Ex_Libris

Here's my thing, what the hell is the different between PBAE and PBAoE?

- greys, greens, blues, whites, yellows, oranges, reds and purples.. collective names for mobs that con in that particular color.

ie. "let's go hunt some reds, these yellows arent good enough xp"

- PP = can be either Prometheus Park or Perez Park (usually the latter)

- Mez ( mesmerizing ) using a power that stops the enemies in place but they are freed as soon as they are hit by an attack

- Stun, immobilizes enemies, they stay immobile even while being beaten up.

- Root, immobilizes enemies but they are able to fight back

- Snare, reduces enemy movement but doesn't root, otherwise the same.

Alexi ran into the fire, but it was too late. Both of his parents had been killed. He broke down and wept amidst the flames.

He wasn't sure what he could do next. The Fallen were too powerful for him to take down alone. So finally he remembered a book his father had left in a safe place, with the names of all his most trustworthy colleagues.

He thought he knew where it was, but he also knew that after what had happened at his house, he needed to be careful. So when he got to the bank, he was ready for the one waiting for him.

"Your father left you a deposit box," said Lightseeker, "I thought you would come for it. But no one leaves the fallen alive."

Alexi reached out to his gift, and drew on more power than he ever had before. Lightseeker was flung across the street and into a wall.

He ran in, nervous, not knowing what to expect. But he got in and out just fine, and obtained the book. Unfortunately, there was no one who could teach him how to further his power.

There was one name, however, that he thought might be useful. A man simply called Shade, who could heal and become invisible, worked closely with Togakure grand master Masaaki Hatsumi. If he couldn't become more powerful, at least he could learn to fight. So his next stop was Japan.

Very good begining. I like it! Please, give us more.

Look for any member of the Sg "The Guardians" we all rp. If you want a direct contact message one of the following :

Sky Ranger
Crime Buster
Silver Sabre

Those are my three primary characters.

Well, I think statesman could be natural... I mean, there are tons of stories of people going beyond the normal capabilities of human... (kind of like in animatrix, the man who could run amazingly fast, he eventually ran right out of the matrix)... it just depends on how you argue the fact...

(ooc - Great fun, I'm just sad I got into the thread so late. Look me up in the game sometime...either Cyberjack or Shadowen. And just out of curiosity would you guys mind if I brought Shadow into the thread or do you all have some vague rule about not doing two chars? Just wondering cause I don't want to break the flow.

Anyway, I'd continue the story now, but it's 5am here and my brain is on terminal shutdown after running my first mission to boomtown solo.)

When Martin returned to his room, he was met with a somber sight. His mother was in the arms of a police officer, sobbing uncontrollably. A second officer approached Martin gravely. “Son,” the officer began, “let’s step out in the hall and talk.” The officer gently told Martin of the discovery of his father’s battered body. Martin, being 18, was the only other possible candidate to come to the morgue to do a corpse identification, since his mother was an absolute basket case.

“Son, did your father have any enemies?”

“None. Everyone liked my dad. He was kind to everyone he met,” Martin said, numb with grief.

“So you don’t know of anyone that would have wanted him dead?”

“No. Why do you ask?” Martin was growing suspicious of this line of questioning. Something was out of place, and he was missing it.

“Well, son,” the officer began, “you see, your father was beaten pretty badly. The guy that was with him, the big one, “Moose” I think he was called, just had his neck broke. That’s it. But your dad, well.. They messed him up good. Even burned him some.”

Martin was beginning to put it together, and he had his suspicions as to who it might have been. The first twinges of anger began to grip his heart. “Do you have any leads?”

“None, at the moment. I mean, it was obviously super-powered thugs. The internal injuries are too extensive.”

Now Martin was all but positive. “Officer, I really need to see to my mother. She needs me.”

“Of course, son. If you think of anything we should know, call me at this number,” the policeman said quietly, handing Martin his business card.

Martin took the card and thanked the officer. Moving to his mother, Martin was barely controlling the rage welling up inside him, as he held the broken-hearted woman.

“Oh, Marty! Why? Why would anyone want to hurt David? Why?”

“Mom, there doesn’t have to be a reason. Some people are just sadistic is all. Dad probably didn’t.. Mom? What’s wrong??”

Martin’s mother had started convulsing, and her face was feather-white. As she went limp in Martin’s arms, he started screaming for help. Two nurses and a passing doctor rushed in and lifted her to Martin’s hospital bed.

