Bird_Rush

I'll update this when I have time. For now, here's a brief write-up and pics.

Name: Techblaze
Occupation: Experimental Physicist. Ex-military.
Archetype: Tanker
Powers: Fire/ Energy Melee

Dr. Winthrop Pyre was seeking to solve the world's energy problems by discovering cold fusion. He theorized the answer lay in an imaginary particle he dreamt up one night. After years of work he finally built a complex particle accelerator and began his experiment only to discover he had failed in his task. While the particle did, apparently, exist and his process did create large quantities of energy, it also created terrific amounts of heat.

He was further disheartened to learn that scientists in Paragon city had cracked the cold fusion formula.

But he picked up his experiments and took his ideas to the military - the only people he could see being interested in his process. Calling it, Pyrism, he gave a small demonstration of the power generated and offered some suggestions as to how it could be refined to serve as body armour for infantry that would allow them to stand up to even super powered enemies. The army decided they wanted a field test and demanded Dr. Pyre be the one to do it. So he resignedly modified some enforcer armour with a smaller versions of his particle collider embedded in the gauntlets and vents placed throughout the armour to channel the heat. He took tot he streets and began putting his tech through the paces.

Since then he's made improvements which allow him to use a far less ungainly suit, relying on a field of energy generated by Pyrism to protect him from the intense heat.

Pics: Original Armour, New Armour, and the new armour in it's Beta phase which has a few glitches to be worked out.

The mechanical chittering was the first indication, but still the spiders caught Techblaze by surprise. Mumbling a few choices curses under his breath he quickly adjusted his sensors to their maximum setting, giving him an immediate readout of the battle as it exploded around him. He noted Blood Owman moving to seal the hole from which many of the archnoids still scurried and the others gathering near the centre of the room around the unconscious teen that Techblaze had not yet been introduced to. He also noted the very carefully placed mines and traps. He didn't have the technical readouts available, but he was willing to bet if one went off so too would some of the others, a chain reaction that few in the room would be able to survive, let alone the building itself.

Full power was not an option. The intense heat caused by the unstable reactions that powered his suit would either harm a teammate or trigger an explosion. He'd have to make do at a lower setting. Still, it should prove sufficient for this lot.

A dangerous hum rose from his gauntlets as the machinery became active. Fields of bright energy shrouded his fist and soon the vent systems began to snarl as they attempted to channel the heat out but were held in check. Tech leapt easily into the fray, his sensors still providing read outs of his circumstantial companions. The centre looked like they could hold, and the larger tank looked, for the moment, as if he would be fine. Razor sharp limbs attempted to pierce his torso, but they skittered off the armoured plating and were left blackened and damaged for the effort. Techblaze's fists slammed into the automaton's "face" mere moments later and crushed its CPU.

His scanners blared suddenly as a new figured slammed onto the scene. The targeting system hesitated before tentatively identifying it as a hero. The good guys were actually getting stronger as the fight raged on. This was either a complete failure in the enemy's tactics or this was not the entire plan.

"The skylight!" he called as he left a spider beaten and battered from a swift combination. "Up and out, if you can manage it! Grab those who can't. We'll trip the mines and bring the place down on their heads and end this nonsense."

((EDIT: It just occurred to me that Kokuin is also a tanker. I chenged the line where I called him squishy as well as the one where I accidentally insinuated we should blow up the people who can't escape vertically. Also I'll try to remember to post names, as I know that comment was at least partially directed at me, but it's a little tricky to do IC since Techblaze doesn't know them and in my narratives I'm out of practice when it comes to these kinds of RP. But it is shaping up nicely. Let's keep it up, folks!))

Techblaze returned the hyperactive hero's bow with one of his own.

"And a fine day to you," he intoned before the young boy seemed to lose interest, summoned some form of mist, and began wandering again. Techblaze's attention was similarly diverted as he took note of the other hero who moved to greet him. The armour was marvellous to behold and the physicist turned hero, having some experience as an armoured tank, began to nod approvingly at the various design features that no doubt offered the wearer wonderful protection.

