New Mutants Unlimited 49 (Max)

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New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Alexander "Cadmus" Baptiste on Mar 8, 2007, 4:10am

New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
A Little Carnage in New York - The Finale

Cover Description: Nadia sits tied to a wooden chair, unconscious. Cletus Kasady stands behinds her, one arm resting on her shoulder, one fiddling with a knife and smiling at the "camera."

Writer's Note: This story takes place sometime after New Mutants 110 - Handbasket Express and sometime before Christmas of that year. Because there's been such a ridiculous period of time between this issue and the preceding one, I present a summary in case you A) Read it and forgot just what the hell happened or B) Never read the first, are considering reading this one but don't feel like reading the other.

After The Calamity, Nadia goes out into the city on her day off to help out a little. Stuff happens. Disenfranchised at seeing all of the death and destruction, she decides to pack it in early. Except that before she does she's alerted to Carnage going on a little massacre. She engages. They fight. She loses. Later, she awakens in a dark room or basement or something (she can't tell), tied to a chair, unable to get her powers working. Cletus Kasady steps out of the darkness and begins advancing on her with a knife in hand and singing Hotel California. Badly. That's everything you need to know.

The MAX Warning is for violence, language and assorted lewdness (which is more disturbing than usual when you remember how old Nadia is). >_> If you can't write a questionable reprehensible story with Carnage, who can you write a questionable reprehensible story with?

I'm a horrible person.


"Now I want you to be honest with me. Completely and utterly. Keep in mind, I'm one tough skinned bastard. I can take it. Really. I can. Now that we have that out of the way: the knife or me - which of us would you like to fuck first?"

I preferred it when he was singing. Vastly. It made it easier not think about, among other things, the fact that he terrifies me. But I've choked back the tears - I've been through a lot, I've seen a lot but I don't intend to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Of seeing me afraid.

"Dear God, let it be the knife…"

Cletus rears back before me in mock devastation. He swoons a little with the back of his hand on his forehead and swaggering as if he's going to drop from heat stroke or something.

"Mercy, me! I was wrong. So wrong. Not thick skinned at all. How could you say something like that? I suddenly feel so inadequate. My self-esteem is crushed… I don't think that I'll ever recover."

"I'm guilt ridden."

"As well you should be." Kasady takes his composure back but that wide grin is still pinned to his face. He circles my chair and me a few times, passing the flat of the knife over my forehead whenever he's in front of me. I try to change into the steel each time but it still isn't coming. The knife is cold.

"But hey! I'm nothing if not an optimist. My glass is always half full - of blood and gore when I'm lucky. This knife of mine - I call him mister pointy - we've been buddies since high school. Would you believe this nerd is still a virgin? Just has no game. This will be good for him. Today -"

Rather erratically, Kasady jumps back and beats his chest like a gorilla. Deep down, part of me hopes that he'll forget he's holding an eleven inch knife and stab himself but I'm not nearly so lucky.

"Today Mister Pointy becomes a MAN!" He assumes a Thinker like pose. "Or at least as close to a man as an inanimate object is capable of coming."

He breaks from the show of thoughtfulness rapidly and takes a few steps back over to me. One quick stab later and the knife is standing up straight in the headrest of the seat (I don't flinch by the way… though that's because I was paralyzed with fear that he got bored and was about to end it). He sits before me on the ground, legs crossed like an elementary school student. He fidgets, rocking back and forth in his seat.

"On that note, speaking of inanimate objects and transforming into things, isn't there a question that you want to ask me? Come on, you know you want to. Come ooooon. Doitdoitdoitdoit."

He leans in, presenting his ear to me expectantly. I ask, both because I really want to know and because I'm not sure what happens when I don't play "Keep The Mass Murderer Amused" and I don't really want to find out any earlier than I have to.

"… what happened to my powers?"

"Ah, yes, that's the one!" He gets back to his feet and claps like an entertained child. "You certainly do have quite the set of…" He looks me up and down and his eyes linger on my legs. Ew. "powers. But I figure you can handle yourself (and if you can't, I can always do it) without them. So my little friend - you remember him, right? Red and black swirls, covered me from head to toe when I was kicking your ass? He sent a little piece of himself up an orifice (guess which one!) and into your brain to keep your powers from getting in the way. Like I said, they'll hardly be of use to you. I'm sure you have some sort of feminist 'I am woman, hear me roar, I don't need no stinkin' powers' thing going on. I thought you would appreciate it."