“Okay, son. Move aside. Let us see to her,” the nurse Martin recognized as the one he had encountered in Darla’s room said and the doctor started taking Martin’s mother’s vitals. The nurse moved Martin to one side, and the doctor started yelling for a crash cart.

“Get me a defibrillator, STAT! Her heart isn’t beating!”

Martin spoke up, “doc, she has one of those new artificial hearts. They are supposed to last forever!”

“Okay, son. Now let us do our job, and we’ll see if we can save her.”

The nurse from Darla’s room looked from Martin’s mom, to Martin, and back again, as if she was doing some sort of math problem. She suddenly jumped up and grabbed Martin by the back of the neck and started shoving Martin out the door. “Martin, come with me, quickly!”

Martin resisted half-heartedly. “Where are we going? MOM!”

“Trust me son. We need to get you away from here. NOW.”

No sooner had the nurse managed to get Martin a few feet down the hall, than they heard the doctor in Martin’s room say, “it’s beating again. We don’t need to defib any more, but leave it here, just in case. Mrs. Thorne, can you hear me?”

“Mom!” Martin cried, moving to rush to her side. The nurse intervened and stopped him. “What are you doing?” Martin demanded. “Get out of my way!”

“Martin, trust me. You NEED to stay out here for a moment or two. Let me get the doctor and we’ll see what is wrong, okay? You stay right here.”

The nurse walked over the Martin’s room and he could see her talking to the doctor. Martin’s mom was already coming around, and every now and again, the doctor and nurse would both glance his way, and Martin noticed that they both wore a dark look. Soon, the doctor and nurse walked out to Martin, troubled looks on both of their faces.

“Martin, have you ever exhibited any extraordinary abilities? Unexplained happenings around the house? Stuff like that?” the doctor asked.

“NO!. I am not some kind of mutated freakshow.” Martin retorted, his mind secretly drifting back to his days of being called “headache boy”.

“Nurse, hand me that cellular re-secter” the doctor beckoned.

The nurse placed a high-tech looking instrument in the doctor’s hand. The doctor switched it on and it began to hum, and lights on it began to wink on and off. “Now this might sting a trifle,” the doctor said as he brought it close to Martin’s cheek. As the tool approached Martin’s flesh, however, the hum began to stutter, and when it came into contact with his skin, it died all together. The doctor moved it away from Martin, and it came back on. “Nurse, you said that while he was in that young lady’s room, her monitor went off, and then came back on again after he left?”

“Yes, Doctor. That is when I first began to suspect something.”

“What is it? What do you suspect? What is going on?” Martin demanded, panic in his voice. As he backed against the wall, the device in the doctor’s hand emitted sparks, and wisps of smoke. At the nearby nurse’s station, a monitor also sparked and fizzled.

“Martin, it is imperative that you calm down. It appears that you might have a latent power of some sort that has begun to manifest itself.”

“What are you saying? That I am one of those..those..”

“Martin, in this day and age, it is not uncommon. If you will allow us to run some tests, we can find out what is going on.”

“No.. No.. NOOO!!” Martin screamed. Medical equipment all around him began to smoke, and a trickle of blood ran down Martin’s nose. The stress and strain was finally too much for him, and he collapsed, unconscious, to the floor.

Martin was up and around now, and walking about the hospital for exercise. He wandered aimlessly, exploring where he could, looking for something to occupy his time. As luck would have it, he happened upon Darla’s room. She was sleeping and had an oxygen tube in her nose. Dawg, Duke, and Zapp had been quite thorough with her, although her only lasting scar appeared to be an electrical burn on one temple. He stood in the doorway and stared at her with a grimace for a long moment. She was really quite an attractive girl, with long, raven hair, and an almost elfin bone structure. Small and slight of build, he thought to himself that she was supremely lucky that the “three stooges” didn’t kill her. Even covered in the yellow-blue of fading bruises, she was still very pretty. It was a pity that her outer appearance hid a very cold heart. As he turned to leave, he heard a timid voice, an almost frightened whisper behind him.

“Martin?”

Martin turned to find Darla’s clear, green eyes staring at him. He hadn’t even realized that she was no longer in a coma.

“What?”

“I.. I wanted to say.. That is..” Darla stammered weakly.

