Teckniphobia

I learned to fly today. I don’t think it’s something that I should be gloating too much about, since there are plenty of superheroes around Paragon City that know how to fly. In fact, there are so many around that I’ve heard of a real push being made to have air traffic controllers for superhero-based traffic.

How heroes come about these abilities, I guess, varies from one person to the next. One can just know it one day, while another would take years of training, while some people have magic artifacts and whatnot that enable them to throw off gravity, and others just plain forget how gravity works. As for me, it was a little bit different. I fell off of the railing on the Yellow Line station in King’s Row, was aimed directly toward the ground, and missed.

When I say that I missed, what I mean is that I saw a car driving past out of the corner of my eye, jerked my head up to look at it, and stopped as if I had gotten caught on a wire. I looked around and found myself hovering off the ground by a foot or so. I leaned forward, and I moved forward, and when I leaned back, I moved backward. Twisting my waist made me turn from one side to another. I was thrilled for a moment, until a few people walked past and I waved at them.

Before I go on, a word of advice. If you ever find yourself flying, through one means or another, do not, under any circumstance, wave. Because it was only when I waved that I stopped floating in the air, and landed like an incredibly nose-heavy statue. I still have a bit of a red mark where my forehead hit the pavement.

During my patrol through the city, I got better at flying, and it has reached the point that I can shoot lightning and heal in mid-flight. I still move at about the speed of one mile per week, but I’m sure moving faster will come to me with time.

I also met some rather frightening little machine people on the rooftops that seemed to love electricity (and were practically drawn to me. I couldn’t help but laugh as an entire group of them charged me, only for me to float out off of the edge of the rooftop and watch them all fall right off. Almost like Lemmings. The group smashed to pieces about twenty floors down.)

Well, I should be going. I still have a lot to do today, lots of crooks to electrocute and all that jazz.

Maximum The Hero: trying not to fly incredibly slowly into the side of a truck

(The following is based upon actual, in-game events that inspired me to keep something of an in-character journal here.)


I stepped off the bus in Galaxy City just this evening, and boy, was it ever a shock. It seemed as though every inch of the city was littered with crime, crime that even the mightiest of superheroes with the pointiest of spikes on the stiffest of wooden rods could not hope to collect.

It had become obvious during the little training that I did receive that I was not the mightiest, nor the fastest, nor the strongest. In fact, I have only a few skills to my name. I can heal others by simply wishing for them to feel better (or for them to stop complaining about their freakin’ cuts and scrapes, I’m still not sure which), I can shoot lightning out of my hands when I extend my middle and ring fingers in a sort of V shape (which is good for parties), and I must say that I’ve got one hell of a right cross.

I had scarcely been out on my first patrol more then ten minutes when I ran across something truly unexpected. A little man in a blue suit, with white hair and a silly grin on his face, ran past me and right into the maw of a flock of Hellions. I was astonished to find that this man, too, had a rather nice right cross.

Even more-so was the fact that the man went by the name Dubya The Destroyer.

Yes, it shocked me to no end that the President of the United States of America had charged headlong into battle, and (with a bit of assistance from myself,) beat the tar out of a rather tough-looking street gang. He even joined me for a brief encounter with a trio of reanimated corpses shortly afterward, casually asking them between clubbing blows to the sides of their heads…

“Where are the WMDs?”

After the epic battle that lasted all of a minute and a half (though it was probably taped by someone and will be re-edited to be shown in slow motion) the President walked up to me, and with the same grin, reached out to shake my hand.

“Fine work citizen.” He said. “I should award you some kinda medal.”

I looked at him, and with the most puzzled look I could give anyone, at any time, ever, I calmly informed him of the following.

“Mr. President, you’re on fire…”

It took a short time to register, but Mr. President slowly became aware that he was, indeed, on fire.

“Holy nuns on a Sunday, you’re right!” he said, before running in a circle for a moment, waving his arms about wildly in an attempt to put out the flames. As much as I wished that he would get better (or stop acting like a twit), I couldn’t seem to conjure the strength to heal his state of Burning.

Suddenly he stopped, and looked at me once more. It was clear that he was either going to speak, or that he really wanted a taco.

“Well, I’m off to find Barbara.” He reported before taking off. As he ran, kicking up a trail of dust in his wake, I called out after him.

“Have fun!”

I do not doubt that he did.


I heard later that Mr. President had addressed the people from just outside the doorway of the Galaxy City Hall of Justice… or whatever it’s called. I still haven’t gotten all the place names down. It was told to me later that he professed how much he idolized a certain hook-handed fish-whisperer (whose name escapes me), but I was preoccupied at the time speaking with the Back Alley Brawler.

I did hear him state something rather loudly shortly afterward. That being “Oh my god, a flying woman!” in regards to a member of Longbow he spotted overhead.

At that, I decided to cut my patrol short for the day, knowing full well that the city would be safe in the hands of Dubya The Destroyer for at least as long as I rested.

Maximum The Hero: the Brand New Superhero in town.