Heroid

Amelia Crawley laid in bed and stared into the darkness.

Sorry, you're really not powerful enough to register as a superhero.

The words still burned two months after she had heard them. She should have cheated. She should have fudged. She should have used her subtle power of mental influence to make the young woman register her. But her powers had always been more effective on males.

I will give you power.

And he had. The green man had boosted her abilities ever so slightly. Enough so that the employees at Icon accepted her presence when she was there, then forgot about her completely after she had left.

But the [censored] had taken it all back.

Subtle influence. That was what she had been planning to call herself when she put on the spandex and cape. A lifelong dream.

Amelia sighed in the darkness. Dreams were for suckers. Powers were for those who really knew how to use them.

She rolled over, and turned on the lamp which sat on the nightstand beside the bed. Her new diamond necklace glittered in it's 60 watt glow.

"Wh..." began the silver-haired man who lay next to her as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Amelia smiled at him. She stroked his receeding hair and then ran a finger along the deep wrinkles etched into his face.

"You know, my love, we could go to Vegas and get married tomorrow if you would poison your wife today..."

Joe Reed smiled as he was led to the visitation area. Freedom would taste good. Too bad he hadn't been put into the Zig. He would have walked days ago.

Still, his incarceration hadn't been that bad. Assault with a deadly weapon for shooting Sally had only gotten him put into a low-security satellite jail in King's Row. He could almost throw a rock and hit his apartment.

That was the funny thing to him. He was in jail for trying to kill the cheating little hussy. Yet he had put a bullet through the brain of a superhero, and because the bum was apparently unharmed, the city hadn't even seen fit to press charges.

HEROID himself couldn't do anything about it -- there was no proof that he'd even been hit. The city records only showed him as a robot/android superhero. The dummy had never notified the city that he was human again.

Joe laughed at that as he entered the visitation area.

Two men in Italian suits were waiting for him there. He smiled at them, certain they were sent by the Family to take him out of here and send him someplace nice and safe like the Bahamas.

He felt his bowels turn to water when they turned to face him and one of them said, "Agent Webb, FBI..."

HEROID sat and watched the river flow. Nearby, a group of young superheroes stood in a cluster and chatted, bragging about victories, complaining about the adults, and flirting the way young people do. Innocently, truthfully. No deceptions.

Everything was deception with Roy now. He looked at his hand. Was that really flesh and blood he was seeing? The part of his mind that was the jewel entity gave him understanding that his actual form was inconsequential. All that mattered was the efficiency of his molecular alignment. Function. He looked like he was human, but he was… whatever he was. Not what people thought he was.

Roy picked up a pebble with the intention of throwing it into a swirling eddy just below him. Instead he crushed it between his thumb and forefinger, and let the dust blow away on the breeze.

Deceptions.

He had liked Sally. He had really liked Sally. Sally was normal, and more than anything right now, he wanted to be normal. But Sally had lied to him. She never mentioned a husband, let alone that her husband was…

Joe Reed. Roy had taken up hanging around the guard towers at the Zig because he wanted to be around regular working guys. Normal guys. But Joe was a liar too, and a killer. A two-bit crook who was part of the revolving door that was Paragon City’s high-security prison.

The man who had tried to murder him.

It didn’t make sense. Joe had confessed to taking the hit for hire. That Roy had told him about the pretty waitress at the Wharf Rat probably didn’t encourage Joe to turn down the offer. But who was the contractor?

From deep inside, a dark voice whispered thoughts of vengeance and murder. The part of Roy that was the jewel entity rose up and muffled the dark voice into silence.

Roy picked up another pebble. He squeezed it between his fingers. It was smooth and round on the outside. He lifted his thumb and looked at the jagged break he had caused.

Sally fell for him because she was sure he was a cape. Joe didn’t hesitate killing him because he was sure he was trying to steal his young wife.

Things had looked smooth and round, but there was a jagged edge in the break he had caused.

Roy dropped the pebble into the swirling eddy.

None of the young heroes noticed as he leapt away.

((As I was driving home from work yesterday, I heard the tail-end of a news story about a plane crash in Canada. I knew one of my Canadian Virtue friends was travelling this week, and I couldn't remember which day it would be.

The news story scared me and I switched stations trying to find the details, but I couldn't. So I spent the next twenty or so minutes worrying. When I got home, my wife told me about the crash and that the plane was landing and not taking off and that apparently everyone survived.

To cut to the chase, the experience made me realize that I've made some good friends playing this game. There are people here I have a lot in common with, and I am part of a community.

I've decided being part of that community and sharing those friendships is worth the monthly fee.

I still hate what the devs are doing to tanks.

