The phone on Tony Stark's waist let out a familiar guitar riff as his custom ringtone began. "IIIIII AMMMM IIIIIRON MA-" He touched the Bluetooth on his ear before the song went further. "Talk to me," he said, nonchalantly.
Across the cubicle, Vision rolled his eyes, "Does he seriously still use that ringtone?"
"Wouldn't you?" Shrugged Deadpool.
Over Tony's Bluetooth, a gruff voice spoke to him, "Classroom, now."
After a brief walk to the 1-A room, the Number One Hero walked in to find his coworker, Matthew Murdock, sitting at his desk with arms folded in front of his chest.
"Hey Hornhead," Tony greeted. "What's up?"
"'What's up'?" Murdock replied, clearly irritated over something. "A few of our students were involved in the apprehension of a certain armed fugitive. That's what's up. Care to guess who they were?"
Tony scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "I'm... guessing one of them was Parker?"
"Along with Rand and Reyes," he retorted. "Their involvement is being covered up by S.H.I.E.L.D, but Stick told me he wouldn't be allowed to take on interns anymore. Apparently, he bopped one of their men on the head with his cane, and said the kids were being railroaded for 'getting shit done that they couldn't'."
"Heh, that sounds like Stick, alright," Tony replied, imagining the crotchety old man berating government agents.
Matthew sighed, "But given the situation they were thrown into that night, I guess it can't be helped... According to Stick, Danny went out looking for Punisher, while Peter and Roberto just came across them during the chaos."
"Right, I heard Young Mr. Rand won't be attending classes for the next few weeks," said Tony. "Hopefully this won't set him back too far."
"Danny will be back for midterms," Matthew replied. "He's a diligent enough student that he'll study in his free time."
"Still, all things considered, he could've gotten off worse," Tony nodded. "The kid's lucky he wasn't killed. You met Punisher once before, right?"
"Yeah," replied Murdock, nodding gravely. "A few years back, right after he lost his family. He went on the warpath; street level criminals, drug dealers, anyone connected to the events of that day. The man was as ruthless as he was efficient. It took everything I had to stop him, and I didn't walk away unscathed. How he escaped custody after all this time, I have no idea. But that brings me to my point..."
He leaned forward on his desk, hands folded and a grim expression on his face. "He couldn't have gotten out of a maximum security prison without help," he said. "That takes someone with influence. But with the level of sophistication, planning, and secrecy, that suggests this was a well coordinated group effort."
Tony's eye twitched, understanding what his coworker was getting at, "You think it's them?"
"Who knows?" Murdock replied, "You're more versed with them than I ever was, they were your enemies after all."
"Not just mine..." Tony murmured, now deep in thought. "I thought the last of them was behind bars, but if they're active again..."
"It all ties back to the Sentinels and the League of Villains," Murdock went on, adjusting his sunglasses. "At first, they were seen as a bunch of punks trying to make a name for themselves by attacking the school. But their assault on the city proved they're more dangerous than we thought. They're inspiring others to join their ranks, that takes real cunning and a combined amount of power, the kind not seen in 5 years."
Tony exhaled, his troubled thoughts racing in his head as he attempted to steady his heart rate. He clutched the reactor in his chest, remembering the injury which made it necessary, and the ones responsible for it.
Finally, Tony turned to his fellow hero, "The students need to be prepared. Whether I want to admit it or not, the evidence is there; the Masters of Evil are on the move..."
Back at the bar, Hobgoblin watched one of the televisions as he tinkered with a pumpkin bomb. The news was giving an update on the Punisher, this time with a bit of background on the man himself.
"The man who would become known as 'The Punisher' led a very honorable life," said the news anchor. An image of a younger Frank Castle in military uniform popped up behind him. "Born in Queens, NY, Francis Castiglione aka Frank Castle was the son of Sicilian immigrants. He served in the United States Marine Corps, achieving the rank of Captain."
A new picture popped up, showing a happy Frank Castle with a woman and two children, "After being honorably discharged, Castle returned home to his wife and children, becoming a member of the NYPD SWAT as a weapons specialist."
