1964-03-08 - Phenominal Cosmic Power...!
Summary: Creel rages after not getting what he promised from Mojo
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
creel mojo 

When you're the biggest name in media this side of the multiverse, the old adage rings true — you have eyes and ears everywhere. The same holds factual for Mojo, so when it was brought to his attention that Creel wanted to see him? There would have been a bit of weaving of magic, a flash of light… and the arrival of one Carl 'Crusher' Creel in the mighty Mojo's very own control room. The room was a technophile's dream, with monitors lining every wall and displaying images from all over the world. Over multiple worlds. Multiple /realities,/ even! Along with various controls that do this and that, numerous strange lifeforms manning those controls… and the yellow blob himself overseeing it all.
-— New Activity ---

At least until the arrival of the Absorbing Man.

"Crusher! Baby! What a show you put on last night, amirite? The ratings were off the chaaaaarts~!" That last word is practically sung by an ecstatic Mojo, who's grinning from ear to ear. "I mean, I'll admit. It could've gone /better/ for you, but for me? For ME?! It was fantastic, and what's good for me is great for you!"


Creel didn't do anything particularly noteworthy before demanding to see Mojo to his television in a manner that might have seemed insane to even the most conservative therapists, beyond going through a package Maximus made for him some time proper. He arrives in a remarkable lack of attire, only his battered and torn pants; one hand is clenched in a fist.

"Don't give me that crap." Creel growls simply. "You used me, Mojo. You USED me. What show was I really on?! The Comedy Clash?! The Laughageddon Brawl-O-Pocalypse?! You know damn well what I intended to sign up for!! This ain't fame. Now I look like the inept pawn of some goddamn slug!!" He walks forward, as much as Mojo allows before making some motion for him to stop. Or maybe he doesn't; he'll get well within arm's reach if so, although no attempt to immediately impact those supple curves is forthcoming.


"Of COURSE I used you, Crusher!" Mojo replies, before folding his fingers together and offering another wide smile. The kind that shows far too many teeth. "The same way that you used me. You used /me/ for an opportunity. You wanted fame, you wanted to do more than sit on your hands night after night eating popcorn. Guess who gave you the chance?"

There's no motion to stop Creel; he's not viewed as a threat by the Spineless One. Very few humans are; whether that's knowledge or ego is hard to say. "Check the paper lately, sunshine? The evening news? You might wanna keep your eyes peeled — if you need help with that," a skeleton-thin finger taps the wires that hold /his/ eyes open. "I can… /arrange/ that." With that said, the spider-like legs of Mojo's chair start to skitter and turn his mass to face a wall of screens. A hand is extended to the side and some random creature hands him what looks like a remote control; buttons are pressed and footage of the prior night is shown, focused on Billy, Lorna and Teddy. "I told you you'd be going to fight some pathetic punks who don't seem to grasp the /allure/ of fame. Did I /ever/ say you would be brought in to face the Avengers in round one? NO! There aren't even Avengers in your dimension anymore!" Another button press shows footage of Kennedy disbanding the Avengers.

"Stark, the Dazzler? They were brought in to up the /ratings./ Are your 'heroes' going to care more if it's some schmuck off the street or a big name that's being put into danger. YOU treated it like a joke without looking at the big picture. You wanna fight a big name? Guess who could've poked Iron Man's hornet's nest by giving his dear old dad a shakedown and scare of his life?"


"…" Creel is not a smart man. Mojo knows this. Creel knows this. That means that little things like the semantics of legalese mean very little to him. A creature of basic instinct, he communicates with intent. Betraying that intent, to him, is a cardinal crime. It's almost certain Mojo knows this, and although the Absorbing Man is dense, that fact doesn't elude him.

"You're right, slug. I didn't take that seriously. And for that, I got embarrassed. You didn't tell me to stand there and treat them like bystanders. That's not why I'm here." He reaches out to poke a finger into Mojo's mass. The potential dangers of this might be lost to both. Unlike someone such as Rogue, his powers are not at all limited by someone being extradimensional or exotic, and have nothing to do with stealing or draining. If he's able to 'sense' the source of Mojo's true nature, or it's something beyond the kin of even his divine-granted powers, would be known then.

"You know what I wanted. You didn't give it to me. Don't give me your publicist bullcrap. Lemme guess. You're another person who underestimates me. I'm just a thug. Maybe I am. Maybe I always was. But…!!"


What Creel will find is that Mojo is… made of flesh. Not entirely the same kind of flesh as humans, but not entirely different. And there's a /lot/ of it. If he can sense further? He might even realize why Mojo's race is referred to as the 'Spineless Ones' — they quite literally have no spine. If he ends up absorbing any aspects from the gruesome creature? His skin might yellow as if it were jaundiced, and he might very well cause fresh things to rot in his very presence. But yes, there's something /definitely/ not human there.