But anyway, when you feed me my crow, please bread it and fry it first. That's the way I like it. I don't like it boiled or cooked in a casserole. Baked with stuffing is good. Marinated in Italian dressing and grilled is okay too. But my favorite is breaded and fried.

Mmmm... Extra-crispy crow... mmmm...))

((Just got off of Test. They were supposed to have fixed Unyielding Friday, according to the notes. They didn't.

I just spent an hour on Test, and am very unhappy.

I'm not going to add to this thread anytime soon, because, if they don't fix this, I'm just going to kill Roy off in rp, delete him, and cancel my account.

Screw archery and the new zone. My main is gimped. I've respecced him a couple of times trying to get a build that will work. No good.

Sorry to my friends, but I'm not going to pay a monthly fee just to stand in the park and chat. Playing the first 10 levels debt free is going to be more fun than playing from 40 to 50 will be. That's not how it's supposed to be.

I'll let you know beforehand, and will give my AIM monicker to any of my friends who want it. ))

((Because RL has been insane this month -- Bump.))

((.../e feels completely humbled by Shae and Kricky...))

Joe Reed stood in the alley below the Wharf Rat, a cigarette burning down to it’s last quarter inch of existence glowed red, slightly illuminating his face with each draw. In the freight company offices in the downstairs part of the building, Michael Cacchione and Big John Bracci were conducting Family business. Joe knew them well. He had arranged for both of their escapes from the Zig.

Joe tossed the filter to the ground and stepped on it. Then he pulled the half-empty pack from the pocket of his uniform shirt and lit another one. Sally would be getting off work in another half-hour. He would use the time to think.

Who was she? Tall, dark, and ungodly beautiful, the young woman had stopped him as he walking home after falling asleep on the city bus. She knew his name, although that was prominently displayed on his ID tag. Still, he had never fallen asleep on the bus before. Maybe she was one of those mind-controllers.

Or maybe he had fallen asleep after pulling two shifts in the guard towers at the Zig.

Either way, after tonight, he wouldn’t have to worry about the mysterious woman or the guard job.

He was going to skip town. The woman, whoever she was, had spooked him.

She had stopped him just as he was entering the tunnel to King’s Row in Galaxy.

“You are Joe Reed?” (How’d she know his name? Psychic, or just sharp-eyed?) “I think we have an acquaintance in common, perhaps.” Her voice was as smooth and soft as silk on satin.

“Oh, really? You don’t look like the kinda girl that would hang out with prison guards.” But he had found himself hoping she was.

“I think you know Roy?”

“Roy? Roy who?”

“Roy Kirby – Heroid.”

“Oh. That Roy. Yeah, nice fella, that one. I know him. But he quit coming around.”

He had hoped she’d drop the subject, but when she spoke, he couldn’t help but wish she would keep speaking.

“Did he?” she had persisted, “Any reason?”

“He used to pull duty at the Zig. He’d volunteer to man a guard tower. Maybe he got tired of working for free.” Joe grinned, “Of course, not much money in it when you do it for a living either.”

The beautiful woman didn’t grin back. “I doubt that he would stop coming by simply because of money. That does not sound like him.”

Joe shrugged. “I don’t know why then. But he's a big boy. He can come and go where he wants. I'm not his keeper.”

If his last remark had ruffled the woman’s feathers, she didn’t show it.

“I had heard that there was something that occured near the Zig...would you know anything about that?”

“Alot of things happen near the Zig,” he said as he wondered if the slight nod the woman gave was in agreement or condescension. “It's a hotbed of activity. It's all we can do to keep the prisoners inside the walls.”

“Nothing that Heroid was involved in in any way though?”

Joe put his finger against his nose and tried to look like he was really having to think about an answer. “No. Not that I can remember.”

He would have to find out who this babe was. She was asking all the wrong questions.

“I had heard about a sniper shooting....I thought that you might have recalled it.”

Joe had already figured she knew. How much she knew, he didn’t know. But he knew she knew. What he would do about it, he didn’t know.

He had gotten way from her as quickly as he could, but failing to hail a taxi, he had to hoof it into the tunnel. He was surprised as hell when some Hellions mugged him before he reached the other end.

He came to in an ambulance, and when it arrived at the emergency room, he had refused treatment. He had a lot to do and couldn’t get it done while laid up in the hospital. So he signed a waiver and hurried out the door. He didn’t live so far from here.

He was surprised as hell again when the beautiful young woman had greeted him when he went out the emergency room exit.

He looked closely at her. She had to be a cape.

“Need an escort home?” she had asked.