"Now that is some armour," he offered as a greeting when the much larger figure nodded politely. "And I'm always glad to have another bloke willing to get in the thick of it, as I presume you are. Put her there." He held out his thin hand, encased in its heavy gauntlet and faintly glowing with the nearly invisible energy field.

((OOC: Hmm, something's come up and I'll have to go for a couple hours. And yes, Nid, Brit is just short for British."

((OOC: If there's still room for more then I'd like to toss my hat into the ring. Techblaze is a fire/em tanker. I tend to reference a lot of powers when I write these though my descriptions might not be totally self explanatory. For instance, the energy field in the post below is actually Tough. It's also what keeps the fire powers from burning his exposed flesh. As for the man inside the suit, he's a scientist using experimental particles as a potential energy source. He's very reflective and a little eccentic. He also enjoys boxing, which he learned from his time in the British military. Yeah, he's a Brit. With a stereotypical accent and everything. Pics coming soon. I've also got a villain, but I'd rather concentrate on playing Techblaze.))

The shrill beep of his phone roused him from his sleep. Rust red hair mixed with the dull steel colour of age was ruffled sleepily as he blinked and searched for the source of the disturbance.

"Oh!" he exclaimed as he finally realized it the was alert he'd set up to warn when he'd been contacted with an urgent mission. He fumbled about and flipped the phone open, glancing at the tiny glowing text. It certainly sounded important, though vague on the details. A shame, really. He liked the details. But the opportunity to investigate a potentially new threat was sorely tempting as well. Not to mention it would likely prove an invaluable d=field test.

Awakened and filled with purpose, he quickly set his lab in order. He placed all of his projects in safe containers, checked the various gas lines and chemical storage areas for leaks, and fed the dog. Then he plugged his phone into a custom base and uploaded its info to his armour's memory as he slipped his own wiry frame into the nearly impervious bodysuit. With his goggles, gauntlets, and cape in place he took a deep breath and activated the suit's systems.

Thank heavens; he didn't explode.

As he felt the distant tingle of the energy field surround him he triggered his Ouroboros portal. The new suit was much less claustrophobic than his old exo-suit, but there was a very small chance of a critical failure. He stepped into the orange glow and mentally plotted his route to Faultline using the organization's portal network.

**A few minutes later**

He landed easily in front of the dilapidated building and could not help but evaluate the structural integrity and find it somewhat lacking. It also didn't feel right. He'd learned to trust his gut when he'd served in the army and this was setting off all his alarms. He pondered this for a moment, then his targeting scanners noted a green figure fly into the structure. The scanners indacated it was another hero and that immediately decided him on his next action. Trap or no, he was not about to let another good guy fall into it alone. He marched forward and with one hand opened the door while he deftly increased the strength of his energy feild with the other.

He crept quickly through the old base, glad he no longer had the heavy tromping step of his old suit but also missing it. He was now much less of an imposing figure. Finally he heard voices and, rounding a corner, he saw a small group milling about. His target scanner identified them all as heroes and he happily relaxed just a little. If there was a trap, it appeared he might at least have some allies.

"Greetings all," he called out cheerfully. "Techblaze, reporting for duty. Hope I haven't missed anything important. I'm rather itching for a bit of a scrap. Oh, I say, is someone playing chess?"

Sacré bleu!

March 20

I’m really not very good about keeping this journal up to date. It’s not my fault. Really! Being a superhero is really time consuming. Wait, I think I said this last time. Man, there aren’t words to describe how unoriginal I am.

I got my new costume today. On the one hand I’m crazy excited about it, but on the other I’m really bummed out. I don’t have the money or influence to get a professionally tailored outfit from Icon. Frankly, it nearly broke me even using my employee’s discount at SuperMart. But what are you gonna do? If I want to be taken seriously as a real hero I can’t go on fighting crime in whatever I happen to be wearing at the time. I have to do this right. I need to go on patrols and strike fear into the hearts of wrongdoers. I need to be recognized and, for that, I need a costume.

I just wish I didn’t look like every stereotypical hero in the movies ripping off the style of iconic heroes from the early years.