“Spit it out, Darla. If you’re going to threaten me, be done with it. I’m busy.”

“I.. I wanted to say how sorry I was,” Darla sobbed, “I was so wrong. I wanted to be powerful, and popular.”

“Well, you picked a poor method of attaining that status.”

“I know. When they were,“ Darla choked, “beating me, I was so scared. When I came to, I realized how much hurt I had caused. I wanted to die. I felt so ugly.” Darla was crying in earnest now.

“So what you are saying is, when you woke up and realized that your power was gone, you realized that you were essentially just like everyone else and you couldn’t handle that.”

“No. That’s not it at all. I got what I deserved. I know that.”

“You sure did,” Martin snapped, folding his arms over his chest, regretting the words almost immediately. No one deserved that kind of beating, least of all this petite little girl, no matter how black her heart was.

“Martin, I really am truly sorry. When they began berating me for failing to dominate you, I told them that I wanted no more part of their crap. That is when they started hitting me. They were never my friends. They were just using me.”

“Big shock, there.”

“I begged them to stop, but it just seemed to encourage them. I never realized how mean they really were.”

“You know, that’s the problem with all you super-powered FREAKS,” Martin’s emphasis on the word “freaks” caused Darla to wince feebly, as if he had physically struck her. “None of you ever think about the consequences of your bizarre abilities. You all use them, and abuse them as you see fit, never caring one whit about who gets hurt or suffers.” Darla was sobbing uncontrollably, Martin’s rage was rising, and he had been steadily moving toward Darla with every syllable. Suddenly, a frightened nurse burst into the room with a crash cart. She was white as a sheet.

“What is going on here?” the nurse demanded, and angry urgency in her voice.

Martin was suddenly very ashamed of himself. “Darla, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He looked at the nurse who was now fiddling with the high-tech vitals scanner that Darla was connected to. It was utterly dark and silent.

“Her monitor shut down. We thought she had gone into arrest. What did you do?”

“Nothing! Honest! I didn’t even touch it!” Martin insisted desperately.

“He’s telling the truth, Nurse Grey. I didn’t notice it was off myself. Look. None of the other equipment is off. Just that thing.”

“Well, you still need to go,” the nurse said curtly.

“Martin, please come and see me again, so we can talk,” Darla rasped, her eyes fixed firmly on the hem of her bedsheet.

“I’ll think about it,” Martin said, and walked out.

As Martin left, Darla’s vitals scanner leapt back to life, and the nurse’s sudden headache vanished as if it had never been. The nurse looked quizzically after Martin and made a mental note to check Martin’s charts thoroughly.

David Thorne sighed at his lot in life. His mind had designed some of the most elaborate and innovative pieces of software yet imagined. He took to coding like a duck to water and it just seemed to flow from him. Now here he was in a back alley, dumping a fetid sludge of leftovers into a garbage truck behind a Chinese food joint.

“Well, at least it can’t get any worse,” he lamented to no one in particular.

“Huh? Whutchoo mean?” his large, not-overly-bright partner asked.

“Oh nothing, Moose. Just complaining,”

“Aw, Dave. Dis job ain’ so bad. Sure joo go home smelly an’ such, but de hours aren’t all dat bad, an’ de city ben’fits is real good.”

“Yeah, it’s just that I had a really good job once, and I really enjoyed it.”

“Yeah, you were a ‘puter programmer ‘r sumptin’, weren’t cha?”

“Yes, I was. No matter. A job is a job.”

“True dat. Now let’s get this crap loaded and go get sumthin’ ta eat. I’m starved.”

David chuckled and wondered how anyone could get a whiff of day-old food that had been marinating in the sun and rat feces and still have an appetite, but Moose, although somewhat simple-minded, was a kind soul, honest, and, in his own special way, wise. David was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he almost ran right into the young man that had stepped around the truck to block his path.

“Hello, Mr. Thorne,” the youth said with a menacing smile.

“Um, hello.”

“Hey! Yous kids can’t be here around da truck. It’s too danger’s”

A second boy stepped up behind Moose, and with a sickening popping sound, snapped his neck, dropping him to the ground heavily.

“Oh, my God!!” screamed David, “Moose…GAK!”

The first boy had punched David in the stomach, causing David to spit blood. The second boy, and now a third were on him in an instant. Martin’s father, to his credit, managed to stay alive for almost five minutes before death guided his soul to a better place.