‘Er, yeah,” was his reply. But he had no intention of letting her know where he lived. “Really, if you could just get me to the train and maybe loan me enough to pay the fare…?”

The young woman had walked with him across Freedom Plaza to the Yellow Line, sometimes chatting and sometimes silent. He was certain she was going to ask him outright, “Did you kill Roy?” He worried that if she did, he might tell her anything she wanted to know.

At the Yellow Line she had opened her wallet – Joe’s eyes bugged at the wealth of the contents – gave him train fair and a little more, and told him goodbye.

He turned to thank her, but Shae Firewarder was gone.

“Yep. Cape.”

Joe had immediately hit the station’s payphone.

“Hello? It’s Joe Reed. Look… I gotta know something. Some dame was following me home from work. I think she was a cape. Tall... fashion model type... no... more like... bikini model type. Yeah.”

“So? What’s that got to do with me?”

“I need to know who she is. She was asking about that guy you had me take out...”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, an’ I don’t care.”

Joe was desperate. “You know the one... You've had me take out two. This was the second one...”

“Look. You better pray ta Jesus an’ his momma that that line you’re on ain’t tapped. I never ordered no second… job.”

“What are you talking about? You sent that guy and he gave me the order...”

“What guy?”

“He was on Superdyne or something. Big guy..."

"Superdyne? Why would you think one of my guys was on Superdyne?"

"How do I know he was on Superdyne? He was green!”

“Don’t know who you’re talkin’ about an’ like I said I didn’t order no second job.”

“What do you mean you don't know about the second hit?”

“Would you quit usin’ that word? I ain’t never ordered no hit on nobody.”

“Oh... oh god. You're still going to back me up on this, right?”

Click!

"Hello? Hello!?!"

A quick trip to the apartment to retrieve his unregistered gun, a credit card, and a few other items, and Joe bee lined to the Wharf Rat. Sally worked as a waitress here.

Sally. Met in Vegas two years ago. Married in Vegas two years ago. She was still showgirl good-looking.

Joe snuffed out the second cigarette and looked at his watch. Time for a third one before Sally came out. He lit it and puffed a long smokey breath.

When he closed his eyes, he could still see the bullet penetrating Roy’s skull. The shot was clean, as promised, in through the back and out through the eye socket. Then the big man fell. It had unnerved him to see Roy’s dead body suddenly change into a robot. He had watched the next day as the city came out with a crane to hoist it up and carry it away.

All of which made him a little sad. He had kinda liked Roy. Unfortunately, so did Sally. The seven-foot tall muscle bound man who had to be a superhero because he was just so…

Roy had frequented the bar often. The much younger wife was infatuated with him.

When the big green guy showed up and told Joe to kill Roy Kirby, Joe didn’t ask any questions. Opportunity was opportunity. You don’t look it in the mouth.

Sally would be down soon. She would either leave the city with him, or she would stay in Paragon. Simple choice.

Joe pulled his gun from the back of his belt. If Sally stayed in Paragon City, it would be because she was buried there.

((This post was written with the invaluable help of Shae Firewarder. Thanks Shae! ))

Experts say you don’t dream smells, but as Shae Firewarder entered the dreamscape the odors of hotdogs, popcorn, roasted peanuts, and warm beer met her. She stood in the center of a diamond of soft green grass. Men in white, pinstriped uniforms stood around the field, shifting from foot to foot as if anticipation of the need to move quickly.

“Heads up.”

The voice came from behind her, and her first instinct was to turn toward it. Combat experience guided her movements though, so she ducked and pivoted to the left. A small white sphere whizzed past, just above her her head. She could feel the wind off of it tickle at her hair.

The sphere sailed it’s fifty-something feet and hit it’s mark with a loud pop. Its target was a thick glove worn by a young man in a mask who squatted behind another man who held a long club. Behind them stood a portly man dressed in black, holding a padded shield.

“Steeeriiike!” shouted the portly man in the back.

“Shae, you’re interfering with the game.”

This time Shae turned toward the voice. The Bringer of Dreams stood just to the right of second base, inside the basepath, wearing a uniform that matched that of the portly man behind the catcher. She couldn’t help herself, she had to ask…

“Whose?”

The Bringer of Dreams smiled slightly and gestured to the batter.

“He’s hit four homeruns already. I think that’s enough.”

Shae took a few steps toward third base.

The pitcher went into his stretch and launched the ball toward the plate. The catcher moved his mitt slightly in, toward the batter. The batter came around, swinging with all his might.

The ball met the bat far below the “sweet spot” and shattered it into two wickedly pointed pieces. One piece remained in the batter’s hand while he looked at it incredulously. The other piece tumbled wildly through the air, flying between third and short.