Old footage of heroes battling a group of strange looking individuals plays as the anchor continues, "However, during a family outing in Central Park, they were caught in the crossfire between the Brood Gang and a group of heroes. Mr. Castle was the only survivor. Upon leaving the hospital, he went on a one man killing spree of the entire Brood Gang before eventually being apprehended by Daredevil."
An old mug shot of Castle appears. He looked bruised and bloodied with a broken nose, but still had a dark look in his eye. "Blaming both gang violence and the so called ineffectiveness of heroes for his actions, Castle was sentenced to a lifetime imprisonment before-"
Just then, Azazel teleported in with a trio of men in orange prison jumpsuits. Two of them stumbled slightly as a result of the unfamiliar sensation of being suddenly transported. The third was a bit more sure footed and quickly righted himself.
Hobgoblin stood behind the bar, eyeing the newcomers with glee. "Oh good, the Russians are coming," he said cheekily, pulling out a bottle of vodka and some shot glasses.
"Apologies if you feel a bit nauseous," said Azazel. "It tends to happen to those not used to my Quirk."
"Thanks for the warning," muttered one of the men, bitterly. He had a pale, white mask on his face. There were eyes and a mouth, and slits for his nose. The most defining feature was a thin line which went down the front and back of his head.
The second man got his bearings quicker, offering a hand to his companion. "In any case, Dimitri, it's better than prison," he said, pulling him up. "For that, let's at least hear them out." This one had black hair, a thick mustache, and wore a tan leather coat with a lion's visage on the front, split by the open zipper.
The third, Aleksei Sytsevich, made his way over to the bar as Hobgoblin poured out some drinks, ducking to avoid hitting his rhinoceros horn on the hanging lights. "How many more are we expecting, bro?" He asked.
The villain's rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Ok, first off, don't ever call me that again. Second, there's a few more coming. But for today, not counting myself and Azazel over there, we currently number at six."
He nodded toward a table away from the bar, where a trio of figures stood. One of them, Herman Shultz, leaned against a jukebox, wearing an upgraded yellow and brown costume with the mask lowered.
The second man, Flint Marko, sat at a high top table close to the jukebox. He wore a green striped t-shirt, and seemed to be staring at something in his hand. These two didn't care too much about the new guys.
But the third man, Adrian Toomes, eyed the newcomers suspiciously with arms crossed. He wore his green flight suit minus the helmet and wings.
Azazel took it upon himself to make introductions, "Adrian Toomes, Flint Marko, Herman Shultz, I'd like you to meet Aleksei Sytsevich and Dimitri Smerdyakov. They used to work for Hammerhead's crew."
"Who's the other guy?" Asked Marko, regarding the third member, yet to be introduced.
"This is Sergei Kravenoff," replied Dimitri, putting a hand on Sergei's shoulder. "My brother. His Quirk is very unique and would prove beneficial, should we accept your offer."
"This is the new muscle?" Toomes muttered to Shultz, not caring who heard.
"Not quite, birdbrain," replied Hobgoblin, stepping out from behind the bar. "They're strong, yes. But I brought them in for a more specific purpose."
The villain leaned back against the bar, "I'll skip the niceties and get to the point. Gentlemen, it seems we share a common interest. A certain insect has been mucking up our operations since they began. I hear you two had a run in with him back when you worked for Hammerhead."
He nods toward Aleksei and Dimitri, who grit their teeth and glared respectively. "He was just an untrained, thrill seeking vigilante then," Hobgoblin continued. "Nowadays, he goes under the moniker of 'Spider-Man'. He's a student at M.A, and if Vulture's surveillance is correct, the kid was involved in catching the Punisher last night."
"Do you know who he is?" Asked Sergei.
Azazel shook his head, "Nein, he was masked in every encounter. The boy even wore one during the Sports Festival, along with several other students."
"Huh, so he wants to keep his anonymity..." pondered Dimitri.
"Smart, but not impossible to track. At least not for me," put in Sergei.
"Yeah? What can ya do?" Asked a skeptical Herman Shultz.
"Before immigrating to the US, my brother was regarded as the greatest hunter in all of Russia," said Dimitri.
"I had come in search of a greater challenge, a deadlier prey," added Sergei. "I grow restless without a good hunt. Then Dimitri informed me of your troubles with this Spider-Man. And I must admit, it has piqued my curiosity..."
