Sorry this took so long; I hope that, while I didn't really introduce any of the submitted characters this time, you all approve of the writing style and get an idea of how well you'll be represented. Updates will be sporadic, I'm afraid, as I've been bogged down in work.
Chapter 1: Business as Unusual.
With gang violence on the rise, murder and robbery ever more common in our city, dont you wish there was someone you can trust with your life, health, theft, fire, and auto insurance?
The Highlife Hero Squads are ready around the clock to take care of your insurance related needs; and because they help out of the greatness of their hearts, we can pass the savings on to you!
Wouldnt you rather be living the Highlife?
Eric Unterwald watched the new television spot impassively. He knew it was trash, but he had no power to change the advertisement campaign. Hed do his job just the same as he had since the Rikti invasion. His clients depended on it.
The phones at the office rarely stopped ringing after the Rikti War; thousands of claims of theft, fire, property destruction, automobile accidents, murders and injury kept the staff of the Highlife Insurance Company (Paragon City Branch) busy all day, every day.
One would think that an insurance company in Paragon was a foolhardy venture. If it hadnt been for Highlifes ability to adapt, that would be true.
After the war, Highlife had been forced to raise rates (and lower the cap on claims) on everything but car and health insurance, because the populace tended to be careful drivers and seemed to be getting quite a bit of exercise as they ran from any one of the numerous villain groups that suddenly appeared in Paragons streets. Robbery and disaster-related claims had skyrocketed, requiring a solution that kept the insurance payments inexpensive enough to attract customers and to avoid paying out money to claimants.
Based on the suggestion of Eric Unterwald, Highlife had added a first-of-its-kind theft recovery service, forming teams of highly-skilled heroes to find criminals and recover the insured items. The system worked well, and the high volume of calls and new accounts had even called for a new corporate headquarters and around the clock staffing and response teams. After all they had endured, the people of Paragon City flocked to the excellent services Highlife provided despite the rather high rates
And for his idea, Mr. Unterwald had been promoted to the head of Claims Adjustment. A distinguished gentleman in his early fifties in a tweed suit and of steel-gray hair on his head and face, Eric had been with Highlife for over 20 years. Hed seen every crisis the city had to offer, and had grown jaded to the constant state of peril. Nothing surprised him, nothing fazed him, and just before he had proposed the hero squad, he had found that nothing really hurt him.
His job security was only increased when he received his hero license, despite his lack of anything resembling offensive talent. When big customers called in with a high-profile claim, he was the one who went out, able to ignore all interference put up by various factions, investigating the claim, and talking to the claimant while thugs beat on him fruitlessly. The criminals would eventually stop because the Highlife Hero Squad would show up soon after he did, giving crooks the fight they were expecting, but against far greater strength than they had anticipated.
Word got around that The Claims Adjuster was not to be messed with by even the most foolhardy elements of the criminal society, because the HHS would likely be showing up within minutes of the Adjusters arrival, and would bring a nice little war with them.
Meanwhile, The Claims Adjuster would rarely react to even the strongest blows, because he could not be bothered to respond when time was money and the claimants well-being a priority. He was, as one Freakshow Tank had said: No fun.
But there were a few criminals that got Eric angry enough to swing. Most of them were thugs familiar with his face, out to make a name by stopping the premier Hero on the Highlife board of directors. On occasion, they managed to abduct his wife or daughter, only to be faced with a very angry man with a high-powered cadre of super-powered beings watching his back. The would-be kidnappers had all been sentenced and jailed, with bail and compensation payments that would keep them permanently out of commission. But there was just one villain who kept coming back. No matter how many times it was jailed, it kept coming back, the arrested villain turning into a pile of kernels in the cell while a budded clone continued the plans
Al Cornpone.
The name first sounded like a prank, a whimsical press name when the first bio-chemical research corporation reported a humanoid ear of corn ransacking their laboratories to steal experimental chemicals and bioengineered seed stocks. The mutant corn wore a snazzy fedora and smoked a cigar similar to those of The Family, and seemed to imitate their mannerisms, posture, and even their speech patterns. But unlike The Family, this grass gangster operated alone, and had no interest in any of the other groups that infested Paragon City. It was a menace, because it always managed to continue even after apprehension, with a record number of 35 duplicates attacking the same bioengineering firm until it finally managed to make off with a powerful batch of fertilizer.
