Difference between revisions of ""The Exchange" - Project: OnCall Event"
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Deep underneath Millennium City underlies where the old ruins of the original Detroit still remain to this day. Along the long stretch of Woodward Ave. in the midtown section was where this exchange was about to go down, namely within the DIA Center. The Detroit Institute of Art was once famous and renowed for the many accomplishments and displays of various artwork that gave the crumbling city a sense of hope. Now, it was to be used to auction off weapons of potential mass destruction to a number of seedy organizations, gangs, and affiliates. Tonight, however, there would be several superheroes there to intercept. But a few blocks over was a two story pub-and-grill named, "Mr. Z's"; this would be the meeting place for the heroes to meet up before the exchange went down. '''[[SoulStar]]''' was one step past the screen doors, standing head-to-toe in red armor with a white mask in hand. He was standing before a holographic display of a city, presumably the city itself. | Deep underneath Millennium City underlies where the old ruins of the original Detroit still remain to this day. Along the long stretch of Woodward Ave. in the midtown section was where this exchange was about to go down, namely within the DIA Center. The Detroit Institute of Art was once famous and renowed for the many accomplishments and displays of various artwork that gave the crumbling city a sense of hope. Now, it was to be used to auction off weapons of potential mass destruction to a number of seedy organizations, gangs, and affiliates. Tonight, however, there would be several superheroes there to intercept. But a few blocks over was a two story pub-and-grill named, "Mr. Z's"; this would be the meeting place for the heroes to meet up before the exchange went down. '''[[SoulStar]]''' was one step past the screen doors, standing head-to-toe in red armor with a white mask in hand. He was standing before a holographic display of a city, presumably the city itself. | ||
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| + | Not too far away from the armored man was male, six foot two inches with broad shoulders, a shaved head, and a sullen expression on his face. His suit was expensive and tailored. A keen eye would be able to tell it allowed for more movement, as the fabric was more forgiving on mobility than most formal wear. On his left hand he wore a crimson glove, and upon his feet he wore a pair of polished boots. They called him, "Red Hand Hank: and he was currently in the midst of cleaning a pair of blue tinted teashades. | ||
Revision as of 20:46, 15 December 2014
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Deep underneath Millennium City underlies where the old ruins of the original Detroit still remain to this day. Along the long stretch of Woodward Ave. in the midtown section was where this exchange was about to go down, namely within the DIA Center. The Detroit Institute of Art was once famous and renowed for the many accomplishments and displays of various artwork that gave the crumbling city a sense of hope. Now, it was to be used to auction off weapons of potential mass destruction to a number of seedy organizations, gangs, and affiliates. Tonight, however, there would be several superheroes there to intercept. But a few blocks over was a two story pub-and-grill named, "Mr. Z's"; this would be the meeting place for the heroes to meet up before the exchange went down. SoulStar was one step past the screen doors, standing head-to-toe in red armor with a white mask in hand. He was standing before a holographic display of a city, presumably the city itself.
Not too far away from the armored man was male, six foot two inches with broad shoulders, a shaved head, and a sullen expression on his face. His suit was expensive and tailored. A keen eye would be able to tell it allowed for more movement, as the fabric was more forgiving on mobility than most formal wear. On his left hand he wore a crimson glove, and upon his feet he wore a pair of polished boots. They called him, "Red Hand Hank: and he was currently in the midst of cleaning a pair of blue tinted teashades.
