Issue 1: Oh God, Not Another Origin Story!
Oakland, California
It was a warm, summer night in East Oakland. The usual cacophony of barking dogs, car alarms and the occasional burst of laughter from somewhere down in the streets filled the air as it usually did. Nothing was out of place, nothing monumental was going on. Oakland was a place of sporadic gang violence, the occasional shooting, but was free of the bigger threats that the world was dealing with. Rumors of alien life, magic artifacts and even wilder things not even believable enough to bring up here happening all over the globe. The world has been facing these challenges the past few years, but they've never reached the California Bay Area. That's exactly the way Trevin wanted to keep it.
Trevin, born Trevelyan Volkova, aged 22, grew up on the streets of Oakland being a white kid. This made him grow up quick and forced him to learn a lot of ins and outs when it came to keeping your head low, finding the shortest route to a destination and, usually, how to take a punch. Being ill-tempered and standoffish, Trevin didn't make himself too many friends on the streets, but he did earn himself a decent amount of respect. This led to him acquiring a number of skills from his "colleagues", and found himself taking matters into his own hands most of the time. He was okay with stealing from people he thought deserved it for his own gain, and sometimes would thwart the occasional stickup or mugging he witnessed.
What Trevin found out next was he was good at it. Really good at it. So good that he started hitting higher quality targets and started procuring some pretty interesting stuff. By 2001, he found himself in possession of a sleek bulletproof bodysuit, S.H.I.E.L.D. issue wrist-launcher grappling hooks, and a wide array of little gadgets that would make any billionaire playboy vigilante blush.
Now, Trevin was by no means a "go-getter" when it came to anything in life. The furthest he's advanced in a career was as an assistant manager position at some mid-range clothing outlet at the mall. Suddenly, however, he felt excited about something. With all of these tools at his disposal (and a strict workout regime), he envisioned himself actually going out and fighting crime. This was not fueled by some moral drive, but perhaps just the ability to feel above somebody else. To elevate himself in the food chain.
His first "tour" was a three-month long campaign against a number of drug dealers in Oakland, using various resources like trusted sources on the street and a hacked backdoor access to the Alameda County Sheriff's Department network. Donning his bulletproof bodysuit and a clunky, modified dark blue motorcycle helmet he fashioned into a disguise, he waged war against these criminals… just because. He didn't particularly feel like he saved the day, or saved some kids life from becoming a crackhead. Maybe it was for his frustrations growing up in the area he did, maybe it was boredom. Maybe it was just him wanting to feel like he was good at something…. And he finally was.
Anyway, enough of that. Let's get back to the present.
Trevin soaked in his Epsom salt bath, End of the Road by Boyz II Men playing out of his CD player, which was safely stored on the other side of the bathroom, away from the tub. A campfire scented candle crackled, lighting the otherwise darkened room. He'd gotten his training, his intel research, and just about any other prep work for the night ahead done with a few hours to spare. He decides completely relaxing the mind and body was the best route he could take before he went on his first official "big" mission.
Word on the street is somebody by the name of "The Owl" hit an armored vehicle a couple nights ago, and now they're trying to find someone with heavy duty hacking skills. That translates to 'electronic lock', which also means expensive. With some cross-referencing and ingenuity, Trevin surmised that whatever was stolen was en route to OsCorp in New York. It took no time at all to pinpoint where this guy was holed up. Based on his research, The Owl was a man named Leland Owlsley - a fact alone that made Trevin laugh out loud - and is known for being a low-level wannabe crime lord on the East Coast. Arrested multiple times, it's unclear how he escaped custody and why he was in Oakland. Either way, this sounded like the first super that Trevin was going to tango with.. And he was ready. He'd been waiting for this.
You see, the world was a brand new place to Trevin as of this past year. The existence of so-called superheroes, supervillains, even mutants, was already an accepted fact and had been since the 50's. People with superhuman abilities using their gifts to pillage for their own personal gain, or help those who can't help themselves was a commonplace thing in the world he grew up in. However, the turning point for Trevin happened only a few months ago. On live television, Stark Industries CEO Tony Stark revealed himself to be Iron Man. Trevin watched the clip online probably 40 times. Tony Stark was a guy who literally had it all, and yet he decided to start putting his life on the line. It struck some sort of cord in Trevin - a realization that you didn't need to have a mutated DNA helix to become a vigilante. To rise up from the bottom. Not only that, but as far as he knew, Tony Stark was a normal human man just like himself. Granted, Trevin wasn't a billionaire either, but what he lacked in budget he made up for in confidence and grit.