Martin awoke in a hospital bed, his mother standing over him worriedly. She called for the doctors, who came in to check him. He had been unconscious for 2 days. His wounds were on the mend, but there were dozens of injuries, and he would be in the hospital for months.

“Mom, I am so sorry to worry you like this.”

“Honey, it’s not your fault. I understand that those thugs did the same to a young girl. The police haven’t found them yet.”

“But how are we going to pay these hospital bills?”

“Your father’s insurance from the company will cover you for a little while. We’ll be okay.”

“What do you mean ‘for a little while’?”

“I didn’t want to worry you Marty. Your dad got laid off.”

“What? Why?”

“They hired this new guy. He can apparently do the jobs of the whole department and then some, and the almighty dollar speaks louder than anything.”

“But dad is a creative genius!”

“Yes he is, but evidently, this new guy is really smart, and just knows everyone’s jobs. He can’t come near your father’s quality of work, but your father can’t match his quantity. He missed some work when I had my heart trouble. He stayed by my bed when they put in that high-tech heart.”

“I remember. We almost lost you there,” said Martin, taking his mother’s hand. “They held that against him?”

“No, but he was never able to catch up to the new guy. The board of directors just decided that they would rather have quantity than quality. They were kind enough to maintain the insurance for another few weeks. Your father starts to work for the city next week.”

“Doing what? Emptying trash?” barked Martin joked sarcastically. Martin’s mother looked away, choking on a sob. “No. Mom, please. Dad is brilliant! He’s got a doctorate from Harvard in theoretical artificial intelligence!. Please tell me he’s not dumping someone else’s garbage for a living because some freak of nature got his department fired.”

“It’s honest work, and it’s only temporary until your dad finds something else.” Martin felt the ember of fury welling up within him, but he surpressed it and buried it deep, not wanting to disturb his mother.

In the months to come, Martin healed quickly, and soon began to go to therapy for his atrophied muscles. His mother had taken a job cleaning houses to make ends meet, so his family would be fine. Things began to look better, and the doctors told him he would be out in time to graduate. He had been getting his assignments from school, so he was pretty caught up on his schoolwork. One day, he went back to his room to find a small box. Opening it, he found a simple note card upon which was scribbled, “An eye for an eye”.

Martin lay on the ground as he was told, not taking his eyes off Darla. Darla shivered visibly as the hatred emanating from Martin washed over her like a winter storm. The approaching officer slowed, and shook his head as if trying to clear it. Darla again whispered to him, a worried look on her face. The officer steeled himself and began his approach again. A dozen feet from Martin, a disbelieving look crossed his face. “Where is the girl?” he barked.

“There was no girl, sir. That man with the metal arm attacked me, and I defended myself.” replied Martin.

“That’s not true!” yelled Darla. “He had a young girl and was going to kill her.”

“You told me this was the young girl,” said the officer irritably, indicating the hulking slob, who had passed out from pain.

“It is!” insisted Darla. “Arrest him!” Darla’s forehead was visibly sweating. The officer noticed this. He reached out, and wiped some of the sweat from Darla’s forehead.

“You seem nervous, miss. You wouldn’t be trying to use some power or other on the nice officer now, would you?” the policeman began threateningly.

“Why, no.. I… I” squeaked Darla weakly. Darla’s gaze darted back and forth like a trapped rabbit. Without another word, Darla sprinted down a nearby alleyway.

“STOP!” shouted the policeman. He turned to Martin, looked after Darla, and decided against pursuit. With a sigh, the officer walked over to Martin, who was still lying on the ground. Without moving, Martin recounted the entire incident, adding what little he knew of Darla’s powers. The officer called an ambulance for Dawg’s father, and bade Martin stand up, and tell him why ‘Big Dawg’ should want to hurt him. Martin told him the tale of how Dawg and his buddies had assaulted him, and further volunteered that the principal of his school would verify the story. The officer told Martin that he would do well to avoid the whole bunch. Martin assured the officer he would if he could as the paramedics attended Martin’s head wound.

Weeks later, on Martin’s eighteenth birthday, Dawg was release from the hospital. The next day at school, “The Crew” was back together, less one member. Martin had heard that Dawg had been furious that Darla’s power had failed, and had beaten her so badly that he had hospitalized her. Evidently, her power required an ability to talk, and every time she had tried to say something he had backhanded her. Darla was in intensive care, and thanks to a crushed larynx, would have trouble speaking for the rest of her life, rendering her power useless. Zapp and Duke looked unusually subdued as Dawg stalked toward Martin. He had come to Paragon High hoping to leave all his old problems behind him at his old high school. Now he was a senior and still fighting these juvenile battles.

