputy / continued from here

    She’d thought she’d been careful. Stealing multi-million dollar technology from a company whose less-than-compliant employees had mysteriously gone missing over the years may not have been in Jennifer’s best interest, but she didn’t have a choice. It was either this or being trapped as a Murkoff lacky for the rest of her goddamn life. Working with Quentin’s team had given her cover, allowed her to disappear off of Murkoff’s radar. She disabled any tracking codes the nanobots had, ensuring she’d never be found, and yet... somehow they still knew. They always knew. 

    Jennifer noticed the tail as she was driving home. It was rare she spent any time in her apartment these days, but she needed to fetch some clothes, gather enough supplies so she wouldn’t have to wander too far from Quentin’s base of operations again. But as she drew closer to her building, the car behind her followed her every step of the way. Maybe it was her paranoia, she tried to convinced herself. Jennifer took an alternate route to make sure and still the car followed. Shit. She sped up and the car mirrored her. Soon she was cutting corners and turning down back alleys to avoid the tail. Her heart was in her throat, threatening to choke her. Another look in the mirror and... the car was gone, though her panic didn’t sate. She was rushing back to her apartment, parking without much care and bolting to the staircase. 

                                                  Help. She had to call for help. 

    Phone in hand, her thumb hovered over Quentin’s number, one of his burner’s, but she stopped. She couldn’t tell him she’d been compromised. One flaw in his plan and she’d be cut. Although, it’d be a quicker end compared to if Murkoff got their hands on her. Up the stairs she raced, reaching her floor in seconds. As she dug for her keys, a faint hum filled the air, the crackle of static to follow. The hallway was empty. Or so she thought. Once the door was open, Jennifer raced around gathering what she could, including a gun she kept for emergencies, and shoving it into a backpack. She needed to get away, remove herself from the picture just long enough to--- 

    Footsteps thundered in the hall. Her hand curled around the gun and it nearly went off when her window opened. 

    Only perched on the window sill wasn’t anyone from Murkoff. No it was Spider-Man himself. Jennifer’s heart sank. This couldn’t get any worse. 

    She didn’t have time to question how he knew so much. The footsteps were getting closer. 

    “Fuck,” she hissed, shoving the gun back into the backpack and zipping it closed. “Get me out of here.” 

[swarmdiagnostics]

                           READY OR NOT here i come you can’t HIDE 

[swarmdiagnostics]

                i’m UNCONTROLLABLE ,  EMOTIONAL ,  CHAOTICALLY PROPORTIONAL   i’m VISCERAL ,  RELOADABLE !

[swarmdiagnostics]

"Do you really think you can fight this? That you have a chance?"

make my muse squirm / accepting

    “No…” She admitted, the word heavy on her tongue. “But I have to try… I can’t just… give up.” If death was going to take her, it’d have to prepare for a fight.

@somnus-lucis-caelum

[swarmdiagnostics]

@walridiing   

     For weeks the team observed Miles Upshur---learning his habits, his routine, watching how he interacted with the woman carrying his child and with the spider (despite his identity out in the world for all to see) who still managed to hold a job in his building. But the man was not of interest to Quentin’s team. No, what lingered inside him held the potential. Project Walrider had worked. It found a host, fused with him and became sentient. 

    After all of Murkoff’s countless hours and millions of dollars funneled into those nanites, it was a reporter wanting to play hero who found himself bonded with the swarm. Hours of digging through her old Murkoff files, making phone calls to those she still trusted from her former employment, and observing the creature called Venom, led Jennifer to Upshur. Even now he was still trying to be the hero, albeit more violent than most of supes in spandex, but nothing that came from the rotten maw of Murkoff is ever peaceful. 

    But the man’s twisted sense of morality wasn’t what concerned Jennifer. The nanobots she’d stolen from Murkoff weren’t enough to fuse with Quentin’s drone technology. They needed more. And their only source was currently taking to the streets, ripping away the lives of anyone he deemed unjust. Extracting the sample was their only barrier. Upshur, the Walrider, Venom---whatever the creature calls itself---is stronger than anyone could’ve anticipated. One wrong move and its enemies are strewn bits of sloppy flesh on the floor. Subduing it is their number one priority. 

    A few questionable calls and a hefty check brought a collar into Jennifer’s possession. The technology is meant to suppress powers, limit them so the wearer is no more than human. While the Walrider is nowhere near natural, the collar should react in the same way---or so she was assured. 

                                         All that remained now was baiting the trap. 

