Kings of the World - HeroNES

This is where we part, my worthy opponent. Farewell."

Vulcan was utterly confident, and why wouldn't he be? Iron Guard was hurt, and his weapons were depleted. The Shield Of Avalon was down, and there were no planes to scramble, no planes to destroy. There were cars burned out everywhere, pieces of the bridge were missing; it was about to collapse and Iron Guard couldn't move.

Vulcan walked over to him, and smiled. He pulled off Iron Guard's helmet without a word and saw the face that had cursed Peter's life.

"Seems you already knew not to play with fire Iron Guard!"

Iron Guard looked around and saw the shattered remains of a truck and noticed the metal rods it was carrying...he had to concentrate....

"It's really sad Peter. That's right I know your name. I know everyone involved with NeoLabs. The thing is, we're barely different. NeoLabs used us. And you are strong. Why do you waste your time being their lackey?"

No energy to talk, keep concentrating, I can do this

Vulcan noticed the pained look on his face

"You barely have enough energy to be alive huh? It's a shame Iron Guard, but I need to send a message. To NeoLabs. To the world. Here's what's going to happen. First I'm going to kill you. Then I'm going to kill Dr. Wagner's sister. Then I'm going to kill the rest of her family. Then, I'm going to make her beg for me to kill her. And you know what? I might just oblige her. Or not. Maybe you two can have nice and pretty matching faces. Though I think the burns will look better on her, she has the nicer body."

No emotion, don't let him get to you, just concentrate

Vulcan put his foot up to Peter's neck and started pressing down. It took the very life out of him, and slowly Vulcan lifted his foot off him again.

"You really were fun you know. I'd love to keep you around, but you keep interfering. We don't need people trying to play hero. And that's all you can do; play."

Peter was pushing his head back slowly, and then Vulcan stamped on his neck again

"You think you're so strong huh! Look around! No planes! No Tanks! You need others to fight. You're not worth that suit. They said it would outclass my suit in every way. Maybe it might, but it doesn't matter if they put a weakling like you in it. What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Central getting revenge, but look around, this isn't Central! When someone wrongs me or my family, they pay. But that's the thing with you play heroes. All talk, but you're too weak to follow through"

The wires ignited, six of them above Peter's face. Yet the battle was over. Through Vulcan's body, eight metal rods had impaled him.

"GAAAAAHHHHH!"

He ripped one of the bars out, but it didn't make the situation better, instead he cried out in pain once more. Iron Guard grabbed his foot and pulled him to the ground.

"You're not leaving. It's over."

He grabbed another rod. Vulcan was going to die here and now, until he noticed a man walking towards him. The man wore a gray trench coat and matching fedora. Sunglasses hid his eyes, yet a scraggly beard was plainly visible. He set a small brief case near the edge of the bridge and picked up Vulcan as he was leaving. He looked at Iron Guard and smiled.

Then, the world burst into flames

Rossiter crossed the threshold out of the safety of his cozy apartment and entered into the desolate wasteland that is uptown Metropolis. He exited out the door and turned to lock it. He suddenly found himself accosted by a couple neighbors. "Damn busybodies," he thought to himself, and continued down the street trying his best to ignore them. Finally he reached a main street and promptly flagged down a taxi. He got in.

"Hello, where can I be taking you today good sir?" the man asked with a thick Arab accent. Rossiter was annoyed, but kept it to himself. "Bigger fish to fry today," he thought.

"Benign Intelligence building, 31st and 6th."

"Yes, very well, right away, sir!"

They drove for some ten minutes before finally the driver broke the silence.

"So, uh are you from around here?"

"Yes."

"Oh, very good sir. I just moved here 2 months ago from Pakistan. This is a wonderful country. I just love America so much. Have you lived here for long?"

"Yes."

"Oh that is just wonderful sir. Just yesterday I went to see your Statue of Liberty. It was so beautiful. My brother told me that he is going to try to get tickets to a baseball game soon. Have you seen baseball before? I hear it is just like cricket!"

Rossiter remained silent. After several moments, the driver continued.

My brother Abdul, he is such a wonderful person. He came here first. Oh how I have dreamed of coming here ever since I was a little boy, and now I have arrived. It is everything I have ever wanted. I only hope that soon I can raise enough money to bring the rest of my family over."

"Look, bub, I'm paying you to drive, not to tell me your whole goddamned life story." tersely ended the story.

The two moved through the crowded streets of Metropolis for another ten minutes before finally Rossiter arrived at his destination. He exited the cab. "How much do I owe ya?" He asked

"That will be 11 dollars and thirteen cents sir." Rossiter pulled out a crisp 20 dollar bill and handed it to the man. He leaned over to fish out change.

"Keep the change," Rossiter said with a slight smile.

The driver's eyes lit up, "Oh thank you sir, I won't forget this generosity!"

Rossiter turned and looked up to see the large skyscraper that held the organization of Benign Intelligence. Just what kind of organization was this company? Rossiter didn't know for sure, but he had his suspicions.

Good stories everyone, remember that the deadline is tomorrow night 6 PM EST.

Dreams are an incessant fact of life. Images flash before my closed eyes each night with little variation.

[Silk, white of the purest light turned to thread; woven into a masterpiece sheet of the purest skin. Night descends to make hair, black, fall from the figure that now dances in front of me. Leaning forward, stars coalesce into an iris, then two, around eyes that appear before my face. The figure slides forward and claims the eyes as its own. Before me now stands the woman, her face to my own. Lips part to speak--]

“Ahhk!” Mark jumped up out of bed. “Not again. Get OUT of my head!”

He spoke to the air around him. Sitting back on the bed, Mark pulled a plain dark gray t-shirt off the laundry covered floor and slid it on. He ran his fingers through his unwashed, dusty-brown hair. It felt clean enough, he thought, though he decided a haircut would be needed soon, bangs were covering his vision and the back rubbed his neck funny. Plus, his boss said so last night. He found a pair of khaki cargopants and lifted them with his socked foot. He slid them on and stood up. He walked the two steps to the door and dropped down and sat on the floor. He struggled to pull his shoes on without untying them. They were relatively new and hadn’t been broken in yet.

