Averick

The young man introduced himself, “I’m Roger. I’m not a superhero like just about everyone else in this city, I’m just working for a great gal who needs to see you.”

“Who exactly would that be?” A young girl sporting a pink outfit and pig tails came floating in and flew by them on her way up the stairs with a handful of notebooks.

Roger’s face became deadly serious and very conspiratorial. “I’m taking you to see the Oracle, Neo. You are the chosen one.”

Several seconds passed while Alfred tried to digest what he had just heard. Finally he spoke. “How’s that?”

Laughter, again only slightly muffled by Roger’s left hand as he brought both up in an apparent defensive maneuver for an attack that never came, rang off of the entranceway walls. “Naw man, I’m just buggin you. Her name is Mrs Reynolds and she’s rich. As in buy you a whole new wardrobe and a fine ride, kinda rich.” Roger put his hand on Mystic’s shoulder and began leading him out of the entranceway. “Although these are some babyfine threads you’ve got hangin here. You one of those rich types? You know, benefits and parties by day, hero by night.”

“It’s two thirty,” Mystic protested as they left the building.

Roger shook his head as if trying to dislodge the smile from his face. “I wasn’t talking bout’, nevermind. Peep this, if you ride with me, you get free lunch, a ride in that limo, and a big surprise.”

Mystic pulled away. “You’ll have to do better than that.” He noticed the limo parked at the curb with the rather stuffy looking butler holding the door open.

The young man sighed. “Alright, how’s this? You’ll get to see something that only five people in the whole world have seen. And it’s significant too. Not like some flower.”

Alfred’s eyes narrowed, “have you seen it?”

“Hell no.” Roger held his hands up and leaned away. “I ain’t no superhero. I ain’t no regular hero. This hear is y’all’s problem. BUT, I understand that ‘one earth’ thing. So my [censored] is doing some legwork. Cause if this here breaks out, we all up in it.”

The wind blew some leaves from the trees planted out in front of the auditorium and Alfred momentarily thought about getting a cape for his crime fighting look. Then his attention went to what Roger said. “You know, it’s amazing we can communicate at all given that we don’t speak a common language. But if I correctly interpret the main thrust of your point, there is something of no small consequence you want to show me.”

Being the physically expressive person Roger was, he was already halfway through with his mimicking firing a bullet at Mystic and winking before, “got it” came out of his mouth.

Less than an hour later, Mystic stood in a room large steel riveted room. Across from him was a woman in a wheelchair, obviously suffering from extreme old age. Behind her was a large, armored Iris. Roger, who had led him through the Air Force security checkpoint, was standing at his right side. “I brought him. Mystic, this is Mrs Reynolds. And Mrs Reynolds, this is your bookish hero.”

A computer on her wheelchair spoke with a digital version of a voice one my associate with a grandmother in a Norman Rockwell painting. “Welcome, Mystic Inferno, I was hoping you would come. I will take it from here, Roger, see if you can convince any of the others to join us, I’m going to take Mystic in to see it.”

“What makes you think they gonna listen to me?” Roger folded his arms across his chest and stared at the woman in the wheelchair.

The mechanical voice kicked in again, “because you have such a lovely way with words and people.”

Roger rolled his eyes and pointed at Mrs. Reynolds. “You know one day, I WILL grow out of that ‘flattery gets you everything’ stage. But you’re right, I do have a way with words and people.” Roger turned and walked out of the room. “I should run for president so all the white people could say, ‘he’s so well spoken’. Yeah, I’m well spoken, I speak English. I speak ghetto. I even speak whitefolk.” His voice became inaudible as the doors shut behind him.

“Not a moment to loose.” Mrs. Reynolds turned her electric wheelchair around with the power of her mind and headed toward the large Iris. “It’s just on the other side.”

As her wheelchair approached, the armored iris spiraled open. “Wait, just a bloody minute. You have some incredibly important thing inside and there is an automatic door that lets you in?” Mystic stared up at the open door which was thirty feet tall.

The automatic voice laughed. “It isn’t exactly automatic.” She rolled through the doorway into a large blue room with plush carpet. The room was thirty meters wide and forty meters long. There were computer banks against the left and right walls and ten long consoles arranged around a clear circle in the floor.