The Claims Adjuster had been at each of the attempts, and had seen the corn man ignore corporate security and the Adjuster as it walked out the door, only to be stopped in the street by the combined forces of the HHS. On the thirtieth attempt, Al Cornpone even waved at The Claims Adjuster as he passed, stopping briefly to exhale a large cloud of acrid tobacco smoke into the Adjusters face. Keep up da good work. It had said, patted him on the shoulder, and walked off. Real professional-like.
It was the first time that The Claims Adjuster had gotten angry at any criminal who hadnt been threatening his family. Erics steel-bound monogrammed briefcase dropped from his hand, hitting the floor with a resounding clank.
I apologize in advance for any damages to the stolen property that may result from my actions and will see that any damaged property is given the compensation cap. The Claims Adjuster had said, forming his will into an oversized driver.
Al Cornpone had turned, appraised the situation, and set down the barrel. Leaning nonchalantly upon it, the corn man tapped the ash from its cigar and produced a long-handled mace from inside its husk. Aw, now dis is a real shame. Youse dont wanna getcha hands dirty, Unterwald, but seems like ya cant take a compliment.
Shut up. Youve been here twenty-nine times before this, what makes you think youll get away with that fertilizer now?
Absolutely nuthin. But Im patient. I got all da time in da world to get dis stuff. Cornpone puffed on the cigar, stepping away from the barrel. If youse gonna use your fists , Ill give ya a sportin chance. That way its all fair, see? it spread its stance, opening itself up for a blow that it couldnt possibly block. Cmon, paste me, Unterwald. See if ya can put me down with one free hit.
This offer was too good to pass up; losing face in front of a client like this was something Eric simply couldnt handle. The swing The Claims Adjuster made at Cornpones face was fast and fierce; though untrained in combat and too busy to visit a gym, something about Erics solidness made his punches devastating, enough to stagger any common thug looking to score a wallet.
But it wasnt enough against a hardened ear of corn. Dried kernels flew out in a cloud and rattled against the metal walls of the research firm, but Al Cornpone remained standing.
My turn, Unterwald. Al said from the remaining half of its face. It then smashed Erics forehead with its mace, a blow that would have liquefied the brainpan of the scientist standing behind The Claims Adjuster. Erics knees buckled slightly from the impact, his glasses broken beyond repair, shards of the lenses falling into his steel-gray eyes; obscuring his vision but unable to penetrate. Looks like we got a problem. Youse supposed ta fall now, but yeesh, youse a tough old bird, right?
You have no idea.... Eric growled in return, brushing the useless glasses from his brow, Just how right you are.
The Claims Adjuster swung at Cornpones mace arm, knocking loose more kernels but unable to disarm the mutant. Cornpone retaliated with a blow to the ribs, striking sparks from the business casual suit as it slid down the fabric without tearing.
When the Highlife Hero Squad arrived, they found Eric Unterwald and Al Cornpone trying to gain control of the mace. While The Claims Adjuster was physically weaker, Cornpone couldnt get the mans fingers to loosen or his arm to bend; as a result, Al Cornpone couldnt use the mace, so hero and villain traded blows with their free arms in a fight reminiscent of a barroom brawl over the use of a pool cue. After a stunned moment of seeing their boss actively fighting a criminal, the Highlife Squad set to work with the efficiency that Eric had selected them for. Blue Bolt, who gained his abilities in an attempt to emulate Synapse, vanished, leaving only a faint blue ribbon as he carried away the barrel that Al Cornpone had been after.
How cute. The kiddies are here. Cornpone noted, nonchalant as it struck The Claims Adjuster in the gut.
Theyre young, but theyve got more than youll ever have, Cornpone. Eric retorted, punching Al Cornpones cigar into its throat.
Youse a gambler? Cornpone asked, not caring that it just swallowed a stogie.
What?