Once the shoes were on, Mark plopped onto his back narrowly avoiding death due to dropping his head on an oddly positioned fork lying on the floor. Instead, he landed on a toy, stuffed lizard that became a perfect floor-pillow. He closed his eyes, wishing for more time to rest, though sleep had been hard as of late.

[Silk, white of the purest light turne--]

“Ahhk!” Mark sat back up. He groaned out of frustration and tiredness, but pulled himself back up, opened the door, and left the room.

The hall blasted him with a multitude of music genres, each competing to be the top genre of the dorm building. Voices of students intermingled with the music, shouts and laughter added to the cacophony.

It was a standard building party in full swing. Mark made his way down the hall, dodging cups, clothes, body parts and other objects that swung into his path. While not the most graceful looking maneuvers, Mark skillfully avoided everything and made it to the upper lobby without incident.

He continued around the balcony towards the stairs. Looking down, the party engulfed all three floors. Mark sighed as he continued.

Stop and duck...

Not even thinking about where the voice came from, Mark instinctively listened and did as told. Immediately a large, drunk guy slammed into the railing where Mark would have been. The large guy’s face was then hit by a fist that passed above Mark, who remained squatting on the floor. The brawl continued, but moved away from the railing and Mark stood and continued walking.

Leaving the new shouts of a fight behind him, he looked ahead to his destination, the stairs. There stood a girl on the railing. She was barely maintaining her balance and yelling at the top of her lungs, trying to be heard. Even Mark had trouble making the words out. What no one else seemed to notice though is that the railing below her was shaking oddly, the hand rail was coming loose from the vertical supports that connected to it.

Mark started at a jog, but quickly picked up pace. He dodged a girl dancing and jumped over a couple making out on the floor. He maintained speed as he tumbled under the long tubing of a beer funnel and quickly found his feet again. Holding out his arms he braced as the railing finally gave way, falling over the ledge into the crowd below.

Landing perfectly into his arms was the body of a girl, her hair, black as night, flowed over his arm. He looked at her for an instant and had a moment of recognition. She looked at him and smiled.

It is like a glorious battle, and you once again in its midst.

“What?” Mark questioned the girl, but was interupted.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA,” the piercing scream of a girl soon became a chorus of wails.

“WHAT THE F--- DID YOU DO!” Some guy yelled at Mark. “YOU F------ KILLED HER! YOU F------ LET HER FALL!”

“Wait! No! I have her right here?!” Mark looked into his arms to see nothing but air. Down the stairs infront of him was the body of an unconscious girl blood mingling with her auburn-dyed hair.

“MAN, IF I KNEW YOU WERE SUCH A F---UP I WOULD HAVE PUSHED YOU DOWN AND CAUGHT HER MYSELF! YOU F------ KILLED HER!” Music died down as more people screamed or yelled. The crowd started to converge on the stairs.

More yelling directed at Mark and his actions forced him to think about his next move. Things were turning hostile and fast. Screams to “Kick his a--!”, “Throw him down the stairs!”, “Give him the chair!” all made Mark a bit worried for his safety. He had been certain that he had her, and who was that other girl that was in his arms. His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of hands lifting him up and dragging him backwards. The mob had decided some kind of fate for him. He decided he would rather continue to work than wait to find out.

With little effort, he slipped out of the grasp of his detainers and made way back towards the stairs. Yelling ensued as his captors realized his escape. Drunk, angry college guys came charging from behind him. Ahead at the stairwell was another line of drunk students, a wall of off-balance individuals determined to prevent his continued escape. At the last second, a break in the wall appeared and Mark dove for the gap. He slid past the students and proceeded to roll on his side down the stairs. Painful, but effective at getting down to the landing where the girl lay. He stained his sleeve with the blood filling the floor of the landing. He stood up and with only a glance to the possibly dead girl, continued down the stairs.

Calls to “Stop him!” came from above, but as Mark continued down it became easier to dodge grasping hands and fewer people stood in his path. Those on floors below were still oblivious to what had happened above. The party still raged on the first floor. The students were near orgy in the lobby that held the doors facing the parking deck.

Cool air enveloped Mark as he busted through the doors. A short jog brought him to his beat up economy car. He hopped in and drove away. He kept thinking about all that happened, but made his way to the airport. He had to get to work as a night parking attendant, and with the lights of Central City starting to turn on, he new he was close to running late.

----------

Name/Alias: Mark / Currently none
Nationality/Allegiance: American / Uncertain
Powers: Currently known to possess quick reflexes, additional information currently unknown
Description: A drifting college student in Central City who currently has little to no goals for his life and swings from not caring to desperately seeking purpose. Currently he his hearing voices and seeing things that apparently no one else has noticed. This also comes with dreams that intrude on his ability to get a decent amount of sleep.

Two Marks in Central City. That's definitely not going to get confusing at all.

Story with more action incoming.

Lieutenant Mark Olson's mind was absorbed by the Izmailovskaya drug case as he walked home from the precinct. There wasn't enough evidence to prosecute...yet...but tomorrow, he was going to go to a judge to get a warrant for one of their warehouses, so maybe...

"Oooof."

As he reached an intersection, he abruptly collided with a similarly oblivious jogger, who went sprawling. Idiot, he thought to himself. Pay attention and get your head out of the-"

"Mark? Mark Olson? Omigod, is it really you?"

Huh? He turned and paid attention to the jogger for the first time. She was a cute brunette with a heart-shaped face, wearing a hoodie and jeans, with iPod earbuds jammed in her ears. Nice. Who the hell is she? He elected to run with it and try and get her digits with the usual "I wanna make sure I spell your name right" shtick.

Before he could respond, she'd kept going. "Nancy...Nancy Taylor! Don't say you don't remember me!"

That name sounded familiar. Mark thought for a few seconds. Oh. It's from Groundhog Day. Right. He had just seen that movie a week ago.

...with Athena.

Oh.

He sighed, equal parts relief and disappointment. Better run with it anyway.

"Nancy" had been waiting expectantly for only a few seconds when he made a show of snapping his fingers and remembering. "Nancy! That's right! Lincoln High School. You sat next to me in Mrs. Walsh's English class!"

"You do remember!" Her face shone happily, and then she jumped up and hugged him.

