vesper_verde: (Dark back)
It had been a very long day at work, and he had a very long night of patrolling in front of him. Marcelo leaned against the wall of the elevator as he traveled toward the penthouse. It felt like someone hung cinder blocks from his shoulders. He dropped his briefcase when the elevator came to a stop.

He let out a soft grown as he bent over to pick it up. A wave of general hurt washed over him. Marcelo straightened up with a sigh and a shiver. Well, whatever this was, he only has time for dinner to fix it. Then he had things to do.

As the elevator doors opened, he rubbed his eyes and barely managed to not walk smack into the door halfway in his way. Once in the penthouse, he dropped his briefcase just inside the door way. He made his way to the kitchen to see if there was a bite to eat.

Voice mail

Dec. 3rd, 2015 04:30 pm
vesper_verde: (Grin goof)
Hello! This is Marcelo. If you leave a message, I will call you soon. If you leave a sexy message, I will call sooner!
vesper_verde: (Sweaty back)

Disclaimer: Marcelo, Aiden, and possibly half of Rusty are my creation. Stephanie Shaw da Silva and Sancho are Kris's. Angel and Raven are of Dylan's creation.

Rating: Before the couple gets to the bedroom, certainly PG. After they get there, it's for adults only. Stephanie's language is as authentic as someone who didn't create her can get.

For Kris, an excellent RP partner.

Second Go-Round
by Bev McIntyre

The peaceful quiet of an afternoon in a very specific penthouse in Manhattan was broken by quiet, little grunts. The grunter was a little boy with a white, stuffed animal under one armpit. He tried to keep his fuzzy companion in place while pushing and arranging his father's legs on the couch.

Marcelo cracked open an eye to see his son with his ever-present white bamf doll trying to make him more comfortable. “Thought you were supposed to be napping, menino.

Big, brown eyes turned from his determined task to his father. “You're gunna fall offa the couch.”

Marcelo drew in a long breath as he opened both his eyes more fully. So much for an afternoon nap. He used his arms to pull himself into a seated position. “Nah, that won't happen unless my butt starts hanging off.”

His son dutifully looked over at his father's posterior. It looked to be safely ensconced on the couch, but his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “It's not fallen off yet...”

Marcelo couldn't help the laugh that escaped as he gathered the boy onto his lap. “Yes, my butt is still connected to me. Mami will be very glad.”

His son settled easily into his father's embrace. “Your butt's an important part of you. Mami said so.” He paused in his sage advice giving. “Even if it doesn't light up.”

Sounds like Mami.” He paused just as dramatically as his son. “And you, pirilampo.”

Papai.

“Yeeess?”

“You silly.”

Maybe a little,” Marcelo confirmed with a knowing nod. “Since you noticed, you get to be Papai's little assistant. I'm supposed to be doing exercises.”

“Hmm.” The boy tapped his chin thoughtfully and tilted his head up a little at his inquiry. “In the pool?”

"Mami isn't here to keep an eye on me.” Or more accurately, keep an eye on their son, The Splash King. “So, it'll have to be in the gym.”

“Can Li'l Miss Angel help?” He held the white bamf right under Marcelo's nose. It smelled slightly of glue, hand soap, and some of Stephanie's perfume.

“Don't see why not,” Marcelo answered as he gently pushed the stuffed doll away from his face. “How about you and Li'l Miss Angel go see if the gym's ready?” He gave his son a light pat on the back. Which was all the motivation the young boy needed to hop down and go racing toward the in-home gym.

Marcelo carefully swung his legs off the couch and reached for the wheelchair next to him. He grimaced a little as he moved from couch to wheelchair. He let out a long sigh after he settled into the seat. He brushed his hand over his bald head before unlocking the brakes. He started rolling before regrets took the hint to start piling on him. He wheeled into the gym to find his son spinning in the center of the large room with his arms spread wide. The yodeling at the ceiling was an odd touch.

Marcelo chuckled at the display as he moved over to a pair of parallel bars set up near where his son was spinning like a top. He was just about to pull himself up to try walking between the bars when he heard the front door open. He paused in mid-lift when he heard more than one person's footsteps.

“Any handsome men home?”

