Land Locked
The image through the glass was blurred by the droplets of condensation forming on the outside of the tank. She was barely able to make out the two uniformed men standing outside, looking in. Their voices were equally garbled by the thick armored glass which separated the bubble of water from the surrounding air, but her sensitive ears were still able to understand them.
"Is it ready for another bomb run yet, corporal?", gargled the elderly voice of a tanned blur with a gray mustasche.
"Not yet, captain. There is some strange feedback in the left manipulator, it might go out of control if we don't correct it.", a somewhat younger and less commandeering voice replied.
"Just make sure it's ready for deployment as soon as we have the target within range. If I have to report another failure, you'll be following the damn thing on the next mission, understood?"
"Understood, sir. It will be ready."
As the captain climbed a steel-runged ladder out of the engineering bay the younger man wiped off the condensation from the glass and looked the dolphin in her big black eye.
"Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit."
The dolphin's left arm was grabbed and pulled up over the surface, instantly torn apart by various tools and almost as quickly re-assembled. Her face didn't reveal any emotions but her song of pain filled the small aquarium. The arms were robotic but they were still connected to her nerve system. The repairs were not a pleasant sensation. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, anything to escape.
It had been so different with the professor. He was gentle and kind, although he could be stern and get angry when she didn't learn quick enough. He would never get angry at her though, only himself, and then he would pour over his notes until he could figure out what he did wrong. Usually he would get back in a good mood if she sang to him. She loved to sing, even in the air, but she didn't think the translation device he had built for her was very accurate, or at least not very poetic. It forced her beautifully rhymed lyrics into clumsy technical jargon and usually made a mess of the subtle poetry she would weave. The professor had promised to improve her translator, some day, but...
Why did she always return to that day when she dreamed about her early life? The day she was taken away. The uniformed men came and they wanted the goods they had paid for. The professor tried to win more time, he said she wasn't ready, that her arms didn't work very well out of the water and her intelligence enhancements still wasn't completely developed. The men didn't care. They said she didn't need to be smart where she was going, and besides the project had taken too long already. They loaded her into a dark waterfilled tube and took her away, and she never saw the professor again. If she could cry she would but now all she could do was to force herself awake, to get away from a whole different kind of pain.
When she woke up she was alone in the bay. Her only friend in this prison, the young corporal, had finished working on her robot arm and left her sleeping. She tried out the limb, flexing it slowly. It didn't hurt much, and seemed to move easier. She scratched her dorsal fin with a rubber-tipped steel claw, then just floated for a while. She was bored. The TV was off, and the room was too dark to read. Her remote control for the TV was just outside the aquarium - the corporal must have forgotten to put it in. No worries, she thought, and nimbly raised herself out of the water on her powerful tail. Before she could fall back, she grabbed the edge of the tank with her mechanical hands, then slowly eased herself down until she could reach the remote with her left claw. It almost slipped out of her grip, but she dropped herself back down in the tank and grabbed it with both hands, before clicking the "on" button.
Besides the disturbing report of yet another ship lost at sea near Striga Island, the news were as usual dealing mostly with Paragon City, where heroes performed miracles every day. It seemed like such a distant place, far from her life in this secret underwater facility. In her sleeping brain she dreamed of herself wearing a cape and flying between the tall buildings, singing to the people songs about hope and peace and life under the sea. The image made her laugh, waking up the part of her brain which was currently sleeping, ending her dream.
It was just as well, because mere seconds later a siren went off and red warning lights started flashing. The corporal rushed into the bay and started pushing buttons on a control panel near her. He was trying to say something but the siren made it impossible to hear. The tank swung around and emptied into a long waterfilled tube. She started swimming along the tube until she came to a lock. From above a package was attached to her back with magnetic clasps and another lock closed behind her. Then the lock before her opened up and the colder water of the ocean depths chilled her to the bone.
She left the base and started circling, keeping quiet as she had been trained to. They didn't want enemy vessels to pick up her sonar. Then she heard a mechanical song in the water, her orders translated into stiff and clumsy dolphin song. They were simple, as always. Locate the vessel, attach the package to the weakest spot, return to base. She started swimming in wider circles, looking for a ship of some kind. Her orders had not included sonar silence, so she quickly filled the ocean with screams and listened for their echoes. They told her that something large rested on the surface not far from her, still in the water. Since she couldn't hear any engines running she was in no hurry when she approached the ship. A few minutes later she had attached the package to the hull just below the waterline and was already on her way back to the base.
[to be continued...]
Winner of Players' Choice Best Villainous Arc 2010: Fear and Loathing on Striga; ID #350522
Devilfish.
Kelp tugged on his metallic blue gloves, staring down into the water. I know youre out here, Lusca. I just want to talk. Well have a nice calm chat, figure out a way to send you home happily, and you wont need to eat any more people, and
Ill stop getting laughed at and mocked for this idea.
The water swished around as per usual, the tide slamming an abandoned and damaged raft against the docks with a constant thud thud thud.
youre not going to surface and talk with me, are you? No reaction. Kelp sighed and floated down out of the air, taking a seat on the edge of the docks. Okay, fine. Ill just wait. I can wait. Ive got plenty of time to wait. No need to rush at all, because Im a patient person who can wait as long as waiting is needed. Im so patient I could even wait to get the chance to wait. Thats how patient I am. Im a waiter. Well, not a waiter, I mean, someone who waits. Bad word choice there.
Nothing happened. Kelp jumped to his feet and pointed at the water. This isnt cool, you know! Making me, the only person who wants to help you, wait like this. Its downright rude, even for a giant man-eating octopus! He tapped his foot. You know what? Im leaving. Im gonna leave now. And theyll all kill you or something. And itll only be your fault, because you didnt let me help you. Bye. Kelp took to the air, flew about fifteen feet, then turned around and swooped down to the waters surface.
Come on, you can tell me why youre eating people! Is there baby Luscas? Are you just hungry? Is there nothing else to eat? Do they make fun of you and call you fat? WHY ARE YOU EATING PEOPLE?! Kelp caught his breath after yelling far too loudly. Nothing happened. He sat on the waters surface, since, well, he can solidify it to be able to sit on it.
Suddenly, the water began to swirl around and the head of a giant octopus slowly arose from the depths of the bay. Kelp stood up and took to the air once more, getting close up to Lusca and patting it on its head. There there. Ill help you get back home safe- He was cut off by a massive explosion that knocked him away, and he looked on as a swarm of heroes rushed towards the aquatic beast.
KILL IT AND WE GET A BADGE! one of them screamed as he leaped, sword first, into the top of Luscas head, stabbing her repeatedly. Fire flew, darkness descended upon her, the swelling forces of gravity and energy held her in place and tore her skin apart. Kelp stared, mouth agape and eyes wide as the group of heroes attacking the poor beast grew larger and larger. They completely destroyed her tentacles, one at a time, and then concentrated on Luscas head. Blood flowed everywhere, staining the water. The creature cried out in pain and agony as its disabled limbs flailed around in a pathetic looking attempt at fighting back against the aggressors.
After taking enough of a beating, Lusca sank deep down into the depths of the bay once more. Her blood slowly stopped floating to the surface, and Kelp sighed sadly, knowing that hed never be able to help it.
One of the heroes approached Kelp and threw a badge to him, one that was blue and had a small octopus symbol on it. Here man, you did great luring that thing out for us! Thanks! You earned every bit of this!
Kelp stared down at the badge in his hand. He tucked it in his belt and walked away. I wasnt trying to lure her out to kill her. I wanted to talk to her and stop this violence. But its pretty damn obvious to me now that most heroes in this city dont even think about taking nonviolent routes when something needs to be done. He stumbled a bit.
whyd they have to name this badge Devilfish, anyway? A name that fits me so well, for an act I didnt even want to participate in. Yeesh.
Animation major and old-school CoHer.
Art, Animation, and Stuff:
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Protector of Innocents
Dalaie nervously glanced around the small conference chamber, seated in a high-backed and uncomfortable chair. He wished that they would get it over with; he was never good at things like this, had even foregone the graduation ceremony after leaving ITT Tech, though everyone assured him that it was a great thing. Crowds unnerved him, but if what he heard was true, only three people were going to be present, and just the names of those three were enough to make him shake.
He thought about why he was here. Just a few days ago, after visiting Ms. Liberty in Atlas Park to get his I.D. updated, she had told him about a presentation ceremony he absolutely had to attend, and if he didnt, he was in danger of losing his Security I.D. permanently. So many people had been through this by now, he hoped that they would have, at least, just sent him the damn thing without all this fanfare. But no. Statesman still handed them out himself, with Ms. Liberty and the Back Alley Brawler. Three of the most experienced heroes in the city in one room, awarding a badge to someone extremely nervous and feeling as if he might piss the pants of his costume.
Finally, he heard the door open and saw Ms. Liberty come out, followed closely by the huge form of the Back Alley Brawler. The door closed without anybody else coming out, and Dalaie thought he might have been shortchanged, that he wasnt going to meet The Statesman after all.
They both came up in front of him, Ms. Liberty on his left, Back Alley Brawler on his right. It was ridiculous seeing them standing side by side - one slender, costumed woman next to a huge man that flaunted his muscles. The last time hed seen a comparison to match this, itd been one of his friends, a seven foot tall monstrosity with his tiny girlfriend, 52, next to him.
You are Dalaie of Atlas Park, is that right? asked Ms. Liberty, drawing Dalaie out of his somewhat stunned reverie.
Y-yes, he answered, trying to keep himself from sounding nervous but failing miserably.
Weve heard some strange stories about you, murmured BAB, thick arms folded over his chest.
Yes, said Ms. Liberty. We have so few heroes like you that weve assigned a special investigative team to try and find out how it happens.
How what happens? Dalaie asked, his nervousness multiplying tenfold, but no quaver was in his voice.
Well, you see, Ms. Liberty started, most Blasters we have seen are enhanced in some way, magically, biochemically, or with the aid of technology. But some seem to develop the powers on their own, like you, without any sort of outside assistance.
So pardon my rudeness, how the hell did it happen? said BAB.
Dalaie stared at the pair of them, then shook his head and laughed tremulously, trying to find some place to begin.
Well
Ive always had an active imagination. Overactive, I guess you could call it, he explained. Ive grown up hearing about the exploits of all of you, and when I was a child, I used to pretend
he broke off, a bit embarrassed, glancing at the Back Alley Brawler.
well, my friends and I would play a game of Superheroes, and Id always pretend I was Back Alley Brawler. My friends all had favorites amongst the registered heroes that were steadily climbing the ranks and acted like them, but almost none of them could beat me at wrestling.
Back Alley Brawler looked amused by this, and Ms. Liberty was actually giggling, no doubt imagining children playing that game on some abandoned rooftop in Atlas Park, or in a recently cleared-out space of turf once occupied by Hellions. Dalaie took some comfort in their reactions, but he knew he was turning scarlet, embarrassed by his own childhood antics.
Anyways, he continued after a minute or so of listening to Ms. Liberty laughing, after I graduated from ITT Tech, I got a nice job working on the online security systems of Paragon City, even got to tinker around with the railway system. But it didnt matter how much I was paid; somehow, I always seemed to get mugged or beaten to an inch of my life, because, I guess, I looked like an easy target. I mean
Dalaie looked down at himself, arms out wide. He had long legs and a body so thin he looked like skin and bones, without much muscle to him. BAB and Ms. Liberty nodded.