    The scene was scripted, revised, tested and finally displayed in a warehouse, far from the eyes of any curious onlookers. “Spider-Man” would make the phone call (a compilation of voice cues after hours of recording), call in backup from his enemy-turned mentor-turned friend, and Upshur would be forced to watch as a group of masked men outmatch the kid, nearly killing him to protect their own. The scene was simple, easily adapted to their environment, and while Jennifer had her reservations about the dramatic martyr speech from the Spider-Man illusion, she was ready to put the plan into action. 

          The phone call was made and when the call was picked up the recording began: 

     ‘Hey, uh, Miles?! Don't mean to be a bother, but, ah, we've got a situation here! Big one! Bad one---the kind with big guns! I’m at that warehouse on Canal Street! There’s more than I thought - I super overestimated myself! If you can---’

                               Cue the ‘punch’ to the gut, followed by a cry of pain. 

                                                                     Click. 

[swarmdiagnostics]

[iscariotsdeputy] "Hey Jen, what's your favorite Christmas cookie shape? I really like tree shaped cookies, especially when people decorate the tree cookie like it's a Christmas tree too!"

random asks / always accepting

    She shouldn’t engage. She knows she shouldn’t engage and yet—

                           “… Snowmen. You can get creative with them.” 

@iscariotsdeputy

[swarmdiagnostics]

“Jen? What did you do with the sample?” He already knows, sees the evidence, but wants to hear her say it. Fear snags his subconscious. He doesn’t know if he’s afraid for her or of her, suddenly. “Whatever happened, we can fix it. But you need to tell me what you did. Please.” (sincere in his worry, for once)

random asks / literally always accepting!

     The last few days were nothing but static, trapped somewhere between the brink of consciousness and a perpetual nightmare. Jennifer remembered it all. Every detail, sharp like the edge of a knife, piercing her flesh, branding her. Making her remember. Like an old movie, the waking nights and hazy days played over and over again until she could smell the exhaust from her fleeing vehicle, the stench of her own vomit dribbling down her chin, the sickly sweet smell in the air like it was too fresh, too new. Every sense was sharper, picking up on the nuances in a world where everything had once faded to the background. Too loud. The world was too loud. 

     Jennifer fled, blinding racing down the road, streetlights overhead threatening to blind her. Her apartment was gone, taken over by Murkoff’s Mitigation. She couldn’t go back. Nevergoback.Theyhurtyou.Theyllhurtyouagain. So she went to the only place she could think of, the only other place she could call home. 

     Her sister was away at a conference in another state, far from the apartment Jennifer stumbled into. Keys jangled, fell onto the floor. Pickup.Pickup.Pickup! The door swung open and she rushed into the bathroom. Vomit clung to the back of her throat, in her teeth, on her tongue. She curled over the toilet bowl until her stomach was empty, nothing but spit and bile. Somewhere a sharp, high pitched squeal echoed, almost like a laugh, and she clamped her hands over her ears, rocking. Thatsit.Youhearus.

                                                        Youcantignoreus. 

     She couldn’t. The thing inside her now was growing, forming a mind of its own… becoming whole. That senile, old Nazi would’ve been proud. But she didn’t want this. No one in the right mind would want this. What she’d done in that lab (a lab now left in disarray, equipment effortlessly toss aside, papers scattering the floor) was not her. She’d made a mistake, stared renders of the video for a few seconds too long. So tired—she’d been so tired. Seconds turned to minutes and the longer she watched, the less of herself she became. Test subjects, she’d told herself. They needed test subjects. A new sample couldn’t be viable without a subject. Unseen strings dragged her through the lab, helped her prep for the procedure. She’d never forget the pain, like fire was searing her bones, as the implantation took place. She couldn’t stop it. Something else, something that wormed its way into her grey matter, had coerced her, made her finish the job. 

    The color of the bathroom tiles was blinding. White bore into her eyes and Jennifer squeezed them shut, but that only made the voice louder. Clearer - as though it were whispering in her ear. 

                                    Youcantescapeus.Youbelongtousnow. 

    Nails were at her arms, dragging down the skin in long, white lines. Deeper and deeper they dug until red followed, trickling down her arms and onto the floor. Her rocking stopped and she groaned. The dizziness wouldn’t subside. The incessant pounding against her skull wouldn’t quit. She wanted to scream, to tear out her own hair, to peel her skin from her bones. Anything to make the voices stop. 

                                                        Ours.Ours.Ours. 