After getting out of the bath, drying off and suiting up, Trevin packed on his gear; Grappling hook launcher, smoke bombs, flashbangs, teargas, homemade gas mask equipped with thermo-goggles retractable stun baton. He felt like a one-man SWAT team. He paused and stared at himself in the mirror and imagined that caption under his portrait. He walked over to his desk and wrote "one man SWAT team" on a piece of paper, and left the apartment.
He was definitely used to the looks he got walking down the street at night, dressed like some sort of BDSM warrior. The occasional tough guy would step up and try and rob him, but they were quickly downed with his stun-baton or some admittedly flashy hand-to-hand moves. After a while, most people on the street knew to just leave the guy alone.
He finally reached his destination. It was a two-story crack house with the windows were boarded up and the boards were covered in graffiti. A broken TV, lots of trash bags and kids bikes littered the front area. The Owl had reportedly been sending people here to unlock this cache and willing to pay a pretty penny for it. He scouted the building from far down the street. Two men were hanging out on the porch. Strapped, for sure, He thought as he decided to go in through the back.
As best as he could tell, there were at least 3 people upstairs which is where he assumed the package was.
The plan was simple: throw enough tear gas to cover both floors, enter through a window on the second floor with the thermo-goggles and gas mask on, knock out anyone still standing, secure the package and get out. Shouldn't take more than 60 seconds.
He secured his mask over his face and threw one grenade followed by another through the first-floor window. Then the same for the second floor. Shouting erupted from inside. Trevin shot his grappling hook through the now-broken second story window. There were three figures in the room. One of them had a significantly higher temperature signature seen through the goggles. He was holding a large rectangular case. Feeling for the door and opened it as Trevin readied his stun baton, he was out of the room as the other two men were incapacitated with no trouble by Trevin, who quickly followed in pursuit.
As he rounded the corner, he was greeted with a gunshot. The bullet whizzed past him and hit the hallway wall. "Motherfucker!" Trevin shouted. He thought quickly and grabbed a small container on his belt and emptied it on the stairwell to his right. A handful of caltrops peppered the stairs. Trevin smirked and waited for the figure to run down the stairs and tumble down to their defeat.
His smirk faded as the man threw the package through the second story window and leaped out. Trevin rushed after him and jumpedTrevin bolted after him and sprung through the window. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he descended toward the ground and saw his pursuee - not running on the ground, but gliding 10 feet above the ground, away from the house. Oh, what the hell. Trevin thought to himself as he landed hard on his feet and rolled forward. The case was sitting on the ground, and the two men guarding the front door were already making their way towards it and Trevin. He ducked an incoming punch and countered with a double leg takedown. One swift fist to the attackers face left him out cold. The second man pulled out a gun and pointed it at Trevin.
"The fuck you gon' do now, little bitch?"
Trevin opened his palms and slowly raised his warms, his hands pointing toward the armed thug. "Easy there big guy…" when his arms were at a 60-degree angle, he flicked his right wrist and the grappling hook shot out and smashed the man in the face. The bullet his Trevin in the shoulder and he stumbled back for a second but capitalized on the moment and was on the man, pummeling him with his fists until he was knocked out. The bullet impact hurt like hell, and the item he'd been after was right before him on the ground, but Trevin decided to go after the flying man. He vaulted himself over the fence and ran after the figure who was about 50 feet ahead of him, still gliding just above the ground down the street. In a full sprint, Trevin reached him in no time at all.
As soon as he realized he was about to be caught, he landed on the asphalt and spun around to face Trevin. This was the first time he got a good look at who he was after. The man looked to be in his 30s, a big scruffy beard and his hair pointing two swept points on either side of his head.
"Norman sent you! Go on, lapdog.. get lost!" He made a shooing motion with his hand. Trevin had no idea who 'Norman' in that particular moment, was but didn't share this fact. He went for his stun-baton and was in the middle of saying "Let's go, freak" before Leland charged him and tackled him to the ground. Leland smashed Trevin in the mask repeatedly with his fists.
"What makes you think you can take on The Owl?" He grabbed Trevin by the mask and lifted him up with surprising strength. Again, Trevin was trying to say "Who the fuck is The Owl, anyway?" before the villain had him lifted up over his head and tossed him back-first into the side of a broken down sedan on the side of the street. "Don't mess with the big guys, punk. You're not cut out for this."