But touching Mojo without his permission? Not something that the slug-like master of the Mojoverse seems to appreciate. Which is why one of those hands tries to reach out and grab Creel's arm. If he's successful? He's going to try and age Creel instantly. It's a threat that worked with minions before, and one he /does/ love putting into play. If only for the reaction.


Immediately, Creel looks surprised. Mojo probably thinks it's because he's such a soft, well-lotioned sponge. Most people manhandling his bulk from Earth have different ideas on how evolution should be working, after all, unless they are fan of sea sponges. It is not the genetic aspects of the herald of fame that he senses. No; not at all. There's something else. Like a great sun burning within Mojo, a black hole, drawing in everything. He's never felt anything like it before. He's never SENSED anything like it before. Better than perhaps anyone else who's encountered him, he might have a complete understanding of the scope of Mojo's power now.

And he wants it.

Crusher has absorbed lots of materials. From the silly to the potent. And it feels like nothing; no, he has an absense of sensation. But this. This is energy. This is POWER. Beyond what he understood existed. That huge hand grasps him, and he immediately begins to age. His muscles wither, his skin wrinkles, but he seems distracted. This is not the reaction of horror that Mojo is so used to seeing.

And then… it stops. Just as quickly as it began, it starts to undo. Perhaps Mojo has always been unique. If so, he is no longer alone. Within Creel, a spark exactly like his burns into being. Outwardly, none of the fiddling peons would have any idea. But it appears that the Absorbing Man's name is far greater than might have been expected. The primary immediate effect of this… is complete immunity to Mojo's influence and powers.

"I am not a NOTHING. I am CRUSHER CREEL. I am the ABSORBING MAN…!!" The power within him continues to build. Not his ability to influence, however; right now, there's enough adulation of Creel to affect a kitten within the world, where Mojo has multiple universes funneling into him. It is something far worse. "You understand?! HUH?!" He glows yellow, crackles of energy whisking visibly across him.


Mojo is /far/ from unique — the subject of many upon many of clones and imitations, along with a whole race of Spineless Ones. What he /is/ is a creature who feeds off of, for lack of a better description, love. Being the one who's managed to wrangle the love of the denizens of the Mojoverse through his programming, that gives him power.

Power which was just… /borrowed/… by this human. A fact that isn't lost on Mojo, and simultaneously bewilders and disgusts the Spineless One. Which has him releasing Creel and skittering away, attempting to sound unimpressed by the display.

There's no truth to that. Oh, Creel's /definitely/ got his attention.

"You're the Absorbing Man." comes a much more sedate Mojo. Much more serious. Air-quotes are made with fingers attached to arms that are spread wide, before a button is pressed and all the monitors go dark. "I /know/ who you are, Carl Crusher Creel, what you're capable of." Another button is pressed, and images appear on the screens again. They're /all/ of Creel. All action shots. None of them that he'll remember. Taken from other universes. Doing things that /this/ Creel hasn't imagined, fighting foes he's never faced. Wielding power he's never been exposed to, not on /this/ Earth.

"You're /not/ a two-bit thug, and if anything, I /over/estimated this version of you. Take a look, Creel. Take a look and see what you COULD be!" The words are shouted, anger. Anger that follows him turning back to face Creel, looking far less jolly than his normal self. "You showed me NONE of it, you treated your opportunity as a JOKE and if it wasn't for those CHILDREN, my ratings would have SUNK."


Creel's having trouble focusing. It's like there's some rapidly increasing buzzing in his head. Every cell is on fire. The minions might be somewhat gruntled to see the activity of his cosmic energy continuing to increase. Mojo knows how to control it; he did not go from zero to a hundred in a moment, and right now he's not doing himself any favors. But it feels like /all/ of the other Crusher Creels are becoming destabilized across some countless number of realities. Whatever Mojo /is/, drawing it into himself is… well. It's like he's pulling really, really hard on a lot of threads that really, really shouldn't be pulled. The abberant qualities are beginning to cascade more and more; not only the local space, causing the metal beneath to warp and twist and likely striking down all non-Mojo souls within the room, but the fates of all the other iterations of himself, which is probably not a positive outcome for unified reality. Which might include the current one. The Absorbing Man grasps his head, seeming to no longer be very cogent about the whole situation. Certainly not enough to consciously undo his power! "RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAUGH!!!" He's glowing awful bright yellow now, whirls and snaps of power shocking and crackling over him. Okay, so Mojo has inadvertantly found out he can use Creel as some kind of doomsday weapon. Would that be good for ratings, though? No. Probably not.

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