The weak-looking ones do always seem to get attacked first, Back Alley Brawler commented casually to Ms. Liberty, who responded, Usually just before getting chucked in jail.
Dalaie smiled at the twos levity. Ms. Liberty was still scrutinizing Dalaie, but through smiling eyes. He felt somewhat self-conscious in his odd choice of costume - a smooth, long-sleeved robe top, Asian style pants with expanded ankles, wraps tied around his feet in place of shoes, and his dark violet-dyed hair. Still, the clothes were comfortable, and his natural hair color hadnt quite suited the costume.
Continue, said BAB at length.
Well, I was walking home one night from the railway station and a group of Hellions accosted me. It was so late at night that I thought there was no way I was escaping a hospital visit this time. But when the first one reached for me, I just
acted. Everything in me just opened up, and I had two of them down, faces seared with energy burns, before the rest knew what was happening. The rest of them I knew - theyd attacked me before, and they were looking scared that one of their favorite punching bags had fought back.
Interesting, muttered Ms. Liberty, then turned to BAB. It seems to be some of the common elements; constant harassment, wild imagination, little to no training and intelligence.
It unlocks something in them, agreed the Back Alley Brawler. Most Naturals cant Blast, he added to Dalaie. A number of them are suited for Controlling when something like this happens, or Defending, due to their frontal lobes being active somehow. Were still trying to track that one down.
In any case, Ms. Liberty said abruptly. You registered as a hero, and weve been watching your progress. I remember you coming to me for training, though you didnt seem to need it; every time you found a new way of unlocking your powers, you just did it. Your powers seem to be manifesting on their own the more you practice.
Dalaie nodded, having been thinking along the same lines. Does it really seem unnatural? he asked them.
Well, when youve seen as much of these heroes we have, BAB started, the words unnatural and impossible really lose meaning.
And anyways, we invited you here to be awarded a badge, and weve, most unkindly, treated you to an interrogation, apologized Ms. Liberty.
Youre right, BAB said, then turned around, nodding to the doorway.
The door opened again, and Dalaies face was frozen in a wave of astonishment. Standing right there was the Statesman, walking through the door. He smiled at Dalaie, whom thought he was going to die of astonishment.
Dalaie, Blaster, the city of Paragon owes its thanks to you, as do many of its citizens, intoned the Statesman as he came to a stop right between BAB and Ms. Liberty. You have persevered against the villains that now plague our streets, constantly waging a battle for us. Many others before you have reached this accolade, but that does not diminish the accomplishment.
Statesman pulled a badge off of his chest, concealed by the colors of his costume, and handed it to Ms. Liberty, who bent down to pin it upon Dalaies robe. He thought he felt a touch of lips on his cheek as she straightened, but it was a fleeting emotion, and most likely his imagination, gone as Statesman spoke again.
Therefore, let it be known that Paragon City shall know you as a Protector of Innocents forevermore, no matter what you may do. Your name shall be entered into our ledgers, and will stay there until the end of time.
Dalaie was too stunned to move, or speak, or do anything while the three famous heroes looked down at him, smiling. He numbly shook their hands, and sat quietly for a good ten minutes after they had vacated the room. He glanced down at his chest, saw the sparkling number 10 etched on the badge, and plucked it from his robe, sliding it into a pocket to be placed somewhere safe when he got home. He may never wear it, but the knowledge of it being there would keep him going, knowing that, expecting nothing for his good deeds, there were still rewards out there that would be given to those who persevered.
That had been three days ago, and now, bolstered by Statesmans words, which still echoed clearly in his mind, he was determined to clear the streets of every villain he could find.
He would make the city safe.
He would manifest his powers to their fullest.
He would make his idols proud.
(( The badge *does* say 'awarded by Statesman'... it just doesn't say how =P ))
Bullets flew from one side of the street to the other, a violent cacophony rising into the hot air of what used to be Eastgate. A yelled warning and the riot squad ducked low under a makeshift wall of sandbags as a torso-sized ball of flame exploded against the barricade, sending showers of blazing sparks scattering across the paving stones.
The squad rose, but a boulder came hurtling through the air and struck one of the men in his flak-jacketed chest. Officer George Danson crouched next to the wounded man, pulling off his visored helmet and drawing a breath at the amount of blood that had already begun to seep from his scalp and rush down his cheeks.
"Hold on, man..." he urged the wounded man, who looked at him with unfocussed eyes. "Uh... looks like you got a concussion..." his untrained eye examined the deep gash the helmet had caused when impacting on the officer's scalp.
After a second, he realised the sounds of combat had stopped.
"They won't be moving for a little bit." Came a woman's voice, a delicate British accent colouring the sound. "I'd drop some arrest tags on them while they're, er... occupied."
Danson looked up to see the Outcast thugs that had been attacking them either standing struck rigid in confusion or clutching fearfully at each other. He became aware of a presence next to him and looked around again as a slender young woman knelt next to him.
She was tall, blonde, with sea-green eyes that were darkened with concern. She spoke to him even as she examined the wound on the injured officer's head.
"It's alright," she informed him quietly, "I'm something of a field medic." She raised her voice slightly. "Sir, can you hear me? What's your name?" The concussed officer identified himself as Ted, and the coltish young woman smiled slightly. "Okay, Ted... this might, uh, sting a little. Sorry."
She placed a hand over Ted's scalp and breathed in a little as a diffuse white glow glinted behind her eyes for a moment. The flow of blood was staunched suddenly and Ted inhaled sharply, his eyes focussing. Still the woman... George reflected that she probably still qualified as a girl... held her hand over his head. Her other hand came to his face with a handkerchief and mopped at the bloodstains across his face.
"Jus' like tha'." She said in a rather bad imitation of Tommy Cooper and smiled kindly before removing her hand and wiping her crimson-coloured palm on the seat of her pants as Ted sat up. "Still though, I wouldn't recommend sleeping for a little while just in case. Maybe cry recouperation and get off work for a while, sit quietly and have a drink." She chuckled quietly as Ted and George's faces lit up at the suggestion. "Doctor's orders."
She helped Ted sit up, then stood and adjusted her dark green leather jacket over her t-shirt. "He'll be fine." She reassured George. "Just make sure he takes it easy for the afternoon."
"Er... thanks, miss." George said, still a little stunned by the swift change of fortune. The girl nodded a little even as her feet left the ground.
"That's what I'm here for, sir. Take care of your friend."
"You should be, like, a surgeon or something." He said. "That was.. just.. poof, like magic."
"Oh, I'm not, er..." she hesitated, blushing slightly. "I'm not that good... just a little bit of mystic first aid..." she smiled awkwardly and rose up into the air and out of sight.
Medic.
The Elysienne; Magical controller
Silent Sickle; Natural scrapper
And many more.
Aenigma Rebis: "Actually, Ely's more like Jean Grey. Only... smart."
"Psst.... hey, buddy... want some?" The skull waved a small vial of green glowing fluid.
"No."
Just Said No To Superdyne - my attempt at the shortest story. 
Bright Star
"Paragon Times, miss, could we just get a photo?"
Poppett started in surprise. She turned and stared at the photographer, who aimed his camera straight at her; his face was obscured by the huge flashbulb apparatus. Getting to his feet just beside her was a slim-looking businessman in a criminally ugly green suit with a bright violet shirt. She continued staring, eyes as wide as saucers as the flash burst in light.
"Young lady, thank you very much," the businessman said, his voice as slick as the grease in the hair of your typical Freakshow. "I always thought that the press was safe from these scum, but I guess..."
"Look," Poppett said, "is there any way we can just keep this out of the papers?" It was the businessman's turn to stare now; the photographer, who was still behind his camera, hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat. Not missing another beat, the man in the ugly suit smiled widely and posed next to Poppett. The photo was snapped before she could protest further. "Look, I mean it," she continued, clearing the spots from her eyes. "I'm just doing this part-time. I really am not in this for the glory, but I can help a little, and I'm going to."
"But you already have the glory," the businessman said, pointing at her chest. The gleaming badge, awarded only hours ago by Statesman, was as red as her face was threatening to become. "As I recall, they don't give those out to part-time heroes. More than that, the word I got from Synapse said you tangled a bit with the Clockwork for him. Could we just get a few words..."
"No!" Poppett said, firmly. "Look, you want a big story, why don't you go bother some other hero? Or, hey, how about covering the bingo games in the 'Row?" she snapped. "It seems like the only thing you newspaper guys ever notice in this city are the heroes. There are other things happening, you know, and common people need their time in the spotlight."
"But, what about your name..." the photographer stalled.
"No, don't even mention that," she said. "In fact, if you do decide to run those pictures," she added, drawing one clawed glove from her suit. The businessman swalowed hard, until she put the glove away and turned her back. "Just bear this in mind the next time a Hellion is giving you grief."
---
The Stars Shine On
by Carter Walsh, Paragon Times
Muggings have become a way of life in our city of the best and brightest, much in the way that traffic is a trademark of Los Angeles and the derelict are a symbol of New York City. However, unlike those troubled metropolises, Paragon has always had an easy and neat solution to its rampant and excessive crime-- the superbeings known as heroes. We have been blessed to have the powers of Manticore, Sister Psyche, Positron, and Statesman at our disposal, as well as the legion of costumed crusaders who have taken up the call in their wake. They have been the lights that have guided our city out of anarchy and into a relative stability.
But, today one heroine reminded me that no matter how brightly they shine, the stars protecting our city still shine on those whom they protect. Many heroes in Paragon have become pseudo-celebrities, well-known to the public and relishing in their popularity. It's become such a common occurrence, that heroes would want to get their name into the papers, that even this reporter found himself assuming it to be a universal truth. The youthful heroine who rescued me from some thugs this afternoon calmly said that her goal wasn't fame, and it certainly wasn't the delusion of 'cleaning up the city' that can inspire greatness or give rise to egomania in an idealistic superbeing. She was a "part-time" hero, not wanting to stand out too much from those whom she saved.
My dear, who I know must be reading this, what a hero must understand is that by shining brightly to guide the people, a hero elevates herself above the common folk. It is a noble thing, to be humble, but humility can only stretch so far before it becomes a burden upon the soul. If the heart resists even the slightest praise, it soon becomes mired in darkness as it fails to find any gratitude. You are right-- the heroes of Paragon City have become more of an attraction rather than a symptom of the absurd crime rate. But do not let that even for a moment deter you from protecting those people who cannot protect themselves.
Us ordinary people have our moments of glory, too. We shine brightest when reflecting, and reflecting on, the light of the bright stars around us.
---
Aunt Jane looked up from the newspaper. "Oh look, there's a bingo game down at St. Andrew's," she said. "I never noticed that section before. You think it's something new?"
Uncle Walt mumbled something in assent. He'd just finished cutting something out. "Janey, put this in the scrapbook pile, will you?" he said.
"You think this has to do with her?" Jane said, her eyebrows knitting.
Walt smiled. "Who else would take a job and then refuse to be paid for it?" he said.