    Time slipped away from her then. Minutes turned to hours and finally to days. Most of her time was spent on that bathroom floor, her face pressed against the cool tiles as air crackled in and out of her lungs. Sometimes she’d force herself to stand, to walk around the apartment, only to find herself back on the floor moments later. All the while, the voices were intent on tormenting her, scraping what little sanity she had left, digging deep into her head, her memories, her every waking thought. In those few short days, it knew her, studied her, learned from her. It understood. 

        Youneedus, it finally said, the tone less jaded now. Youcantsurvivewithoutus. 

                                      And Jennifer was beginning to believe it. 

    On the third day, the apartment door opened. The telltale creak echoed through the near empty space - a squeaky hinge Jennifer had urged her sister to fix months ago. Fear flared in her chest. Gabby wasn’t supposed to be back for another two days. She couldn’t see her like this. Jennifer had to— 

    But the intruder’s gait did not belong to her sister. No, the steps were heavier, more sure of themselves, though they took some time before making it to the bathroom. Jennifer forced herself to her feet, trembling as she did. Her legs were numb, yet her bones seemed to buzz, the hum of static growing louder in the back of her skull. 

                                Hurtthem.Hurtthem.Hurtthemliketheyhurtyou. 

    Staggering free of the bathroom, Jennifer is stopped short when she came face to face with Quentin. Something was different about him. It wasn’t that she could hear his heart thudding in his chest or smell the traces of old cologne on his shirt. No, she could feel his… fear. It was palpable and clung to her own skin like a thin layer of sweat. This time, there was no relief in seeing him. No comfort. She knew he’d find her eventually. After all, she’d derailed yet another one of his plans. It was only a matter of time before he’d come to make a show of his disappointment. 

                                                            Ah.Thisone.

                      He spoke to her, but his voice was too loud. She grit her teeth. 

    “You can’t… fix this…” Jennifer croaked, her throat ragged and worn from her screams and cries. “Nothingto… fix.” 

    She shook her head, idly wondering if Quentin’s presence was real or maybe she was dreaming again. A waking nightmare. It was all a nightmare. 

                                               “I don’t need to do anything…” 

    He was moving towards her, cautiously. That movement, that subtle inclination that he could be there to save her, stirred something dark and cruel inside her. The voices latched on without a second thought, sparking the flame, sending that hatred through her like an electric pulse. Her eyes darkened, flooded with a dark sheer, like deep red ink. The second he was close enough she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the wall. Behind him the wall shuddered, the impact sending shock waves through them both. The skin of her hand seemed to melt away, replaced by a dark cloud, lines of red running up her arm like burning veins. She snatched his throat, squeezed just as he had. 

                                                               Hurthim.

    “Get out…” she hissed, but her voice was seeping away, replaced by a sharp, high-pitched whir, a voice that couldn’t belong to anything human. 

                                                     “LEAVEMEALONE!”

@illusiione

[swarmdiagnostics]

[iscariotsdeputy] "Why'd you do this? Why'd you hurt my family? Why'd you hurt Miles? Why did you become.../this/? Are you satisfied? Was it worth it? Is any of this ever gonna be worth it for you?"

make my muse squirm / accepting

    Her energy had been stripped from her, consumed by the swarm lurking beneath her skin, and forcing her to listen to Staci’s berating questions. They’d been down this road before. He questioned her morality and she ignored him, brushing him off as if it was something he’d never understand. In some ways, she didn’t understand either. Countless times she’d ask herself the same questions, wonder how she ever got here. 

    The pursuit of knowledge, of scientific discovery, could only be blamed for so long. Eventually Jennifer would have to come to terms with the fact she was… broken. What made her the person she used to be, before Murkoff, was gone. What was left was nothing more than an empty shell, filling itself with tasks and pleasures that would never bring it any satisfaction. Her fate, the monster inside her, was fitting in the end. 

    “No…” Jennifer said, her voice hoarse and distant. “I… wanted to know. Needed to know my work could be done. I wanted it to have purpose… and what I did to get there… didn’t matter. I didn’t care.” 

    She tried to sit up, propping herself taller against the wall, but her strength failed her. A soft groan vibrated in the back of her throat. 

                             “Does it look like it was worth it? Look at me, Staci.” 

@iscariotsdeputy

[swarmdiagnostics]

[iscariotsdeputy] “ several bad choices have lead me to this moment! "

youtube prompts / accepting

    “SomethingwecanAGREEon…” hissed the swarm as the tendril curled around the spider’s throat tightened, coiling like a hungry snake. “You’reinourway,spider…Alwaysinourway.” Mara loomed over him, its mouth twisting in its frustration. Claws reached up and clamped onto the hero’s skull, latching on but not piercing. Not yet. 