Suddenly my head is pounding. Or is it? I don't know. I don't think so. I think I'm panicking. I saw that thing kill people left and right back there and now it's in my brain. I want to feed him a line, keep playing the game, but I can't make any words come out. "No sir, I must say that I do not, in fact appreciate it." I think it comes out as a series of heavy panting. I'm trying to calm myself down - or in the process of telling myself that I need to begin to start planning to calm down - when he kicks me in the stomach.

"Sorry. Didn't have a glass of water."

The kick knocks me and the chair over. He lays down on the ground next to me.

"Don't worry kid. Be like me. Glass half full. You're gonna leave the world the same way you entered it. Screaming, naked and powerless."

He scrambles to his feet and rights me and the chair.

"So buck up -" he whips what looks like my school ID out of his pocket and stares at it intently for a moment. Mostly to let me know that he has it, I think. "Nadia. If your going to start panicking now what on Earth are you going to do when we move on the next stages?"

I… can't resist.

"Next stages?"

He lights up. Indistinguishable from a kid in a candy store. "Well maybe I'm exaggerating. If you're anything like the last guy, you wont get past step one." He turns his back to me and walks farther away, out of the range of the light above me. He disappears into the darkness. Then there is a click and he's back and he brings the rest of the room with him. I throw up into my lap.

"Yeah, yeah. I know exactly what you're thinking little Nadia. Exactly. Who the hell did you have to kill to get a swanky place like this? I think his name was Mitch. I would introduce you, but you seem to be acquainting yourself with him just fine."

A sour taste filling my mouth and wet chunks in my lap, I look at the sight before me, incredulous. And terrified all over again. It's a man. Tied up to a wooden chair. One just like the one that I'm in. The big difference? He doesn't have any skin on his body and the majority of his guts are on the floor in front of him. I had seen spatterings of blood at the edge of the darkness when I first came to. With the lights on I can realize for one thing that the blood is fresh and for another that there is far more blood than I first imagined.

"Me and old Mitch here," he stops to shake his skinless head back and forth, "what a character he was, we played a round of the old Skin Game. A good time was had by all. But it turned out that old Mitch was a sore loser. After losing a single measly round, he grabbed his pail and died. The nerve. I mean I'm sure we could have updated the play mechanics to squeeze in another round - the old Flesh and Sinew game or something. Better yet, if he was a traditionalist, we could have just stitched the skin back on. I'm sure that you'll be a better sport, right?"


"I'm sorry but I didn't quite catch that."

Once again I return his comment with silence. If I open my mouth I think that I'll throw up again. But, really, that's only part of it. Watching the sudden deaths on the street was horrific, possibly traumatizing, but something about looking at one of his victims that died of slow, methodical torture is so many thousands of times worse. The blood, the gore, the bare flesh, the pile of strips of skin off to the side it's all… ugh. The deaths on the street made me angry at him. This inspires… terror? Disgust? Those are part of it, yes, but a word that encompasses everything that I'm feeling just wont come to me. Maybe it doesn't even exist.

He sidles up next to me and bends over to whisper in my ear.

"If you're through talking, pet, perhaps it's time that we got the game underway." I don't see it, but I hear him pull the knife out to the back of the chair. I just barely feel it when he draws it oh so lightly across my cheek. The blade is sharp. He barely nicks me. Small wound. Just enough to get the blood flowing a bit, which I feel as it runs down the side of my cheek. I think it amounts to firing the starter pistol before a race for him. He draws back, about to go for a deeper, serious cut this time - to pull off the first strip of skin. I get my voice back.


"Hm?" He pauses. "I thought that we had already got all of the stupid questions out of the way before the fight. Still got another one in you, then? How's this for you: Because I feel like it."

It's massively weak, I know. But I'm feeling massively weak. And possibly a couple minutes away from dying. I'm entitled to ask him whatever I want.

"Not me. Him. People in general. Okay, maybe me, a little. The people you killed on the street. After The Calamity, after so many lost their homes and their lives, you essentially kicked the city when it was already down. So… senseless. Why? Why did they have to die? Why am I going to die? I deserve to know."

Kasady stands up and looks at me thoughtfully. He's more serious looking now than he's been since I first saw him, but that says very little - he still looks pretty damned amused. "Says who, little bit? There aren't any rules for this. Trust me. I'm something of an expert on the subject. You ain't got any rights here. Why, were it not for the fact that I plan to make an entire evening of this, I could fucking do you right here, right now and not tell you shit."