"I had no idea you were in Central City, Nancy," he said a few seconds later as she stepped back.

"I didn't know you were here! What a weird co-inky-dink! Imagine that. Are you going this way?"

"Yeah, you wanna-"

"Sure!"

The light turned and they crossed the street with the rest of the crowd, heading towards Mark's apartment. He decided to figure out what all this was about.

"Wow, Nancy, you look great...like a goddess," he said.

"Awww, you're so sweet. Thanks. But I'm not gonna lie, just like in high school, it seems like I've always got two or three guys after me," she replied, putting the tiniest bit of emphasis on the last six words.

Oh, he thought to himself again. We're being tailed. He resisted the temptation to look behind him and try to figure out who was there. Deal with it later.

"Nancy" kept chattering away as they neared his building. He barely noticed most of it. His uniform was still on, but he didn't have a sidearm. He rapidly attempted to sort through his options. Where would be the best place to shake the tails?

He was still thinking as he headed for the elevators. "Nancy" grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the stairwell. "I think I'd rather run up the stairs, you know, for the exercise, Mark," she said.

She pushed the stairwell door open and started jogging up the stairs, and he turned to follow her. As the door shut behind him he had a glimpse of three men start running towards them from outside the building. Here we go.

They had made it up three levels of stairs before Athena stopped them. Mark reflexively grabbed at his pistol - wasn't there - and noticed a flash at the edge of his vision, heard the familiar pop of air being displaced. He turned and saw Athena in her true form, a glowing, eight foot tall, silver-armored Greek goddess, armed with spear and shield.

The stairwell door crashed open and their tails shoved their way inside. He could dimly hear one of them letting out a chyort! before climbing the stairs. A few seconds later, they charged into view, three standard-looking Izmailovskaya toughs. The one in the lead looked up and saw them on the landing above, drew his pistol, and opened fire.

Athena's arm moved, almost too fast to see, and her shield intercepted the Russian's bullets. Mark winced: the sound of gunfire reverberated loudly in the confined space. He tried to back up and let the stairs shield his body. Probably wouldn't do a whole lot of good-

His protector chose that moment to leap off of the landing and over the rail, soaring across the stairwell and crashing into one of the unfortunate Russians on the other side. Before either of the other thugs could react, she had twisted her body around. The one on her right fell back, his chest slashed open by her spear. The other had time for a few useless shots into her shield before the goddess of war brought the rim of the shield up under his chin and sent him sprawling. He had no time to get back up before she swung her spear around and stabbed at his throat.

It was all over in twenty seconds. He saw her look back up towards him with concern written on her face.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Yyyyeahh." His hands were clammy and he was shaken up, but there were no obvious holes in his body that hadn't been there before. "You-you killed them," he stammered.

"Better them than you. Let's get the hell out of here."

Dachs said:

Two Marks in Central City. That's definitely not going to get confusing at all.

Story with more action incoming.

Click to expand...

Hopefully, I figure out how to properly introduce the alias and reduce the future confusion soon enough...maybe.

"So you were an associate with the Vulcan family?"

"I took Myra and John in as my quasi-adoptive children, away from their abusive father," Vincent Stone said. "You could argue that."

The agent hidden in the shadows sniffed impatiently. "This isn't a time for humor, Mr. Stone."

Stone said nothing, but tapped his knuckles on the table, which echoed slightly in the dark room.

"Right then," Agent Blue said, pulling a dossier out of nowhere and opening it. "It says here that both of the Vulcans had volunteered at NeoLabs as human lab rats. Any thoughts on that?"

"NeoLabs was a limited topic in my house," Stone said. "They work on a lot of top secret stuff there, stuff neither of them could discuss very openly."

"Why did they want to volunteer in the first place?"

"College, obviously. They were both very gifted students, with good heads on their shoulders. Both of them wanted to get into engineering and mechanics."

Stone smiled as he thought back on his two adoptive children. "They were both nuts about how stuff worked. They each took my car apart twice and put it back together. Haven't had a problem with it since."

The agent cleared his throat. "I hate to interrupt your woolgathering, but we're on a schedule here, and I want some answers."

"Right, NeoLabs," Stone recalled. "Both of them were volunteering to get a big scholarship from NeoLabs. John was doing it for about a year before he convinced his sister to join up."

"What was she involved in?"

"Like I said, the NeoLabs scientists are pretty paranoid about what comes in and out. I don't know a thing about what exactly she did there. All I know is what happened to her."

Stone's face suddenly turned harsher under the light of the lone light bulb.

"After the first day, she started getting sick. Really sick. After three days, I took her to the hospital. She got better after a week or so, so I figured it was the end of that. But when she went there again..."

Stone clenched his fists.

"...she never came back."


"Where the hell is my sister?" John Vulcan demanded of the man in the lab coat.

"Please, Mr. Vulcan, calm down so I can explain..."

"Explain how you don't know anything?!?" John yelled. He punched the metal wall, which left behind an impressive dent.

"John, take off the suit so I can talk to you..." the scientist begged.
Instead, John charged out of the room, intent on brawling his way through security to get to his sister, until he ran into a big, broad-shouldered scientist, who grabbed him before he could fight his way through the hallway.

"LET ME GO!" John barked at him.

"Calm down," Dr. Theo said in a soft, yet firm voice. "Take off the mask so we can talk face to face."

Theo raised his arms, but found them weighed down by the metal cords which had slithered out of the wrists of the armor. Cursing, John struggled with the cords until he could pull the helmet off. John's face was pink with anger and covered in sweat, but he did seem to be calming down enough to talk to.

"That does feel better," John said.

"The suit retains a bit of heat, as you can imagine," Dr. Theo said in a fatherly tone. "It makes us all a little, forgive the pun, hot-headed,"

John suddenly glared at Theo. "What's happened to my sister?"

"It's not as serious as it sounds, John. Javier tends to be a bit of a panic-monger," Theo explained. "I've been testing...mm...a new type of medicine on your sister. All she's having is a nasty reaction."

"Like an allergy?" John asked.

"Sort of, yes. The medicine won't have any lasting effects, and if it does, we can cure them easily. It's NeoLabs policy to make sure we have an antidote to any chemical experiment we perform."