It’s a trench coat, basically. A really nice one; dark brown leather and very comfy. My mom gave it to me which, while a little embarrassing to admit, still makes me really proud that she’s supporting my decision. She even splurged and had it sprayed with that leather protector stuff that actually makes it bullet proof and all that, which is a huge relief to both of us because I’m really not a fan of getting shot. I remodeled her bathroom for her as thanks. It’s a really fantastic coat. I went out and bought a wide brimmed hat to match it. I look very stylish, I think. I usually wear black underneath. I also picked up a mask-thing that covers my lower face. With it and the het you only thing you can really see of me are my glasses. I haven’t been able to afford contacts yet so I’m stuck with those for now.

But aside from the coat I’m also excited about my big purchase. I got a hand crafted sword made for me. Real steel and not a shoddy display model like my old one. It’s a little heavier but it’s not like I rely on a lot of finesse anyways. Mostly I just swing it menacingly and hope they surrender at some point while I try not to hurt them too badly, or worse, kill them.

That’s been my major concern in this last month. What I do is very dangerous. Perhaps I have less potential for mass destruction than say someone who shoots fire but I often find that I’m forced to literally stab people repeatedly until they fall over. That doesn’t strike me as very heroic at all. That’s why I’ve been trying to stick to Clockwork lately. Those gears have some kind of intelligence I don’t understand, but I’m reasonably sure that, even if I dismantle their bodies completely, they don’t feel pain and I’m not actually killing them. It makes it easier at night.

Oh hey, I have more good news. My buddy Steeves is a hero now too. He claims he found this book and reading it gave him magical powers. In his own words he remembered that I was a hero now so he decided to come join me. It’s really hokey and is almost as silly as his costume, which appears to be the suit jacket that time forgot. Oh well. It’s not the strangest thing I’ve seen since I started this business. It’s also awesome to know someone who’s got my back when things get hairy.

I got infected with the Vahzilok plague. I was trying to save some hostages and one of the doctors shot me with something. The world spun and I started vomiting uncontrollably. I thought I was done for. As I reeled to the floor, distantly aware that I might have attracted some flies, I pulled out my phone and hit some buttons blindly. I saw boots covered in God knows what step into my line of sight and heard voices talking and laughing. The “doctor” in front of me leaned down and thumbed my eye open, commenting on my pupil dilation and remarking they should either move me quickly or use a stronger dose.

I sensed the syringe above me and knew I had to move. I summoned all my strength and threw my sword arm in the general direction of the crouching doctor. He leapt back, easily dodging the pathetic attack, but it bought me the space to roll to my knees and try to stand.

A cadaver kicked me in the face, smashing my nose with a sickening crunch. It didn’t hurt as much as it should have. I think it had something to do with the disease. I was stunned, though, and tumbled onto my back. I tried to roll with it and regain my footing but my infected body just spasmed and refused to obey. I watched, horrified, as the undead and their masters gathered around me. I saw one still ready with a syringe of sickly green liquid and another fingering a meat cleaver dulled with dried blood.

I realized I was about to die. About to die and come back as a zombie.

For the briefest second that irrational part of my mind perked up. “It could be fun,” it suggested. What was left of my blurry consciousness beat it back into the corner with reason and legitimate fear. Then I realized there wasn’t really much point to silencing my craziness since I was about to lose it anyways.

I thought of all the people in my life. My mom would be devastated. She always tried to support everything I did, so long as it was what I wanted to do. She’s such a great lady that I never wanted to let her down. My brother always warned me about the super hero business. The constant and never ending threats from so many groups and embittered him and the glut of new heroes left him unimpressed with their apparent inability to do anything about the villains. He also was adamant that my lack of real powers would one day get me killed.

I thought of The Prosecution, the girl I knew as Selene. At the time, all I could feel was regret that I hadn’t had the nerve to speak with her again. I’d found her building, a pleasant old brick 3 story in King’s Row with the name “Paragon Street Attourneys” emblazoned on the sign, but I couldn’t bring myself to step through the door. I was afraid. Afraid of talking to a girl and yet here I was busting in on gang members about to be turned into a zombie. It seemed so ridiculous that I started to laugh in short choking breaths.

The Vahzilok paused. I guess they weren’t used to their victims having giggle fits on the operating table.