Hephaestus 1 crouched as well as he could behind the gleaming machinery of the Crey laboratory's research generator. He'd been asked to investigate a tip that Crey was using less-than-ethical means to augment their battlesuit users. The giant cyborg had been sent to investigate since he was one of the few who could withstand the damage that the various Crisis Units and Juggernauts could dish out. His metal frame also helped blend him in with the sterile steel walls in case someone tried to detect him with a magnetic anomaly sensor.
He couldn't get this bass line out of his head, though. It was something he could only describe as "pizzicato profundo," plucked out on a bull fiddle. He took a minute to get all his thoughts together and looked at his watch. The lights went out like the SWAT team said they would. He had to move quickly before the emergency generators kicked in.
"Okay, three, two, one, let's jam..." Heph muttered as he broke into a sprint towards a pair of Crey rent-a-cops.
The Crey guards saw a giant green and black metal beast charge towards them. The first guard brought up his submachinegun and shouted "Hey! You're not authorized to--" before Heph grabbed his head and drove him into the wall with a vicious crunching noise. The second guard tried to call for backup but found himself embedded in the ceiling as Heph's huge armored fist connected with the guard's solar plexus. Had it not been for the body armor, the guard's ribs would be only so many splinters. The huge cyborg opened up the doors with his wireless keycode-breaker and strode into the room.
Heph found himself face to face with some very angry Juggernauts. If he could still smile, he would have as he supercharged his hydraulic and pneumatic systems. The Juggernauts charged forward as a squad of Crisis Units opened up with their chain guns. Heph leapt into the air, flying over the Juggernauts and into the middle of the Crisis Units, their high-velocity ammunition pinging uselessly off of his armored body. His giant metal hands slammed together as concussion projectors fired off, sending the armored soldiers to the floor dazed. As they climbed to their feet, Hephaestus 1 was tearing into the Juggernauts, tearing off armored chestplates, crushing their power units, and shaking the pilots inside the metal shells into unconsciousness. One of the Crisis Units shook off his dazed state and ran full speed into another lab in the research building. Heph finished off the other Crisis Units and gave chase to the straggler.
As the cyborg tore down the mechanical door, he noticed that the Crisis Unit brought friends. A dozen of Crey's "Paragon Protectors." Hephaestus 1 slid the chain with his badge on it around his neck, mentally grinning.
"You're all under arrest."
The Paragon Protectors charged wordlessly, claws and spines popping from their bodies.
"Oh, by all means, resist arrest. It's your right, isn't it?" Hephaestus 1 asked as he slammed his fist into a Paragon Protector's brasslike faceplate. It shrieked an ear-splitting high note as metal shredded metal.
That was when the security monitors went out again.
Tank -- Hephaestus 1
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
Come on, people, get to writing!
I can't rule the roost this month with my story unless there's something to rule! Get cracking! Chop-chop!
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
I'm...contemplating it. Well, I'm more along the lines of working up a story idea.
Hey, we've got plenty of month left, right? Besides, knowing myself, it'll wind up being a multi-part arc including other heroes. *grins cheerfully* And I have to decide *which* of my two main characters to write it about. Or maybe both of them...
@SithRose and @Sith Rose
Permanent resident of Virtue
"Mommy, I need Cthulhu. He keeps the bad dreams away."
(Written by Mike and I)
Upgraded
A clockwork marched up and down a stretch of hallway. Back and forth, back and forth. It had been told to keep watch on this section of the labs, and took its mission with utmost seriousness. Occasionally it would pause to contemplate a closed door, but for the most part it just marched. Back and forth, back and forth.
"Uh-oh," came John Phoenix's muttering once he got within sight of the clock. He stopped in front of the marching device and looked down at it. "What's all this now? You been drafted?"
The clockwork immediately ran in front of the door and spread its arms out, attempting to block him from the doorway. Of course, the fact that it barely came past his knees just made the scene laughable as it whirred chidingly at him.
"You know..." John started. "The garage is empty, no one around if someone wanted to, say, take things apart." He looked meaningfully at the clock. "The repairman's on break too...lots of time for curiosity
" The little clockwork considered this a moment, then seemed to brighten. It pantomimed John marching up and down the hallway instead, buzzing hopefully. John snapped it a salute. "You got it, sir." He held in a grin. All too easy. It saluted in return and cheerfully ran off to find something to drag to the garage and happily disassemble. John waited for it to get out of sight before turning back to regard the door before him. Carefully and trying not to be heard, he slowly opened the door and slipped inside.
Unfortunately, it was dark in the lab, and the light from the hallway spilled into the room. Fortunately, SARA wasnt facing the door, but instead sitting in front of a computer bank, typing busily. Bandit, she snapped annoyedly, without looking, for the fifth time, stay out of the lab! If you come in again, Im telling the janitor how to lock you in a room!
The lab itself was fairly impressive, filled with all kinds of machines for modifying androids. In one corner was SARAs black goop area, next to a bench where shed apparently been playing with more synthetic skin. A long table was covered in messy sketches and blueprints for her body, next to a table that almost looked like it belonged in an operating room, surrounded by the machines SARA used to repair herself.
John leaned himself against the doorframe and grinned. "You need a better guard dog if the one you have consistently takes off at the first sign of a repairmanless garage."
ACK! SARA spun out of her seat, elbow hitting a folder and sending papers flying everywhere. She dove for them, getting most of them but coming up looking flustered. Youre not supposed to be in here!
John smirked more. "What, no 'hello' or 'hiya John' or anything? Naughty, naughty, keeping secrets. What ARE you working on?"
She snatched up a dish of black goop from the desk and chucked it at him. It went several feet wide of its mark, and she scowled down at her arm. Nothing! Get out of here, you big cave fish, before the lack of light makes your eyes pop out or something.
John looked at the wide shot and raised his eyebrow. "You got your aiming sensors all futzed up or what? You're normally a very good shot." He remained where he was, apparently not leaving.
No! Im just still calibrating them! She glared at him. What are you doing in here anyway?
"And you complain about ME being in here all the time?" he asked, amazed. "You DO realize there's a whole big world outside this lab, right?" He smirked. "You haven't been out of this room in several weeks! Maybe even a whole month!" His smirk slipped into a boyish grin. "What you got a pimple or something? You know I won't think any less of you if you got one." He teased.
She set the papers down and carefully worked her way around the tables, oddly stiff. Thats another thing entirely! You just sit and work all day! she answered crossly.
John grinned at her. "Well if you REALLY want me gone, you'll have to get rid of me yourself. No more relying on your little clock flunky." He smirked.
Well, I suppose most of the chance of contamination has passed by now, she answered. But its still not really safe for you to be in here. She advanced on him, smirking slightly. I suppose I can always just pick you up and toss you out on your ear.
She reached out for his collar, but before she could grab him her ankle made an ear-splitting, metallic grinding noise and snapped under her. Off balance and flailing, she toppled into him. John let out a startled squawk of surprise and awkwardly tried to catch her, wrapping his arms around her even as he winced in anticipation of a few broken ribs from her weight. Her momentum sent them both sprawling to the ground, her on top of him. John blinked, slightly dazed, as he looked up at her. Something was...amiss, but in the hectic post-action haze he couldn't get his mind around it.
Blushingand noticeably warmershe carefully shifted herself a bit to try to get some of her weight off of him and onto the ground. The move left her sprawled across his chest, face to face with him. A little breathlessly (oddly enough, yes, she was breathing), she asked, So
does this mean youve fallen for me?
John blinked and blinked again. "Umm
I guess so?" he babbled
then blinked again as his brain caught up to the rest of him. "Youre breathing...and warm...and soft
" he mumbled, somewhere between surprised and embarrassed. He WAS quite red.
She smiled softly down at him and propped herself up on an elbow, twirling his bangs around her finger with the other hand. Are you going to let go of me so we can get up? she teased gently. Im nice and comfy hereyou make a good bedbut I doubt youre very happy about being squished between me and the floor.
He smiled back. "I dunno, I kinda like it here." He momentarily tightened his arms around her. "But if you insist..." He unwrapped his arms with a grin.
She carefully lifted herself off of him with a show of reluctance and sat up, probing at her ankle. Another stress fracture, she grumbled. Maybe its the design and not the materials after all.
"Can you get up?" he asked, concerned.
She looked over. Yeah, I can get up, but I cant walk. Help me over to the table?
John grinned and stood up carefully. "I'll do more than that." He bent down and with a bit of effort lifted her. "I don't just sit in my lab. I do a fair amount of working out."
Dont hurt yourself, she answered with amusement. Though itd be fun to carry both of us at once, Id rather not have to.
After several moments of struggling to get her to the table, he finally made it. "See?" he said huffing and puffing slightly. "Not a problem."
Oooh, so strong! She poked at his arms with a grin, then announced dramatically, My heros arms may look like theyre filled with squishy yogurt, but I promise you he has the strength of two and a half men!
((For those wondering, yes, SARA's getting rerolled again. For the fifth time. Which makes her SARA V.4 now. :P))
((Cassie was a broken hearted college student that met a talking cat from the future. A taxibot, no less. She knows nothing about technology, but with his help built a set of patchwork armor from pieces of a discarded costume behind Icon, some cog parts, and some things she found in the discount bin at Cooke's. And, oh yes, lots of duct tape....))
Cassie wiped the sweat out of her eyes again. The shacks little fan whined, but it wasnt enough to really cool it off. She had the parts to fix the air conditioner, but just not the time. Even at midnight, the old guard shack was too hot...
Halo meowed again, and nudged a small computer chip. "Are you certain? This is the last one we have, and if we melt it..."
Halo turned away, sticking his little yellow tail in the air, and walked over to his milk bowl.
"Ok, ok, I didnt mean to hurt your feelings. It just took me a day of punching clocks to find one that actually looks like it will work..."
Just like Halo had shown her, she carefully soldered the chip into place... and was rewarded with a gentle hum as the Zeon Null Field generator came back on line.
*wham wham wham* went a fist on the door. "Medley! Are you in there? We've got a man down, and he needs you!"
Cassie flinched, and shoved the soldering iron deep into the boots inner workings... and the field generator began to sputter.
"Wincott! You! You! Gah!!!!!"
"Damn you girl, I have a man who is bleeding to death and I need a hero! Stop talking to that raggedity cat and do what you do best!"
Cassie would have glared at the door, but she was already trying to seal the boots up.
"Wincott, I am grateful that you let me use this building, but can't you be a little more tactful?"
"Girl, tact is for tea parties! Not when a fellow officer is down! Are you going to help?"
"Do you really have to ask that? Just give me a moment to get dressed, or do you want to me run there in my underoos?"
She grinned for a moment as she heard him stomp off and kick an old soda can... then she got serious. Bolting the final pieces of the suit together, securing the helm, placing Halo on her shoulder where he can plot strategy.
She opened the door to the guard shack, no longer just Cassie, but Taxibot Medley, a friend of anyone that wandered into the hollows. She found herself facing a dozen grim faced members of the Troll Taskforce. And Wincott, standing behind them, staring off across the gulch.
"Wincott, you know me. Stop being so gruff, and let a girl have a little private space when she needs it. But I always help, so tell me how I can now."