John's face was going back to a normal color, and he was regaining his composure speedily. "So she can still come home?" John asked.

"As much as I'd love to let her come back home, I'd have to say no at the moment. If something bad does happen, it's best if she's as close to me as possible, so I can administer the antidote."

"Can I see her?"

"Of course. Put the suit away and I'll walk you down."

John started to remove the suit, but found it hard to maneuver with the heavy metal cords. "What's the point of these stupid things?" John said irritably.

"It's something I need to fix," Dr. Theo explained, helping him remove the gauntlets from the suit. "Those cords are supposed to become tense when your heartbeat jumps to a higher pulse, and reinforce your arms. Pretty handy when you're in a tight spot and you need some extra muslce. For some reason, though, I can't keep them from shooting out of the wrists. The shoulder joints don't seem to be holding them."

Eventually the suit was removed, John changed into his regular clothes and followed Dr. Theo down to another lab. Unlike the Thermal Armor testing room, it was set up more like Frankenstein's lab than a workshop, with various bottles of colored liquid decorating the walls, electric wires dangling from the ceiling and walls, lab equipment stuck haphazardly on the various counter, and a large bed that wouldn't have been out of place in a hospital.. Myra sat in the bed, legs crossed, reading a manga while a female scientist filled a syringe with a clear liquid from a test tube nearby.

Myra was looking a little pale, but she smiled when John walked up and gave him a big hug like she always did.

"Glad to see you're okay," John said.

"It was a little scary," Myra admitted. "At least Dr. Faith was around to give me the right antidote."

Dr. Rachel Faith gave a slight smile in their direction, then quickly turned back to the syringe.

"Good for her," John said. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm here for you, okay? If you want me to come down and stay with you all night. I'll even drag..."

Myra suddenly made slashing motions across her throat and pointed at Dr. Faith, who was still working on the chemicals. "It's his ex," she mouthed at him silently.

"...um, a bunch of our friends over so they can hang out too."

"We don't allow a lot of visitors here," Dr. Faith suddenly said coldly, turning towards him in a rather stiff manner. "I shouldn't even let you in here, even if you have clearance from Dr. Theo."

Had she guessed that John had almost said Stone's name? Probably. In any case, John had to leave anyway. He reached over and put his arm around her.

"I have to leave now," John said. "I'll be back first thing tomorrow to check up on you. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

John and Myra had one last hug, and John stood up to leave. As he walked to the door, Theo slid it shut behind him. Dr. Theo escorted him out of the complex, where Vincent Stone was waiting for him in his car.

"How is she?" Stone asked. "They wouldn't let me in to see. No clearance."

"She's alright," John said, getting into the passenger seat. "A little pale, but fine. She's staying overnight in case something else pops up."

"Better safe than sorry," Stone noted. Backing the car out of the parking lot, he drove off back towards his house. John debated telling him about Dr. Faith, but decided against it, as it would have been a more estranged topic than John's father.

As Vince's car drove off into the night, it started to rain.

-...Conflicting reports from witnesses say that the girl was standing either on the hand railing or at the edge of the stairs. Additional reports conflict as to whether she fell on her own or whether she was pushed by another student who police say is currently unidentified and possibly no longer at the scene. This brings us to a report we have been covering all week about how you can protect you child during college from these very kind of tragic incidences. Special report correspondent, …-

Mark turned the TV off. He should feel worried, sad, at the very least uncertain. However, he felt a slowly building surge of energy. He had felt it before, things he termed “exciting news” always preceded this feeling of excitement, excess energy.

So you do notice it...

“What? Who is it?” Mark looked around, the night had been a little slow. There wasn’t anyone around. He sat back in his chair and glanced back at the TV.

“Took you long enough to look here.” Mark nearly fell out of his chair. On screen was the same girl that had been in his arms earlier in the night. He just starred slack-jaw for a moment. Uncertain what to say or do.

“Well, ‘ou'le’ to you too,” the girl on screen said.

Mark continued to stare for a moment at the screen. I turned this thing off. How is it...How... “What is this s---? Who are you? Where did you go earlier?”

“Whoa, boy. First things, first. You notice the energy. You actually are feeling that surge of power.” Her face filled the screen.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Mark leaned forward.

Don’t give me that s---.

Mark jumped back as he realized the girl was now standing in front of him and no longer on the TV. The attendant booth was not very large, but Mark judged the girl to at least be his height, maybe more. It seemed to vary, as if struggling against something.

I saw you react to that news story, and not just it. You felt more than just a surge of adrenaline.

He heard her voice in his head. It irritated his mind, like some small bug crawling around on the inside of his head. “Can you stop that? If you’re going to stand right there, at least speak to me.”

Made an oath on the Styx that I couldn’t speak to you in person. So either I’m not here or you deal with it, and since I’m here: Deal with it.

“You what?”

Never mind me. You feel the fear in everyone. It is strengthening you.

“Wait. I let a girl die, or maybe somehow you let her die. What am I to do with that? How is that useful? I’m not sure I can go back to the dorm without being arrested or worse.” Mark tried to stand, but the girl’s presence made it difficult. She seemed to fill the room.

Now every parent is fearful that their daughter is going to die at college and that they can’t prevent it. Students are fearful that this kind of thing will end their ability to party. Some people just gained a thantoph- F---. I can’t finish that word. Some people gained a complex tonight.

“What? You don’t make any sense. And why can’t you finish what you were going t-”

“Hey buddy?! You gonna sit there flapping away to yourself or you gonna let me outta hear?” Mark jerked to the window of his booth where a balding man sat in his old, white Buick.

“Sorry, sir. Ticket?” Mark reflexively returned to a work personality.

He handled the man’s parking permit and opened the gate to the parking exit and the car drove off. Mark relaxed again, letting his mind wander. What in the world is going on. He looked back to where the girl had been. She was gone. He looked at the TV. Not there either. Mark yawned. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Maybe no one else would be by tonight.

[Silk, white of the purest light...]