Marcelo settled back into his chair at the sound of Stephanie's voice. Though his grip on the arms of the chair approached white-knuckled as he had flashes of recent events that put him into a wheelchair. That did not stop his son from yelling 'Mami's home!' and race out of the room. Marcelo's cry to stop his son got caught in his throat. Common sense put in it was very likely it was Stephanie herself returning home. The low murmur of greeting sounded like one of her teammates.

He heaved another sigh to clear the momentary panic out. When he finally managed to wheel himself into the hallway, he almost rolled right into Stephanie carrying their son on her hip.

“There's Papai. Just the number one handsome man I was looking for,” Stephanie said brightly. At the far end of the hall, Sancho stalked the visitor that had arrived with Stephanie.

“I'm number two,” their son announced proudly as he held up two fingers. His reward was a kiss on top his head from his mother. Marcelo bit his lower lip to keep from making a comment about his son and number twos.

Querida. Aiden,” Marcelo greeted once he mastered his bathroom humor. Then he had to blink when the tall blond man behind Stephanie grew two fuzzy heads. It took Marcelo a minute to realize Aiden's twins were riding on their father's back.

Stephanie turned slightly to keep an eye on Sancho, whom Marcelo realized was probably stalking the twins' tails. “I got off work early today,” she started explaining, “and set up a playdate for our son with Aiden and Angel's twins. The Blaires are going to make a day of it. If that's all right with you, mi amor.

Marcelo hummed like he was giving the idea serious thought.

Pleeeeeease, Papai. I wanna go play with Raven and Rusty.” His son batted his eyes at Marcelo.

“We're going to a park,” Aiden explained. “I'll grill some food. We'll have him home by bedtime.”

“Pleeeeease, Mr. da Silva,” both twins begged simultaneously from their father's back.

“Well...” It seemed everyone but Stephanie was waiting in anticipation of his say-so. “... he can go. Just leave the bamf here so she's safe and clean.”

“Yay!” His son held Li'l Miss Angel up victoriously as Stephanie set him on the floor. He raced over to hug Marcelo before running off to go put his bamf in his bedroom.

The twins hopped down from Aiden's back, startling Sancho in mid-stalk. They didn't notice the cat scrambling in a different direction as they chased after their friend.

“I'd better go after them before they get distracted, and Angel gets stuck alone at the park.” Aiden gave the married couple an easy grin and trailed after the children.

Marcelo looked up at his wife. “You're home early.”

“I had a doctor's appointment,” she commented as she watched Aiden disappear around a corner.

“Isn't that my thing lately?” he asked no one in particular. He wheeled himself around to head back into the gym. If his wife frowned at the question, he didn't see it as he rolled back down the hallway. He heard her light footfalls follow him.

He went back to the parallel bars and locked the brakes again. He tried and succeeded to get his feet on the floor without using his hands.

“Your appointment's tomorrow,” she noted quietly from behind him.

“Mm. See if I can officially get out of the chair.” He reached up to grab the bars for extra support when he tried to get up.

“Do you need help?”

“Maybe. My assistant got more excited about a playdate.” He glanced over at her.

Stephanie checked over her shoulder. “Well, give me a few minutes.. I'll sub in as your assistant.”

She disappeared out the doorway to let Aiden and the kids out. Marcelo didn't wait to stand up. They had argued the night before, and what pride he had still stung. He understood now where she had been coming from, but last night her reminder that he shouldn't have been doing what he did to get hurt had rankled. Considering his battle with his own shame, the only surprise to him had been that it had been this long. But he was also the king of suppression compared to his passionate wife.

But in the present, he tried not to dwell on it and focus on getting on his feet. Though he was wobbly once he got upright. He grabbed the bars to steady himself. He glanced down and adjusted his stance to get more stable. Once he felt certain he wasn't going to fall over, he started to walk between the bars. He heard Stephanie re-enter the room. He was too busy being deliberate with every step to look her way.

“Looking good, mi amor. You'll be back to chasing our son soon.”

He nodded as the real test came: turning around. It was almost painfully slow with his small, careful steps. He lost track of where his wife was. Until he turned around and found her right there. It would have been startling has he not noticed she was missing her jacket and blouse. Marcelo blinked at the emerald green bra. “Well, now I'm motivated to do... something.”