He draws the knife across where my throat would be if I was a half an inch closer to him in order to illustrate his point.

"So don't forget who God is in this room, you little whore. I may be pretty happy go lucky, but all that means is that I'll happy go luckily kill you five times before you've even hit the ground. I like chaos. I love chaos. I spread chaos. I am chaos. So the 'ruins' of New York? That's fucking home for me. It's my element… as if The Calamity was etching my name across the planet."

The faraway look in his eyes is comparable to somebody talking about an old lover. He snaps out of it.

"There's no better time to kick somebody than when they're down, kid." He kicks me, yet again knocking me and the chair to the floor, in order to illustrate his point. "Hang around long enough and life will teach you that lesson over and over and over again. You though? We're going to have to squeeze it in as many times in as many forms as possible tonight in order to make up for all the time you're going to lose."

He crouches next to me on the floor and holds the knife above my face.

"I'd say that we've screwed around more than enough (or not nearly enough, depending on your definition). Let's begin."

He thrusts the knife towards me. And I catch it.

Well, no. Specifically, I catch his arm. Catching a knife would be stupid. But that's beside the point. My arm ripped free from it's bonds, I catch his arm before he can begin The Skin Game in earnest. He sort of stares at me for a moment.


Jerking my other hand free I get a better grip of him and throw him away from me. Poor leverage from my position - he doesn't travel far. But far enough. Tearing the rest of my bonds I scramble to my feet as quickly as I can. Feeling sore where the rope had me bound. Kasady is just… staring. New rules have been introduced into the game. He's incredulous.

"Impossible." He repeats.

"Not really. I mean, if a purple, tiki hat wearing space god can show up with a taste for Earth à la mode, then I would say that pretty much all bets are off. Just my opinion."

"How." He says simply, perhaps a little angry. It's clearly a question but doesn't sound like one.

"You would be surprised at how power hungry that little tyke was. The little red and black guy you smuggled into my brain. Or maybe you wouldn't be. You have one, after all. So eager to assert its individuality. Be its own 'person' or as close as it comes. Be its own parasite, maybe. Yeah, that's more accurate sounding. Be its own parasite. It was holding out on me, playing coy. But ultimately all I needed to do was make an offer. I needed to let you talk long enough for it to stop arguing for a better deal."

Red and black swirls begin to cover me, emerging from the cut that Kasady made.

"But he caved."

He's still staring, balancing between rage and curiosity… "But it was so small."

True. But that's why I'm Osmosis Lass. Well, not really. I'm Osmosis Lass because it sounds cool. The reason why there is a substantially larger amount of symbiote now then there was before is because I've replicated the small sample within me and copied its structure within my blood - pretty much the same set up he has. Only I had to be sure that I controlled the change… couldn't let it replicate itself inside me… needed to maintain control as much as possible. But Kasady doesn't get to know any of this. He made it clear - there are no rules here. He doesn't deserve to hear anything. The only thing that he does deserve, I'm about to deliver to him. My symbiote replicant covers me entirely… sadly, I think I look a lot like he does. Just with symbiotish braids.

"Don't worry, Kasady. Stiff upper lip. Glass half full, remember? You're finally going to get to play a game, like you've been itching to. Just not the one you expected. Let's begin."

Oh, he looks irritated. I'm pretty sure he's been elated pretty much the entire time that I've known him. Seeing another emotion on his face puts a smile on mine. In fact I smile ear to ear. Literally. He draws his knife across his chest in a swift motion. In a moment he's looking a lot like me.

"You're going to wish that I eviscerated you back in the middle of the street like I said that I would."

"Promises, promises."

He decides to deliver, apparently, though he doesn't voice it. He leaps towards me, claws outstretched and they seem to be getting longer and sharper with each passing instant. A quick monkey flip later and I've flipped him over my head. But as I turn towards him I remember what I learned in our first encounter: this guy is fast. And agile to boot. Landing upon his feet, he bounds towards me again instantly. His right claw shifts into an anvil and extends towards me, clocking me in the face and knocking me half way across the basement. But I find out the fun way that I'm not so bad myself. Granted, I'm not used to it so I bounce about three times before righting myself. I'm wondering what else I get from this when I decide that it would be a better course of action to duck.