The criminal took off back up the street toward the house he came from. Trevin - knowing it was his last charge, shot his grappling hook one more time, past The Owl - onto an iron-barred fence across the street. He propelled himself off the ground at a diagonal angle toward The Owl. Trevin tried to nab him as he was pulled forward, but missed and got an arm full of nothing. He slammed into the fence just as hard as he hit the car. He grunted as he crashed against the dirty sidewalk. Feeling like he'd been hit by a car, which he sort of was, he forced himself to his feet and ran as fast as he could after The Owl. It wasn't very fast.
The last trick up his sleeve was a single-use dart gun loaded with a powerful sedative. It only had one shot, and he'd never fired it before. As Leland Owlsley ran back down the Oakland street, Trevin stopped, took a breath and aimed carefully. A soft -fip- came from the gun as the dart shot forward. It hit it's target as The Owl stopped and spun around. He pulled the dart out, looked at it, then back at Trevin, and started stumbling forward, his consciousness clearly fading with each wobbling step. He collapsed on the street after 6 steps forward. Trevin walked over and picked Leland up and slung him over his shoulders. His back strained, but he powered through... In no time, he was back to the house which was now void of any sort of threat. The gas had seeped outside and nobody still awake decided to stick around. The case had remained in its landing spot outside the window.
Before long, Leland was tied to a dining chair by his ankles and wrists with a couple of extension cords. Trevin called the police. "911 what's your emergency?"
"Yeah, I'm here at 214 Paseo Padre street. I have someone who's probably on the F.B.I.'s most wanted list…" he stopped for a beat and looked back to The Owl, "and most likely some sort of registered sex offender, in custody here. Leland Owlsley, look him up. You're welcome." Trevin left the phone dangling off the receiver and walked outside, retrieved what he came for, and fled the scene.
Once he was back in his apartment, he took off his mask and removed his gear and inspected the case. An OsCorp logo was imprinted in the center of the top of the case. A touchscreen electronic lock was located on its side, underneath a panel. Trevin inspected it and began to mess with it. He took it over to his laptop, removed the screen interface, and started going to work. After a lot of researching, looking for tools around his messy apartment and a little soldering, Trevin had the case hooked up to his laptop. He wasn't a computer super-genius, for sure, but he could get things done most couldn't...it just took a while. After three hours of trial and error and some swearing, the case popped its lock. He removed it from his desk and took it over to the dining table which was lit by a single hanging light bulb. His back killed, and he realized just at that moment the taste of blood was in his mouth. He looked over at a copy of Newsweek on the dining table with the now infamous press conference photo of Tony Stark. "Did you get your ass kicked this bad when you first started?" He asked the photograph.
He slowly opened the cover of the case and stared at its contents. It took a while to register what he was even looking at. At first glance, it looked like a big folded up piece of rubber. He pulled it out and got a better look at exactly what was in his hands. It looked like a bodysuit. It weighed about as much as a bedsheet, and was sleek and black, save for some grey-white markings on either side that looked like claw marks from a big dinosaur. It was full-body; arms, hands, legs and feet. It was topped off with a mask that looked to cover the entire head. It was all black save for two white markings where either eye was located, similar to a killer whale. The most noticeable feature, however, was what appeared to be a ventilation mask covering the mouth area. Two swept points jutted out from either side of it, running past the cheek and ending just near the ears. He laid the entire suit out on the table.
It reminds me of that spider guy, he thought to himself. He turned it over and realized there was no opening. No zipper, no stitching - hell, no velcro. How the hell are you supposed to get into this thing? ARE you supposed to get into it? Trevin decided he didn't want to ruin whatever it was by prodding at it mindlessly. He locked it back up in its case. Tomorrow he'd reach out to an old friend and see if they can figure out what he got his hands on. For tonight, though, he'd have to rest up… and find a chiropractor.
Next Issue: Trevin seeks info about his new possession, and has a run in with someone not unlike himself in… A Fighting Chance!
Author's note: If you're wondering what the hell you just read - I want to shed some light on my hopes here. Trevin, our antagonistic protagonist, is about to uproot himself from his smalltime routes and go on an ever-evolving journey across the Marvel universe. There is no particular timeline or universe this will be following, but some major staple events will transpire, whether or not Trevin experiences it first hand or just sees it on the news. He's going to meet, fight, and get his ass kicked by all sorts of well (and not-so-well) known Marvel heroes and villains. Let's see how long he survives…