"Man down, shot when following a known outcast messenger to a meeting. He is holed up on the roof of an apartment on the street between Four Seasons and Eastgate Heights. A team tried to get over there, but had to fall back when hit by trolls and outcasts."
"On it! Lets go Halo!" Taxibot Medley took to the air in a shower of sparks, heading across the zone.
"Halo... It isn't supposed to do that, is it?"
The kitten was silent.
"Halo, is this one of those moments in which we are probably going to die?"
The kitten was silent.
"Right. In case we do die, have I told you that it was nice meeting you?"
The kitten was silent.
Medley gulped, and silently started praying. Then the kitten started meowing.
"What? Land? Why? The sparks? Oh, yes, they do attract attention dont they? But do we have time?"
"Go way up and drop on the tall building? Ok, if you say so."
Zooming up and up, and then suddenly dropping like a falling star.
"Lean left?" and she came crashing down on a someone hard. She was, for the first time, realizing that "stars and birdies" actually made sense.
"A cape! Get her, then finish that cop!"
A dozen hands grabbed and lifted her up off the stunned gunman. Human hands, dirty, callused. Dirty shoes. Smelling of old sweat. Strange what you notice at a time like this.
"Look at what we have caught, a woman in a sardine can! Open her up and break out the crackers." Evil laughter.
Halo squalled loudly from the shadows, and then pounced on an exposed shin, startling one of the men.
"What? Fly?" And up up she flew, sparks flying every direction and blinding them. Quickly she swung back around and showered them with more sparks before landing next to injured officer -- just where Halo had said he was.
"Halo! Lets go!" Picking the officer up the best she could, Medley attempt to soar off again but came down on the street below amongst a group of trolls -- her damaged field generator wasn't able to carry them both. Halo hissed in her ear as the trolls began to gather.
"Guys! No! Outcast coming! They want Atta. Cop said no deal. They kill troll! They say they kill all trolls!" She shouted it loud enough so that the Outcasts and the Trolls could hear her. Which is enough for both of them.
There are some things that will always be true. The bad guys hate heros, but Trolls hate the Outcast just as much as they do heros. And they protect their own. And such is the ill will between them that when one of the Trolls cocked his gun that the Outcasts opened fire. The Trolls fired back... And Taxibot Medley carried the officer back to Atlas in a series of 50 foot hops, with every troll and outcast running over to see what the sparks was, and leaving another battle behind her...
*******Gangland Fury*******
Since the Hollowing, these streets have turned into a warzone between the Trolls and the Outcasts. Only the constant vigilance of heroes keeps this conflict from turning into a bloodbath.
((Ooops))
"Come on, Brian, hurry up!"
"Ah'm comin', woman, jeeze! Whut'd yah do, eat some chocolate espresso beans?"
She laughed and leapt away, and I followed as best I could on foot. She always had a knack for making me want to chase her down. I shook my head, chuckling. She was something else, all right.
We'd dated, a long time ago, before she'd had those gauntlets on her hands. She was married to the Air Force, though, and I had my bike and my brother, and our dreams of opening our own bike shop. It didn't work out, but she and I parted as friends.
When I ran into her again in Paragon City, it was like being punched in the gut. She'd changed so much! But she was as beautiful as ever. She had always had a kind of inner strength and quiet grace about her, but now... Man, I don't know how she did it, running that group. They all loved her, and she loved them right back. I don't doubt for a second that she'd lay her life on the line for any of us.
Now I watched her soaring through the sky, leaping from building to building, and I couldn't help but smile. Joy in the face of death, that's what she was. The living embodiment of "life to the fullest" and "every day as your last." I don't know how she did it.
When she told us she was dying, well, she sobered up a lot of us quick. Hadn't wanted to tell us, she said, because she knew we'd fret and try to save her. Well, no kidding! She was our Leader! We looked up to her. I don't think any of us could imagine what it'd be like without her. Everything would fall apart. Glue, that's what she was.
If I could be half the leader she was...
"Come on, slowpoke!"
"Where's th' fire!"
She was the kind of woman you just wanted to serve and protect. I don't think she'd ever raised her hand in anger to anyone except those who hurt us. Sweet and soft and... God, I loved that woman. I think I've loved her for years. Can't really tell her though, she's all wrapped up in my bro Gabe.
He's lucky to have her, really. She was such a bookworm when I first got to know her. Sharp as a tack and always had the oddest bits of information to spread around. Said she collected it. 'Did you know...' she'd start off with, and then ramble on for a few minutes about an obscure candy bar, or an urban legend, or how zebras really had white stripes. Collected oxymorons too.. 'Good grief Brian, I'm starved. Want to go out for some jumbo shrimp? Wear your long shorts, because it's pretty ugly out there.' See what I mean? The woman was nuts, but in a good way.
When I started working with her again, it was like... I dunno.. watching a hawk stoop to kill. Magnificent and beautiful and frightening, all at once. That's what she's like. She's got so much power packed into such a little body. I mean, don't get me wrong, but when you look at me, you know what I can do. Her... heck... it just erupts from her unexpectedly. She glides through and spots a target, sets up, and suddenly "THOOM!" Target neutralized. I'd never want to tick her off.
But then to see her with the kids, she was a regular mama bear. Sweet as honey, and woe betide anyone who threatened her babies. God, I love that woman. She makes my heart ache with wanting to be looked upon favorably by those blue eyes, and blessed with her smile.
"Beat you, Brian!"
"Yah got meh, all right. Yah ready ta kick some tail?"
"You know it!"
She'll never know though.
Secret Admirer
CBR 929 RR AKA Brian O'Connell
I'm not letting people forget about this challenge!
And also:
Destructo +1.
Animation major and old-school CoHer.
Art, Animation, and Stuff:
DA Tumblr Vimeo Youtube
The dark shape flitted through the night, bounding from rooftop to rooftop.
She didn't like this life, not one bit, but from where she stood, it wasn't much of a choice. No friends, no family, and nobody would want to have anything to do with such as her, anyway. And she couldn't even have the satisfaction of revenge against them, anyway, because who'd believe the word of a-
Distant sirens shrilled, and she clutched her prize tighter in her jaws. Not much time now; she had to find a safe place to hole up for the night, where the authorities wouldn't find her, and then tomorrow would be another day, filled with more of the same.
Not much farther now; Baumton was just up ahead, and maybe she could lose the pursuit in the zigzagging alleyways. She would have to go through a different route to her destination, though; she kind of liked the few other homeless people who lived in the area, and even if they hadn't exactly welcomed her with open arms, at least they hadn't formed a mob with torches and pitchforks to kill the-
A flash of red and blue. She blinked; was that just a trick of her vision? She hadn't quite had the opportunity to get used to her... new circumstances.
No, there it was again. And again. Something moving far too fast to register except for a blur of fading afterimages, teasing her, toying with her.
Her eyes narrowed. So it was speed they wanted to play with. Well, she'd show them some tricks of her own.
She veered west, noting out of the corner of her eye that the red-and-blue blur was easily keeping up. She had to give him some grudging respect; few people, even heroes, had managed to keep up with her speed and agility until now.
Her pursuer had to be a hero. Maybe it had been a bad idea to steal from the same shop twice in a row; someone had probably seen her, made the obvious conclusion, and called in some superpowered help.
She jumped towards the next rooftop, then twisted in mid-air and caught purchase on what looked like a sheer wall. From there she leapt towards a streetlight, swung around, and made a perfect landing close to an alleyway. Freedom was near, and...
The hero stood calmly in her path, arms crossed, waiting expectantly.
She hissed through the bag in her mouth, and flung herself at him, claws extended. But he wasn't there anymore, and then she felt her arms being firmly restrained behind her.
"No more of that, now. I think we've established that I'm way quicker than-"
She twisted out of his hold, and swiped at him. His hand moved in a blur, and caught her wrist.
"I said, enough." This was accompanied by a mild electric jolt that coursed through her body and left her on her knees.
The hero picked up the bag, and looked through its contents. "Doughnuts," he said. "Not very fresh, either. You must have been really hungry."
She glared at him.
"Look, kid, I'm not here to hurt you, okay? My name's Synapse. Actually, it's Steve, but most people call me Synapse." He extended a hand, offering to help her up. "What's yours?"
She hesitated, but accepted the hand. "Kat. Katherine Stevens." Pause. "Minx."
"Minx, eh? Not many people can give me a workout like that. How'd-"
"Crey." She spat the name. "They made me like this."
Synapse's eyes were unreadable through his visor. "I can relate. Believe me, I can relate." He looked appraisingly at her. "You've been living on the streets for some time now. Steel Canyon's shops are on the verge of putting out Wanted posters, telling everyone to be on the lookout for a-"
"Monster." She whispered the word. "I'm a monster."
"No, you're not." Synapse held her chin up. "You're a girl who's just in a bad spot at a bad time, and who needs a bit of guidance. You've got potential, kid, real potential... and I know just the way to unlock it."
She stared at him, feline eyes wide.
"Minx, how would you like to be a hero?"
-
Steel Canyon: -2427; 48; -3406
Nimble Minx
This spot is where Synapse first found Mynx and began training her.
Current main:
Schrodinger's Gun, Dual Pistols/Mental Blaster, Virtue
Avatar: Becky Miyamoto from Pani Poni Dash. Roulette roulette~
~Shameless bump to keep people from forgetting.~
((Was in a particularly inspired mood, so here's my little contribution))
Vision of Despair
Um, yeah
whatever
Look, I dont know how I got here, but Ive got to get back to my dig. Theres an amulet I really need to take a look at
The young man turned away muttering, Gone for nine months, my [censored]
whatever..
crazy lunatic
..
The small shadow watched the young man walk away, tears filling her eyes. If you only knew the power inside of you, Black, she whispered, If you only knew
Then she herself turned and took off, heading for the War Wall- the spot above the entrance to Perez in Galaxy, where she made her home.
She landed, and sat down, her legs dangling off the side, watching the congregation below. Some of the regulars, as well as new faces, were out in force this evening, and she could hear the faint sounds of laughter from one of the larger crowds.
Sighing, she pulled from a pocket on her belt the amulet which the man she referred to as Black had spoken of, and an ancient Egyptian dagger, two items inexplicably linked by murder, betrayal, loyalty, and love, for more than two thousand years.
She remembered it all so clearly. The planning, the years of work
The look on her beloved husbands face as he discovered her kneeling over their dead child which she had just killed, and then the look when he realized the boy wasnt his
The pain, the destruction of the Palace, the calming words of Isis
Looking back over toward the entrance to Kings, she saw Black, still walking, obviously not quite sure where to go. She entertained thoughts of talking to him again, of trying to help him find wherever it was he was going, but dismissed the notion. Even he knew her as the Betrayer. While hed claimed that hed keep an open mind on that front, the look in his eyes told her that he fully believed every word of the old history, handed down since that day to each new member of the line. And she couldnt really blame him. It was in his blood, after all.
The little queen looked down at the amulet, a wedding gift from her husband, and the vessel that had housed his soul for the last two millennia. Turning it over in her hand, she could feel the hatred, her husband Teths hatred for her, still emanating from the blue scarab. But also love. Despite everything, the pain, the loss, everything hed suffered because of her, he still loved her. She hoped desperately it was enough.