“Urngh…”

The Bent Man was shaking and staggering his way along the familiar back alleys of Terminus, a foisted bottle of wine clutched in his hand. His appearance, unmaintained for the last several days, was decrepit. Though he had learned early on that he possessed the ability to reform basically everything within a short range of his body, which suggested that he could look quite dapper with next to no effort at all, the Bent Man found that he nonetheless had a liking for taking on a more homely- or rather, homeless- appearance. People ignored him, but it a much more human type of ignorance. That was a step up from the normal ‘look briefly then look away’, which was the usual case, if people didn’t stay around long enough to reach the ‘screaming descent into insanity’ bit.

It gave him a vague sense that might have been camaraderie to be lying down in a dingy alley, along with a scattering of other pieces of vagrant societal refuse. That type of person was much closer to seeing the true face of the world than the well-dressed people on the sidewalk would ever be.

Glug glug. Another swig from the bottle. He was already beginning to remember why he didn’t like drinking, but soldiered on, drinking down some more.

That noise.

Oh, the person across and down the alley a short ways was talking, to no one in particular.

“M’ve got m’house, ‘n m’ kishin, b’ve mmm… m’wife, but th’won’t take me!”

The words slipped back into gibberish. Truer words, the Bent Man thought, had seldom been spoken.

“Heungh?”

Oh. Apparently he’d been speaking as well as thinking. The Bent Man got up and sat down next to the figure. Older man, looked like he would have had a whitish-grey, puffy beard if it hadn’t been so dirty and bedraggled.

“Sho you’ve- so you’ve got a sha- a sad story then?” The Bent Man slurred slightly.

“In’t I ever! Damn kids.”

“I ushed to think that I’ve… th’I’ve… damn I’m sush a cheap drunk.”

“Yeah... b-”

“Ah n’ finished. I wash…” the Bent Man took another deep drink, “That shorta thing really matter…ed. But i’ dushn’t.”

“Heh?”

“Ah, n’one ever talk t’… or look at me… ‘caushe ‘m crazy… ‘r some’n.”

Another gulp. Yes, this was why he knew he shouldn’t drink. It wasn’t an escape, just a chance to fall into the more deeply depressed recesses of his mind. He didn’t enjoy dwelling there- if it wasn’t upsetting, then it was angering. Usually, it was both.

“Mis’rble people…” The Bent Man was descending into bitter muttering. He’d been almost cheery for the last few days, at least since the game with the arson. And now, here he was, descending back into that bit of himself, that nexus of nothingness. The cause of all of his problems.

It was odd, how it worked. In more clearheaded times, the Bent Man would ponder that in some ways he was like a spiritual mirror. People looked into him and saw everything that was wrong in the universe reflected- or contained, perhaps?- in his eyes, and they rejected him for it. When he looked inwards, he saw the void, everything that the people hated and feared- and he loathed them for it. His greatest moments of anger were thus quite frequently coupled with his deepest moments of self-loathing.

“Yer leg!”

His leg was splitting apart into shadowy branches, darkness was beginning to spread through the alley.

“Wha’s happenin’?”

The Bent Man turned to look at his neighbour, directly for the first time. The old man froze.

“Life has been a real b**** to you hashn’t it?”

Silence.

“Well, you don’t need to worry too much about that. Have a look!”

The Old Man did. He saw his whole life compacted into nothingness, shrinking away into the vast sea of human experience, which in turn was dwarfed by ever greater and more terrible things. It was horrifying, yet simultaneously liberating. While the experience of seeing everything in its true, awe-inspiring perspective was in itself enough to break most people, the mind of this drug-addled senior had already lost a good deal of touch on reality. It had already been eroded away by the ravages of time, suffering and a steady supply of concentrated ethanol, but what remained was a firm rock, resisting the overwhelming flow of the Bent Man’s presence, where a normal, unchallenged mind would be washed away in instants. The Old Man’s body itself seemed to be getting brushed away by the vast power before him, but still it did not waver. Years wore off of his face, still staring in awe at the vast, doomed expanse of the universe.

The Bent Man hesitated. This was unfamiliar. His body snapped back to its original state in shock, the power within the alley subsided. His senses were on full alert, his stupor swept away. The figure before him looked half a lifetime younger, burning blue eyes still staring, unblinking.

“You saw.”

“…yes.” came the stupefied response, “Yes I did.”

The two fell silent for a moment, both staring at the wall opposite to them.

“No one’s… been able to match my glances before.”

“I saw…”

“No one’s… no one’s…”

“I saw everything. It’s all so…”

“No one’s been able to…” Damon choked up, “T- t-… to…”

Tears began to fall down his face.

“Oh god!” he managed to say, struggling to hold back the flood of emotions. For the first time since his life began anew, Damon Halpern felt the burning light of hope. The vile grub of darkness within him squealed and retreated into deeper, safer terrain.

Swallowing, Damon looked up at the man who had stared eternity in the face and lived. Brushing the dampness out of his eyes, he placed his hand on the older man’s shoulder, shaking his head in tearful relief.

“Thank you. Oh dear god, thank you.”

“Hey!” Mark awoke to loud banging on the door to the attendant stand that he was still sitting it. He realized that sleep had been a bit easier as sunlight blinded his ability to see who was at the door to the booth.

“CCPD! Open the door slowly and exit the building with your hands where we can see them!” Mark tensed up hearing this news. How was he going to get out of this. If they thought that he killed that girl, he was through.

Mark looked at his options. There were none. His only chance was to go out the door and be arrested. He took a long breath.

“I’m coming out! Slowly!” Mark choked for a moment then added, “Please don’t hurt me?”

Mark stood and looked at the door. He could make out a number of cops through the window. He saw their guns pointing his way also.

The window...

Mark glanced beside him. There was the window that people paid to get out of the parking deck. Apparently, it had been opened. However, he didn’t remember doing it and he saw that the lock was not busted, so no one outside could have been responsible. Regardless, there were cops, weapons drawn, guarding that exit at a distance. What use was the window?

Jump...

Without a thought, he listened. Even with the confined space, he managed a decent leap with good aim. He only grazed his knee on the window frame. An ungraceful tumble saved his neck from snapping, but gave the police a chance to react. Mark scrambled to his feet and hopped the gate.