Shae leapt straight up as the splintered projectile grazed her thigh and stuck into the ground behind her.

“Steeeriiike two!”

She turned and glared at the Bringer of Dreams, then remembered who he was, who she was, and why she was here.

“Sorry,” said the Dream Lord, “that was completely unintentional. Now, I’m going to call a time out before someone gets injured.”

Suddenly, the only two figures in the ballpark still moving were the Bringer of Dreams and the djinni. Shae approached him, bowing as she came close.

“You wish to speak to me? Or do you merely wish to visit this man’s dream? He used to be quite a player, you see. He dreamed of the Hall of Fame. Bad habits and bad attitudes though. Now he writes books just dreams of playing again. These mortals place so much importance on their entertainments.”

“I would speak to you concerning a friend… a mortal friend.”

“Ah. Well, we shall finish up here and then go somewhere more appropriate for our conversation.

“Play ball!”

The batter looked incredulously at the stake he held in his hand until a young man ran up and gave him a new bat. The new bat was not black wood like the previous one. It was pinkish and made of foam rubber.

“Now let’s see him hit another homerun.”

The pitcher threw the ball hard. The batter swung his soft bat. Contact.

The power with which the ball was hit surprised Shae. She watched the ball bounce off of the foam-rubber bat and climb high into the air sailing way above her head and heading for the outfield fence. Then, its momentum died and it fell into the waiting glove of an outfielder, just a few feet short of a homerun.

“That will give him something to ponder upon awakening. Now, our talk.”

Shae blinked and found herself standing in a Japanese garden. The Bringer of Dreams had changed out of his black umpire’s uniform and was now wearing a robe of silver and black silk.

“Ah. This is much more fitting,” he said, taking a spot on a stone bench motioning for Shae to sit down beside him.

She did.

“Now, ask me what you will, and I will answer as best as I may.”

Shae took a deep breath, settled her nerves and began…

"Heroid....You are involved in his trials once more. What is he supposed to be that the Bringer of Dreams should concern yourself so closely with him?"

“Benroy? Who knows what he is supposed to be. I really wish he would make up his mind. Is he a man? Is he a machine? My dealings with him would be easier if would stay one or the other. And that gem of his… So hard to convince it to co-operate. I had to tell it everything.”

Shae stifled a sigh. He did not answer her question. Not directly anyway.

"The Gem entity seems to think Roy is not smart enough to be responsible for the safety of his self, or of itself. However, I see the Gem making errors as well out of ignorance or arrogance. Roy has allies but the Gem does not seem to understand that they can be help or threat to itself. It is putting itself and possibly others in danger, but it does not seem to realize it. If there is a valuable goal here, it seems that they might have better odds working together rather than with the gem taking over Roy and bottling him up, or keeping him in the dark...?"

“Allies and friends are two different things. It may come to the point where Benroy will need allies against his friends. Which one will you be, Shae Firewarder?”

He did not give her time to answer, but continued, “He is not the brightest of mortals. Yet he has a good heart and a strong will. The Gem is processing information at an amazing pace, don’t you think? Consider, weeks ago it did not even know how to communicate with other sentient beings. Do you not see an advantage to combining the intellect of the Gem with the character of the human? Patience, patience.”

Again, his answers only added more questions. Her third question addressed her most pressing concern.

"The other entity, the third one...Tell me why I should not work to have that dark one destroyed?"

The Bringer of Dreams turned toward her. His eyes were dark and empty.

“Work as you think you must. But know this. The Lords of Order and the Lords of Chaos have ordained that this dark one will be born of the soul of this human.” He leaned in so that their eyes were only inches apart. “Align yourself against them, and you risk your own destruction.”

The Dream Lord leaned back, smiled slightly, and then stood. He turned and began walking away.

“You can see yourself out, Shae Firewarder. Have a nice day.”

((Anybody who wants to post any unusual encounter they've had with Roy recently, feel free. Even Kricky ... but at her own risk. Horned Viper was invisible. ))

Roy became aware of the people around him.

"Hiya," he said.

Parz and Nick looked at him strangely.

"Uh... Did I do it again?"

Nick Kinsolving nodded his head.

"What I done ta Spectral Weaver wuz wrong wuzn't it?"

Nick nodded again.

"I gotta find 'im an' get it back outta him don't I?"

Nick looked at Roy. There was hurt and frustration showing there. Roy didn't know exactly why, but he knew he had been the source of the problem.

"Yes. You've got to help him. You can't just leave him with this."

Roy nodded.

Suddenly, somehow Roy knew it was a different day. Nick was there, and Parz, but so were Maggie, Shae, Spectral Weaver, and several others.