Wanna bet? Al Cornpone tried flashing a magnificent grin at that point, as if it already knew the outcome of whatever gamble it had in mind But it had no kernels left for teeth, so the corn cob just twisted its mouth in a nightmarish contortion.
Cornpone didnt get an answer as the rest of the Highlife team, having evaluated the full situation within the lab, descended on the vegetable gangster and arrested him with extreme prejudice.
Mr. Unterwald. Were sorry about being late. Daryl McClemmons, better known as the Golden Soldier, was the most vocal of Highlife Hero Squad Twelve. He had been an army officer, but wouldnt talk about why he was no longer with the military. In any case, his ability to create plans and command Squad 12 had gotten him the spot of primary contact and leader when the team dealt with Highlife.
No need to apologize, Golden Soldier. Eric replied, pulling shards of glass from his eyes as he watched the inert cob vanish.
Kernels were strewn everywhere, and the researchers were beginning to clean them up, having been convinced by the reassuring voice and mental manipulations of Sanctum that everything was all right. Of course, as this had been the thirtieth time that Al Cornpone had tried taking the same object, panic was overridden by common sense to simply stay out of the way and wait for the Highlife Squad to arrive.
If its not out of line, why were you engaging Cornpone? The Golden Soldier asked, stepping aside as the janitors started in with industrial vacuums (purchased after the seventh attempt, when the janitorial staff complained of the mess Cornpone left) to pick up the kernels.
It gave me a compliment on my professionalism. Eric picked up his briefcase, and started looking for the claimant, who had vanished from the immediate area during the fight.
Oh. What? Even though only one quarter of his face was visible due to the use of hood, eye patch, and cloth veil, the confusion in his voice betrayed the puzzled look that his concealed face bore.
But The Claims Adjuster had walked off, fully committed to getting the proper paperwork filled out and signed.
With little ceremony due to the routine business of dealing with a single villain, there was not much for Squad 12 to accomplish, and they were dismissed in an orderly fashion At least, thats how Daryl would have liked it to be. But he had long since adjusted to the nature of heroism in Paragon City, where lasting teams were few, but individuals willing to form a flash strike force were common, going their separate ways just as soon as they finished the task. Blue Bolt, at least, had the courtesy to wave as he walked away with Sanctum. Trying to get her to go to a movie again, Daryl noticed. Blue Bolts speed and desire to make a good impression had an interesting synergy. When he got nervous, he started flailing for the right words, but because he could talk preternaturally quickly, all the little starts and reconsidered sentences that normal people could avoid gushed out. He also sounded like a bee right in your ear. So, while he said all the wrong things, very few people would be able to understand him. Luckily, Sanctum was patient and helped him relax to the point where coherent and correct-frequency statements were possible.
The Golden Soldier waited at ease, ignoring the stares and whispered conversations wondering when he would leave. This particular research firm had no particular criminal contacts, but they did seem uneasy about Al Cornpone. The most vital research areas had been rendered soundproof, even to Daryls perceptive ears, so he could only pick up: Cornpone, ribonucleic, universal, safe, determined, and security.
Unusable information, as he already knew that the corn man was being analyzed by the scientists here and at biotechnology firms across the city.
But it managed to pass the time until Eric Unterwald reappeared, uttering assurances that the hero community at large would be informed of the threat posed by Al Cornpone, and that Highlife would not raise the payments because of the frequency of break-ins. As Eric and his client passed, The Golden Soldier followed, wanting to know more about the compliment answer.
The conversation turned pleasant as the trio neared the door to Kings Row, talking the sterile small talk between two professionals with no common interests. One last handshake and mutual Thank you exchange and Claims Adjuster and Golden Soldier were in the street, watching the streetlights flicker as they warmed up to counter the effects of the setting sun.
Whats the matter, Soldier? Eric asked, loosening the knot of his plain yellow tie. Workdays over. Night shift is starting, and Squads one through eight are covering that.
Yes, Mr. Unterwald, but..
Its after hours. Erics easier Daryl. Eric pulled his keys out of his briefcase and used the remote unlock for his car, a sky-blue coupe parked in front of the building.
Eric, I dont understand about the compliment. Why should you get angry?