I kept laughing as a gaping hole was blasted in the wall with a thunderous explosion.

I laughed as bolts of mystic energy slammed doctors and zombies alike and scattered them like leaves.

I laughed as an olive green suit jacket floated protectively over me until all the enemy was vanquished. Then I sighed and let unconsciousness consume me as the hum of a hospital beacon activating filled the air. My last thought was “Why didn’t I think of that?”

I awoke a couple days later in the uncomfortable grasp of a hospital bed. My Mom was watching the TV and rushed to my side when she saw me alert. Steeves flew in a few moments later followed by my brother. I thanked my friend from the bottom of my heart. It seems he’d not only rescued me but he’d secured the safety of the hostages I’d meant to protect as well as tracked down some of the doctors and discovered an antidote to the wasting disease I’d been infected with. Man, I wish I could be a hero like him.

As I lay surrounded by friends and family, I wondered if I was really meant to be a hero at all. Then Selene’s words came back to me. It mattered that I got my [censored] handed to me. But it also mattered that I tried to do the right thing and that I knew I would do so again. I’d just need to get better so that next time I wouldn’t be beaten as soundly.

Comforted by this, I’ve concentrated on recovering from my illness and I’ve scaled up my training exercises. Next time, I will be the hero.

I have a feeling it's going to be Grumpy the Janitor. I've got my main, whom I love but only mostly because I like tanks. If/When my new tank catches up I have a feeling he'll exceed ol' Techblaze in everything but sentimental value for being my first char. I have my Mary Sue character, which is nice. I have my controller that I am absolutely in love with. But, when it comes down to saying which character is the one I crave to roleplay, it's my surly old [censored] with his yellow rubber gloves that I turn to every time.

I need to progress my fic to the point where he gets introduced.

Feb 28

It’s been a while since my last entry. Lots has happened, I guess, but it’s all been a really big blur to me. See, the problem is I still have my day job at the store, which is giving me shift work lately. My sleep schedule’s so screwed up I barely know what day it is, half the time. But, since I started this hero business I have to say I’ve never felt better about myself.

Heh. Funny story about that though.

So I made it to the desk where you have to register your super identity. The guy behind it - self important old guy, kinda like at the DMV - looked me up and down and just sniffed. Sniffed! Like a snooty butler. I can’t blame him, really. I was still in my work clothes.

“Alright, what’s your deal?” he sighed, his voice laced with boredom.

“I...uh... my deal?”

“What are your powers?”

“Well, I... um... I don’t have any, really.”

“Oh, well then you’ll need to fill out the pink Natural Origin form, then come back. Next!”

He waved me out of the line and dismissed me immediately before smirking at the colourful costume worn by the person behind me. I wandered over to the wall where all kinds of different coloured forms waited for whatever hero was stuck in this bureaucratic hell to fill them out.

There were two pink ones. Neither one said Natural Origin.

It was right about then that I started to feel tendrils of doubt creep up into my gut. What the hell was I doing? I’m no superhero. I got in a fight, that I didn’t even really win. I don’t know if I’m even very good with a sword, but that was going to be the whole basis of my character. I should just go home and give up on this whole thing. Maybe take my brother’s advice and go back to school. Things sure worked out well for him.

I turned on my heels and was about to leave when a quiet voice next to me called out.

“It’s the one on the left.”

I turned. A young woman was sitting in a chair. I can’t believe I didn’t notice her earlier. She was gorgeous - hey, I’m a single 20-something; I get to look - dressed in a smart business suit and skirt with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. A couple stray bangs teased and framed her face as she glanced at me from behind slender glasses.

“Huh,” I spluttered.

“The Natural Origin form.” She glanced up at me again as she spoke and offered a kind, and perfect, smile. “It’s the pink one on the left. They should really make these things more clear.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

She smiled again and went back to filling out her form. I went back to the board and picked up the pages she had pointed out to me. Non-Powered Waiver for Vigilant Service it read. I guess that made sense. I felt kind of stupid for not figuring that out for myself. I took one of the cheap pens, briefly wondering if anyone ever stole them, and looked for a chair to sit down in. It must have been a peak time for new heroes because the office was nearly full. The only chair was next to the lady who had helped me. Being somewhat shy, my timid gut constricted at the thought of sitting next to her but, with no other option, I found myself asking if the chair was taken. If she thought the line was lame she didn’t show it and readily offered me the chair, which I gladly sank into as my legs turned to jelly.