“I was warm, and I'm an expert in knowing what motivates you best.” She smirked at him. Probably because he couldn't pull his eyes off her chest.

“While your breasts are great for holding and fondling, they aren't great for grabbing for support.”

“I do have other body parts for that.” She brought her hands up for him to grab for support. “Now, let go of the bars and walk with me.”

Marcelo hesitated. He knew she was more than fine with him leaning on her in all senses for support. She expected it him to. He just had a hard time looking like he was weak in front of her. Always had since he learned how she raised. Just in case something from back then still had a hold on her. A small crack that could make him lose her. It was always something that lurked in the dark recesses of his mind. Something left over from being a scared ten year old pinned under his mother's protective body.

“Marcelo,” she said quietly. No admonishment in her tone. “No matter whatever doubts you have, I love you and will be here. I chose you and will continue to for the rest of my life. I have never regretted a moment with you. I know the man you are.”

He took in a deep breath. Then he gently moved his hands from the bars to her forearms. He dragged his eyes up from her breasts to see a warm, yet self-satisfied smile. He guessed she was glad he still adored her breasts.

“Now, walk with me.” Stephanie started walking backwards.

Marcelo reflexively grabbed her forearms tighter. Then, a little wobbly, he took steps forward. He followed wherever his wife lead. She led him out from between the bars and took him on a slowly bending route around the gym.

“Looking good, mi amor.

“I bet you say that to all the bald, gimpy-legged Brazilian men.”

As he got steadier with his movements, Stephanie lowered her arms so he could walk on his own. “No, I only say that to one magnificent man.”

“Magnificent?”

“Mm-hm.”

“What did I do to deserve that one?”

“If you try to walk to the bedroom, I'll show and tell you.”

He raised his eyebrows. Their bedroom was on the opposite side of the penthouse. That was a long walk, but it felt good to be out of the chair.

“I'll follow with the chair, and you know I'll make it worth it.”

He didn't need much more motivation. If he could have ran, Marcelo would have. Instead, he angled himself toward the door. He waved to their personal chef as he walked by. He saw their chef do a double take and stop chopping vegetables as Marcelo passed. The Brazilian didn't stop to chat. His eyes were on the bedroom door on the far wall. He was starting to sweat a little, which bothered him. He was only walking; it shouldn't have been this hard.

Halfway there his steps got wobbly again. He knew Stephanie wasn't directly behind him at the moment because he could hear her quietly conferring with the chef. Marcelo steadied himself with some furniture. His knees started to protest with occasional shooting pain. He set his jaw and kept going forward. He almost made it to the doorway without needing to grab something to steady himself. He stumbled and grabbed the doorframe with a white-knuckled grip.

“I'm right here, mi amor,” Stephanie said from behind him. He had missed when she had stopped talking to the chef. “You've done wonderfully. You can settle back into the chair if you need to.”

Adults Only Beyond This Point )
vesper_verde: (Hat dapper)
Marcelo noticed that everything going on recently was starting to wear on Stephanie. Particularly the fear Vargas brought with him. As concerned as he was about being on a hit list, Marcelo was more concerned about Stephanie falling apart. They needed to get away. After some finagling Marcelo worked out a way for the two of them to spend a weekend in Las Vegas.

He did need to take his father to see the Veridian Dynamics' diamond growing lab, but from there, he and Stephanie could fly to the arid, dry climate he was going to only for her. He booked a Prestige Fortuna Suite at The Palazzo and put on as many extras as he thought Stephanie would enjoy.

It was a spur of the moment trip, so he figured they would be relatively safe. That might get Stephanie to relax some. Marcelo left his Vesper gear at home. Even if he itched slightly to take it with them. Knowing his luck, his father would find it during their stopover, and Marcelo did not want to have to do a lot of explaining.
vesper_verde: (Amused hmmmm)
Marcelo made one for Stephanie. Because her lack of interest in listening to music makes him wonder about her.

Some groove is in the heeeeeart )
vesper_verde: (Winged Vesper)
His entire suit is made of a flexible Twaron weave to help with bullet-resistance and flame resistance. He's going to update his suit with a structured polymer composite material from Veridian Dynamics to help with the durability and bullet-proof qualities while retaining flexibility.