The elderly lady rolled up to the closest console and light jumped up out of it, creating a holographic keyboard inches above the surface. Several of the keys lit up and the clear circle in the floor opened. Four large metallic spheres rose out of the floor and headed toward the ceiling. They trailed something that looked like frozen lightning, an arc suspended in time and covered in a white light. Then another four spheres rose, connected to the first two by the arcs of light. And so it continued, until seven spheres for each of the four columns was visible and the last arcs touched what appeared to be a large metallic bowl. The metal had a strange pink hue to it and reflected everything in the room.
Mystic found himself strangely drawn to it. Without realizing it he flew over the console and hovered up next to one of the beach ball sized spheres. He was only a few feet from the dangerous looking arcs of energy, but felt totally at peace.

“I was afraid of that.” The mechanical voice took a second to register. Finally Mystic turned away from the object and addressed Mrs. Reynolds.

“I’m sorry, dear, what was that?”

“I was afraid of that. We had one magic wielding superhero here before, and we had to immobilize him or he would have drug it out our front door.” Mystic could read no emotion in the voice that the computer provided for her.

Undaunted, he turned back an held his hand up near the shiny surface. “I assure you madam, I have no intention of leaving with it. What IS it, exactly?”

“That’s why you’re here.”

“There are two natures of man. Oh, and women, I suppose, fall into the same category. Well, all creatures do, to some extent, fall into these two categories. There is the biological, and the rational. I suppose creatures like cats are just like us with the rational portions of their brains turned way down low.” Alfred Wincott took a tiny sip of water as he looked across the crowd before setting the glass back down on the podium. He’d addressed many audiences before, all of them attentive with exception of occasional students, but never as diverse as at Paragon University. Never, in his life, had he dreamed to be addressing a room full of superheroes, and certainly not as one of their peers.

The diversity of the room’s occupants had stunned him when he first entered. He’d seen some odd individuals while giving lectures, and some people that were reminiscent of dungeon dwelling denizens of some fantasy fiction in the archives of some of the greater libraries, but nothing matched this crowd.

Alfred realigned his thoughts and mustered his courage for another go at his prepared speech. He wished, just for this day, he could remove the loose cloth that covered his face, and take back the cowl. He felt like he was dressing up for a child’s party. He had laughingly commented on the irony of not wishing to take it off for fear of losing credibility with his audience. “So, as I was saying, this nature extends to all thinking creatures. We like to refer to it as the cognitive nature. That part of us which seeks knowledge, which enjoys the challenge of problem solving, and which seeks to elevate us from simple primates to the rulers of worlds is innate in all cognitive beings.”

There was no movement from the audience, though one blue head did tilt down as if looking at his watch or perhaps taking notes. “Right. You must be thinking, ‘how is that useful’? I know I was up all night trying to tie my fascinating anthropological discoveries into some practical data. I was thinking of how I’d like stand up here and talk to you and my theories would fail to provide you a device you could build that would remove the threat of alien invasion. Rather disconcerting, really. So I did what I often find myself doing in times like these, I thought harder. And I’ve come up with something that I think you might want to see.”

Alfred pointed a blue gloved hand at the screen behind him as he hit the “play” button on the remote. The screen lit up with Rikti images, and their technology. Runes and emblems also scrolled by, as Prof Wincott began explaining the hierarchical structure in the Rikti race as it appears from the outside. He explained his theory on how they could be both best attacked, and how they could be best reasoned with. When it was all over, he turned back to the lecture hall to find an entire room of attentive faces. Though some were wearing steel helmets, and some were actually droids, he felt he was well received.

A city official walked up next to him and said, “Thank you for that, Mystic Inferno.” He gathered up his notes and walked off the stage. He moved out of the auditorium and into the hall. Behind him the sound of a lecture on psychological warfare was just beginning. He mouthed the words as the door shut behind him and the sound died.

“Mystic Inferno”, the voice came from behind him and slightly to the right as he reached the bottom of the stairs just before the door. He turned his head and caught sight of a young man with dreadlocks, probably fourteen. The young man was wearing blue jeans and a tan T-shirt with a red emblem on him that he didn’t make out before his world came to a crashing halt.

“Mystic Bonfire!” The booming voice of the Statesman carried through the entrance area of the Richmond Auditorium. Instantly there were camera flashes and reporters surrounding him. He looked around in amazement as he pushed himself off of the Statesman’s chest which had about as much give as a concrete wall.