I tried to work though the sheet, but it was a lot of boring legal stuff apparently determine if I was in good mental health and to say that if I got hurt on patrol because I lack any kind of power I wouldn’t sue the city. I was also somewhat distracted by my neighbour and finally got up the courage to ask a question.

“So, are you, uh, Natural?”

Immediately my mind shrieked with the numerous possible ways that sentence could be taken badly and the possible implications. I could see, as she turned to face me, that she was also aware of them. Her eyes narrowed and seemed to bore right through me, then softened and she nodded.

“Yeah, I’m natural origin - “ she stressed the word origin “ - too. What’s your shtick?”

“My Shtick?”

“Yeah. Your shtick. What do you do to fight crime when you can’t fly or turn into a rock?”

“Oh, I... I hit things with a sword, I guess. I’m really new at this.”

She laughed, surprisingly heartily.

“I never would have guessed,” she teased. “It’s okay. Most of us here are fairly new at this too. That’s why we’re applying for a licence. So, anything fancy about your sword? Is it a family heirloom or did you pull it out of a stone?”

“I bought it at SuperMart,” I grimaced.

“Man, those guys really do sell everything. So how does that translate to becoming a hero?”

“I dunno,” I shrugged, feeling the weight of my thoughts echoing hers. “There was a villain. He broke into the store and took some hostages. I kinda fought him, a little. It just felt... right. God, this sounds so stupid.”

“No,” her voice was kind but stern. “No it’s not. You were willing to help people who needed it when you could have been seriously hurt. That was a very noble thing to do. Do you think half of the people in this room would have done as much if they didn’t have their mutant or mystical energy beams? I doubt it. What you did proves that you have every right to be here as they do, because you’re a real hero.”

I was stunned for a few long moments by her passion and her words.

“Thank you,” I breathed.

“No problem.”

We sat then, she glanced down and filled another box on her form.

“So what’s shtick?” I asked.

“I talk to people,” she blandly answered, without looking up.

“Huh?”

“I was a lawyer, and a pretty good one too. I made it my mission to put the bad people behind bars, where they belong. But ever since all these heroes started showing up, there isn’t much for me to do. When a villain gets arrested, it’s because he was doing something wrong. Most of them don’t get trials because there simply isn’t a point. The ones that do come through the system are all boring, simple cases. Anyone could handle those. But I would walk down the street and see people being robbed or terrorized, and the heroes who are supposed to be protecting us just run right by. I decided that I could do more good on the streets than in the courtroom so I quit. I’ve got enough savings lined up to last for a while. I opened up a little office where people can call me if they need help of any kind. I’m going to make the streets of Paragon safer.”

“Wow. That’s really cool.”

“Thanks.”

“But,”

“Always a but,” she rolled her eyes and faced me again.

“You just talk to them?”

“Yeah.”

“With just... like, words?”

“I’m really very good at it.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“You’re a shop clerk with three feet of sharpened steel,” she pointed out a little crossly. “I did this for a living. Everybody has buttons. You push the right ones, and they’ll do just about anything you tell them. The trick is figuring out what those buttons are.”

“I didn’t mean to offend. It just seems a little weird.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But it’s all I can do.”

“Well, if it helps. I think you’re a great talker.”

“Thanks,” she smiled her perfect smile. “Listen, I have to go. You take care of yourself and maybe we’ll see each other around sometime.”

“I’d like that,” I smiled back. A thought dawned on me, “Wait, what’s your name?”

She flashed me her form, “The Prosecution. What’s yours?”

“Uh... Tom,” I stammered.

“That doesn’t sound very superhero-ey,” she mused.

“I’m not very creative,” I admitted.

“Well just go with something that suits you.” She looked me up and down, her arms crossed in thought. “Call yourself The Blade. I have a feeling you’ll grow into it.”