After placing the briefcase in the passenger seat and closing the door, Eric Unterwald faced Daryl McClemmons, not a hair out of place after brawling with Cornpone for several minutes. The face of the older man showed no stress, no involuntary twitches, all body language neutral and unreadable. A walking ear of corn said I was being professional. It wouldnt have bothered me if Id left it alone again. Cornpone seemed to appreciate me, Daryl. Appreciate that I dont get in the way, appreciate that Im no threat, appreciate my intent to just get my job done and move on.
The namesake feature of the Golden Soldier, his mainly-gold colored armor and hood, shone in the final rays of the days sunlight, casting irregular yellow stripes all around until the sun vanished, giving rise to the suffused light of dusk through the smoke pouring from Kings Garment Works.
It was an insult, Daryl. Like I was helping him, in front of the client It made me wonder what Ive been doing with my abilities
Daryl rolled down his long-sleeved glove, checking his watch. Do you have time to go get a drink? Theres a great new restaurant and bar here in Kings Row and Id appreciate it if you came along to talk. Itll be my treat.
A long silent moment passed, broken only by distant gunfire and explosions.
Ive already broken ritual once today, so why not? Eric finally said, looking off towards the stacks. There is parking, right? he asked, pulling out his cell phone and peering at the screen.
Well, there should be. Ive never really thought about it.
Eric nodded and smiled as the call connected. Hello, honey. Everythings fine, Ill just be late. No, Im just going out to dinner with a co-worker. Put the casserole in the fridge, Ill have it for lunch tomorrow. Ill be back before ten. Yes, Ill pick up some milk. Supermart? Right. I love you, too.
With a muted beep, Eric turned off the phone and returned it to his breast pocket. Alice cant believe Im not coming home right away. He said, opening the door and sliding into the drivers seat. Hop in. I know youre not a speedster like Blue Bolt, and Ill need directions anyway.
Daryl pulled down his golden hood and olive-green facemask, getting into the passenger seat after Eric moved his briefcase to the back seat. His knees almost in his chest until he moved the seat back.
Sorry, my wifes really the only one to use that seat, and shes not as tall as you are.
I can tell. Were heading to Ladys By the Lake. Ever hear of it?
Eric looked over the seatback as he backed out of the space and then started down the road. Cant say I have. I hope you can tell me a specific address, and not just which rooftops to jump from.
The Golden Soldier laughed. Im not the type to free-run if I can avoid it. I know where it is by the roads.
Ten minutes of driving through The Gish and a wrong turn into Royal Refinery brought the pair to a halt behind a large clockwork construction.
Dont get out. Eric said, putting a hand on the soldiers shoulder. That things not worth the trouble.
The paladin turned, put its hands under the coupe and lifted. Daryl had tried to open the door and jump out, but Erics hand secured him to the seat. Not painful, but immovable.
And despite the paladins strength, it could not lift the car. Its fists couldnt scratch the paint. Its electricity splashed against the hood and arched to the ground without stalling the engine.
What the Daryl thought, his eyes wide as he glanced over at Eric.
Sad, isnt it? That thing can barely move. I wonder why the King builds such things Eric said, his eyes intense, gleaming in the dim glow of the streetlights. Its just a giant puppet. I dont know how anyone thinks its more of a threat than the regular clockwork.
The paladin tried to lift the car again, and ripped its arms from its sockets. With a screech, it ran off into the darkness, plowing through the streetlamps as Eric carefully backed around the limbs and continued.
It was quite a shaken soldier that emerged from the coupe, trying to understand what had happened. But Eric was already out of the car, loosening his necktie. Cajun foods? Interesting.
Uh, yeah. Daryl replied, unable to shake the image of the paladin pulling itself apart when he had seen it flip loaded delivery trucks and crush transformer stations. Were going to be meeting someone, so we wont have to wait for a table.
Sounds good to me, Daryl. Who are we meeting?
My sister.
My Motto: "Debt is merely another Goal."