I break down the rest of his gear by location. )
vesper_verde: (Sweaty back)
Disclaimer: Marcelo Jaoquim Alencar da Silva is of my creation. Stephanie is of Kris's and used with his permission.
Fandom: DW's Marvel: Nextgen
Pairing: Vesper/Stephanie Shaw
Length: 4,587
Rating: Uhm, R? NC-17? Something along those lines. There be porn down there. And Stephanie uses such language! *clutches pearls*
Notes: For Kris. Who gave his blessing to post this.
These are not the droids you are looking for. )

App post

Nov. 8th, 2008 03:26 am
vesper_verde: (Winged Vesper)
Player/LJ: Bev / [livejournal.com profile] beverly_mcintyr
Email: luckofarebel [at] cox [dot] net
AIM: SilvrBevvy
Character Name: Vesper a.k.a. Marcelo Joaquim Alencar da Silva
Character LJ: [livejournal.com profile] vesper_verde
Physical description: 5'10" ; 185 lbs. ; athletic physique; black hair in long dreads; brown eyes
Age: 21
PB: Lateef Crowder
Abilities: * master of capoeira
* red belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu
* Silent Zone: Can cancel out all sound within a 5' radius
* Silent Self: Can make his movements absolutely silent despite what he is wearing or carrying
* Sound Tolerance: Can keep high-volume noises from ruining his hearing
* Far-Hearing: Can 'bend' sound waves, causing sounds too distant for him to hear to reach his ears
* Part of the richest family in Brazil due to its booming economy
* Uses company resources and inventions to help with his heroic endeavors
Weaknesses and flaws: Psychological limitation that he feels obligated to fight crime; Secret Identity
Character location/Home: Current: New York City / São Paulo, Brazil
Alignment: hero - street level
Relatives: Letícia Marisa Alencar da Silva (mother, deceased), Luíz Adriano Alencar da Silva (father, living)
Backstory:
Marcelo Joaquim Alencar da Silva was born to a well-to-do family in São Paulo. The family owned a company that was on the forefront of Brazilian manufacturing and exports. The company would later have a large stake in the Brazilian discovery of deep-water oil. Marcelo was raised in an idyllic childhood with no wants or worries. His mother insisting he follow typically Brazilian arts, like capoeira, samba, and bossa nova from an early age. This relatively blissful time came to an end at the age of 10 when Marcelo's mother was with her son in the wrong place and the wrong time. Caught in gunfire between gangs due to a wrong turn, bullets riddled their car. His mother and the chauffer were killed outright; Marcelo had been shoved down and covered bodily by his mother in her last act. Added insult to injury came when one of the surviving gang members stuck his head into the car, placed a gun against the young Marcelo's head to keep him still, and looted his mother's body of jewelry before beating a hasty retreat.

At his mother's funeral, he vowed tearfully beside her casket that he would find a way to make sure no other mother had to die for her son. But like most ten-year-old given vows, that fell to the back of his mind as the rest of life came his way. Marcelo's father was devastated at his wife's death, but tried to step into the caretaker role his wife had occupied for her son. As his energies were split between the family business and raising his son, sometimes things did not work out ideally, but Luíz did not stop trying to provide his son with the best life possible. He also tried to groom his son for a place within their company. Initially, a teenaged Marcelo rebelled. He tried to work his way into the underground vale tudo shows. He managed to get into a couple bouts but hurt himself in the process. His fourth bout saw him lose. He was approached by some angry gang members afterward. They had bet on him, and they had lost money. His offer of money from his own wallet didn't appease them. They beat him unconscious and took all the money from his wallet.

When he woke in a hospital, he remembered his vow beside his mother's coffin. His recent experience taught him he was not likely to manage on his own. While he tried to work out a way to make his vow work, Marcelo followed his father's wishes and joined the company. He followed his father in his shadow, consumed by his thought of vengeance without a means of exacting it. Until one fateful day in the labs, his inattention got him into trouble. There was a demonstration of some new chemicals for bio-medical use. Marcelo leaned against a table and knocked a burner with his elbow. In trying to right things before anyone saw, he spilled a different batch of mutagenic chemicals on himself. He was shocked when there were no burns but what had spilled onto his skin was absorbed in. Marcelo had problems the rest of the day with hearing a high-pitched noise that no one else could hear.