A blade of red passes overhead, missing me by less than an inch. The skewered water heater behind me could have been me. I give myself over to instinct - no time to think here. Faster paced than I'm used to. As if to illustrate the point, a tendril extends from his arm and whips around my legs and yanks me off of my feet. He drags me towards him rapidly, with an axe in hand for when I get there. But I'm ready. Dipping into the shape shifting abilities of the suit that I've made of myself, I form elongated claws, which I rake, across his chest the moment I'm near. He arcs back and howls in pain. The tendril's grip goes slack and I scramble to my feet.

"First blood's ours, Kasady!"

Ours? Never mind. I charge towards him, warping my right arm into a jousting lance one which to impale him. But his reaction time is good, and he's already pushed the pain of my last strike out of mind. He deflects the lance with a quickly morphed shield and, in the same movement grabs me by the neck. Before I can respond with anything, he's leaping towards and smashing my head into the concrete walls. Repeatedly.

I keep getting the feeling that the wall is going to be splattered with my brains, but the symbiote protects me. Oh, it hurts, don't get me wrong. A great deal. It just isn't fatal. Yet. To make sure that we never get to that stage, I shift a spike out of my neck and through his hand. His grip, surprisingly, persists but he pauses on the action to grit his teeth in pain. Using the opportunity, I make my hand into a mallet and deck him in the face. That one breaks his grip.

He staggers back a few feet, a little bit wobbly. But he isn't going to give me the shot to capitalize this time. Tendrils, over a dozen of them, begin lashing out. He's firing blind, perhaps a little dizzy. His accuracy isn't all that great but the shots that land… well he makes sure that they count. The tendrils are razor sharp. My cry fills the basement each time they connect.

Carnage finds his smile again.

"Take it from a pro, kid. The first blood is irrelevant. Only the last blood matters!"

And he goes for it. A blade thrusts towards me from his chest. I dodge to the side as quickly as I can but it still manages to slash my shoulder. My blood on one of its edges, it juts out of the wall. More come. Many more. Trying (failing) to ignore the pain, I evade them to the best of my ability - which happens to be fairly well with my momentum achieved. Running and jumping, I stay one step ahead of the blades. Only Carnage is one step ahead of me. I leap right into a waiting tendril, which grabs me and with a quick flick throws me through the air.

I land on Mitch.

The force of my landing shatters the chair his corpse is bound to. We tumble to the ground. The only reason I don't vomit now is that I've already voided the contents of my stomach but I still dry heave. I scramble and crawl away from him as quickly as I possibly can, not stopping until I'm pushing myself up against the wall. His blood… all over me. God… I was lying in his intestines… As good as pinned to the wall, I remain there, staring. Just… staring.

"Aw! Is widdle Nawdeeya shell-shocked? Or corpse shocked." He shrugs theatrically. "Whatever. Well snap out of it boo. I've barely begun."

He stays right where he is, but his arm elongates with mallet at the end and slams me in the stomach. I immediately curl over, dropping to the ground and clutching my stomach. Wind's knocked out of me and it hurts like hell. I'm not looking up but I can hear him as he launches himself towards me. I take a page out of his own book. I can't bring myself to move just yet, I lash razor sharp tendrils out towards him, hoping to catch him mid leap. But Carnage is good at what he does. He sees it coming and sends a "web" line out to the side and yanks himself out of the attack's path. I graze him once or twice but not nearly as bad as he caught me with the same tactic. He lands off to the side, laughing.

"Close bitch!" Raising a hand and shifting it into an axe, he proceeds to bring it down. "But no cigar!"

I roll out of the way, barely evading getting split in half. Still on the ground before scrambling to my feet, I point my hand at him and fire five blades, one from each finger. He sidesteps rapidly, but still gets tagged in the shoulder. I force a smile… no, wait. It's genuine.

"I owed you that one."

"You overpaid." He winces. Fantastic. "But, hey! No biggie at all. I'm easygoing, baby. Here's your change."

He launches at me in a tackle. I whip at him with a few razor tendrils and each one connects but he ignores them and barrels me over. Pinned to the ground underneath him, he begins to pummel me. With a fist. Simple. Unimaginative. And entirely effective. Over and over again in the face. It hurts. I think that I want to go unconscious but the symbiote keeps me awake. Eventually, he pauses. He just stares and smiles for a moment. Then he gets up. He drags me up with him, suspending me over the ground by my braids. That hurts as well.