“Look, Dawg. We are all eighteen now. At this point, things get serious. From now on, it’s not just a bunch of kids fighting. Now it’s assault and battery.”

“You tried to kill my dad, and you put me in the hospital! You think I am just going to let that GO?!?”

“Listen, you knuckle-dragging, brain-dead mouth-breather! I don’t suppose that the thought has crossed that dormant hunk of meat you keep locked away in that granite-like skull of yours that a) YOU four idiots started all this by attacking ME, and b) your dad jumped ME outside the Stop’N’Go with the thought of killing me, and I was just defending myself?”

The logic was lost on Dawg. He charged Martin, screaming “GET HIM!” to his two cohorts. Duke hovered reluctantly into the air, and Zapp looked nervously from his hands to Martin. Martin snapped into a defensive stance to meet Dawg’s charge. Trusting whatever luck was with him, he fired a palm strike to Dawg’s nose, hoping to drop him and end the fight.

It was like smacking a granite wall.

Dawg bulled through the strike, and bore Martin to the ground, pinning him. Dawg hammered punch after super powered punch into Martin. Duke got brave and flew down to pick up Martin. He flew up to about 20 feet and dropped him. Martin landed heavily and felt his left ankle break. Zapp started forward timidly, and shocked Martin, causing him to spasm painfully. Martin tried to fend off Dawg, but he received a snapped arm for his trouble. Dawg was on him again, pounding his face and chest relentlessly. Martin felt bone after bone breaking under Dawg’s merciless onslaught. Zapp moved to Martin’s head and began to gleefully deliver brutal shocks to his temple. Martin bit down reflexively, and nearly bit through his own tongue. Dawg grabbed Martin’s wrists and jerked them out straight, shooting lances of pain from his broken arm through him. Dawg held Martin prone in this manner while Duke dropped from above, driving his knee into Martin’s stomach. The last thing Martin remembered was Dawg punching his head over and over.

Martin looked weakly at the hulking slob standing over him. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to explain that Dawg and his punk friends started it”

“Like I care! You almost killed my boy!”

Martin got to his feet and faced off against Dawg’s father. He was a fat elephant of a man. He seemed to have only the one cybernetic arm, attached to a walking mass of blubber. He had about two days’ beard growth, and the stench of him and the drool on his chin implied that he was probably a bottle or two into a case of whiskey.

“You like my arm, boy?” he slurred, “I lost my arm to an accident at the power plant, and the company paid to replace it with one o’ dem brand, new alien-tech cybo-arm things. Worker’s compensation in Paragon is pretty good, ain’t it? A buddy of mine showed me where I could get a gun put on it.”

“Charming. Look, your son and his buddies tried to kill me. I was just defending myself. Now back off.”

“I’ll give you the back of my hand!” snapped Dawg’s father, clumsily swinging his metal arm at Martin’s head. Martin easily ducked under the wild swing and planted a foot in the tub of lard’s backside, sending him sprawling face-first in the dirt. The hulk got up surprisingly fast, and swung again with his cybernetic arm. He managed to clip Martin on the side of the head, opening a gash on his temple. Now Martin was growing angry. Turning a full circle, Martin feinted a spectacular spinning kick, fooling his assailant into thrusting his metal limb upward to block. At the last instant, Martin arced his foot downward to plow into the side of the man’s torso. With a satisfying ‘smack’, Martin’s foot sent vibrations through the rolls of fat. The kick obviously stung, but the blubber served as a kind of armor, cushioning the blow. If Martin couldn’t calm the man down, he would have to start trying for more damaging blows. The man kicked out with a meaty foot, and missed wildly.

“Look, sir. I don’t want to hurt you. As long as your son and his buddies don’t mess with me, I won’t mess with them.”

‘Big Dawg’, his face reddened with exertion and rage, bulled into Martin, bearing him down under sheer bulk. Martin could feel his ribs cracking again, as 300-plus pounds of flesh crushed him to the ground. Martin tried to squirm out from under Big Dawg’s flab, while the fat slob beat him relentlessly with his human hand. Fortunately for Martin, the metallic limb was just not maneuverable enough to get at him while he was pinned. Just as he managed to break free, Big Dawg snagged the back of his shirt with his organic hand, and shoved the barrel of his cybernetic arm into Martin’s face. “Now, boy. This fight is over.”