Later that night, Marcelo realized he could hear his father's half of a phone conversation from across the mansion. Though the realization got him no closer to figuring out how he could fight the crime that had taken his mother from him. The idea how came to him during one of his father's talks about projects to mimic things about Diphylla ecaudata ecaudata. Once Marcelo figured out what his father was talking about, he thought it was brilliant. By day, he was the dutiful son rising through the ranks of the business and proving himself, in the evening he was seen out and about to have a story about being out all night to party, and in the night he used equipment from the business to hunt low-level gang members. It was done to start stories among the rank and file of a creature stirring in the night. He managed to squeeze in sleep when he could, but he kept up the pace. While he was stalking thugs, he learned of his abilities for silence and his ability to not be bothered by someone blasting an airhorn into his ear.

Sample post:
His bags were already packed at home. Most of his belongings already shipped to New York City. His father was having their first international office opening there, and his choice on handling the business was his newly minted vice-president of international expansion. The man currently crouched on a slanted roof didn't think his pai needed to give him a long title, but the move would be good for him.

The man known as the Vesper on the street tilted his head and focused on a conversation happening two buildings over. It was the usual gang posturing. There was probably some chest-slapping, but he waited. He just needed a name to go off of. Vesper had been hunting this particular gang for months. He had uncovered a large ring he just couldn't break. A couple weeks ago, he found out a reason why. This gang was large and had spread out of the ghetto it started in. Power and influence that was now spreading to America.

He scowled slightly as the bullshitting continued. He wondered if these little boys had any left when they went to the restroom. Someone entered the room and things got quiet. There was scuffling of feet on the floor and then a gravelly voice told everyone to get to business. They had a shipment going to the States in two weeks. Vesper clenched his fist and waited for a name. He got a nickname. Tio Cano.

That was enough for tonight. He rose to his feet and extended the silence wrapped around him out farther. The last thing he needed was a roof tile to go clattering around and give away his presence. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop until he could see the window to the gang's meeting place. Well, that was a good sixteen feet to the window. He could probably jump it and fall right off the building if he didn't break the window or missed and hit the wall. He pressed a button and the wings on the pack on his back extended. This was one way to test the prototype.

He took a few steps back to get enough launching room. Vesper took three quick steps and leapt from the roof. The wings silently extended due to his powers. They helped him glide and steer his way toward the window. He extended his gauntleted hand to break the window. Just before he hit glass, he collapsed the wings and let momentum carry him in through the window.

There were startled yells and scrambling as he rolled silently in. Vesper quick rose to his feet in the center of the room and extended his wings again. Fully to break the lights and plunge the room into darkness. He dropped the silence.

"Vamos encarar o perigo!" he growled before the gunfire rang out. Once it was dark, he collapsed his mechanical wings and rolled out of the way. He came up beside someone firing at where he had been. Vesper dispatched him with an elbow to the throat. The man's gagging brought more gunfire in that direction. He rolled out of there and worked his way around the room. He took care of all with broken bones or concussions but left one man standing.

When the man's gun ran out of bullets, Vesper could hear the gun keep clicking away. The man dressed in green and gray pulled a flashlight out of one of his thigh pouches. He shined the light directly into the man's face.

"Do you know who I am?" Vesper asked with his voice pitched at a rough growl. He did it to keep people from recognizing his voice. He moved closer and watched the man tremble against a wall.

"Ye-Yes! You're the Ba-"

Vesper's hand shot out and grabbed the man by the throat. "I am the Vesper. I'm giving you one chance. Tell all your friends about me. Now go. The police are coming to pick up the rest."

Once the man was released, he dropped his useless gun and scrambled over his groaning compatriots to find the door. Vesper watched the man leave and cloaked his own movements in silence again. He walked to the window and climbed out on the ledge. The wings extended at a press of a button. He jumped off the ledge and the wings with their propulsion unit firing let him swoop up to the neighboring rooftop. It was a bit loud. Like a car without its muffler. That would need some work, he thought idly as he worked his way over the rooftops to where he hid his car.

By the time he went down the fire escape with a large duffel bag, he looked like Marcelo heading in for the night. He just needed to figure out how to get the suggestion sent along to make the wing-pack quieter.
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