"Man, oh man. You've been twice the ride I thought that you would be. But you know what? I think that a change of plan is in order. I was going to drag this out all night long but, I don't think that's the right way to play it anymore. This has been a fond time, sure. But will it ever elevate beyond this? As we are right here, right now? Maybe. But it also might not. I have the same opinion on TV shows - better that it end on a high note than drag on for the sake of continuing." His hand shifts into an axe again. "It's time to draw this to a close, Nadia. You're going to die. But don't worry - no reason we can't still have our date later if I get bored!"

He plunges the axe into my chest.

But he just can't manage to pull it out. I'm holding on far too tightly. He jerks his hand backwards to try to pull free but it's futile. It's stuck. He looks at me confused. Yet again, I provide him no answers. I figure that the fact that I've transformed the entirety of my body into a symbiote as opposed to only using it as an armor will become fairly evident in the moments to come.

He drops me as I rake my claws across his face. He lets a scream out and continues tugging at his arm. I let him go - though only after striking him in the abdomen with my fist transformed into a hammer. He travels, perhaps, ten feet. I give him not an ounce of quarter. I'm leaping after him the moment after I've knocked him away, in the air before he even hits the ground. He bombards me with flying blades but I'm only as solid as I want to be and they all fly right through me. Landing on him and straddling him across the abdomen. Razor tendrils emerge from my chest and lash him about his. Gritting his teeth, unwilling to scream again like he knows I want him to, he swipes at me multiple times. He swipes and swipes and swipes. But they pass through me - he may as well be slashing at a mud puddle.

Giving up on that he uses a tendril to grab onto something and yank himself free of me. For all the good that will do him. He can't escape. I follow after him the same way. Landing only a moment after he does, I slash down the side of his left leg. He holds in a howl. He attempts taking my head off but the result is no different from his earlier ones. Forging a hammer out of one of my feet, I kick him in the knee - being sure to strike near the spot I just cut him for extra sting. He drops to the knee I just struck. I grab him by the neck. He uses my spike through the hand technique but he does do half-heartedly. He knows it will do him no good.

I get a new emotion out of him as I stare him down, as I raise my hand - shifted into an axe. Not rage. Not laughing anymore. Not even remotely amused. He's afraid of me. Fear. He's given me fear. But that isn't enough. It isn't nearly enough. Blood. I want his blood.

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Alexander "Cadmus" Baptiste on Mar 8, 2007, 4:13am

I'm about to bring my axe down but something stops me. His face - it changes. His whole body changes in fact. To somebody I was pretty sure that I would never see again.


There she lies on the cold hard ground, which is looking more and more like the park we fought the Brotherhood of Mutants in with every passing second. This was the last place that Phantazia ever got to go. I was the last person she ever got to see. There she lies.

With a gaping hole blown through her chest.

It was… it was my first mission. Roxy was missing, we were checking out the Brotherhood for any involvement they may have had. It… happened so fast. Phantazia hit me with an energy attack and I transformed into it. I couldn't even process more than one thought at a time. Retribution was the thought. That was it. That was my world. My universe. My entire existence. I came to less than a minute later. Less than a minute. That was all it took to blast a hole through her chest and snuff out her entire existence. She was just… gone.

Rogue always told me it was her fault… that me, Marisol and Sephula were complete newbies and never should have been brought out on a mission like that. But I never bought it. I was the one who took on a form that I couldn't yet control. And somebody died because of it.

And it's about to happen again.

I snap out of it. I'm still holding Carnage by the neck. He's still terrified of me. But… I'm even more scared of myself than he is. I let go of him and stagger backwards a few steps until I trip and fall. I want his blood? That isn't me. Fighting so brutally? No… that isn't right. I could never. Not after Phantazia. Never again. That isn't me. The symbiote. It's made me into what I've feared becoming ever since the day of my first mission. Since the day I killed Phantazia. I've done it again - become something with effects on my mind beyond my control. But I've realized it this time… I can control it. I change back. Become human again. Flesh and blood. I've got wounds of all sorts all over my body from the fight. My body puts itself together after a transformation the same way it was beforehand - which in this case is tenderized and bloody.

But that doesn't matter. I cough a few times. I spit up the original - the piece of symbiote sent to keep me in check by manipulating my brain. The piece I used to turn myself into a monster like Carnage. It skitters away from me to join back up with its "father."