Putting the amulet away, she now concentrated on the dagger. More of a short sword, really, but lethal regardless. Scowling at the weapon, she cursed Isis under her breath. The goddess had made her return home to look for the thing, sifting through the desert, the ruins of her old home, the old memories, and for what? A two thousand year old dagger that seemed to seep fresh blood from its blade?
She tested the edge and found it to be as sharp as the day shed used it to kill her son. The day she would have killed her daughter without hesitation in order to save that mans life. And save it she did
Watching as Black spoke to a passing motorist, then head off in the direction of the tram, presumably to make his way to City Hall, where someone might be able to help him, a tear escaped to travel down her cheek.
She had saved him alright- he was alive, and well, but trapped in someone elses body, and not entirely whole. He had two millennia of hatred to work out, in addition to having been told the real story behind what she had done to him, which in effect negated any logical reason for his hatred.
And then there was herself. She has an insubstantial form, and nearly eighteen hundred years of not knowing what shed done. And she didnt even want to think about what trigged those memories to come back. Shed thought about that enough for one lifetime, thank you. And of course, there was the knowledge that shed have sacrificed her daughter, her and Teths daughter, without thought to save the man she loved. The tiny shadow wondered briefly if her daughter knew that, and grimaced. Loyalty to the child theyd made together, or to the man that helped create her?
Was it all worth it, little street rat? All the pain, the suffering, the chaos youve caused. All of it. Was it worth it?
The tiny shadow known as Huntress Noir smiled, for she knew the answer before the Lord of Order had even finished the question.
Yes, was all she said, and when she was sure hed gone, she went back to her quiet reflections, secure in the knowledge that no matter the future, at least that much would always be true.
She has paid a very great cost already, so the only question left now is, how much more will she have to pay?
-cough bumpbumpbumpbump cough-
Arc #345863 - When The Bough Breaks
"Curse you Perry the Plata...wait, is that Love Handel?" - Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, Phineas and Ferb
Meteorologist
The girls quickly found out there was no merfolk word for snow. The language had three words for water, five for waves, and ten or so for rain. However, not one of those ten fit the bill at all for snow. This, they loudly found out the first October that Oksah lived in Paragon City.
She first heard the word as "Sunny" Skip Loggerstein mentioned it on his Thursday night newscast. "...and on the extended five day out look, yep Mary, it looks like snow this weekend. Time to get the parkas and the mittens out." Oksah was familiar with the latter two items. The temperature was a frosty 51 degrees outside, and she walked around the penthouse with a heavy down coat atop a grey RIT sweatshirt of Adi's over a long sleeved tee-shirt over a normal tee shirt, 2 pairs of long-johns, a heavy pair of jeans, and the thickest wool socks Celai and Adi could find. The two remembered the first day the weather dropped below 60 degrees, Oksah had come to them, shivering, thinking the world was about to end, all the warmth was being Balanced away.
Adi, once she realized what had caused her foreign friend to panic, could not contain a laugh. "You can take the merfolk out of the tropics, but you can't take the tropics out of the merfolk!"
Oksah was leaning close to the TV that night when Sunny Skip gave his forecast, she always did back then. The blue skinned priestess would lean close, a foot away from the screen, mouthing every word that was uttered on the show, commercial, or event, eyes unblinking. Celai and Adi would walk in from work every day and find her like this, an 800 year old time displaced person marveling at the technology and learning the language. She never would look up or notice her roommates until they said something.
That evening was the same as normal, only Oksah was bundled up to twice her size and the thermostat now set to 80 degrees.
"Cool enough for ya, Oksah?" Celai asked as she walked into the Steel Canyon penthouse, dropping her purse on the table before moving into the living room.
"Ah-what-iz, shno?" Oksah's accent was still strong, but not overbearing enough to impede communication.
"Oks just ask what snow is? Heh, she's gonna be in for a treat, Nor'easter this weekend."
"Nar, uh, Nor'eashter? Nor'eashter?" The merfolk parroted back, still confused on this alien concept but trying her darnest to make sure the words, at least, were mimicked correctly. Celai and Adi spent a good hour trying to explain to their aquatic friend just what snow was, failing horribly with each attempt.
That Friday night, the temperature dipped very low. Oksah commanded her roommates to get her more blankets, and with the ambient temperature in the penthouse now up to 85, they were all too willing to give theirs over. A mixture of anticipation and dread filled Oksah that night as she let herself be buried by a half dozen blankets, comforters, afghans, and bedspreads. The 'shno' was going to come in the middle of the night, but it, she had gathered, would only bring more of this horrible cold.
As storms in the northeast United States are wont to do, this particular one came in with a fury only matched by how quickly it left. It left Paragon City, among other places, covered in a new white strata. Kids woke up early that Saturday morning, lamenting that had this happened 24 hours earlier, they would have defiantly had a snow day. A certain merfolk, awaking in a Steel Canyon penthouse and looking outside her window, had an extremely different reaction.
Adi and Celai were waken by their roommate screaming in horror, shock, and wonderment. "Ah-dish scho? Ah-dish scho?" She asked without turning around, just absolutely shocked how everything was covered with a foreign white stuff, the winds at her height blowing some around. The streets far below, normally dead in the Saturday morning, was even more so; pairs of black snake-like tracks cut through the white covering in the streets, the teams of plows working on the main streets first.
"Ah-we scho, uh, not-ah touch?" She finally turned around, the single blanket wrapped around her head and torso like a hood still held there in place. Her question dawned on Adi and Celai, and playful grins filled their faces when they understood its meaning.
Fifteen minutes later, Oksah still in her tank-like armor against the cold, the other two in much less winter wear, listened to the hum of an elevator all around them as they descended to the ground floor. The doors slid open into the building's lobby, and the three women walked out, the blue skinned one falling into rank behind the other two.
"So, the lakes are not going to be good for skating yet, maybe head over to the hills, see if we can get a sled run or two?" Adi was bouncing with energy, even if she had only been awake for less then an hour.
"I think we better get her outside, focus on that. Baby steps, after all..." Celai and Adi reached the door and opened it, before realizing that Oksah was frozen in the center of the lobby, her eyes, the only visible part of her face through toques, scarves, and other winter wear, were large and awe-filled. She was transfixed on the mailbox outside, a full 5 inches of snow covered the usually blue metal box.
"Come on out, Oksah, it won't hurt you." Adi coaxed her roommate, who in her near state of shock, could only nod and began making the final jaunt into the cold Saturday morning.
A gust of wind picked up, and blew some powder into the air, into Oksah's face. She yelped in pain, something so cold yet so natural just should not exists. She ducked back inside the lobby, her large eyes now laced with fear of the freezing outdoors.
"Oh come on, you scardy cat, it's fun, watch." Oksah watched through the glass doors as Adi scooped up a handful of snow and compacted it into a ball. She chucked it at the light pole across the street, all eyes on the ascending then descending arc as it missed by a good three yards or so. "Heh, well, I'm supposed to hit, but there you go. It's not going to kill you Oks!" Celai gave a comforting smile, her breath visible as a white mist, as Oksah, more cautious this time, opened the door and tried again.
"It is, quiet" she thought, the lack of traffic, movement, anything that made this city so loud from where and when she was from. No one was on the sidewalks hawking items, or moving to the next busy event of their life, no cars were motoring their way through the streets. It was as if the snow dampened most existing sounds, but amplified those few that dared to combat the white menace. Even bundled up as she was, and with all the heat stored up from being inside, she shivered, pinpricks of gooseflesh felt along her arms.
"See, we told you, dear, it is not that bad." Celai's smile doing more to warm Oksah then any parka could. Adi grabbed Oksah's arm and began to pull her. "Come one, Oks has to make her first snow angel!"
"Scho ah-angel?" She barely got the question off before being pulled away by her smaller but more energetic roommate. Celai just laughed as she caught the priceless look on Oksah's face; acceptance, confusion, and uncertainty all wrapped into one unique facial expression.
The girls walked on the streets, the sidewalks being too covered with snow and not plowed. They had no traffic to fight with, those few brave enough to drive left a few tracks for them to walk in. "How are ya doing, Oks? Oh, we can hit Para-Grounds and get some hot chocolate, Oks has to have some hot chocolate." Oksah could only nod, she was awed by how white, how calm and still the world could look after a fresh and heavy snowfall.
The trio came upon one of the small parks that bordered the lakes of the Canyon, and they trudged their way up the sidewalk to the park. It was just another beautiful sight for Oksah. Before, there were hints to human movements in the snow, tire tracks, the sounds of plows scrapping the pavement. Here, a lone bird chirped something to the three visitors, the tables and trees and path totally covered in unbroken or unmarred snow.
"Now, don't push her, Adi. I can only imagine what it's like for her." Celai warned, but Adi just chuckled and pulled Oksah into the unbroken sanctuary. "Now, this is a snow angel, watch me, then do as I do!"
Oksah watched with a touch of horror as her friend fell backwards into what normally would have been the grass. There was an uncomfortable moment when she didn't move, then she began to wave her arms and legs back and forth. It took Oksah a few minutes to understand what she was doing, having to recall the definition, then image of what an angel was, but she understood the concept just as Adi pulled herself up from the snow. "See, snow angel. You try."
The merfolk nodded, more sitting herself down into the snow then carefully leaning back into it then flinging herself towards the ground. The white substance seemed to embrace her with cold, icy fingers, a still foreign concept to her mind. To stave of panic, she began to move her arms and legs like her roommate had, slow and unsure at first. With each swoop of a limb, she let herself go a little more, it was not going to hurt she thought, try to enjoy it for what it is, something fun, something new.
"Scho angel!" She pointed to her impression, a grinning Adi nodding. "Scho!" she laughed as she picked up a handful of snow and threw it at Adi, like she had seen earlier. Not realizing you had to compact it, it came out as a cloud of white as she let go, sprinkling the two of them. She winced as the tiny ice shards assaulted her face again, but it was not as bad as the first time.
"Okay, I think we better get inside, I'm starting to get cold, I still don't have coffee in me, and we don't want to overload Oksah's mind." Celai, the 'mother' of the three of them, chided, and the three hastily retreated back into the warmth of the penthouse.
Arc #345863 - When The Bough Breaks
"Curse you Perry the Plata...wait, is that Love Handel?" - Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, Phineas and Ferb
Kill Skuls
"G'wan, scram, girl. You ain't worth jack to us. Useless, played out - hit the streets!"
It had been a bad night.
An interrupted carjacking, an attempted robbery, and even a purse-snatching. All failed. The only good thing was that the teleport and transmit tags that had been placed on her collar each time had failed to go off, letting the woman skulk away back into the alleys after each attempt at a crime. That's where she was, hiding from her gang. Hiding from the Skulls.
A failure.
She'd been warned. She'd been told by BoneBreaker himself, 'Shape up or ship out.' She knew what going back like this would be - showing up at the hideout in King's Row black and blue, burned and frozen, spitting up green goo and black chunks of darkness.
She'd be killed.