Martin heard a barely audible ‘click’, then a tiny hissing sound. He closed his eyes tightly, preparing for the end. All he heard was the click and the hiss again. He opened his eyes to see Big Dawg staring at his arm in anger, shaking it. Then the arm stopped moving all together, and fell lifeless to the big man’s side. Not one to question good fortune, Martin shot a knife-hand strike to the bridge of Big Dawg’s nose, causing him to roll over and hold his shattered septum. Seizing the lifeless cybernetic arm in a joint-hold, Martin shifted into a classic board-breaking stance. “They don’t make cyberware like they used to do they, tubby?” Martin sneered. Striking the arm right at the shoulder joint, he shattered the bones that anchored it to the flesh and blood moorings.

“Freeze! Drop the gun, release the girl, lie face down on the ground, and put your hands behind your head!” was all he heard behind him. Turning, a baffled Martin saw a police officer with his service revolver pointed right at him. Darla was standing at the officer’s elbow, whispering to him. The officer had a glazed look in his eyes, so Martin quickly guessed what was going on. Martin released Big Dawg’s arm, raised his hands, and proceeded to lay face down on the ground. The officer began cautiously walking toward Martin, unsnapping handcuffs from his belt.

Duke tried to punch Martin in the head, but the angle was off, and Martin was able to absorb what little of the blow was not deflected. Martin climbed Duke like some bizarre jungle gym, his fury building with each heartbeat. As Martin hauled himself into a grapple hold with Duke, Duke punched him in the sides. Martin felt his ribs break, but he held on. Wrapping his legs tightly around Duke’s midsection, Martin quickly grabbed Duke’s head, and despite Duke’s greater strength, was able to headbutt Duke repeatedly in the nose. Every strike took some of the fight out of Duke, and they began to drop. Martin managed to flip Duke under him as they hit the pavement, so Duke took the brunt of the fall. Dawg grabbed Martin from behind again and snarled “I’m gonna tear your freakin’ arms off, monkeyboy!” Martin, a black belt in both Aikido and Kenpo, was ready for him this time. He threw his head back quickly twice, shattering Dawg’s nose. Dawg dropped his hold, and Martin shot a snapkick to Dawg’s knee, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. Martin spun and drove the toe of his heavy boot into the now prone Dawg’s throat in an arcing axekick, and reversed into a vicious stomp to his groin. The stomp snapped Dawg to a sitting position just in time to catch a mule kick to the face, putting him out of the fight completely as Martin advanced toward Zapp and Darla.

“I don’t care how strong or tough you are, there are just certain places where no one can handle being struck,” snarled Martin, glaring at Zapp.

“All right, meat,” hissed Zapp, blue-white lightnings dancing over his fists, “let’s go!” He drew back to hit Martin, but lowered his fist. Martin was still in a fighting stance when the principal and two teachers walked up, demanding to know what happened. Darla told them that Martin had attacked her friends unprovoked. The three men listened skeptically, and in the end, didn’t believe a word of what she said. Darla looked like someone had physically struck her. “What do you mean, you don’t believe me?!? EVERYONE believes ME!!!” Zapp looked flabbergasted as well, and they were both told that they were all four to be suspended for one week. Martin, Duke, and Dawg were rushed to the hospital. Duke was placed in traction for two months, and Martin was treated and released. Dawg got the worst end of everything. He was placed in intensive care, and had to undergo surgery. Three days after the incident, Zapp found Martin alone near a convenience store and said, “When my friends get out of the hospital, we are going to have a talk, you and I.”

The ember of rage began to heat up once more within Martin, and before either boy knew what he was doing, he had slammed Zapp against the concrete wall by the throat. “Touch me again you little creep, and I swear I’ll send you to the morgue,” Martin hissed through clenched teeth. Zapp recovered his wits and with an evil grin on his face, reached up to deliver a shock to Martin by grabbing Martin’s wrist.

Nothing happened.