“Inferno, actually, you made that mistake once earlier when you…”

The Statesman took Mystic’s hand and shook it vigorously then paused, mid-shake, for a photo. Alfred lost his thought and nearly his notes as the cowl he wore fell down over his eyes. He used his notes to right his hood and then to shield himself from flashing cameras. “This one isn’t just a crime buster, folks, he’s a brain trainer too. He’s educating our heroes to fight smarter against evil.”

The cameras took many photos before the Statesman turned and looked directly at Mystic. “I’ve long meant to introduce myself and tell you what a great job you’re doing.”

Mystic looked up at the legendary superhero as he reclaimed his freed hand. “Actually, we met once before when you…” Alfred’s soft voice was drowned out when the Statesman stepped past him and called to the flock of reporters.

“Now I’ll show you what these heroes have been doing to help make this effort an assured victory.” Mystic’s gaze trailed up the steps as the media circus flowed over the steps and out of sight, until only the occasional flash bouncing off the walls marked it’s presence.

“Kind of eerie.” The sudden proximity of the voice startled Alfred, causing a visual flash of one of his defensive runes in his mind. Flame erupted from his fingertips as he turned toward the owner of this new voice. “Woah, I’m your friend.”

He regarded the young black man holding his hands up defensively a few feet from him in the empty entranceway. It was the same dreadlock wearing youth he’d seen just before the Statesman appeared. Alfred killed the flame from his fingertips and then frowned as the flame refused to die around his left hand. He puzzled over his use of the spells. “Could I have done it incorrectly? What variable could I have possibly incanted improperly that would result in this phenomenon… OH BUGGER ALL, MY NOTES!”

Alfred threw the papers to the ground then stomped on them until they went out. The black youth chuckled slightly and used his right hand to hide a smile as Alfred composed himself. “She said get the bookish hero, I guess she wasn’t lyin’.”

“I’m sorry, she? What’s this about, then?” Mystic picked up the burnt remains of his notes and took them to the nearest trash can. His gloves, as usual, were unharmed by the flames, though covered in ash now.

((So I’m going to start this as an open RP event. If you’re not interested in the story, please don’t post. This is more for my own amusement and for fleshing out a story that’s been growing in my mind. You’re welcome to participate. I may write for your character, up to one line of dialogue which you will always have veto power over if you tell me before the edit time expires, and you’re free to write for any I introduce. I always keep it to one line of dialogue.
The purpose is to tell a story more than roleplay a character, which can be a tedious and unrewarding task in a story, so things that advance plot are more important. Comments are welcome on the story, if you care, or if anyone even reads it. Again, mostly just taking up space and trying to get my writing started again after a long break.))

"Well, they certainly aren't going to run out of cheese any time soon. Did you hear what they called that bloke?" Shaw inquired as he finished the last of his tea.

Fletcher gulped down his last swallow of coffee and slid a twenty onto the table. "Mr. Dark. He doesn't show up on any of my 'known villains' lists. Maybe he's new." Fletcher stood and handed Sergeant Shaw his portable.

"You suppose that's a supergroup, an actual entire supergroup? Are we going somewhere?" Shaw stood up and received the portable computer.

"It's getting crowded in here, and we have to hack out some jurisdiction problems with city hall." Captain Fletcher slung his rifle and headed toward the door, nodding briefly to the waitress and the booth with the two ladies in it. "This place needs a bouncer."

With that, the two soldiers departed and crossed the street toward city hall.

"Take a photo, it will last longer" Tick-Tok said as he started rolling a ball of electricity in his hands, a habit of his that he could never get rid of.

"That's a clockwork." Fletcher said running Tick-Tok's paragon city ID to see if it was valid. "And registered with the proper-"

a huge CRASH! sounded as a body came crashing through the front door, knocking it down and sending shards of glass everywhere.
"HAHAHAHAHA! IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT?!?!" Thunder Crush said, walking into the diner and looking at the now unconcious Hellion. Everyone in the bar stared at him, except Supernovus who casually read the newspaper.

Fletcher and Shaw silently slipped their pistols back into their holsters under the table and then looked up at the waitress who was standing by their table.

"Two coffees." Fletcher said.

"Actually, could you make one of those a tea? Earl Grey, perhaps?" Shaw smiled at her.

"Have a look at that." Shaw commented, his eyes still intently staring at the screen.