I could run. Hell, I could move outta Paragon. Iowa. Yeah, Iowa's good. Nice place for a ... who the hell am I kidding? They probably just do .. like, farm stuff there. You ain't never been on a farm, Terry. What the hell are you gonna know about farming? Nah, Paragon's your place. You stay there, you suck it up and you prove to them you're stronger than them. Tougher.
The monologue plays through her head as she rocks back and forth on the concrete, arms wrapped about herself as if to try and warm her skin, absently flaking off pieces of ash or soot from her outfit. Gang colors, through and through - white and black, a hint of ash-grey or red from blood, dried and dark. Slowly, with a unlady-like grunt of pain, she pushes up to her feet, cradling a bruised left arm in her right, starting down the street.
Okay. Play it cool, Terry. Remember, hero stops ya, you're Terry Jones, not Terry Bales. Not Jointpopper. Not a Skull. You're just out on a walk.. got mugged. No, you don't remember what they looked like. Yes, some nice hero saved you. Simper, smile, and move. They pull out your rap sheet, you paid your debt, tell them it's harrassment. You can make it to the 'Row. And maybe you'll be lucky enough to find some money or something so BoneBreaker doesn't practice on you .. again.
She cuts through alleyways, taking the long route back, avoiding the gouts of green smoke that burst into the night air - signals of magic, of the Thorn. Looking for victims, or completeing rituals on those already found. Either way, they're a magnet for heroes, and she's in no position to fight one right now.
Hell, I never will be. Face it, Terry - you're worthless to them. Powerless. Washed up punk with no future, and a past about to beat the crap out of her.
She pauses against a brick wall, leaning heavily into it, cradling her bad arm as she sinks down to a sitting position. Across the street, a man in a gore-stained lab smock looks about, his fingers around the haft of a bone saw. Eyeing her, he starts to walk towards her. Behind the thin surgery mask, she swears she can see his smile widening. But she's so tired.. and hurt. Better just to give up..
Yeah, that's it, Terry. Give up, let 'em chop you to bits. What a great freaking idea. GET UP AND FIGHT!
It's an effort to push to her feet, moreso to grab a piece of rebar lying next to the ground. Hefting it up in both hands, she wobbles woozily, and lifts it into a 'batter-up' position. As the Mortificator approaches, she makes a face - the smell of dead and soon to be dead things on him almost too much for her to handle.
Gonna be sick.. Crap, can't do this. I need help..!
And in that moment, things change. There's a tingling along her spine, like someone just jabbed a taser into her lower back, and turned it on. Her muscles feel like they're on fire, tendons taut as whatever it is decides to overwrite her nervous system with a lightning-dance of pain. The rebar falls to the concrete, a clattering clamor of weakness sounding out - unarmed again, fallen down before the psychotic surgeon. His voice is raspy, as if his throat wasn't quite .his..
"Hold still.. This is for science."
But instead, her arms come up, pushing her head up to stare directly at his eyes. Behind her glasses, power grows, her voice different - stronger now, heady with newfound force - and dualistic, a melodic overtone to her harsh scream. As she yells, white light erupts from her eyes, blasting the doctor back against a wall, knocking him unconcious.
"You will not harm/hurt/kill US!"
As she watches him fall, she's already aware of that secondary presence.. that tickling in the base of her spine of another .mind., one willing to give it's free will up, to learn of the world it had found itself in. And offering only power in return, with it's only request, to know what it's like to be a hero..?
A hero, huh? Maybe.. But for right now, we're gonna talk with BoneBreaker.
Pushing the nagging into the back of her head, she starts back towards the hideout. Time to show them what .real. power was.
Time to ...
Kill Skuls.
I was given some paper and writing implements
I guess they want to see what my language looks like. Its strange to be able to write again after these 20 years
I dont understand what has changed. None of the people here have shown the least interest in me except Dr. Holstrom, and he only comes in to do the usual blood sample / temperature / whatever the government wants him to take a sample from me next.
I see that this is a questionnaire
ah
the direct approach. Wonderful. Why dont you just ASK me? You KNOW I can speak your language, Ive been watching your damn TV programs for the last twenty years! I guess they want to see if I can write in it as well. Fine, I will humor them. I do not understand why I am still kept here, they simply tell me it is for my own protection but I mean TWENTY YEARS??? Theyve been through four of their Presidents since I first became a guest of their Government. In that time, I have seen several crew changes, but Dr. Holstrom has remained. I guess its nice to have some consistency. And despite the fact that he, like all of them, cant be trusted as far as I could throw a pillow, he has at least been polite one might even say kind. He was the only human to ask me about that night
the night my Queen died. I felt her death through the bond and it would have killed me as well had I not also felt the transfer of that bond to my daughter. I would go on because of her. Pteryx lives! I repeat it to myself every morning and every waking hour when I wonder why I dont just do something to make them kill me and end this stupid incarceration. I didnt tell Holstrom anything of course
I think again about how I came to be here and I laugh in spite of myself. Ive been over this so many times. WHAT was I thinking? WAS I thinking
I dont know. All I know is that I crashed my ship in the Nevada Desert quite possibly the worst place on Earth to crash due to the proximity of several sensitive areas nearby. But as they say hindsight is always clearer. It was a simple miscalculation something any school child would laugh about making (or cringe depending on the sternness of their instructor) and it had landed me in this cell for close on twenty years now. I once again pick up the paper and look over the questions. I will probably answer them, I see no reason not to, but I see something very strange about one of them. It mentions an alien race The Rikti and asks if my race has had any contact with them. I laugh again at the follow up If you answered NO to the above question, please explain why. Somehow writing because my race has traditionally been xenophobic and your unjust incarceration of a peaceful explorer who made a stupid sign error when calculating his entry velocity sure wont change their minds about that doesnt seem like the kind of answer they want to hear.
I write it anyway. Dr. Holstrom will laugh at it at least. Gods I wish my wife had survived the attack. I have tried in vain to reach my daughter. But she would only be thirty at this point, still barely adolescent, far too young to receive the Queens Bond, yet obviously Aiyana had had no choice in the matter. I can only hope that the brief contact I felt when she died had somehow conveyed my location, and that Pteryx would do anything in her power to reunite me with my clan.
It wasnt really that bad here, I had plenty to read and they had set me up with a nice video display device
they called it TV. We had nothing like this back home, but I had to admit it was pretty fascinating to watch these humans making fun of themselves for my enjoyment. Some of the programs seemed to be attempts to bring news to the people. Woefully inadequate compared to the clan bond that a fully mature Queen could provide
but those thoughts lead again to Aiyana, and I find it difficult to control my emotions again. I finish the questionnaire more mundane questions and one that I have a hard time with: What is Aiyana? What do I tell them? Clearly they will have no sympathy for me it took them hours to even check on me the night she died and I threw myself against their force fields trying to get to her even if I couldnt. Dr. Holstrom might spare a kind word, but I doubt he could truly understand the magnitude of my loss it wasnt just Aiyana whose death I felt whatever killed her killed a lot of us. I write simply Aiyana was my wife. Let them speculate about why after 20 years away from her I would suddenly throw myself into a fit of rage and try to escape. Some things I would never share not even with Dr. Holstrom.
I settle down a bit and watch the TV. Its one of those things they call a sit-com where people who lead obviously contrived lives fall into obviously contrived situations that are supposed to make you feel like laughing. It actually works most of the time. Especially this one it has become my favorite if you will. Its about a bar in a town called Boston run by an ex-athlete who seems to be trying to always find a new mate. The sheer absurdity of that situation alone is enough to make me laugh. The character of Norm has entered, it is always a cue for the audience to laugh and everyone in the bar to shout out a greeting I shout along with them enjoying a ritual that would appeal to my clan mates. Something changes though. There is a strange tone on the TV and a screen that says Emergency Alert System. I wonder if it is part of the show? A well dressed and stern looking human appears on the screen. What he says is plainly not part of the show in fact what he says is enough for my spikes to rise on their own: An alert has been issued by the NSA. It would appear that Earth is under attack from an unknown force. Citizens are advised to seek immediate shelter. I wonder how long it will be before they cut off my feed to the TV
clearly this is not something they would want me to see
in fact they probably expect that I am somehow responsible. After all, I am an alien. Ive seen enough of their culture to know that there have been myths, and perhaps maybe one or two genuine close encounters over the last sixty or so years of their history. But on the inside, I have a much different perspective. There are at least two dozen human beings who KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are not alone in this universe. I have no idea what happens to those who have had contact with me perhaps they have their memories modified by drugs or are sworn to secrecy in some other way. They may even be killed to prevent the knowledge of my existence from reaching the outside. Ive seen enough of them to realize when it comes to Xenophobia, we Indirans are amatures. Their government will go to any length to conceal alien life from the rest of humanity
but whatever is happening to them now cannot be hidden.
I see images of the attacks. Whomever this invading force is, they have landed in several of the major cities. None of them appear to have landed anywhere near my present location, and I dont feel the earth moving as it would if under orbital bombardment. The attackers are not Indirans not that I would expect they would be. My race may be xenophobic by tradition, but we are a peaceful species. The few dealings we do have with other races have been cordial, one might even say friendly. Clearly, whatever race is attacking now does not have peace in mind. Their ships are massive! Easily the size of the largest buildings on Earth, and possibly larger than any vessel I have seen though Ive heard rumors of the Autlaunian Menthalk Class ships which were said to be the size of small moons.
I see a picture of one of the attackers and my heart freezes. The blade pierces my side and I feel my life spilling out with my cries
we have to get out of here! Pteryx! Where are you? Kstlk
I shall miss you my Duke
I will try to get our clan to Adun
AIYANA! The scream comes from somewhere so deep in my soul I fear I will never breathe again. Whomever these attackers are, they are the ones who destroyed my clan. My spines are rigid. I tear at the cloth of my bed
I feel nothing
I have become pure focused force. I turn to the wall and feel a power I had thought lost to me. With it comes a sense of calm, and I sit in battle meditation.
There are attackers. They have destroyed my people. They have come here
do they seek me? Do they wish to finish exterminating my clan? Pteryx Lives! Our clan will go on. Why do they attack? The human weapons are not effective against them. I must help them. But they have held me prisoner for two decades. It is no matter. No race deserves to be wiped out. I must help them. It is settled.
The power flows into me from the very earth itself. A green glow surrounds me and I feel healthier than I have felt in twenty years. A stone hammer appears in my right hand. I turn to the wall of my cell the one with the window. I smash the hammer into the wall. There is little effect. I turn to the TV again to see an abandoned camera, on its side, but still revealing a scene of utter devastation. The screen again switches to the stern looking human who appears to be in a state of complete shock. He has no words. But I see an image of the attackers again, and this time a red glow surrounds me as I focus all my energies on the wall. I smash it again and again with my stone hammer until finally cracks begin to appear. A new set of alarms begins to blare and I feel the tingle of the force field that has kept me prisoner for these long years. It is there, but it is nothing, as the very Earth around me becomes my armor
There is nothing but me, my weapon, and my target and soon, there is no target. I have breached the wall. I am outside for the first time in twenty years
and the scene before me is hellish.