The color drained from Zapp’s face as he realized his powers had failed him. Martin glared at Zapp for a long moment. Zapp was a skinny little runt, and would probably blow away in a stiff breeze. Without his powers, Zapp was paralyzed with fear of the short, stocky boy that was now holding him aloft by the neck. Martin dropped Zapp, who fell to his knees, shaking. Not understanding what happened to Zapp’s powers, Martin began to walk away. “I guess super powers aren’t all they are cracked up to be, are they, Zapp?” he thought to himself. He had just rounded the corner, when his world went all red, and he pitched forward into the dust. Something big and metal had hit him in the back of the head. He turned over groggily to see a large man with a metal arm ending in some type of energy weapon standing over him.

“You okay beating up my little boy. Let’s see how you do against a man, punk,” said the man. The behemoth’s t-shirt had the words “Big Dawg” in crude, red lettering across the chest.

Martin Thorne stomped into the alleyway with a murderous look in his eyes. The young girl was still screaming from the tender ministrations of the trio of thugs. With a harsh 'crick-crack', Martin readied his MAC-10 to rock and roll. The cybered-out freak amongst the trio stepped forward with a menacing grin. Martin was a good 6 feet or more tall, and looked to weigh a good 300 pounds, all of it muscle. Under his weatherworn, black leather trench coat, he was wearing a pair of hiking boots, a set of night-camo fatigues, and some patchwork Kevlar body armor. Otherwise clean-shaven, he wore his brown hair in a severe military-style haircut.

As with every time he encountered the “Super-Powered Elite”, Thorne's mind drifted back to that day so long ago when he started school at Paragon High. Martin had been bullied most of his life, so he had turned to weights and martial arts to survive. He had bulked up nicely, and the bullying stopped at his old school. Martin thought it was all behind him until his dad got transferred to his company's Paragon City branch. He had heard of "The Crew" long before his first meeting; they were a group of four little punks with extraordinary abilities. They used these abilities to torment all the "norms" they could find. Martin hated the idea of "super powers", since that was something that he, for all of his skill, was powerless to fight against. He couldn't stand for things to be out of his control. It was bad enough that everyone that came around him seemed to immediately develop a slight headache that only went away when he left. Some jerk at his old elementary school had made that observation, and soon it spread all over the campus. That stigma followed him all the way through junior high. He couldn't argue with the facts though, and the name “headache boy” soon pursued him like a determined bloodhound. As a result, he had to fight nearly every day, and he got very good at it. Soon everyone except his closest friends just avoided him. Now he stood on the threshold of his first meeting with a group of kids that he suspected would be his new nemeses. He knew their nicknames and a little about their powers, so he wasn't to be entirely surprised. There was "Zapp", the guy with electric hands, "Dawg", who was really strong and tough, even though he wasn’t physically large, and "Darla", who did something to the mind. Typically, she would charm the victim to come to where the rest of "the Crew" could show the hapless victim who was “boss”. The last guy just called himself "Duke". He evidently could fly, and was also kind of strong. Martin and “The Crew” saw each other at the same time. They were dressed in typical "homie-dewd" style, with big, ugly, fake gold chains, low-slung pants, sideways baseball caps and stocking hats pulled down close to the eyes. "Sup, noob," one of them called to him. Dawg whispered something to Darla, and she sauntered forward, obviously trying to look as sexy as possible. "Hey, handsome," she cooed, "why don't you come out behind the football building and we'll have some fun." Martin saw that the other three had vanished, so he knew what kind of "fun" Darla had in mind.

Martin replied, "No thanks, Darla. I don't feel like getting the snot beat out of me today," and stood his ground. Darla had an odd look on her face, like Martin had said something regarding chocolate-covered lug nuts and moose antlers.

Darla tried again, "oh come on. It'll be fun."

Martin crossed his arms. "No," he replied.

Darla had a puzzled look on her face as she walked away. Martin thought he had won some kind of battle here, at least until lunchtime. After he ate his lunch, he walked outside for his free period. The other students parted, and there three of them stood. Darla, Zapp, and Duke regarded him contemptuously. Zapp called out "I don't know how you tricked Darla, but there's four of us now.” Darla looked subdued, and Martin noticed a fresh shiner over her left eye. Evidently, she had paid for her earlier failure to get Martin alone. Martin didn't have time to wonder where Dawg was before he found himself held in a painful arm-hold from behind. He tried some of his aikido moves, but Dawg was far too strong. Zapp strode forward, electricity crackling from his fists. Zapp drew back and punched Martin hard in the stomach several times. Shocks rippled through Martin, causing him to clench his teeth painfully. Zapp stepped aside, and Martin looked up, coughing, just in time to see Duke soaring in, fist outstretched. Duke’s fist connected with Martin’s nose, splaying it wetly across his right cheekbone. With Martin dazed and reeling, Dawg shifted his grip and flung Martin skyward to be caught by Duke.

