#sonofwolverine616

Zemo stood in the shadows within the courtyard of his makeshift fortress as rain fell in torrents, striking the metal roofs in a cacophony. Sheet metal walls and overgrown weeds were his only glimpse of the world outside the walls of his base. True, a man like he should never fear to leave his own accommodations, but his enemies- though inferior in mind- were... advantaged in power. And so, he must wait within the confining walls of his keep. He never strayed from under the metal roof erected over the door back into his abyss. His own cell, but he chose it, so in that he found solace. A man like him must never be too careful.

After a few more minutes of enjoying the smell of the rain, Zemo returned to the darkness of his compound. He had a meeting to attend of his own making, and it would not do for the host to be late. The meeting room had been meticulously arranged into that of a comfortable den. Three finely ornamented arm chairs had been brought in with an end table to the side of each. Paintings, rugs, and other decorative items had been laid out around the room to suggest power and prestige. Nothing was too small to be beneath Zemo’s notice. This was, after all, how he managed each and every plan; with the utmost detail and precision.

He reclined himself in the armchair that faced the door, legs crossed, arms resting on the arms of the chair. He stayed in this position for fifteen minutes before the door opened and one of his henchmen announced the arrival of Zemo’s guests. The Baron watched the door, expressionless. Only time would tell if this arrangement would continue to be mutually beneficial, or more trouble than it was worth.

Zemo leaned against the back of the chair in his dimly lit office. It was a sparsely decorated scene, despite his financial affluence. But in the effort to stay low, he would wait to add to the place. Besides, he had more important things to attend to. His plans came before boasting of his riches with art and sculptures. First on his list was talking with his eyes and ears in the city. Daken had proved a formidable ally, worthy and promising to his cause. The young mutant had anger and rage and all the powers necessary to match his bloodthirsty ways. Their professional relationship did not appear to have too many draw backs at present; but Zemo would be a fool to allow himself to trust the man fully.

Stealing this idea from Genis but I'm getting confused about when/where Bobby is so...

Well that had been an interesting experience.

Eros was thinking about the meeting with Osborn, of course – not about what had happened right after. He, of course, was already completely healed from his encounter with Flash, since it had already been several hours. He’d needed it, the less-infamous Titan decided, to help clear his head – or muck it up, rather. So, it was back to business. He was a little bit clearer on where he was going to stand – the logic all added up to Osborn. But the way he’d come in – his explanation made sense, but it still seemed . . . off to the empath.

So he was in one of the many underground levels, where Flash had indicated he trained. He didn’t know why he’d come here – it wasn’t the standard training areas for the Avengers, and he didn’t know his way around. Well, that was exactly why he’d come here. If Flash had come back from the dead, there was maybe something more going on. He was looking for a reason to not trust Osborn.

Feet ghosting off the floor because it was strange and kind of dark here, the alien slowly made his way through the eerie floor. The metallic walls on the left side, with periodic vault doors, felt like a mix between a lab and a bunker, and the layout was non-standard. On his right side were rows and rows of file cabinets systematically being combed through – relics of an age without computers. The work was incomplete but that side of the massive room was currently empty because it was after-hours.