Speaking of the devil, by the way, he's standing up and making his way over to me. "I… I should have known. You don't have it in you. Weak." His voice is just a little bit shaky, but he advances on me all the same. "To think that I thought… heh. No, you couldn't do it. Just a little girl. Trying to play a man's game. And about to lose."

He lunges at me but I wither into nothingness when he arrives. Becoming air, taking more of it into my form, I twist myself into a small tornado. I whip his body around a couple times before tossing him into the nearest wall. I rematerialize, this time as the concrete at my feet. Taking a few quick steps towards him, I stomp on his crotch before he can get back up.

"That's for all the nasty comments. I'm thirteen, jerk."

I'm talking. I'm never able to talk when I'm fully transformed into a substance but I'm talking all the same. I don't dwell on it - it may be fleeting and even if it isn't, this is hardly the time to think about the numerous aspects of my powers that don't make any sense. What it is time for is punching him in the face while he's down. He's so fond of hitting people when they're down… let's see how he likes it. I rain blow after blow upon him.

"I'm not weak. I may not be strong, but I'm not weak. You're weak. Everything about you. Your character, your point of view, your sense of humor. Your singing voice. If I killed you, then I would be weak. The easy way out… I refuse to take it. I've a moral compass. Thank God that I do."

I don't stop the attack. The symbiote seems to start peeling back. It's been a long day for it, I suppose. I don't stop the attack.

"I said thank Him!"

I let up for a moment and keep a hold of him with one hand while the other is raised to show that I can start again at any moment. The symbiote keeps thinning. He squeaks out through a mouthful of blood:

"Thank God you have a moral compass…"

He's Kasady again by this point. I consider making him say it louder, but I only needed him to feel as helpless as I and so many of his other victims felt the one time. Instead I clock him one final time and he goes out like a light.

Letting go of him, I take a few steps back and become human again. The wounds come back. They hurt like hell. To myself I mutter,

"No… thank God for moments of clarity…"

I nearly took a second life today. The fact that I managed to stop myself… to say it makes me glad would be a colossal overstatement. This has been a shitty day. Nothing could make me glad. But the fact that I avoided another Phantazia… makes me feel ever so slightly lighter. Kasady has already damned himself. There is no need for me to accompany him. Beyond that… there's been enough death today.

As much as I don't want to, I come back down and wait with him after going upstairs and finding a phone. can't risk him waking up and running off. I've been gone far longer than I was supposed to be. I lost track of time since I woke up here, but I must have been out for a long time after Carnage knocked me out in the city because it's the next day. Rogue picked up the phone at the mansion - she was worried sick. I mean, we had just got Roxy back and then we went to hell to drag Wreck home. Losing a third New Mutant in quick succession, I imagine, was not a pleasant possibility to consider. She sounded like she shit her pants when I said she needed to call Ravencroft to grab Carnage. Though the moment she was sure I was safe she sounded a little bit angry.

I wonder if I'm going to get in trouble for playing vigilante? Better practice the puppy dog eyes…

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Alexander "Cadmus" Baptiste on Mar 8, 2007, 4:24am

Writer's Notes:

- I think I had two goals here: Bloody battle and cringe inducing comments from Carnage.
- Well that's one fic that I needed to write under my belt. Maybe a few months from now, I'll churn out some of the others.
- I considered labeling this New Mutants MAX #1 and putting it under Mini Series, mostly for the allure of having written a #1 issue, but decided to put it here with MAX in parenthesis since it is the sequel to a preceding NMU issue…
- >_>
- Earlier in the week there was a topic discussing our character's inspirations. I now realize that I totally modeled Erebus' personality after Carnage. My writing for them could be interchangeable. Except that I never heavily suggested that Erebus was a pedophile… >_>
- I think that I've disgusted myself.

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Armando "Army" Rosewell on Mar 8, 2007, 10:00am


Honestly, you have no reason to be disgusted with yourself.

I'll admit - for a second, I really, REALLY thought you were going to write Carnage doing. I know Carnage is crazy enough. My fear for Nadia was literal, and if I didn't know for a fact that she's alive and well, I might have had a seriously hard time getting from paragraph to paragraph - hell, I still wasn't 100% that Nadia was in the clear. When she transformed, it was a breath of fresh air.