Spectral Weaver was sitting on the ground, his body shaking, fighting the heaving in his gut.

This too, Roy knew was his fault. Everybody was looking at him.

Other than that, Roy had no idea what the hell was going on.

Gemini Park is the place ta go if ya wanna meet a stranger. On this partic’lar day there wuzn’t anybody in th’ park stranger’n Spectral Weaver. Oh, an’ say hello ta his little friend, Mishka. It’s a puppet that lives on his hand.

I struck up a conversation with th’ guy, not knowin’ he wuz like a mind-whatever. He seemed ta know what he wuz about – ‘r maybe it wuz th’ puppet…

Anyways, we talked a bit an’ he’d heard about my recent troubles an’ thought he could help me out. Like an exercism ‘r somethin’. I figgered, What th’ hell? Y’know?

So I let ‘im like… take a look at th’ jewel. Next thing ya know he wuz all quiet an’ starin’ funny an’ makin’ hand gestures an’ stuff.

Me? I just stood still an’ let ‘im do his thing.

So after a while, my robot knees went limp an’ felt like I had ta sit down fer a while. About that time he fell down too. We sat there fer a while not makin’ no sounds until I felt a rush o’ energy.

When I stood up, I felt diff’rent. I knew he took somethin’ outta me. It wuz like my soul wuz lighter ‘r somethin’. Whatever he done, I figgered it must’ve worked.

Him, on th’ other hand…

Spectral Weaver wuzn't hardly breathin' an' when he did start breathin' again, he started pukin'. Then all of a sudden he went runnin’ off like a madman. Shamrock II an’ Wild Shrike took off after ‘im an’ I wuzn’t far behind. When Wild Shrike grabbed hold o’ him on a nearby rooftop, he went ta talkin’ crazy an’ that puppet kept tellin’ us ta wonk ‘im a good one on th’ head.

Well, when ya give Sham a chance ta punch somebody’s lights out, well… She’ll take ya up on it in a heartbeat. So she did. She punched his lights out.

That seemed ta do th’ trick. It wuz like he slept things off fer a few minutes, then he wuz calmed back down.

We went back ta th’ park fer a while so I could make sure he wuz all right an’ he seemed t’ be… ‘r at least he wuz as alright as he usu’ly gets. Anyways, Sham an’ Shrike took off an' Spectral Weaver – with Mishka – left pretty soon after.

Man. I hadn’t felt that good in a long time. Since before I… my… human self took that bullet.

So I just struck up a conversation with Vince – Baron Vladimire – an’ Nick Kinsolvin’ like I would on any normal day in Gemini Park. A nice normal conversation. Talkin’ about all sorts o’ stuff. Like they talked about their kids’ superpowers an’ they talked about daisies growin’ on Vince’s bald head. Normal stuff.

Then I noticed they wuz lookin’ at me funny.

Th’ jewel-ennity had come out again. It wuz talkin’ weird an’ usin’ twenty-dollar words I don’t even pretend ta know.

It wuz still in me.

Which begs th’ question…

If Spectral Weaver didn’t exercise th’ jewel-ennity outta me… what did he get?

Roy was desperate.

The battle within him had raged for days, his own personality being sublimated by the intelligence within his power jewel. It was a battle he had lost.

He was no longer in control of his body – the robot body. The jewel had pushed his spirit so far down into the darkness that he was afraid he would never find his way out. The jewel was powerful – too powerful for him to fight it.

In the darkness, drifting further from his senses and sensors, he searched for an anchor to cling to.

Months ago, in a similar moment, when he knew he was about to die, he had reached out with the last of his strength of will. His fading mind had gone beyond the physical boundaries of the HEROID body. All over the city, friends and strangers heard his psychic cry for help, and they responded.

Now, Roy reached out again. His spirit anchored onto something within him. Something powerful. Something dark. Something linked to his very soul.

The world would be crushed under his feet. Mortal women would weep at the mention of his name. The heroes of Paragon City would be mere toys…

Roy pushed against the darkness. If he succumbed now, he might not ever be in control again. The darkness covered his spirit like murky waters, and he struggled not to drown in it.

He could hear his voice. He could hear another’s voice. His voice was threatening, hateful. The other voice was...

He struggled harder and suddenly, he was seeing through his own optic sensors. He was standing in the King’s Row exit to Galaxy. Sasha -- Soviet Shadow -- was standing before him, her expression a mixture of fear and concern.

“Run!” he shouted to her. “Run!”

She ran.

Friends would tell him later the things he said to her.

The jewel-entity had to be stopped. If it regained control… He couldn’t live with the thought. He needed help.