    “Ifyouwanttounderstandussobadly…perhapsyoushouldBECOMEus…seewhatwesee…” The static humming around Mara grew louder, piercing the air. Stray nanobots split from the tips of its claws in clusters, intent on breaking through Spider-Man’s mask and burying themselves deep in his brain. Claiming another host was not a process Mara had embraced before, but if he didn’t survive then… it was not a loss. 

@iscariotsdeputy

[swarmdiagnostics]

Whatever and whoever she was - she was something special. It was something special. Loqi had seen this happening on the news, slightly before the calls had reached him. His subordinates knowing it would peak his interest. She was one of those - only had been a rumour they existed only recently. A few blurry pics. But now he stood in front of one of them. A moving mess, looking like a swarm moving about. Chaos and beauty. And Loqi only walked closer thanks to his mech suit. "Can you hear me?"

random asks / literally always accepting!

    Of course it can hear him. And not only can it hear the irritating pitch of his voice, it can hear the mechanical whir of his armor, the way the metal sighs and the electronics work like coded, unrelenting bees hidden beneath the external protection. Beneath that it can hear how his heart pounds in his chest, on the edge between excitement and fear. He approaches the swarm with such confidence, beckoning it with that sickly sweet tone like it’s nothing more than some mangy dog. The stupidity of humans never fails to amaze it. 

    The gaping void where its mouth is meant to be twists into a snarl as Mara rushes the armored man, using its claws and tendrils to lift and hurl him across the street into a line of parked cars. It refuses to play nice. 

@loqis

[swarmdiagnostics]

‘ i don’t get it. i just wanna talk about my work and everyone just keeps seeming to bring up all my past of all the shitty stuff i’ve done. ’

buzzfeed unsolved sentence starters / accepting!

    “At this point, aren’t they the same? This operation isn’t exactly in the running for a Nobel Peace Prize… You’re better off just ignoring that kind of negativity. Talk about your work. Who cares what other people think?” 

@illusiione

[swarmdiagnostics]

[iscariotsdeputy] 💬 :Oc

send 💬 for a randomized starter / accepting

    “If you leave now, you get nothing,” Jennifer snapped, the edge to her voice like a sharpened blade. Her physical state of being was anything but. Days without proper care and nutrition had left her ragged, her skin grey and hollowing against the bones in her face. Hair spilling out of a makeshift ponytail. Clothes stained with blood and God knew what else. She was a grueling shadow of who she once was, all thanks to the sentient swarm lurking beneath her skin.

     “No answers… No reason why this happened. If you leave, it’ll come back and I won’t… I won’t be able to hold it back again.” Desperation crept into her tone then. Against her better judgement, she wanted the kid to stay. She needed help.

                                           She just didn’t know how to ask for it.

@iscariotsdeputy

[swarmdiagnostics]

MARVEL VERSE: for years jennifer worked for the murkoff corporation, putting in endless hours under increasingly stressful conditions. her latest project, project walrider and the production of biological nanobot technology, was proving unsuccessful. time and time again she put in leave requests (after dealing with unruly human subjects), but murkoff denied her. it wasn’t until hazardous conditions for female employees were introduced to the lab that jennifer was finally granted a transfer. only she never made it to the new facility. she was contacted by an old friend from college, quentin beck ( @illusiione ) who needed help with a personal project he was working on. as one last fuck you to murkoff, jennifer stole prototypes of the technology she was working on and brought them to quentin. the nanobots were paired with his existing illusion tech. once the process was complete, their purpose would be to ‘infect’ a person, latching themselves onto the brain and projecting their own memories (or even their nightmares), trapped in an illusion and bringing about their own undoing. 

[swarmdiagnostics]

[iscariotsdeputy] ❛ i am not the enemy here! ❜

dexter prompts / accepting!

      “Youcan’thelpus!” The voice did not belong to Jennifer Roland. Perhaps a shade of the scientist lingered, but for now the swarm had control, claiming her vocal chords, moving her body like a piece around a chessboard. The swarm had enveloped her, clouds of black and deep reds taking hold, forming the humanoid shape that hovered before Spider-Man. “Nothereforyou.Movespider…!” 

       And with that, it reached out for the boy, long fingers akin to claws clamping tight around his head. Stray nanobots fled from the host, intent on burrowing into hero’s skull. Anything to keep him away. 

@iscariotsdeputy