“Thanks, I’ll try that, um... the Prosecution.”

She laughed at that and as she turned to walk away she tossed one final comment over her shoulder.

“My name’s Selene. Bye Tom.”

And with that she waltzed up to the counter and handed in her forms. I watched her answer a few more questions before shaking the man’s hand and heading for the door. She gave me a small wave as she left.

I looked down at my paper and in the appropriate box wrote down The Blade.

I agree with a lot of what Aidalyn (OP) said. I've felt some of the very same emotions when faced with similar problems. One gripe, in particular, for me involves the Vet rewards. I cam into this game a week or two after I3 launched and immediately loved it. But time, money, and other life issues kept my subscriptions somewhat sporadic. Then came the Def changes, aggro caps, ED, and the change to burn (which was my main's only real offense and he didn't have respecs at the time) and it was jst too much for me. I quit, and moved to WoW. Turns out, WoW pissed me off on a daily basis more than CoH ever did. If I hadn't left I'd likely have at least 20 months, or more, and some shiny vet rewards when I'm still trying to get up to 9.

My real difficulty getting friends to join also lies in the fact that most of my friends who would be interested in this game played it before I actually did. Two of them simply preferred other games and moved on, I can respect that. One tried playing in I1 and, to this day, rants about things that were fixed by the time I joined and refuses to play. One played for a really long time but eventually was also lured by WoW's promises of raiding glory. Now he works too much to play anything other than his Wii.

But I have good news!

When I reactivated a couple weeks ago I got to talking with another friend. He'd heard all our great wars stories of the gam ebut only glimpsed it a couple times on someone's screen and never played so I hooked him up with a trial and devoted myself to giving him as much of an experience as I could. I knew he'd love the character creator to bits, since he's an altaholic if there ever was one, and the customization to be found in powers was also something that piqued his interest. We managed to get his main up to almost lvl 30 and have created a number of duos that sit in the teens. When the trial expired he was as upset as I'd hoped he'd be and, once he gets some stuff out of the way, he's coming back with his own subscription. He might subscribe sporadically, as I did, or he might be hooked and stick around for a good while. I dunno, but I got someone to join at least.

As for me, I'm staying for as long as I can afford it.

That was beautiful and touching, with a good sense of humour. I share the sentinment exactly.

Godspeed, Gygax.

Feb 21

Every great story has a great opening line. I read that somewhere; don’t remember where. So, I figure for my story, is should at least have a pretty okay one. At least, I hope it’ll be a great story. I haven’t really written it yet. Ugh. Okay, need an opening line.

This is the story of a man....

That’s crap.

The city slumbered in an eerie calm....

No. That’s just not me. Damn, this is hard. I’m no writer. This is just my journal. I should just write about what’s going on an worry about the great opening line later.

I really hate bus stops.

Assuming you get one that isn’t being defaced by Hellions (what are they doing - chipping at it - anyways?) You sit in this glass box and wait. And wait. And try not to make eye contact with the the homeless guy. And wait some more. Forever. I mean, how often have you seen a bus in Paragon City?

I’ve lived here my whole life and in those 23 years you’d think I’d have learned by now not to trust something not protected by police drones. Right now I bet my bus is being picked apart by those Clockwork things. Man I hate those. Or it’s been hijacked by those Council Nazi guys.

You know, I’d hoped things would get better. After the Invasion, when they put the walls up and those heroes started popping out of thin air, I figured the bad times were over. With the Freedom Phalanx and all these others, there sould have been plenty of good out on the streets to keep the city safe. But somehow, there are always more villains. Seriously, where are they coming from? You need an entire encyclopedia to just keep track of all the different gangs and psycho organizations that are ruining the city. They’re everywhere, out on the streets, even. The cops can’t handle them. It takes a hero and, even if you get one to stop and arrest a couple bad guys, it seems like a few more just show up in their place. It’s like there’s a hole in the Zig.