Shae Firewarder had already done so much for him. Now he would have to ask her for more.

The minutes that passed as he traveled from the Row to Founder’s Falls seemed like an eternity. The jewel-entity kept trying to come back up like a bad meal. He hoped Shae would be home.

The rooftops of Founder’s Falls sped by beneath him. He took care of where he landed on his leaps. Some of these buildings would be able to stand his weight crashing down on them. He could wind up going through a roof and then several floors before he stopped.

Shae’s apartment building was within sight. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Then he went crashing through a rooftop. The sound of wood splintering and people screaming filled his audio receptors. One floor. Two floors. Three. He stopped counting before he stopped falling, and when he stopped, he was lying in the center of a HEROID-shaped pothole in the concrete floor in the building’s basement.

Slowly, he stood. His legs were working again, though he knew for sure that they had ceased doing so only moments before.

And he knew why.

The jewel-entity might be pushed down, not in control, but in it’s desperation, it had made very clear to him one thing. It wouldn’t let him seek help from anyone he/it knew…

((bump))

Tommy No-gun had just caught his big break. That morning a tower guard had contacted him and told him the route that would get him out of the Zig, and this afternoon he had followed up on the information.

Seems that the Family took care of its own.

Tommy stepped out into the street. He would have to find an unwary pedestrian and steal some clothes, or his freedom would be shortlived.

He stayed close to the fence, and kept an eye on the towers. According to the guard that had helped him, the guard towers on this side of the prison would be unmanned today, but still he looked for any sign of movement up there.

Across the street, an empty warehouse beckoned.

Tommy ran for it.

He threw open the door and slammed it behind him as he jumped inside.

He wished he hadn't.

Just inside the warehouse door, an entire squad of Crey security agents were sprawled on the floor. Someone or something had relieved them of various limbs, and at least in one case, a head.

Tommy opened the door and ran back across the street screaming.

From an unmanned guard tower, a seven-foot tall green giant glared down.

“Spend alot o' time here...”

HEROID looked from the southwestern corner guard tower down to the sidewalk across the street from the Zig. His optic sensors zoomed in on the blood-stains and the crack from out of which he had dug the bullet.

The trajectory would be about right.

“They ain't got enough guards t' man all th' towers like they oughta. I like ta help ‘em out when I can.”

Shae Firewarder listened as she “felt” around the guard tower. She nodded at HEROID’s words and began to murmer a few words in djinni.

“Gotta good friend who works as a guard here...”

Shae Firewarder regarded him for a second, then began to murmer again as she visited each corner of the tower.

“Name o' Joe Reed.”

The djinni stopped and was silent for a moment. She looked at HEROID, then said, “Ah?”

The look she was giving him made him feel uneasy.

“What does Joe Reed do here?”

“Uh…” HEROID wondered why she became so interested in Joe. “He's over th' tower guards.”

“Supervisor?”

“Yeah, like th’ foreman o’ th’ crew. He felt really bad about what happened t’me.”

Shae continued to look at him.

“He said nobody wuz assigned t’ this tower the night I… got… killed.”

He wondered if the look she was giving him was trying to tell him he was…

Stupid.

That was the word Vesperi used earlier that night in Gemini Park. It hadn’t been Vesperi’s opinion of him, but rather it was the opinion of the jewel that was imbedded in HEROID’s chest. The jewel, it seemed, had begun to develop its own opinions.

“There's something else vying for control...” Shae had said after an assessment of HEROID’s personal auras.

She called Vesperi in for a consultation.

Ves did a probe of his own. “It’s the jewel,” he concluded.

“Nah,” HEROID protested, “it’s just a power source.”

“Nope,” explained Vesperi, “it thinks. And it thinks you’re…”

Stupid.

He should have told Shae all about the dream instead of just part of it. He told her the part where the being he knew as the Bringer of Dreams sat in a void, holding the emerald jewel from HEROID’s chest in his hands. The Bringer of Dreams spoke to the gem in a strange language. What he said to it, HEROID didn’t understand, and had a feeling that he wasn’t supposed to.

In the dream he was powerless, immobile, so all he could do is watch for hours as the godlike entity conversed with his power source.

At length, the Bringer of Dreams noticed his presence and turned to him saying, “We need to get you out of the way…”

That was as far as he had told Shae. He left out the next thing the Bringer of Dreams said.

We need to get you out of the way. You are far too weak to be the Destroyer.

Now, in the guard tower, Shae was finishing her investigation.

“Don’t worry, Roy,” she said. “We will find the gunman.”

“Thanks, Shae.”