But, like I said, you've got nothing to be disgusted at. Carnage is a sick, sick man. Marvel doesn't always write him the way they're supposed to - the way you did. It's easy to forget he has kills way in the triple digits. That was where so much of the tension came from, the thought that not could he do this to Nadia, but the thought that he's probably done it to girls just like her, quite a few times. Really tense stuff.

So I got to hand it to you: Great job. Writing like this…just amazing.

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Nadia "Osmosis Lass" Johansson on Mar 8, 2007, 3:04pm

Uh, wow. Thanks. That means a lot. I briefly considered Carnage getting further along before Nadia managed to transform and free herself. And when I say briefly, I mean for a fraction of a second because I immediately knew I couldn't have anything of that magnitude even begin to happen to Nadia. Even if not disgusted, writing the story left me seriously disturbed…

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by K'lar on Mar 8, 2007, 3:09pm

Very well written, but definitely not my type of thing Which is odd because I used to be a Splatterpunk fanatic

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Nadia "Osmosis Lass" Johansson on Mar 8, 2007, 3:17pm

Heh. It's not my type of thing and I'm the one who wrote it .

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by K'lar on Mar 8, 2007, 3:20pm


Oddly enough, if you had written this about ten years ago, I would have loved it. Books of Blood by Clive Barker made me into some disturbing stories back then

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Nadia "Osmosis Lass" Johansson on Mar 8, 2007, 4:13pm

Heh. I wasn't actually familiar with the term Splatterpunk when you mentioned it so I popped it into Wikipedia. Didn't know there was a specific genre for this >_>. Clive Barker was the first name that came up. Part of me wanted to check some out but another, louder part suggests that if my own weirds me out, I should probably stay away from the professionals…

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by K'lar on Mar 8, 2007, 4:17pm

I had a big book full of Splatterpunk stories…sadly, I got rid of it. There was some sick stuff in that book.

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Armando "Army" Rosewell on Mar 8, 2007, 5:34pm

I really don't mind the graphicness, honestly, and it's weird because I'm typically a very…eh…gentle guy. But it's just so well-written. The vile content is overshadowed by the superb writing.

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Kelly Alecia "Star" Lisa on Mar 8, 2007, 5:36pm

I agree with Last wholeheartedly. I'll give a more articulate opinion when I'm feeling a bit more lucid.

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Nadia "Osmosis Lass" Johansson on Mar 8, 2007, 6:28pm


And that isn't easy for black people.

Seriously guys, thanks a lot.

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Armando "Army" Rosewell on Mar 8, 2007, 6:36pm

Mar 8, 2007, 6:28pm, Nadia "Osmosis Lass" Johansson wrote:::blushes::

And that isn't easy for black people.

Seriously guys, thanks a lot.

Yeah, how did you do that? I've been trying for the longest time…

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Nadia "Osmosis Lass" Johansson on Mar 8, 2007, 6:40pm

Dipped into a hooker's make-up bag. The amounts a rouge they have… baffling.

On that note, were it not for the fact that I only heard the term for the first time today, I would have had Carnage call Nadia a prostitot.

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Risk on Mar 8, 2007, 6:41pm

A what now?

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Nephy "Lifebeat" Nephrahim on Mar 8, 2007, 6:42pm

Yeah, what the hell are we talking about exactly?

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Risk on Mar 8, 2007, 6:43pm

Oh. Oh.


That's just nasty.

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Nadia "Osmosis Lass" Johansson on Mar 8, 2007, 6:48pm

Heh. Yeah. But pretty much in line with the rest of the things he was saying. Perhaps even tame.

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Risk on Mar 8, 2007, 6:51pm

Mm…. there's something about it that just seems so much more crass than whore.

You know when I've got some more time, I've got to try a Carnage version too, right?

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Nadia "Osmosis Lass" Johansson on Mar 8, 2007, 7:00pm

Horning in on my territory? Can't get your own psycho?

Gonna have to break him out of Ravencroft first… But then again Marvel prisons all pretty much have revolving doors installed.

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Risk on Mar 8, 2007, 7:02pm

Gah, you idiot . I was talking about Carnage Nadia drawing.

Re: New Mutants Unlimited #49 (MAX)
Post by Nadia "Osmosis Lass" Johansson on Mar 8, 2007, 7:04pm

Ah. The drawing totally slipped my mind.

Edit: And on that note, now that it's been brought up, you totally don't have a choice.

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