I met an escaped villain. It’s kinda what started this whole thing. Not some lame Skull gang member, either. No, this was a real superpowered freak of nature. I was working at SuperMart when it happened. There was this loud crash and, I kid you not, ninjas broke through the door and started tearing the place up. This lady followed them, directing them to gather up hostages and block windows and so on. The he came in. He was totally bald and was dressed in the orange jumpsuits I’ve seen Zig prisoners wear on TV. But it was his eyes that were his most memorable feature. They were wild and angry, windows in his angular face to a dark and tortured soul. Sometimes I wake up in the night, seeing those eyes. I let myself be herded into the group with the rest of the hostages, innocent customers and employees who could do nothing but cower, as the bald man began levitating large pieces of furniture and boxes in front of the doors. Finished, he turned to the woman and grabbed her fiercly. I guess he’d been in the Zig for a long time. It was one hell of a kiss. But still so angry. I’ve never been as scared as I was in that moment.

Okay, maybe when the Rikti invaded. That was really scary. And when my brother had his accident, I guess I was really scared then to. My point is, I’ve seldom been that scared before.

A voice using a loudspeaker could be heard then. I guess the cops had arrived. The bald man broke away from his lady and smashed a hole in a nearby window. He began shouting his demands at the cops. Standard stuff. The lady joined him, looked like she was coaching him along when he faltered and couldn’t think of things to say. The ninjas stood motionless. The bald man wasn’t happy when the cops pointed out that it was just a matter of time before a hero wandered by or heard about this on their scanners. He spun on his heels and faced the group.

“I need hostages,” he snarled. He gestured in my direction and the ninja behind me slithered into action. He grabbed up the woman who was sitting next to me and her daughter. For a moment I felt a surge of relief that he hadn’t picked me. Then I heard the screaming. The girl, about 12, maybe 14, was sobbing uncontrollably. Her mother was also in hysterics, begging that they let her girl go and take just her instead. Something, in that moment, clicked inside me.

I surged to my feet and brought both hands down on the ninja’s back, hard as I could. He hadn’t expected it and I was surprised when I discovered that he was a smaller man than I. My blow took him to the ground and winded him. I looked up in time to see the other two ninjas moving in to attack me, their reactions and movements instantaneous and liquid. One threw a shuriken which I barely dodged. Its razor tines nicked neatly through my sleeves and upper arm but only caused a scratch. The other leveled a kick at my torso. The impact stunned me, but I managed to keep my footing and lash out with my fists, but I hit only empty air. By this time the other had caught up and they began laying into me faster than I could take. When I lay on the ground, able to do nothing but groan, they stopped.

“That was very brave,” a voice sneered. I felt a vice grab every molecule of my body and I was raised off the floor to stare into the dark eyes of the bald man. His irises were black as pitch.

“A regular little hero,” he spat, “who could very well have gotten everyone here killed with that little stunt. It was a very impressive try, I must say. You even managed to take down... Bob, here.” He glanced at the ninja I had knocked down. There was a shunt sound and an arrow sprouted between the ninja’s eyes. The lady checked her bow and glared at the other two henchmen. “We don’t tolerate incompetance,” the bald man explained. “And now, it it time for you to join Bob.”

He raised a fist between us that inexplicably burst into flame. He reared back preparing a punch that would be the end of me when the doors rattled as something crashed into them. Startled, he turned to face the new threat. The doors burst open and an orange and black suit of hi-tech armour strode into the building.

“Cease, Villain! Or face the wrath of...”

The hero paused and looked around.

“This is it? I came all the way from Croatoa for a couple ninjas and a guy in Pjs? Well that was a miscalculation.”

The villains only hesitated a moment before attacking. The lady launched a volley of arrows, including some kind of net device. Most of the projectiles simply pinged off the metallic armour but the net caught him and wrapped around his lower body. The ninja shurikens were followed by kicks, and one even drew a sword, but all we similarly not effective. With a howl of rage, the bald man tossed me off to the side where I smahsed into a glass display case and let forth a stream of fire from his hands that engulfed the hero. When they had cleared, it almost seemed as if the helmeted head were yawning in boredom.

“You call that fire? This suit was designed to withstand far more extreme temperatures. Observe.”

There was a soft whirring sound and suddely the hero was engulfed in flames once more, which seemed to come from exhaust ports in his suit.