As always, HEROID was somewhat in awe of her. She was unearthly beautiful, and her eyes always seemed to see more than just the world around her. It was like she could see through windows that no one else would even know were there.

He looked into those eyes and saw that she did not think him stupid, but he could see that she was keeping something from him.

She yawned and stretched and for a moment he forgot about every woman he had ever seen before. Then that moment passed and she was his friend Shae again.

“Well, I think I’ll call it a night,” she said as he adjusted his optic sensors.

“Thanks, Shae. I mean it.”

“Oh, no worries. You’re a friend.”

With that she was gone.

HEROID stood in the guard tower for a moment, listening to the sounds of the Brickstown night. It was nearly one in the morning. He turned to leave.

Suddenly the sun was glaring off of his titanium head and his internal clock was registering seven-fifty-five a.m.

Oh geez, he thought, it’s happened again… I shoulda told ‘er about that too.

Stupid.

“What was it like? Can you describe the experience for me?”

HEROID sat on a brown leather sofa in an office of a man he’d never met before, and thought about the day he died – again.

There had been pain, and a sudden realization.

Then there had been the light. The light was what he wanted, what he had wanted for so long, but had been unable to attain. Peace. There were people in the light, calling to him, cheering him on. He reached for them and the light pulled him to it. He could feel himself bathed in it, becoming part of it.

Then the light began receding. He stretched to touch it, but it was going away. Those who had called to him turned their backs and disappeared into the brightness.

Roy looked down and saw dark green tendrils wrapped around his ankles, shackling him to his body – his robot body.

“Well, y’know, doc,” HEROID said with his blank face betraying nothing, “it wuz just like goin’ t’ sleep an’ wakin’ up. Nothin’ in b’tween.”

Dr. Manlo leaned back in his chair, formed a steeple with his fingertips and held them up level with his nose.

“If you’re not going to open up to me then how am I going to help you, Mr. Kirby.”

HEROID looked away.

“Dr. Wisteria warned me you could be a tough nut to crack – so to speak.” Dr. Manlo said, laying aside his pencil and pad after scribbling a note or two. “I have some talent as a psychic, would you mind if I tried a psychic connection?”

“Knock yerself out, Doc.”

Dr. Manlo closed his eyes. He lifted his hands towards HEROID, and began a low, melodic hum.

“Claire De Lune?”

Dr. Manlo opened his eyes, “It helps me focus. Now, I need quiet.” He closed his eyes again.

“Sure thing, Doc.”

“Thankyou. Now, quiet.”

“Sure thing.”

When Dr. Manlo opened his eyes again, HEROID could tell the man was getting aggravated.

“This is going nowhere, Mr. Kirby. Perhaps you’d like to see another parapsychiatrist.”

HEROID sighed. “Look, Doc, I don’t let just anybody poke around in my mind. I’m sorry. I… I gotta talk t’ somebody. I mean it’s been days an’ I ain’t been able t’ tell nobody what all I... I mean they ain’t got time t’ lissen t’ my hard-luck stories…”

“Which means that you don’t want to tell them because you think it will change the way they perceive you.”

HEROID looked away.

“You said something about a dream you had a couple of weeks before the… shooting.”

“Ya know anything about magical big-wig mucky-mucks?”

“That would be Dr. Wisteria’s field of expertise. I am more of a clinical parapsychiatrist. I restrict my opinions and treatments to scientifically proven methods.”

“Oh.” HEROID stood and walked to the door. “Yer right, Doc. I guess I oughta talk t’ somebody else.”

Dr. Manlo stood, and started to speak, but HEROID was already closing the door behind him.

“An’ send th’ bill t’ th’ Other Guys.”

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
HEROID is that rarest of origins... Tech/Magic.


[/ QUOTE ]

((Ha! I knew Kelp wasn't the only one with that origin around... now we just need to start a petition to get it added to the game... or... something... >_&gt)

[/ QUOTE ]

((Modron X is also Tech/Magic. That makes three on the list.))

[/ QUOTE ]

((I think we need to have the Tech/Magic origin made official.

And I think nested quotes should be a new pool power.))

The city impound lot was full of old cars, confiscated crates, defunct battle armor, and rats. A place where items that no one knew what to do with were dumped and forgotten. Other than for the cars, claims were few and far between. The good guys tended to keep up with their equipment, but the bad guys were a bit hesitant when it came to claiming a battle-suit that had been used in a robbery.

Roy came back online under shed, behind a stack of crates. To the city’s credit, they had not placed him in the mud with the impounded cars, and his name was written on his chest in chalk. It would later be explained to him that, as soon as they realized what and who he was, they had started arranging for the Other Guys to come pick up their teammate.