"Wow Abalest--you manage to start a discussion even when you ain't given a topic" -Ghostman
Abalests on Infinity:
Miss Fulcrum
Dark Soul Golem
Power Drain
Sorry this took so long; I hope that, while I didn't really introduce any of the submitted characters this time, you all approve of the writing style and get an idea of how well you'll be represented. Updates will be sporadic, I'm afraid, as I've been bogged down in work.
Chapter 1: Business as Unusual.
With gang violence on the rise, murder and robbery ever more common in our city, dont you wish there was someone you can trust with your life, health, theft, fire, and auto insurance?
The Highlife Hero Squads are ready around the clock to take care of your insurance related needs; and because they help out of the greatness of their hearts, we can pass the savings on to you!
Wouldnt you rather be living the Highlife?
Eric Unterwald watched the new television spot impassively. He knew it was trash, but he had no power to change the advertisement campaign. Hed do his job just the same as he had since the Rikti invasion. His clients depended on it.
The phones at the office rarely stopped ringing after the Rikti War; thousands of claims of theft, fire, property destruction, automobile accidents, murders and injury kept the staff of the Highlife Insurance Company (Paragon City Branch) busy all day, every day.
One would think that an insurance company in Paragon was a foolhardy venture. If it hadnt been for Highlifes ability to adapt, that would be true.
After the war, Highlife had been forced to raise rates (and lower the cap on claims) on everything but car and health insurance, because the populace tended to be careful drivers and seemed to be getting quite a bit of exercise as they ran from any one of the numerous villain groups that suddenly appeared in Paragons streets. Robbery and disaster-related claims had skyrocketed, requiring a solution that kept the insurance payments inexpensive enough to attract customers and to avoid paying out money to claimants.
Based on the suggestion of Eric Unterwald, Highlife had added a first-of-its-kind theft recovery service, forming teams of highly-skilled heroes to find criminals and recover the insured items. The system worked well, and the high volume of calls and new accounts had even called for a new corporate headquarters and around the clock staffing and response teams. After all they had endured, the people of Paragon City flocked to the excellent services Highlife provided despite the rather high rates
And for his idea, Mr. Unterwald had been promoted to the head of Claims Adjustment. A distinguished gentleman in his early fifties in a tweed suit and of steel-gray hair on his head and face, Eric had been with Highlife for over 20 years. Hed seen every crisis the city had to offer, and had grown jaded to the constant state of peril. Nothing surprised him, nothing fazed him, and just before he had proposed the hero squad, he had found that nothing really hurt him.
His job security was only increased when he received his hero license, despite his lack of anything resembling offensive talent. When big customers called in with a high-profile claim, he was the one who went out, able to ignore all interference put up by various factions, investigating the claim, and talking to the claimant while thugs beat on him fruitlessly. The criminals would eventually stop because the Highlife Hero Squad would show up soon after he did, giving crooks the fight they were expecting, but against far greater strength than they had anticipated.
Word got around that The Claims Adjuster was not to be messed with by even the most foolhardy elements of the criminal society, because the HHS would likely be showing up within minutes of the Adjusters arrival, and would bring a nice little war with them.
Meanwhile, The Claims Adjuster would rarely react to even the strongest blows, because he could not be bothered to respond when time was money and the claimants well-being a priority. He was, as one Freakshow Tank had said: No fun.
But there were a few criminals that got Eric angry enough to swing. Most of them were thugs familiar with his face, out to make a name by stopping the premier Hero on the Highlife board of directors. On occasion, they managed to abduct his wife or daughter, only to be faced with a very angry man with a high-powered cadre of super-powered beings watching his back. The would-be kidnappers had all been sentenced and jailed, with bail and compensation payments that would keep them permanently out of commission. But there was just one villain who kept coming back. No matter how many times it was jailed, it kept coming back, the arrested villain turning into a pile of kernels in the cell while a budded clone continued the plans
Al Cornpone.
The name first sounded like a prank, a whimsical press name when the first bio-chemical research corporation reported a humanoid ear of corn ransacking their laboratories to steal experimental chemicals and bioengineered seed stocks. The mutant corn wore a snazzy fedora and smoked a cigar similar to those of The Family, and seemed to imitate their mannerisms, posture, and even their speech patterns. But unlike The Family, this grass gangster operated alone, and had no interest in any of the other groups that infested Paragon City. It was a menace, because it always managed to continue even after apprehension, with a record number of 35 duplicates attacking the same bioengineering firm until it finally managed to make off with a powerful batch of fertilizer.