"Well this ain't no animal, it's a bug," put in Herman, his Texan accent coming in as he began to grow agitated. "Where I come from, we just step on 'em."
"Then why have you not squashed him yet?" Sergei raised an eyebrow in amusement, "Perhaps you're... ill-equipped for such a task?"
"I'll show ya 'ill-equipped'!!!" Herman thrust out his arm, shooting a concussive blast from his fist. The shockwave knocks Sergei back into the brick wall, he hits it hard before landing on all fours.
From his position, Sergei's eyes flashed. The irises turned yellow and his pupils narrowed as he charged forward with blinding speed. His body transformed into a humanoid, black-maned, lion-like creature. Before Shultz could retaliate, Sergei grabbed him by the neck and slammed him to the wooden floor, cracking a few boards.
"Care to try again, little man?" Sergei growled, his claws ready to pierce the man's neck.
Sergei Kravenoff, alias: Kraven the Hunter. Quirk; Big Game. He was born with heightened, animal-like senses. When he transforms, his strength, reflexes, and durability become twice as powerful.
Herman put his fist to Sergei's chest, ready to fire his Quirk again, "You wanna play Quick Draw with me? I'm your huckleberry..."
"Enough, both of you!" Dimitri said sharply, "Sergei, if you kill this man, detestable as he is, you will not be paid for your services."
"And you, Shultz," added Azazel. "I did not secure your release from prison simply to have you pick a fight with a potential new recruit. Lower your fist, dummkopf."
After a moment, Herman puts up his hands to signal he'd no longer fight. "Sergei..." Dimitri chided his brother, who still had his hand around the man's neck. Finally, Sergei released Herman and transformed back into his human form.
"Gut, now shake hands, and be done with it," Azazel puts in. The two reluctantly did so before moving away from each other.
"How amusing," said Hobgoblin, clapping his hands mockingly. "While I wouldn't mind seeing how this plays out, there's strength in numbers and I'll need all of you for what I have planned." He stepped forward and reassumed control of the discussion.
"You all have your reasons for doing what you do. Some of you want money," he looked at Toomes, Kravenoff, Marko and Shultz. "Some of you want revenge," he turned to Aleksei and Demitri. "Hey, whatever floats your boat, I'm easy," Hobgoblin shrugged with a chuckle.
"I only have 3 rules," he held up three fingers. "First, you take your orders without question. Second, you don't fight amongst yourselves, at least not in front of the hired help. And third, if anyone comes across the Web Slinger, you call immediately. Feel free to rough him up and make him bleed, but he's mine and mine alone to kill. Do that, and we'll all come out of this happy."
Nobody seemed to raise any objections.
"There will be more joining our League in time, but I want more than raw power," explained Hobgoblin. "I want a group powerful enough to take on the Pros at a moment's notice. You'll be my inner circle. When something with a bit more finesse is required, I'll turn to you. Together, you'll make up the core of the League. You'll be my..."
Hobgoblin brought a gloved hand to his chin thoughtfully, "Huh, guess we'll need to come up with a name..."
"Sinister Six," said Aleksei from the bar, making everyone turn in surprise. He'd been downing so many shots, they'd thought he wasn't paying attention, let alone be sober enough to come up with something clever.
"What?" The horned man shrugged, "Is six of us, and we're making trouble. Plus, alliteration is always good with naming, bro."
Looking around the group, the reactions ranged from amusement to disinterest.
"...Alright then, the Sinister Six it is," Hobgoblin grinned. Aleksei raised his shot glass, toasting his new boss before downing its contents.
From behind the bar, unbeknownst to the newly christened team, one of the television screens flickered slightly, with a shadowy silhouette briefly visible. It was as though someone was listening in to the proceedings...
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Barber's Chair
• First name drop of the Big Bad from the past! How will they affect the present? Will they hold the same kind of influence as All For One?
• A staple of Spider-Man; the formation of the Sinister Six. There's always been one iteration or another running around at a given point during his history. This version features most of the prominent members, save Electro and Mysterio who haven't been introduced to the story. At least not yet...