I know now why I did not feel orbital bombardment. These invaders prefer the up close and personal approach. They have landed troops and are using energy weapons to decimate the humans before them. Some of the more advanced technology of the base seems to be able to withstand the aliens attacks
but I pay this no attention as I run headlong into a group of these Rikti. One of them creates a swirling vortex that gives me a sense of vertigo for a moment, but my hate my desire for revenge is too strong. I grab the mesmerist and tear off his helmet
I want him to see the hate in my eyes as I kill him. I want the last vision he has to be my face and the expression of pure hatred etched upon it. I kill more of them but there seems to be no sating my bloodlust
I feel weakened but I ignore it the needs of the body can wait
my spirit, my soul, every thing that makes me a Voxm Duke demands that I slaughter every single one of these creatures, and I revel in it.
It is only after Adun knows how many minutes
(hours?).. that I become aware of the others. Not Rikti, but somehow not human either? One of them is clearly a sentient machine a small golden figure who pounds the enemies with bolts of pure electricity. I can feel it crackle against my skin even through my armor. Clearly this is a powerful ally and I move to fight along side her. Then I see another
a huge figure whose power matches and perhaps exceeds my own. He effortlessly throws groups of the enemies aside as he makes his way back to the main buildings of the site. I feel an urge to tell him hes running the wrong way that the beings in there will only capture him and treat him as an attacker
but then I see Dr. Holmstrom come out to meet him. The little golden machine and I have fought our way close enough to the two of them to overhear their conversation.
Citadel, thank God youve arrived. They came out of nowhere! Is Dr. Angstrom safe?
Luminary: Search for the rest of the team. They have attacked several locations on the planet simultaneously Dr. Holstrom. We are doing our best to repel the invasion. This area cannot be secured. We are ordered to take you and the remaining survivors to a secure location. The big machine turns towards Luminary and notices me
Who?
Dr. Holstrom looks more nervous than I have ever seen him. Good. I enjoy it. Then I notice that I am held in some kind of field that emanates from Citadel. Despite my rage, I cannot break this hold
I want to scream Did you not see me fighting along side your comrade?? Hearing my own voice startles me
I guess this hold is not designed to paralyze as I thought it would every time the humans needed to transport me, they would
but Dr. Holstrom is speaking now
That is a prisoner of the US Government. I do not know how he broke out of his cell, I can only imagine that these attackers must have
I am beyond rage
I have wrapped around to pure clam. That he would continue to insinuate that I had anything to do with these
VERMIN that killed my wife and Adun knows how many of my clan
Suddenly, I break free of the hold. I calmly approach Dr. Holstrom. I grab him by the collar and hold him off the ground.
For all your degrees in Psychology, Medicine, whatever the hell you people call the healing arts, you are not a very smart man are you Dr. Holstrom? I am perfectly calm, but I am seething inside, and if looks could kill, Holstrom would be a smoking crater in the ground. Youve clearly not been paying attention
these Rikti look nothing LIKE me! The only time Ive seen them before is in my NIGHTMARES
as I watch them killing EVERY LAST MEMBER OF MY FAMILY!!!
The Machine, Citadel lays a hand on my arm and I am compelled to set Dr. Holstrom down. I spare a moment to notice that the fighting around us has stopped for the most part
many hundreds of troops are now cleaning up the ground forces of the alien ship which itself is careening towards a distant mountain. Clearly, there are more secrets to this base than my presence. I look towards the machine, but he is talking to Dr. Holstrom.
I have observed that this being has assisted us against the invaders. I will consider him an ally until he shows himself otherwise. Thankfully, Holstroms protests fall on deaf ears. Clearly, the matter is settled as far as Citadel is concerned. I move to his side as we meet up with Luminary to continue the evacuation. Even though the invasion seems to be repelled, the reinforcements seem to feel that a tactical retreat is still the best option. I cant fault their logic. The Rikti that attacked my family came in waves
there are probably more of them on the way
What are you?
I am so preoccupied with my thoughts over what has happened that at first I dont hear the question
Sorry?
What are you? What species are you? You are not Human, and your profile does not match any of the descriptions to which I have access.
Ah
I am called
um
you would not be able to pronounce it
well, perhaps you might, but the humans cannot. My clan name is Vox. I am an Indiran, from a planet
well, I was from a world named Cominyea before these Rikti destroyed it.
Vox. Understood. I heard you mention your family. I am
sorry.
Sympathy from a machine? Truly there is a lot more technology to these humans than I have been led to believe
where was it when I did my scans twenty years ago? Could they really have advanced so much in such a short time?
It
thank you. I
lost my mate in the attack, I.. I cannot maintain my focus any longer
I break down, the stones of my armor falling into rubble around me as I being to shake uncontrollably. I feel a touch on my shoulder, it is the other machine, Luminary. Her eyes
she looks at me and I can almost sense a soul within her gaze
There are others that could use your help. Will you come with us?
I almost laugh
the first two non-humans I have met while on Earth and they have asked me to help them
what a change from being locked in a cage like an animal
it is
it is too much
I begin to laugh
Luminary and Citadel look at me as if Ive lost my mind. Maybe I have. Maybe this is some dream and Ill wake up back in my cell. Somehow the pain in my back and limbs promises me that this was, in fact, real.
I know I could use the help of someone with your spirit, Vox. And perhaps I may be able to point you to resources that would allow you to contact others of your race? Citadels offer is kind.. I accept with little further thought
He hands me a small silver trinket.
"You'll need a proper Hero ID once we get to Paragon City, but for now this will do."
Citadels Assistant
"I swear you could fling a man hole cover across the street and hit more notes than 90% of those idiots on American Idol" -Desmodos
"Every time you post I feel like I been hit with a fist full of smart! Thanks." - Volken re: Sucker Punch
Arc #36984 V'kta A'cha Vox'm
Crey Watcher
From: j.samson@stanford.edu
To: bluenerd@talons.net
RE: Protecting the laptop
Will-
Ill help. Naturally, everything I do in protection of the laptop will be well within established legal boundaries. 
I have a few tricks up my sleeve, but it will take a few hours until I can have a decent protection up for the laptop, and even more time to identify invasive hackers and shut them down. Your mention of Crey involvement is all the head start I need. I have some good weapons on my side. A T3 internet line, dual redundant servers, multi-core processing capacity, and a few cans of Red Bull. Thats all the help I need.
-Active Flux
Joshua tapped the send key and watched his message vanish into cyberspace. He leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin, churning over likely tactics to be used by the offense, possible counters, and various safeguards that could be used. Without delivering one of his custom circuit boards, it would be impossible to make the system perfectly secure, but at the digital level, he could provide very good safeguards. After a moment of considering possible approaches, he go tup and took a shower, then changed into loose clothes, removed a soda from the fridge, and turned up the air conditioning. There was a zen aspect to hacking, and he wanted his technique perfect. Hacking. Indelicate term. Hacking was a title scorned by the more accomplished in the field. Hackers blundered into networks and secure data storage sites, looking to either cause mischief, or simply to brag as to what they had cracked. Some had criminal intent, but most were mere copycats of what others had proved possible. No, the best at manipulating the digital plane were an elite group who called themselves slicers. The distinction between hacking and slicing was as simple as the distinction one could find in a dictionary. Hackers hacked, removing whatever they deemed necessary and leaving a mess behind when they removed their computerized blade. Slicers, on the other hand, operated much like surgeons, entering to remove or alter something troublesome and to leave no trace of their presence when they were done. They were the ghosts of data recovery. Few, aside from themselves and those rare few who caught them, knew that a slicer had ever been present.
It was that subtle variety of hacking that Joshua practiced. He fired up his computer, a dual Xeon rig with dual power supplies and 8 gigs of RAM, all clocked to carefully measured speeds and cooled by phase change hardware. It was far more potent than the gaming machine a few feet away, and Joshua never activated except to do what he was about to attempt. He cracked his knuckles and ran through a series of practiced moves, accessing Talons network and breaking into the laptop he was supposed to be protecting. That was always the first step. Determine weak approaches, and from there you can plug them. For starters, he opened the computers web access controls and shut down most types of external access, such as the method he had just used. One thing many people overlook about the internet is that it is merely a link between computer after computer, each able to access the other to a limited degree. Web pages are, in the end, computer files, and if one can get to the level of those files, one can access all that is on the computer. Fortunately, the laptop did not host a website, which eliminated the easiest way in.
Joshua used his access to the laptop to install 3 different security programs, all commercially available and easy to use, but therefore also possible to crack. The final program he installed was one of his own design, and it inserted itself in the machine in such a way that one who was looking for it would have to go down to the very byte code of the machine and know each individual bit and byte, plus how to modify them to remove the program. In 4 years of using the program, Joshua had never found any one who could manage that. He placed a fifth program, one that would report any attempt to upload or download data to him. The program also spiked the computer that was attempting access, thus telling Joshua where to go to work. That entire process took 90 minutes. Joshua leaned back and popped open his second Pepsi. Now all he could do was wait. It took 2 hours before the program registered an attempt at access.
Access ident: 82.96.71.253:10330
System stats: Intel Xeon, 96 cores, 192 Gb RAM, 10 Tb storage, Sun Microsystems RareBIOS v.9.7.1, Mandrake Linux OS
Internet connection: T3, bandwidth >10,000,000Mb/s
A single thought passed Joshuas mind; Holy [censored]. The system the request had come from was massively powerful, the kind of thing only a potent corporation could assemble. A potent corporation like Crey Industries. The Sun Microsystems RareBIOS meant that the system had been custom built and clocked by professionals. The Mandrake Linux OS was troubling, as that OS was open source, and could be damned near adamant when modified by an expert. Now that he knew what he was up against, Joshua opened his systems command prompt. They wouldnt be looking for an intrusion into their systems, only for ways to intrude into the laptop secreted in the Aerie.
C:>ping 82.96.71.253:10330
pinged 82.96.71.253:10330 with 4 mb of data
10 packets sent
10 packets received
0 packets lost
C:>
Excellent. The enemy server was not denying attempts at access. Pinging was just a communication between computers, seeing if they could successfully send data over the ether. Communication between the computers was the first step in cracking one. As Joshua pondered his next step, the enemy got smart.
pinged by 82.96.71.253:10330 with 10 mb of data
Joshua pounced on his keyboard to interrupt the enemy ping. The maneuver he performed next was known as a spike, and was a classic move with very little that could be done against it. What a spike did was replace the data that had been sent to his computer with a program of his own devising. It was an almost perfect method of getting a program into an enemy computer, but the catch was that the enemy had to give you the opportunity, and you needed to be fast to catch it. As a rule, the best hackers never pinged a target computer more than once.
C:>stop ping (82.96.71.253:10330)
C:>overwrite C:/Programs/Data Gathering/Ping Response/JollyRoger.exe to ping (82.96.71.253:10330)
ping sent
ping received
C:>
Excellent. Joshua had just uploaded his program of choice to the enemy system. It was called JollyRoger, and was written by a computer science instructor back at Stanford. There was no end to how clever it was. It automatically compressed itself to the size of the ping it was sent back on, so even though the file was over 100 Mb, it appeared as only the 10 Mb of the ping from the Crey hackers. A few seconds after the program was sent, a new window opened on his monitor. The label was Command Prompt: 82.96.71.253:10330. Joshua had just struck system-cracking gold. The command prompt allowed anyone who knew the proper commands to do just about anything with a computer, and he was now sending his commands to the enemy computer. The connection was two-way, however, so as long as he had the command prompt up, the enemy had a clear path to his machine. He moved quickly.