The Claims Adjuster had been at each of the attempts, and had seen the corn man ignore corporate security and the Adjuster as it walked out the door, only to be stopped in the street by the combined forces of the HHS. On the thirtieth attempt, Al Cornpone even waved at The Claims Adjuster as he passed, stopping briefly to exhale a large cloud of acrid tobacco smoke into the Adjusters face. Keep up da good work. It had said, patted him on the shoulder, and walked off. Real professional-like.
It was the first time that The Claims Adjuster had gotten angry at any criminal who hadnt been threatening his family. Erics steel-bound monogrammed briefcase dropped from his hand, hitting the floor with a resounding clank.
I apologize in advance for any damages to the stolen property that may result from my actions and will see that any damaged property is given the compensation cap. The Claims Adjuster had said, forming his will into an oversized driver.
Al Cornpone had turned, appraised the situation, and set down the barrel. Leaning nonchalantly upon it, the corn man tapped the ash from its cigar and produced a long-handled mace from inside its husk. Aw, now dis is a real shame. Youse dont wanna getcha hands dirty, Unterwald, but seems like ya cant take a compliment.
Shut up. Youve been here twenty-nine times before this, what makes you think youll get away with that fertilizer now?
Absolutely nuthin. But Im patient. I got all da time in da world to get dis stuff. Cornpone puffed on the cigar, stepping away from the barrel. If youse gonna use your fists , Ill give ya a sportin chance. That way its all fair, see? it spread its stance, opening itself up for a blow that it couldnt possibly block. Cmon, paste me, Unterwald. See if ya can put me down with one free hit.
This offer was too good to pass up; losing face in front of a client like this was something Eric simply couldnt handle. The swing The Claims Adjuster made at Cornpones face was fast and fierce; though untrained in combat and too busy to visit a gym, something about Erics solidness made his punches devastating, enough to stagger any common thug looking to score a wallet.
But it wasnt enough against a hardened ear of corn. Dried kernels flew out in a cloud and rattled against the metal walls of the research firm, but Al Cornpone remained standing.
My turn, Unterwald. Al said from the remaining half of its face. It then smashed Erics forehead with its mace, a blow that would have liquefied the brainpan of the scientist standing behind The Claims Adjuster. Erics knees buckled slightly from the impact, his glasses broken beyond repair, shards of the lenses falling into his steel-gray eyes; obscuring his vision but unable to penetrate. Looks like we got a problem. Youse supposed ta fall now, but yeesh, youse a tough old bird, right?
You have no idea.... Eric growled in return, brushing the useless glasses from his brow, Just how right you are.
The Claims Adjuster swung at Cornpones mace arm, knocking loose more kernels but unable to disarm the mutant. Cornpone retaliated with a blow to the ribs, striking sparks from the business casual suit as it slid down the fabric without tearing.
When the Highlife Hero Squad arrived, they found Eric Unterwald and Al Cornpone trying to gain control of the mace. While The Claims Adjuster was physically weaker, Cornpone couldnt get the mans fingers to loosen or his arm to bend; as a result, Al Cornpone couldnt use the mace, so hero and villain traded blows with their free arms in a fight reminiscent of a barroom brawl over the use of a pool cue. After a stunned moment of seeing their boss actively fighting a criminal, the Highlife Squad set to work with the efficiency that Eric had selected them for. Blue Bolt, who gained his abilities in an attempt to emulate Synapse, vanished, leaving only a faint blue ribbon as he carried away the barrel that Al Cornpone had been after.
How cute. The kiddies are here. Cornpone noted, nonchalant as it struck The Claims Adjuster in the gut.
Theyre young, but theyve got more than youll ever have, Cornpone. Eric retorted, punching Al Cornpones cigar into its throat.
Youse a gambler? Cornpone asked, not caring that it just swallowed a stogie.
What?