He ran down the roadway for a short moment, but the sound of police running behind him and yelling to him and each other made him decide to change course. Hopping the short cement wall next to the roadway, Mark found himself back among parked cars. The cover and obstructions were to his advantage. He knew all the oddly positioned pipes and light posts, cement parking stops and random metal fencing. He skillfully navigated past it all and gained a little bit of distance between him and the police.

Yet, he knew he would be trapped here. There had been enough time to block all the ways out. He looked for options and only saw fencing in front of him. Razor-wire topped the climb up and made it not an option. He ran along the fence edge and managed to come across a hole in the fence. He squeezed through and took off across the field.

His run took him over a couple drainage ditches and taxiways. A few cops had managed to get through the opening as well and were still in pursuit. He ran at a sprint and came upon a runway. He was nearly across when he heard the roar of jet engines and was knocked down as he felt the heat of the jets wash over him.

He got back up and continued running. He was nearly to the next runway when he heard the deafening boom and felt the shockwave. He hadn’t noticed that the pilot had pulled up too hard trying to avoid the pedestrians on the field. The jet had stalled and proceeded to slam back into the ground.

Not risking the time to look back and see that the police had stopped pursuit to rush towards the wreckage, Mark continued until he found another gap in the fence and found his way back into the streets of Central City.

Where to go from here? Mark found himself now a homeless, unemployed fugitive. A few miles from the airport he stopped in a small park and sat among some trees, watching the black column of smoke slowly rise to the sky.

Yet, with each passing moment, he felt more and more alive and full of energy. Somehow even when he knew he should feel remorse, he struggled to not get a feeling of excitement from the day’s activities.

The winter ice still lay thick on the lake, and Wagner was in her head. She didn't know why. She hadn't heard Wagner lately. But for some reason the music just pulsed through her head, steady as a heartbeat. Then the wind skreeeed off the lake, cold little ice crystals biting at her face, and she forgot about the music for a moment, pulling up her scarf to cover her nose.

“Remind me why we decided to take the lakeshore path, again?”

“It's prettier that way, Rebecca.”

Rebecca grimaced under the scarf and adjusted her headband to cover more of her exposed earlobe. “It shouldn't be in the single digits in March. I don't care where we live, this kind of temperature is just disgusting. It's almost spring.”

Kimberly raised an eyebrow at her.

“So I don't like cold weather. I'm not ashamed of it.”

“If you don't like it so much, you could just sleep through class. Again,” Kim said, glaring at her.

“Okay – that, I am a little more ashamed of.”

“Next time I'm not letting you copy my notes,” she teased, pulling her hoodie over the top of her head, and shivering at another frigid blast. “Jesus... at least Baldwin is warm.”

“That's what SHE said.”

Kim punched her in the arm. “No. More. Bad. Jokes.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Rebecca rubbed her eyes, watering at the cold. Hear the water scrape against itself, negative rebounding off of negative, the molecules slowing in their ceaseless motion. Moving, aligning, pole to pole. Feel the hydrogen bonds creep through, feel the shapes start to –

“Say, Becca...”

She opened her eyes again. “What?” Then she looked from Kim, to where she was staring: the side of the path. Last fall's leaves were starting to poke through the white blanket at their feet, which was taking on that strange, crusty, half-ice look of newly melted snow. “Oh...” And yet, the tears were still freezing on her face.

Rebecca took off her glove, shuddered at the sudden cold – any way, any way but through that vessel. Retain the heat. Keep to the core, KEEP TO TH – and quickly squatted down by the brown-green, reaching her hand out. The air was rising in waves, like someone had put a warm summer day in the ground.

“That's really weird.”

“You're telling me... Does it – wait, crap. We have to get to class.”

She looked down at her watch. 9:58. And they were still dallying next to the beach. They were never going to make it in time. “Run?”

“Yeah.”

They stormed through the class door at 10:01; the Professor was already handing back last week's papers. He looked at them annoyedly. “Ten o'clock. Is that such a hard time to get up for?”

“Sorry professor,” they mumbled almost in unison, and slid into their seats around the table.

“Now, I don't mean to sound unusually harsh. So I'll make sure not to overstate things. This set of papers was... hmm... atrocious. I seriously have to question whether any of you even looked at the reading. In case you grow a little too complacent in your gross incompetence, let me tell you a story about...”

The shivering, endless dance. Man talks, he moves his mouth, and we ride on the waves of vibrations, bouncing, laughing, skipping. Breathing in probabilities, spitting out currents and eddies. But you can see us, can't you? You can feel us. Hear us. Always. Can't you? Smell the crackling fire from an electron changing its orbit. Hear the sudden silence of something plunged into liquid nitrogen. You see a plasma, and you change it. Collapsing wave functions, freezing us into a dance with no humor, no emotion. Just cold, rational, endless determinism, down the line forever and –


“– so yeah, it could have been worse, I guess.” Kim looked down a little glumly at the paper she held clutched in her hand as they got to the door. Then she stopped short. “It looks really nice out.”

“Yeah,” Rebecca said distractedly. Blissful. The bonds weaken, we no longer tremble in place. We slide apart, we pull into raindrops, curving, bending, parachuting as the air billows up inside of us – “that's what she said,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Is it... It's not even sunny out, is it?” She stared through the glass. “Yeah, the snow's still blowing in from the lake.”

“That's really, really strange. Oh well, I'll take the occasional inexplicable nice day, I guess,” Kim said, pulling down her hood and pushing open the door. A cool, spring-like breeze flew over them, with that odd wetness that air blowing over melting snow has.

“I guess,” she said, still distracted. She loosened her scarf a little. Always in motion, but sailing now – “Did you want to grab something for lunch?”

“Lunch would be great.” She looked over. “Becca, are you all right?”

“Yeah why d'you... oh...” she realized she was wincing into her palm. “Yeah, my head hurts a little, that's all.”

“Superpowers acting up again?”

“Mmm.”

The cafeteria sat on a rocky hill, with a glass curtain facade hanging over the lake. The views were gorgeous, though the bare gray of a rock which had been covered in ice only a few hours earlier was a little disconcerting. They had just sat down over burgers when Rebecca noticed something else – the ice on the lake was melting, too – but only over an isolated semi-circle. Which seemed to be part of a circle centered somewhere near where they were sitting.

“Hey Kim, look at that.”