Fletcher frowned slightly and tried to discern what could be of such interest. He read the entire screen from top to bottom, it was just a report on damages to a destroyed barraks. "What, the cost?"

"No, the ladies. I'll bet that tall dark one would give you a run for your money, eh? Would you like me to, you know, liase a bit?" Fletcher was now looking directly at Shaw. "Is that a yes, sir?"

Fletcher chewed on his cigar a bit and inhaled enough to make the tip glow. "I have half a mind to let you do your little bit and then NOT help you when she wipes the floor with you, but these people have suffered enough property damage on their first day open. So I'm just going to order you to stop being retarded."

"Very good, sir. The strike mission against the circle of thorns is on hold until we can get ahold of a qualified hero in the realm of mental magics. If you'll look here..." Shaw continued giving the report as Fletcher snuck another look around the bar.

An energy blast came from his hand, crashing through the store window and careening into the sky, where it exploded in mid-air.

Captain Fletcher stood in the doorway next to Sgt Shaw. Both were dressed in urban camo and had rifles slung. Shaw had a portable computerslung under his left arm and they were in the process of removing their hats when the bolt flew out the window.

Captain Fletcher rolled his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other as he looked toward Shaw. "I suspect we've identified the smoking section. Why is it that you never can pick a normal place?"

Shaw looked indignant, "Don't blame me, this place just opened today. See, that guy is offering to pay for the damages. Look, we have a lot of work to do before the meeting, let's just have a bite and go over the daily reports."

Captain Fletcher looked at him out of the side of his eye as they found a table in the corner.

Shaw was obviously English, and his uniform reflected that without detracting from the Metaforces look. Fletcher was all American. He'd obviously seriously worked out in his life, but he was only five eleven, and never could keep the bulk on. They leaned their rifles against the table and put their covers over the barrel as they sat down and began discussing the several points of interest on the daily report.

As Fletcher looked around the bar, he nodded at Supernovus and Mystic Flare, and again at Maria and IronHorse. Shaw looked over his shoulder at the large mechanical creature. Quietly, Shaw leaned forward and said, "You see the big clockwork bloke behind me?"

"Steam powered."

"Come again?" Shaw tilted his head slightly.

"He or she is steam powered, clockworks are spring powered. Not a clockwork." Captian Fletcher didn't look up from the computer screen. "Is Riley doing alright still?"

Shaw nodded, "We've got Jai watching him in the Whitmoore. Something is definately going on there. They headed out to boomtown this morning, he reported his movements as usual. Jai hasn't said anything looks different. The usual amount of high altitude traffic at odd hours but no fifth column. Are you sure it's not a clockwork?"

"He or she. It's impolite to refer to a mechanoid as 'it'. Yes, I'm certain. In addition, there's no reason to believe that he or she cannot hear every word we're saying. So say something nice." The captain indicated the schedule he wanted to run on patrols and missions on the computer screen and saved his progress.

Shaw looked puzzled for a second. "I'm glad it's not a clockwork so I don't have to put a hyperdense round through it."

"You're fired."

"Right, sir." Shaw stood up and grabbed his rifle. "I'll just collect my belongings and return home to the misses then."

"Sit down, smart [censored]. You know I can't fire you. I'd never get anything done." Fletcher pushed Shaw's chair over toward him as Shaw sat back down.

"Very good, sir."

It's more of a MMOG now, for most servers. It's like Diablo.

Sgt Riley can balance a beer bottle on his nose after drinking the contents of many, many other beer bottles.

I have two characters that do annoying stuff in game. One is an imp, and he'll actually (waiting till everyone is nearly ready, never when the party is totally beat up) run out ahead of schedule and gather up some bad guys to bring back to the party with the battlecry "Starting TROUBLE!!"

If you scold him or threaten him he immediately snaps back to "servant imp" mode and begins praising you and calling you master.

If people aren't that into it, then I tone it way down. Most times people think it's a hoot.

Picker will charge right into the middle of enemies and maybe get himself killed. He's a berzerker. It's what he does. If he dies, no big, it's his debt, not yours. But it can be annoying.

If anyone TALKS to him about a plan, though, he'll usually follow it. I hate it when people are [censored] and say "well I'm RPing a dick" and then don't allow for the character to learn and grow.

Other than that, all my military guys are "yes sir" all the time. And my supernaturals guys are all very nice to everyone, and still all have their own personalities without getting it all over everyone. It isn't that hard to not be offensive.