Wanna bet? Al Cornpone tried flashing a magnificent grin at that point, as if it already knew the outcome of whatever gamble it had in mind But it had no kernels left for teeth, so the corn cob just twisted its mouth in a nightmarish contortion.
Cornpone didnt get an answer as the rest of the Highlife team, having evaluated the full situation within the lab, descended on the vegetable gangster and arrested him with extreme prejudice.
Mr. Unterwald. Were sorry about being late. Daryl McClemmons, better known as the Golden Soldier, was the most vocal of Highlife Hero Squad Twelve. He had been an army officer, but wouldnt talk about why he was no longer with the military. In any case, his ability to create plans and command Squad 12 had gotten him the spot of primary contact and leader when the team dealt with Highlife.
No need to apologize, Golden Soldier. Eric replied, pulling shards of glass from his eyes as he watched the inert cob vanish.
Kernels were strewn everywhere, and the researchers were beginning to clean them up, having been convinced by the reassuring voice and mental manipulations of Sanctum that everything was all right. Of course, as this had been the thirtieth time that Al Cornpone had tried taking the same object, panic was overridden by common sense to simply stay out of the way and wait for the Highlife Squad to arrive.
If its not out of line, why were you engaging Cornpone? The Golden Soldier asked, stepping aside as the janitors started in with industrial vacuums (purchased after the seventh attempt, when the janitorial staff complained of the mess Cornpone left) to pick up the kernels.
It gave me a compliment on my professionalism. Eric picked up his briefcase, and started looking for the claimant, who had vanished from the immediate area during the fight.
Oh. What? Even though only one quarter of his face was visible due to the use of hood, eye patch, and cloth veil, the confusion in his voice betrayed the puzzled look that his concealed face bore.
But The Claims Adjuster had walked off, fully committed to getting the proper paperwork filled out and signed.
With little ceremony due to the routine business of dealing with a single villain, there was not much for Squad 12 to accomplish, and they were dismissed in an orderly fashion At least, thats how Daryl would have liked it to be. But he had long since adjusted to the nature of heroism in Paragon City, where lasting teams were few, but individuals willing to form a flash strike force were common, going their separate ways just as soon as they finished the task. Blue Bolt, at least, had the courtesy to wave as he walked away with Sanctum. Trying to get her to go to a movie again, Daryl noticed. Blue Bolts speed and desire to make a good impression had an interesting synergy. When he got nervous, he started flailing for the right words, but because he could talk preternaturally quickly, all the little starts and reconsidered sentences that normal people could avoid gushed out. He also sounded like a bee right in your ear. So, while he said all the wrong things, very few people would be able to understand him. Luckily, Sanctum was patient and helped him relax to the point where coherent and correct-frequency statements were possible.
The Golden Soldier waited at ease, ignoring the stares and whispered conversations wondering when he would leave. This particular research firm had no particular criminal contacts, but they did seem uneasy about Al Cornpone. The most vital research areas had been rendered soundproof, even to Daryls perceptive ears, so he could only pick up: Cornpone, ribonucleic, universal, safe, determined, and security.
Unusable information, as he already knew that the corn man was being analyzed by the scientists here and at biotechnology firms across the city.
But it managed to pass the time until Eric Unterwald reappeared, uttering assurances that the hero community at large would be informed of the threat posed by Al Cornpone, and that Highlife would not raise the payments because of the frequency of break-ins. As Eric and his client passed, The Golden Soldier followed, wanting to know more about the compliment answer.
The conversation turned pleasant as the trio neared the door to Kings Row, talking the sterile small talk between two professionals with no common interests. One last handshake and mutual Thank you exchange and Claims Adjuster and Golden Soldier were in the street, watching the streetlights flicker as they warmed up to counter the effects of the setting sun.
Whats the matter, Soldier? Eric asked, loosening the knot of his plain yellow tie. Workdays over. Night shift is starting, and Squads one through eight are covering that.
Yes, Mr. Unterwald, but..
Its after hours. Erics easier Daryl. Eric pulled his keys out of his briefcase and used the remote unlock for his car, a sky-blue coupe parked in front of the building.
Eric, I dont understand about the compliment. Why should you get angry?