“Wha?”

“At that.”

“Mmmh.”

“Kim?” She looked over at her friend, who was staring three tables over. – eah, I could stare at that all day long. Look at those – “Kim!”

“Oh, sorry!” her neck snapped back towards Rebecca, and she was blushing furiously. “What were you talking about?”

She sighed. “Never mind.” She looked over to the table. “You know, if you just talked to him...”

“I know.”

“Seriously, he'd be happy about it, too.”

“I know.”

“Like, I literally know that for a fact.”

“Look, I know you're a mind reader.”

“So you don't even have the excuse that you don't know how he would react, or that it would ruin your friendship.”

“Not much of an excuse in the first place, to be honest.”

“Then what's yours?”

“Eh.” I'm sure I'd just screw it up anyway.

“Probably not.”

“Stop doing that!” Kim actually looked angry at that. “I don't... Ah, never mind...” There was an awkward silence which lasted a couple of minutes, while Rebecca finished her burger and Kim just stared and stared.

“Tell you what, I'm going to go do some investigating.” Kim responded with a noncommittal murmur. “About the melting snow. And, you know, the massive temperature increase that no one seems to notice or care about.”

“You do that, then.”

“See you later, Kim.”

A deep, dark forest. Mercer breathed in the night air as he grabbed on tight to the struggling girl. He held a gun against the figure's hea-

"No!" a voice cried out in the night. A stone hit Mercer's shoulder. "Let her go!" The mother of the girl stepped towards them with a large tree branch in her hands.

Mercer blinked. "I found her," he said. "Out alone in the forest. She was crying."

"Please," the mother said. "She's colorblind. People make fun of her. Don't do this to her."

"Colorblind?..." Mercer mumbled. "People make fun of her?"

"Mother..." the girl said.

"Sweetie, it's going to be alright," the mother said. "Please, just let her go. I won't tell anyone I saw you tonight."

"What's she colorblind of?" Mercer asked.

"Green. She can't tell between green and white. Why...why are you asking?"

Mercer flashed a wicked grin. "I just wanted to quiz her on something."

"Wha..."

"Say," Mercer said, pointing the gun at the girl. "Which one is green, broccoli, or cauliflower?"

The mother's jaws dropped. "You bastard. What do you think you are doing?"

The girl's eyes went blank. "Ca....no! Br-Broccoli!"

"Correct," Mercer smiled. He pulled the trigger.

"NOO!" the mother shouted. She rushed forwards and smacked the gun out of Mercer's hands with the tree branch. Mercer pulled out a knife from his pockets with a practiced hand and quickly stabbed her in the throat, slashing open her airpipe. She made a gurgling sound as she fell forward.

"Now why didn't you do that when I was giving her the quiz?" Mercer said. If the mother answered, it was drowned out by the sound of air escaping from her throat, but her eyes burnt brightly with hatred. "She might've lived if you did that. Oh well. I will eventually find one that does... But before I go..."

Mercer's eyes flashed. There was a sudden bright light as the mother's slender frame and bits of grass and trees all disintegrated into dust. Pillars of fire began to erupt from trees. Mercer smiled as he picked up his gun from the ground. He always liked this bit.

I'll allow you all to get stories in for a while tonight. I have prior engagements, apparently, and won't be able to start the updating until probably midnight. So use the time.

Update is in progress, albeit slowly as I'm doing other things, and should be posted tonight. So no more stories until then please.

Update 2 – April 2011


The Gunslinger has struck again as the FBI investigates the suspected home of drug lord “T-Bone” Mendez in Los Santos. Finding the remains of several bodies, presumed to be his guards, and the burnt corpse of Mendez in his sleeping quarters, officers have decided that enough evidence to warrant the arrest and questioning of the Gunslinger is present. They however will not pursue him. Also at the scene were tales of other individuals yet identified, and the possibility that a pet of Mendez has escaped. Animal control identified the hairs as belonging to a Grizzly Bear and a warning has been sent out for the immediate area. The Los Santos Locos are in a flurry of fear in this aftermath and have begun tearing themselves apart from within; blaming other higher ups for the deaths of T-Bone Mendez and many of the other crews. This civil war has spread into innocent neighborhoods.

A major bank robbery in downtown Los Santos comes during heightened crime in the city, with robotic men and cowboys running around in the streets the city has become afraid. Making off with millions and leaving multiple police officers dead at the scene, members of the South Bloods are reported as the perpetrators. The mayor of Los Santos has called in the national guard to secure the remaining financial assets left from these gangs and to patrol the streets.

The continued battle between the two men identified as Iron Guard and Hephaestus has expanded into Los Santos. Destroying the property of hundreds of people and one overpass in the LS area. Massive destruction has clear the area of most evidence, as what is believed to be a large explosive device was detonated during the conflict. No leads on the whereabouts of either man, or if they survived, exist.

More individuals connected to NeoLabs have been found murdered, all leads go back to the criminal known only as Hephaestus.

Unexplained temperature shifts have some college students curious.

More murders, seemingly connected to the serial killings of recent months, are popping up all across the Central City region. Colorblind children are urged to stay indoors at night.

While pickles go missing from store shelves, so too do the lives of a few members of the Russian mafia. Their deaths remain unexplained.

A young college girl dies at a party a CCU. Drugs? Probably unwed pregnancy.

A plane crashed shortly after take off when the pilot had to abruptly lift off to avoid pedestrians running across the runway. Thirty people died. Feel bad about that.

Several robberies rock Metropolis. Recently escaped supers from the Metropolis Asylum have been causing mayhem throughout the city. Dozens of police officers are dead and many more wounded in this recent rampage. Strategic hits on high income stores and banks all seem organized, but no evidence to this is present.

An extremely dapper man has been seen pestering department stores.

Terminus has been effected by a number of killings, potentially linked to those from last month. Marco Roy is still suspect number one in these crimes, including an arson killing this past week. A young woman who was kidnapped last month remains missing and is feared dead by police.