It would also be explained to him that, since he wasn’t dead the investigation into his shooting would have to take a low priority. The police just had their hands full right now. Seems that there was some sort of major battle involving members of the KGB Special Section 8, members of Freedom Factor, and several other big-name superheroes.

Maggie… Sasha…

He’d let them down. For some gal whose name he never knew.

Well, that’ll be a place t’ start he thought. I’ll see if I can find out who she wuz – after I find out if Sasha an’ Maggie ‘re all right…

He concentrated for a moment, waited for the change back to human form.

It didn’t happen.

He tried again. Nothing.

Then he remembered the dream…

((HEROID is that rarest of origins... Tech/Magic.

A while back Maggie, Shae, and Purple Nebula helped him gain the ability to assume human form. It was the human form that took the bullet.

In the robot form, the circuit that contains his soul is well-protected in the torso. That's the only way to design a big, sentient robot tanker. ))

Days ago…

Roy knew he really should be doing something.

Maggie and Sasha were on the lam with Comrade Smersh and who knew how many others. He worried for his friends. And Smersh too. He worried for the city. So much had happened in the past several days that was so mind-boggling. Would Paragon City still trust its heroes after all that had happened with the KGB Special Section 8? And Septa, what would be done with him?

Roy knew he really should be doing something besides standing on a street corner in Brickstown, waiting to meet a woman he barely knew.

The gal worked at Icon. She was new, but persuasive.

“I know what you need,” she had said.

“Whaddaya mean?” He returned the friendly smile she had flashed at him.

“With all this spy-stuff going on, a man your size needs a way to sneak in under the radar.”

A few months ago, before he gained the ability to switch forms, his only clothing option was a fresh paintjob on his robot body. Now, he needed street clothes, battle suits, and special boots – unless he wanted to stay in his robot form all the time. He was strong in his human form, but only the robot body had invulnerability.

She took a measuring tape and spread it across his chest, moving her hands apart slowly and smiling up at him as her fingertips swept over the hard curves of his muscles.

“Oh my,” she said. Then she measured his inseam.

He watched her hips sway as she walked across the store and disappeared into the back. She returned in seconds with a dark outfit folded in her arms.

“This will serve you better right now. It’s made to hide you. You can blend into shadows. And,” she said as she unfolded the black uniform, and held it up against his body, “it emits a dark cloud to help hide you and make you harder to hit.”

For some reason it sounded right when this gal said it.

“I’ll take it.”

“Shall I box it up for you?”

“Nah, I’ll hit th’ dressin’ room an’ wear it outta here. I’ll leave my molecular bondage suit here. I needs dry-cleanin’.”

“Sure thing, big man,” she said, then, “Umm…”

“What?”

“I know you’ve been seeing that Irish superhero…”

Roy frowned a little then explained, “That wuz all rumer. We wuzn’t never a couple. Just friends.”

The young woman brightened.

“Then why don’t we meet somewhere for a drink?”

Roy was taken aback. She was a good bit younger than him. And she was a civilian. For a superhero, dating a civilian brought its own set of complications.

Still, what harm could a drink or two do? If they had nothing in common, they would simply have their drink and say goodnight. If they hit it off…

Roy knew he really should be doing something.

The gal – he never even thought to ask her name – was twenty minutes late.

Why she wanted to meet at a bar in Brickstown, within view of the Zig…

He thought about Maggie. He thought about Sasha. He hoped they were all right. He…

I oughtta be out there with ‘em…

Witnesses would say they heard the gunshot. Some would say they saw a flash from the guard tower of the Zig. Still others would talk about how the bullet exited through his left eye…

All would talk about how the big man went down hard, then changed into a robot.

The city had to get a crane to move the 900 pound machine off of the sidewalk.

((Wow! Thanks for posting this. Looks like you all had a great time with this. This is the part of the game that is soooo cool. It's like being a little kid again where any empty spot in the yard could turn into a fort or a castle. Any stick could be a six-shooter or a sword. We lose so much imagination as adults. It's nice to have found a place to reclaim it. Kudos to you all! Fine perfomances!))

Hey, this is HEROID. I gotta bone t' pick with Doc Vahz...

Now, I don't blame ya fer buyin' my body from Crey... It wuz a fine body, if I do say so myself.

Nah, the problem I got with you pal, is yer pukin' zombies...

Do ya know how many times I've had t' get a new paint job because I didn't make it t' th' carwash in time? That crap eats right through the clear coat. I swear, I'm gonna start sendin' ya th' bill if ya don't do somethin'.

An' one more thing...

If I ever hear one more o' yer mortificaters say it's th' Paragon Pizza that's makin' em puke...