“Now then,” the armoured hero continued, his tinny voice coming through the flames, “what to do with you lot. Frankly, this isn’t even worth my time.”

“Let me do it,” I growled. Everyone turned to look at me. I clambered out from behind the special items counter with the simple sword we’d had on special that week clutched in my hand. It was a real bargain. The fire tanker began to talk but I stopped him with a simple, “Please.”

I could feel his eyes behind that shadowed visor. They must have seen something in me I didn’t even know existed before that day because the fires slowly disappated from his suit and he answered, “Okay.”

“Rules are simple, folks,” he spoke up. “The kid gets his shot and then we all go talk to the nice security detail.”

“If I’m going back, I’m taking you with me!” the bald man shouted. Fire lanced from his palms and ignited the various packages behind me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I charged straight towards him. An arrow sunk into my thigh but I didn’t slow down. The ninja with the sword stepped into my path, his katana meeting my longsword. I plowed straight into him and simply bowled him over. As I passed I kicked his weapon out of reach. Nearing the bald man I leapt forward, arm raised to strike, and with a sudden gesture he froze me in midair. He sneered his usual sneer and steeped calmly forward. His hands became burning torches again.

“This is familiar,” he mused, “where were we?”

As I watched the fiery fist go back I remember asking myself why the hell I was doing any of this. Why was I risking my life? Why was I about to die? Was it worth it.

I knew the answer was Yes.

I also knew that I wasn’t going to die that day.

I don’t know where it came from, but I found the strength. I ripped my sword arm forward as hard as I could. I saw his wild eyes widen with shock as the tip of my balde scored a deep hit into his shoulder. He fell back and his hold on me faltered. I crashed to the ground only to pick myself up and square off against the somewhat stunned, but still deadly villains.

“Okay, that’s enough.” The tanker’s voice broke the tension and caused us all to start. Whatever speakers he had in that thing could be impressively loud. “I have places to be. All you villains get outside, nice and orderly now. The bald man started to object but the tanker blithely knocked out the nearest ninja with a single punch that sent the poor man tumbling. “I said out,” the suit growled. Sulkily, the villains shuffled towards the door, but not before the bald man told me he’d remember my face and come for me when he next got out. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure they were following his orders, the tanker stomped over to me.

“Not bad, kid. You’ve got real potential. But I’d seriously reconsider the hero business until you’ve had some training. For instance, you have an arrow in you. That’s not condusive to a long and healthy life. You should get that looked at. Good luck.” And with that, he walked out.

I glanced at the arrow embedded in my leg. I decided it was too much effort to worry about it just yet. Right then, I felt rather inclined to pass out. Which I promptly did.

Holy crap, I can see the bus coming. I’m going to wrap this entry up quick. It’s been a few years since that day and I’ve spent all my spare time practicing. The manager gave me the sword as a bonus and I have to say I’m getting pretty good with it. Mom raised me to be tough and to stand up for what I believe in, but until that day I never really believed in anything. I had no purpose, and no direction. That day, everything changed. That day I learned what it is I was meant to do, and what I am going to be.

Today, I register to be a Superhero.

What follows are the adventures of one of my Heroside characters. I modelled the guy after me and he's basically supposed to be how I would perceive myself in this universe. I haven't decided yet where this is all going, or how long I'll keep it up. I do know that it will feature some moments that stuck out to me as having potential for a great story, though it will likely steer away from most of the real missions.

I also haven't decided if they're all going be journal entries, like the first one, or if I'll switch out to a 3rd person narrative and save the journals for special occasions. All depends on how much time I have, I guess.

Anyway, most of the characters are mine (on Guardian, mostly) but there will likely be some appearances of friends and CoX franchise characters. All rights and whatnot go to the proper people. If this work of fiction mirrors events or people in your life, congrats, you might acidentally be me.

I hope you enjoy, and feel free to comment.

TG

Wow. I was gonna comment how I was a fan of the new cards because, at the EB where I usually get mine, it was cheaper. The old CoH/CoV used to ring in at $35 whereas the new ones are $30 even. But after hearing how crappy it is in Australia, I just feel bad mentioning it.

...Oops.