After placing the briefcase in the passenger seat and closing the door, Eric Unterwald faced Daryl McClemmons, not a hair out of place after brawling with Cornpone for several minutes. The face of the older man showed no stress, no involuntary twitches, all body language neutral and unreadable. A walking ear of corn said I was being professional. It wouldnt have bothered me if Id left it alone again. Cornpone seemed to appreciate me, Daryl. Appreciate that I dont get in the way, appreciate that Im no threat, appreciate my intent to just get my job done and move on.
The namesake feature of the Golden Soldier, his mainly-gold colored armor and hood, shone in the final rays of the days sunlight, casting irregular yellow stripes all around until the sun vanished, giving rise to the suffused light of dusk through the smoke pouring from Kings Garment Works.
It was an insult, Daryl. Like I was helping him, in front of the client It made me wonder what Ive been doing with my abilities
Daryl rolled down his long-sleeved glove, checking his watch. Do you have time to go get a drink? Theres a great new restaurant and bar here in Kings Row and Id appreciate it if you came along to talk. Itll be my treat.
A long silent moment passed, broken only by distant gunfire and explosions.
Ive already broken ritual once today, so why not? Eric finally said, looking off towards the stacks. There is parking, right? he asked, pulling out his cell phone and peering at the screen.
Well, there should be. Ive never really thought about it.
Eric nodded and smiled as the call connected. Hello, honey. Everythings fine, Ill just be late. No, Im just going out to dinner with a co-worker. Put the casserole in the fridge, Ill have it for lunch tomorrow. Ill be back before ten. Yes, Ill pick up some milk. Supermart? Right. I love you, too.
With a muted beep, Eric turned off the phone and returned it to his breast pocket. Alice cant believe Im not coming home right away. He said, opening the door and sliding into the drivers seat. Hop in. I know youre not a speedster like Blue Bolt, and Ill need directions anyway.
Daryl pulled down his golden hood and olive-green facemask, getting into the passenger seat after Eric moved his briefcase to the back seat. His knees almost in his chest until he moved the seat back.
Sorry, my wifes really the only one to use that seat, and shes not as tall as you are.
I can tell. Were heading to Ladys By the Lake. Ever hear of it?
Eric looked over the seatback as he backed out of the space and then started down the road. Cant say I have. I hope you can tell me a specific address, and not just which rooftops to jump from.
The Golden Soldier laughed. Im not the type to free-run if I can avoid it. I know where it is by the roads.
Ten minutes of driving through The Gish and a wrong turn into Royal Refinery brought the pair to a halt behind a large clockwork construction.
Dont get out. Eric said, putting a hand on the soldiers shoulder. That things not worth the trouble.
The paladin turned, put its hands under the coupe and lifted. Daryl had tried to open the door and jump out, but Erics hand secured him to the seat. Not painful, but immovable.
And despite the paladins strength, it could not lift the car. Its fists couldnt scratch the paint. Its electricity splashed against the hood and arched to the ground without stalling the engine.
What the Daryl thought, his eyes wide as he glanced over at Eric.
Sad, isnt it? That thing can barely move. I wonder why the King builds such things Eric said, his eyes intense, gleaming in the dim glow of the streetlights. Its just a giant puppet. I dont know how anyone thinks its more of a threat than the regular clockwork.
The paladin tried to lift the car again, and ripped its arms from its sockets. With a screech, it ran off into the darkness, plowing through the streetlamps as Eric carefully backed around the limbs and continued.
It was quite a shaken soldier that emerged from the coupe, trying to understand what had happened. But Eric was already out of the car, loosening his necktie. Cajun foods? Interesting.
Uh, yeah. Daryl replied, unable to shake the image of the paladin pulling itself apart when he had seen it flip loaded delivery trucks and crush transformer stations. Were going to be meeting someone, so we wont have to wait for a table.
Sounds good to me, Daryl. Who are we meeting?
My sister.
My Motto: "Debt is merely another Goal."
"Wow Abalest--you manage to start a discussion even when you ain't given a topic" -Ghostman
Abalests on Infinity:
Miss Fulcrum
Dark Soul Golem
Power Drain