Virtue is so where it's at in terms of RP and just avoiding the mindless BS about powerlevelling, where the best MOBs are, and other game mechanics nonsense.

This one dude hopped around for like ten minutes going "Someone SK me I wan't to powerlevel, HEY!!! SOMEONE SK ME!! Hey! Why won't anyone talk to me!!! Hey, this my new toon, I want to powerlevel him!"

I laughed, because he was just going off for ever and jumping all over this one group talking about the 5th column and I went over and said, "Isn't that little green guy annoying?" and they were like, "we're ignoring him". (as in put him on ignore, in case you were like me and didn't understand the reason for emphasising "ignore" right away)

Finally he ran up to me. His description said, "I steal influence from people". Personally, I won't even spit on you if you don't have a description, regardless of how on fire you are. If I see a hero with even a half hearted attempt at a description down someplace away from a hospital, I'll always lend a hand. Up to and including bringing in a medic char to raise him or giving away a precious awaken.

Though recently I've decided to run my solos on Victory, and I've found 1 RPer there. "She" is awesome.

Mystic Inferno can control flame in various ways. He can also make things fire resistent, though not enough to overcome mutant powers or other spells directly TRYING to burn them.

He can also teleport tiny objects around and move very small things with his mind. One day, he'll likely be able to move large stones around with nothing but his mental strength. Who knows what secrets lie in that book he's been reading.

Outside Operation Virtue temporary military base.
A man in camo stands in front of the US flag. Behind him, two MPs check IDs at the walk in gate.

Harris: First of all I would like to thank you, Sergeant Riley, for taking the time to appear on the program.

I was ordered to.

Harris: Could you tell the viewers at home a little bit about how and why you became a hero.

We're not heroes. We're US Army soldiers, Marine Recon, Navy SEALS and Airforce First force along with several allied nations finest fighting men and women. I joined because I saw a lot of injustice being done in the world and wanted a crack at shooting the people doing it.

Harris: What would you say is the greatest reward for being a hero- er, soldier fighting along heroes?

Rescuing the citizens of Paragon city. Not a lot of jobs give you a real, tangible result from your work that you can feel good about. Shooting aliens and evil superpowered gang members does.

Harris: Have you ever found there is any drawback to being a in your line of work?

Same as being in the military. People say things about you that aren't true. They complain at how ineffective you are and then expect that you can solve all their problems but you just CHOOSE not to.

Harris:What is going through your mind when you are in a dangerous situation that could lead to civilian casualties? That must be a scary situation.

Not so much scary as unsettling. Myself, I'm a precision sniper. I've been responsible for very few civilian deaths. But every time I was in a dangerous situation I was thinking, "don't [censored] this up [censored]-head, this woman's prolly got a family."

Harris: How do you feel about people that use their powers for crime like the outcast or the super villains we starting to see around the city?

Well, I'll tell you one thing, I like getting them in my sights. Even if they're so superpowered that a high powered rifle can't take them down in one shot, I still love the thump and the look on their faces when they realize that I've hurt them in a way few people can at a hundred yards.

Harris:What do you think is going through these criminals minds when they commit these acts?

It'd better be, "I hope Metaforces isn't around." Not that they know until that first round comes in. I guess they think that they can do whatever they want because there's no one there to stop them. They need to check the rooftops better. If my work in this city does any good, it will be to get them to START thinking, "Is this worth it?"

Harris:How do you feel about the various anti hero and anti mutant groups that believe heroes course more problems then they solve? Given the amount of work heroes do for the city this must be quite upsetting.

Well, you wouldn't think that we'd be upset by it but we are. People rally against the military for different reasons in their mind, but it's the same thing to us.

I have one thing to say to all you anti-hero and anti-mutant groups. Either start fighting the aliens and supervillians yourselves or shut the [censored] up before I personally shove your [censored] lazy [censored] into a [censored] howitzer and [censored] fire your [censored] stupid [censored]

Harris: Let's, let's move on. I can see you feel strongly about that.

There's a recruiting station near you if you REALLY want to make a difference.

Harris: Yes, yes, alright. They all want to know this one. Have you ever worked along side the Statesman? What is he like?

Who?

Harris:<stare> I would like to thank you for coming on the show and on behalf of the citizens of Paragon city thank you for keeping the streets safe

It's what we do.