In Capital City, during a routine state dinner at the White House, an assassination has taken place. The president, first lady, vice president and speaker of the house were all present for this function, along with various other members of congress and several state officials. Shots rang out from multiple points in the room as men dressed as waiters opened fire on the leaders of our glorious nation. Killing them on the spot and wounding several others, including the president pro tempore of the senate, Senator Jones. Secret service men were quick to respond, but not quick enough, and all of the assassins were soon dead. Senator Jones, as the next in line to succeed the presidency has requested that instead election be held in emergency in November to elect a new president the democratic way. His selfless decisions while in his hospital bed have been praised throughout the nation.

In response to the assassinations and the heightened levels of crime and destruction in the nation caused by supers in the last couple of months. Congress has called for measures to increase national guard budgets and place soldiers on standby in all major population centers. If things continue to get out of hand it is warned that they will terminate the violating parties.

Elsewhere in the world terrorist organizations in the Middle East launch several attacks on oil fields and cause massive destruction. Video from their leaders report that their plans are coming to fruition. The European Union is having issues as the British continue to be British. Japanese scientists have discovered a way to make robots that think they are humans, most of them committed suicide upon learning the truth. Earthquakes shake Indonesia; luckily for them a new dance craze has caused the motions to go by relatively unnoticed.

It is now May, 2011.

OOC:

Take it as you will. Took me so long because I've been busy. If you didn't get mentioned, again, not everything does. I really liked all of the stories this time.

Who do I petition for a 'like' button?

Hey, I'm still involved in this but my mother broke her arm, so I've been basically chauffeuring her around for the last week and cooking dinner every night for her, leaving me little time for much else. I'll try to write a story tonight and read everyone else's.

Magni rode on the furry mass of T-Bone Mendez to the isolated location of T-Bone's secret stash. In the wake of the 'murder,' FBI, DEA, and ATF agents were all over the old Mendez palace. All of the goods there might as well have 'Property of the USA' stamped on them now. They had been moving at a steady pace, and T-Bone was enjoying the new speed and power of this greater form... the spot that T-Bone had long ago picked to hide his extra wealth and product was just ahead. Two massive knobs of granite poked out of the scrubby-sandy ground of the desert. A couple of trails, probably left by hares or snakes or some other industrious beast, were the only signs that life had seen this area in the last few lifetimes. Barely visible in the distance were the ruddy backs of some old mountains whose present form did not hint at the splendor and depth of the roots of these massive bodies of rock.

Magni jumped from the back of the bear-man and looked around the place. He asked T-Bone:
"Well, where is the cash? And the coke? How are we going to start a new cartel from this hell-hole?"
He absent-mindedly scratched his ass with his wand.

T-Bone was getting tired of the magician's incompetence. He didn't have to move his mouth, but his voice said,

"The money's buried between the tetas, and you can make a new base, you're some kind of wizard or something. Why do you have to be such a stupid gringo?"

Magni considered the idea. He had never tried to conjure up a house before, but it couldn't be much more difficult than conjuring up some money or a rabbit...

"Yeah I guess. How are we supposed to get the money out of the ground? How deep is it? Did you bring a shovel?"

T-Bone was furious. This man is literally a wizard and is asking for a shovel. He had had quite enough.



T-Bone's new bear face is less capable of showing emotion, but it was quite capable of displaying his rage. His temper flared, and he began yelling Spanish at Magni while charging and roaring like the bear that he is. Magni reacted instinctively, and conjured chains around the mighty bear. Mendez whelped and asked to be released.

"Let me out of here, Magni. I did not mean to attack... I just... couldn't help myself."

Magni would have enjoyed the sense of power if he wasn't functionally ********.

"Hey if I was a bear, I'd probably do the same thing."

He made the chains vanish and turned to the problem at hand. He decided to just try what T-bone had suggested. He focused on a flat spot in the shade of the tetas and imagined the Mendez palace. He closed his eyes and spoke some gibberish. When he opened his eyes, the mansion and its out-buildings were there.

T-Bone was astounded, and broke through the front doors. The house was just a shell... Dick had forgotten the rooms. Well it was a start. Magni joined him in the hollow core of the fake house. No water, no air-conditioning, no stairs... He had work to do.

He spent the next few hours adding details and generally Dicking around. He made the sinks spout water and modified the toilets for T-Bone's usage, and made all of the lights work. He conjured a bed in the main atrium and collapsed, unconscious, on top of it. T-Bone Mendez eyed the wizard from across the way. The possibilities... He curled on his massive mattress as well, and contemplated the formation of his new cartel, El Osos.

Magician riding a bear. I am pleased.

As Vulcan and the man...no, boy, he could only be seventeen at the most, pulled into the truck stop somewhere in Nebraska, the boy ordered Vulcan to wait. Some nerve this kid had, but for some reason, Vulcan felt for the first time in a long time that listening to someone might be a good idea. As the boy walked into the crowded stop, Vulcan heard raised voices. Then, gunfire. It wasn't from the boy's pistol. It was louder, heavier. It could still be heard as the boy walked out, his trench coat gone, replaced by a black suit.

Nonchalantly, Vulcan looked at the boy.

"Having fun?"

"They were problems to be dealt with. Unlike you, when someone is bothering me, I don't let them live through it."

"Not really a challenge when you have a weapon firing on innocents."

"Ooh little baby Vulcan got beat up by the big bad tin can. Gonna cry?"

Vulcan started to heat up as the boy continued

"If you want to know what you're up against, look in there."

Vulcan walked over to the store, and was initially unsurprised. There were several people, dead from the bullets of the rifle that lied on the counter. What was surprising was the amount of people killed from a baseball bat.

Clearly, the larger man was the one who committed the murders. He was the least mutilated of the bodies. Yet he was dead too; he died giving a blowie to the snub nose.

Shaken, Vulcan walked out. And looked at the boy, the boy who smiled when there were two dead children to be counted among the dozen or so bodies.

"What...what...did you do?"

"Me? I did no murders. A man simply asked me for some identification, and then he had a sudden desire to murder his customers, and when that was done, to kill himself."

"Bull."

"Believe what you want. But not everyone has to flail around with wires and armor to be deadly."

Without another word, the boy and Vulcan drove off, and wouldn't stop until they arrived near the border with Kansas.

"There's a pilot in there who has orders to take you wherever you desire in the United States. Here's my card, keep in touch."

And with that, he drove off.