I might be a little in over my head here (seeing as I'm super busy to begin with and started a Kraven fan-fiction, too), but Brock Rumlow aka Crossbones is a character I've always wanted to flesh out a bit. He's a terrible fellow that's never really showed any aspirations. I'm going to share my own take on the character and hopefully you'll join me in his latest adventure. I'll soon put a stronger focus on character development, but for the beginning, I'm aiming to have a bit of fun with the villain. As always, I'll welcome your honest feedback. For now, here's a little teaser.
Some men wanna rule the world. Some men wanna destroy it. Me? I'm a man that just wants to enjoy it. I'm a simple guy and I've got simple pleasures -- the feeling of my knuckles crashing against a chump's nose is pure bliss (especially if it's Cap's stupid patriotic nose). You give me an island with a sandwich shop and some people to torture, and I'd be set for life, man. That right there... that's paradise to me. Sittin' on the beach, eating a turkey sub and breaking some necks... I'm gettin' goosebumps just thinking about it.
Look, I respect the Red Skull and all, but at the end of the day, the guy's a freakin' nut. Does he really think he can control so much? Then what? Just sit on that Nazi throne of his and stare at the goofy empire he's created? No, sir... the tighter you grip, the more that's gonna slip right through your fingers. He'll never have what he wants and that's why he's an idiot. You gotta aim for what's in your reach, and that's exactly what I'm doing. That island paradise... one day it'll be mine. Meanwhile, Red Skull will still be stormin' around and ranting like a mad man, never able to get any satisfaction. Life's too short for that kind of crap.
This is why I'm bringin' back the Skeleton Crew. My old gang didn't cut it, so I'm searchin' for new people to fill the roster. Some people say I'm racist, but that's a buncha nonsense. Ya see, I hate everyone equally. It don't matter what color your skin is, who you have the hots for, what God you pray to... none of that matters to me 'cause honestly, I'm probably gonna hate you anyway. But if you wanna smash some teeth and earn some green with me, then I'm happy to tolerate ya in the meantime. It's time to put out feelers and create my new crew. We're gonna take the mercenary world by storm, baby, and when the day is over, I'll have more than enough cash to finally live my fantasy.
Chapter One - It Ain't the A-Team, But It'll Do
Getting word out that I'm lookin' to form a new Skeleton Crew was a piece of a cake. You tell a few low level morons about it and it spreads like a disease. Before you know it, even the good folks over at S.H.I.E.L.D. have heard about it. But what are they gonna do? It's just a bunch of people havin' a chat and enjoying a beer. Yeah, we all got history and they could bring us down if they want, but they got bigger fish to fry and my little meet an' greet shouldn't have any problems... at least it better not.
Bein' loyal to the Red Skull has its benefits. For one, he didn't chop off my head when I got with his smokin' hot daughter and let's just say being in his service left me with a pretty penny or two. But more importantly, every now and then I'd get the leftovers of his tech. Nothing special -- nothin' where I could suddenly get the balls to take on Hulk or anythin' like that -- just a few things that'll put me above the rest of the mercs. For one, I got this nice little bar over in the Bronx. It ain't much, but it's run by this robot that looks like a regular Joe, 'cept it's way more durable and way stronger than your average man. Red Skull used it to save his skin from that loser Bullseye once (rest in agony, you fool). So, I got this robot running the joint. It's tough enough to handle any regular trouble that comes its way and it's obviously the perfect spot for meeting the morons who wanna stand shoulder to shoulder with me. But just to be safe, I'll have my sexy desert eagle strapped to my leg, too.
By the time I get to the place it's already packed with all kinds of goons. Whoa, what the hell? Is that Stilt-Man? Last I knew, his crotch ate one of Punisher's rockets (speakin' of Punisher... I'm shocked I never ran into that goof). Wait a sec... a chick is in the armor? So it's... Lady-Stilt-Man? Or just Stilt-Lady? Whatever. Everyone glances over at me, but I tell 'em I'll call 'em over to chat one on one when I'm ready. I know a lot of these people, but it's clear they're just here for the money and really, I can't blame 'em. That's why I'm doin' this, after all. Got enough to form my own team, and then we're gonna make more than I've ever seen with the gigs I have planned.
I make my way to my table but a little girl is already sittin' there. Looks no older than fifteen. Maybe one of these people brought their kid? This ain't take your kid to work day. "Lady Gaga Junior, get up and get out," I say to the little broad. I'd like to think I'm bein' nice. Few years back, I probably woulda just grabbed her by the shoulder and thrown her out of the joint. Guess Sin made me soft. But get this. Instead of running away or bein' any kind of scared, the girl looks up at me and stares me right in the eyes. "How about you sit down and we talk about this group you're gathering?" She said that with total confidence. A little girl talking like that to me? Yeah, Sin has made me soft. I'm a reasonable man, though, so I pop a squat and hear what she has to say.
I start drinking a beer and tell her to hurry up -- got other people to talk with. "You want the best and I'm better than anyone else here. It's that simple," she says to me and... I'm sorry little girl, but I couldn't help but laugh and spit my drink out.
"You think that's funny? How about an arm wrestle, big guy?" You gotta be sh*tting me. My hand is bigger than her freaking arms, but you know what? I'll humor her. I put my hand up and she grabs it.
"I ain't paying for your hospital bill," I tell her as we tighten our grip.
"Go!" I scream and push as hard as I can. I don't care if she's a kid -- I'm surrounded and can't look weak in front of anyone here. Except the problem is her arm isn't budging... at all. I'm pushing as hard as I can and she's just keepin' her arm in place and smiling at me. Clearly, this little girl ain't an ordinary human and... well, this is freaking embarrassing. So I stop and I scream at her, "I'm not going to arm wrestle a kid! I don't want to hurt ya! Now get out!" She pops an arrogant little smirk as she gets up and begins to walk away. I look around and see everyone is chatting to one another about what went down but they're trying to keep quiet about it. I gotta recover from this. I look around and see The Trapster and call him over. Before he can even sit down, I punch him square in his nose and sweep his foot. He's now on his ass and sporting a bloody nose.
"You think I'd really let you on the team, "Paste Pot Pete?" Get the hell out of here!" You know how most people have an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other? My angel died a long time ago. I know what I just did is terrible, shallow and honestly, pathetic. But it doesn't matter anymore. I've chosen my path and to get where I'm going you gotta be like this. I can see the rage in Traper's eyes as he wipes the blood off his face and storms out. I know I made an enemy today, but up until that point, all that was on everyone's mind was that little girl challenging me to arm wrestling. Rep momentarily saved, but now it's time to get down to business. I recognize a lot of faces -- Shocker, Batroc, Zaran, and even my old teacher, Taskmaster -- but there's a whole lotta people I don't know, so I call one of them over first. The dude looks like some kind of high tech ninja and I'm all for that. The armored guy has a seat and I ask him his name.
Chapter One Epilogue
A teenage girl exits the crowded bar in the Bronx. Instead of walking down the sidewalk like anyone else, she pulls a grappling line from her jacket and throws it at the rooftop across the street. She crosses the street in a single leap, grips onto the building and begins to scale it faster than any average human ever could. She effortlessly flips onto the top of the building an confronts a large man in the corner.
"Infiltration is no longer an option. He's a fool, father. Arrogant and weak. I can kill him right as he walks outside the door," the girl states to the man.
"Where is the challenge in that? You've begun the most important step: knowing your prey. Now you observe and study who joins his side. Only once you know all of your targets can your true hunt begin. Don't worry, Ana, your blade will taste blood soon enough."