“Wow. He’s kinda heavy,” remarked Dawg and Duke dove to catch Martin by the ankle.

“Oof. You’re right, Dawg,” said Duke, tugging hard to slow his descent, “he seems to almost be getting heavier. Are you sure he’s a norm, Darla?”

“That’s what the school secretary said. If he has any powers, it’s only giving people little headaches,” shrugged Darla.

Martin was barely conscious. He was bleeding badly, and hanging upside down was making things worse. He was quite dizzy, and was having trouble breathing as Duke stopped his descent, and began drifting upward, presumably to drop him. Martin was not about to let that happen, so he reached up to grab the wrist that Duke was holding him aloft with. “Oh, look! He’s got some fight left in him yet!” he laughed to his cohorts below.

"Wow Miss Deth Lady, you guys move fast!" Lobe says in admiration. "One second I'm drinking my orange juice and you guys are there, then I finish, and 'POOF' you're gone." He shakes his head in bedazzlement. "Sorry mister!" He yells as the destroyed hood of a car recedes below them following another half-kilometer leap.

Aside from the landings, which Lobe seems to do straight legged, the mode of transport felt exhilerating to Deth. It certainly was a new experience and wasn't that in the book of things she should be doing aside from looking at the lighter side of things? "Hang a left Lobe," she says, seeing the block coming up down which their impromptu team is.

"Yes mam!" he cries through the whistle of the air passing at 600kph.

"There! There they are Lobe," Deth points out the group of heroes and the single but deadly Shocker just as the Shocker takes Ivory's special ammo to the head. "Hmpf, I see we're too late, they didn't save any for us."

Having been alerted by the increasing tremors of Lobe's landings, the heroes watch as the 13 foot strongman lands a final time and gently sets Deth on the cracked sidewalk. "What'd we miss?" he asks exitedly, actually hopping on the spot.

Victims suck!!!

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I just wanted everyone to possibly laugh at what had transpired, but obviously I failed for some. Im sorry for trying to add something to these boards with my own prose on a pretty interesting turn of events. Mission: Failed. lesson learned: dont talk on the message boards

[/ QUOTE ]

Well, for what it's worth, I thought it was an entertaining read. And from both IC and OOC viewpoints I'd say you did the right thing in my book. Any character of mine would consider someone who horns in where he/she isn't needed to be foolish at best, and if they persisted after being warned off (so as to separate the ones who are just mistaken from those who are doing it on purpose), then it's nothing short of an insult and the act of an honorless individual. (This is particularly the attitude of my main character, who follows his own 'warrior's code', but my others would share it to an extent, just wouldn't put it quite the same way.)
So rock on, I say, and thanks for taking the time to write up an ingame event in an entertaining way, I enjoy reading stories based on ingame events now and then.

OOC: Well I found it funny-someone tried to KS you while you had it immobolized, you told them to back off, they didn't, they got what they deserved. Don't see why everyone's so touchy about it OOC, IC I can understand.

IC:
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My reward is the cracked and bloody face of the punk I just crushed.

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"Finally! A human I can understand!"

Aleria grins darkly, winking one of her glowing eyes.

Update coming in a few days. . .

Remarks welcome. . .

ressurects him self and teleports in the wrong place ... ya know what i mean?

What? They need MORE cops? I really thought that the PD was overstaffed as is!

How about the PCPD just contracts heros at a higher wage. Maybe I'll work a little harder then. Oh and sewers, yeah, I don't want to go down those stinky drain pipes anymore. Dont forget to add that to the contract.

Bruce

Aleria finishes up reading the funny pages(the only portion of the newspaper she's discovered is worth reading), when she ran across this article. Spitting in disgust, the former princess wondered why she keeps reading the so-called "news".

"Coddling the weak? Promoting ineffective and incompetant guard forces? These humans have yet to cease to amaze me..."

on another note, would you all be interested in joining a sg if i start one?

not many but its something, ill send you all tells ingame. thanks for the replys.