C:>print Nice try. Leave the Talons alone, or this wont be the last you see of us. Trust me, there are Talons far more dangerous than I.
The message he tapped into the keyboard appeared on the enemys command prompt, and an unspoken rule in hacking took over. Once your command prompt was accessible, you were beaten. There was almost no way to counter it. Sending a message, as Joshua had just done, was considered rude, but he wasnt really concerned with pissing off Crey. They had it in for heroes, and for that indiscretion, common courtesy would fall by the wayside.
C:>format C:
Are you sure? (y/n)y
formatting
That was the coup de grace. The Crey systems primary hard drive was even now removing the first few lines of code from all of its files. It wasnt as good as wiping the primary drive completely, but it would buy at least 48 hours. The problem with formatting a hard drive was that it wasnt permanent, but it did take a long time to determine which file was which. Data recovery specialists could charge up to 50 dollars per gigabyte of data recovered, and the Crey system had 10 terabytes of data, or 10,000 gigabytes. Joshua almost felt sorry. That was a fine system he had broken. With that, he shut down his machine, and any trace of his presence vanished from the digital plane.
[[A little something written for an RP storyline in the Talons of Freedom, and adapted for this contest.]]
Keeper of Secrets
The wind rustled the wires and whiskers of the mechanical cat on the hill. Try as Mechacatbot could, there were no subroutines to simulate human mourning in his database. Seems the Crey programmers never saw need for it. But inside, the feline part felt the departure.
He smelled the change in everyone; some were better, some were not. Only time would tell who was lost to the sadness, and who would return from it.
Ronin had always been kind to him. She had often defended him from Silver Skull during that early time. Not that he needed it, but maybe it helped soothe the transition in Skull from cat hater to cat patter. Ronin did give a sweet scratch behind the ear. That middle finger kind. It would be a missed treat.
He had heard the announcement about the day and time back at headquarters. Everyone in the Super Group would be at Ronin's funeral tomorrow, but those events were a human thing. They saw things differently than cats. He shuddered as he thought how in mourning they acted much like dogs, clumping together, socializing, remembering, and, eventually, forgetting so they could go on.
His feline part just couldn't see it that way. Cats remembered. They always remembered. Every special person, down through history, was part of their collective feline beings. Kings, queens, tyrants, and paupers, each one distinct and at the same time the tiniest of part of the whole memory. There was beauty in each one's special moment and a resonance in each similarity. Ronin had her own place in his and now all their memories. And every cat the world over, mourned Ronins loss in their own tiny way.
The moon was now high over the cemetery. He sniffed and knew the last human had left for the evening. He moved down through the cool mist, into to what would be Ronin's last resting place, her open grave.
He looked down into it. It smelled of good untainted earth. He would honor Ronin the last time as he would a fellow cat who had moved to the other layer, the cat word for death. This act would be the best he could do. The humans wouldn't understand it, but maybe some of the felinoid heroes he knew like Thunda Kat and Chibi would remember. They were still enough cat to know the secrets of cats.
He hopped down into the grave and moved to the end where the headstone would lie. The little catbot curled into a tight ball and went to sleep. He would warm her last bed until the sun came up and then let its rays warm the cold ground. His warmth though would always remain there, even in the smallest amount, warming the cold earth where she would lie.
This was the way of cats. Tonight, under the moon and tranquil sky, Mechacatbot dreamed only of her, and they said goodbye. He rubbed against Ronin, claiming her as friend. And she scratched his head, behind the ear, the middle finger way. Her way.
((Okay, this was inspired by a couple of things... most notably running the Banished Pantheon mission where you're given the Axe of Undead Slaying with Silent Sickle who, at the time, still had a fair amount of Holy Shotgun Shells from Striga. Contains much violence to the undead, and some censored strong language. But let's face it, you can only censor so much without losing the entire meaning, and then the word sort of shines through anyway. At any rate... enjoy!))
Dead Head
The storm shaman had been presiding over the ritual, smiling serenely as the zombies under his power swayed and chanted, calling forth the bridge to the Sleeper while he whetted the wicked-looking sacarificial dagger.
Deep in the caves, the sacarifice could scream all she wanted. No-one would hear her outside. The normal citizens would pass them by completely oblivious. He raised the blade above the crying girl, joining in the chanting as it came to a head.
"The Sleeper... the Sleeper will wake!" He yelled triumphantly, bringing the dagger down in a fatal arc.
With a crack like thunder in the confined cave, one of his reanimated corpses reeled and fell with a massive, steaming hole where its chest had been. The chanting had stopped. The shaman was paused mid-stab, glaring into the darkness. There was a sharp click, then a spent shotgun round rolled across the floor with smoke trailing from it's end. A couple of soft footsteps and a slight woman in dark leather walked into the torchlight reloading a sawn-off double barreled shotgun. Strapped across her back was a large and vicious-looking axe. She fixed the shaman with a look and snapped the shotgun shut before holding it up.
"Now listen up you primative screwheads... this... is my boomstick!"
Absolute silence. Amy sighed.
"What, you've never seen that film? Jeez, you philistines belong dead."
And then she broke into a run, taking off from one foot and launching herself into a dive over the top of the zombies even as they shambled into a defensive posture around thier victim. She hit the ground rolling, reaching to her back to unlimber the large cleaver. The shaman brought his knife around and down towards her neck but one hand whipped out and stopped the blade before it completed it's arc, a slick sound accompanying the wicked edge plunging into her forearm. It struck bone and stopped, but Amy didn't... couldn't afford to... stop. She thrust her leg out in a powerful side-kick to the man's chest, sending him tumbling backwards onto his behind.
"Hold still." Amy brought the axe up, then down on the girl's bonds, setting her arms free with a clean cut. The girl shrieked and fiddled with the knots binding her ankles even as Amy spun and brought the axe up again, embedding it in a corpse even as it stumbled towards her.
"C'mon, you ______ds, dogpile on the hero!"
The Silent Sickle pushed her way into the middle of the pressing zombies, lashing out with her feet, axe whirling in killing arcs in one hand... ungainly and awkward as that was.
Still, with the great press of the undead her momentum was eventually halted. One struck her hard across the face while another latched onto her good arm, biting down on the taut muscle that held the axe aloft. She cried out and the weapon fell to the ground with a clatter. She wrenched her arm away, wincing as strings of flesh snapped and hung from the corpse's mouth, but she stepped in close and spilled the clumsy creature over her hip, putting some distance between herself and the thinned crowd. Her other arm raised the shotgun again, discharging both rounds into the crowd and smiling with grim satisfaction as the blessed buckshot ripped into and through the crowd.
Then she was pushing past the remaining zombies and leaving the ground again, skipping onto the raised dias their sacarifice had lain on and propelling herself into the air again. She connected feet-first with the shaman even as he raised a hand and crackling power connected with the heroine's chest. The shaman stumbled and cracked his head on a massive wooden sculpture, while Amy was sent spilling to the ground with electricity coursing through her and causing her muscles to twitch uncontrollably. The shaman listed to one side, consciousness fading. Behind him, the wood behemoth creaked ominously.
The remaining zombies gathered around the prone hero, pressing in eagerly for the kill. The first zombie was caught as Amy's fist, gloved to conceal the brass knuckles she wore underneath, smashed into it's face and shattered its nose. She scythed her legs up and around, gaining her feet while keeping the zombies at bay. A breath to gather herself and then she launched feet-first into the first corpse. The momentum behind her kick carried it's head clean off it's body, the fragile neck snapping and rotted skin tearing asunder. She looked around desperately for the axe, only to see the girl standing rigid in the middle of the cave.
"Will you ____in' run already?" she growled and burst towards her, giving her a rough shove towards the exit. Limping at speed after the girl she sent a spiteful look back at the remaining two zombies.
Flicking out the spent shells of the shotgun again, she loaded a single shell into the breach and clicked it shut. She lifted the sawn-off and waited for the two zombies to line up. At the perfect moment, she fired.
At the same time, four massive spears knifed out of the back of the cave. Amy's eyes went wide as the zombies heads exploded from the holy power and the shredding impact of the buckshot and she turned to the hostage again, shoving her roughly with her shoulder. One of the spears impaled her through the side of the abdomen and her face paled with reaction, a pained grunt escaping her. She stumbled and fell to her knees as the totem emerged behind her, the spears already beginning to retract into it's clublike arm on long hemp ropes. Amy was dragged backwards across the slimy cave floor. Her hands grasped for purchase against the floor but she found nothing solid. Only loose stones and branches and the shaft of her axe.
With a grunt of effort and pain she pulled the axe up and turned, wound protesting as the spear twisted inside her. A yell and the axe sliced through the rope as she raised to her feet. She slipped on the floor, made more slick by her own blood and staggered backwards. Then she threw the axe overarm.
It spun lazily through the air and struck the animated totem in it's massive carved face. The axe, enchanted by MAGI agents to destroy undead, cleaved into the totem's face as easily as if it was just a log to be chopped. Amy dropped to her hands and knees as the large statue collapsed ponderously in on itself. She looked up at the fallen thing with a grimace and clutched a hand around the spear in her side, holding it in the wound.
"Yeah... hail to the king, baby."
The Elysienne; Magical controller
Silent Sickle; Natural scrapper
And many more.
Aenigma Rebis: "Actually, Ely's more like Jean Grey. Only... smart."
The old Thorn mage studied the pentagram in front of him. He hummed to himself as he inspected the runes and tracings, adjusted a candle and stood back. He reached casually over to a small table and picked up a small cup of tea with sugar. He took a sip and put the cup back.
"It's ready," he told nobody in particular since he was alone in the room. His old hands mottled with liverspots began gesturing in the air. Ancient and well practiced incantations flowed softly from his mouth. A hungry smile formed on his lips as he continued his spell. The runes began glowing and a small breeze from nowhere made the candles waver.
"...ego voco tu," he finished as his hands shook with the effort of the complicated spell. The sweat that had formed on his face he casually wiped away with a handkerchief.
The candles went out and with a small 'poof' a small shape dropped into the pentagram along with smoke that smelled of brimstone.
"Wheeeeoof!" the demon exclaimed.
"Succubus," the mage said as he began disrobing. "I have summoned you for my pleasure. You will be released from my binding after we... eh?"
The mage stared as the smoke cleared away and he could get a good look at what he summoned. It was shaped like a woman but very small, like a child. It was coal black with red hair and a tail that ended in a sharp point. Two small horns stood up from its head and its eyes shone with a red glare. It was covered with what looked like melted red metal and it was currently rubbing its head.
"Ouchie...".
"What the hell are you?" the mage asked. "You're not a succubus!"
The demon sat up crosslegged and grinned at the mage. "Imp is imp!" it exclaimed happily. Its tail waved behind it and came in contact with one of the lines of the pentagram.
"Owie!" it yelled as it pulled it in with its hand and put it in its mouth to suck on it.
"...imp? A damned imp!?!" the mage roared. He was angry because he couldn't undersand how he got an imp instead of a succubus. With his robe still open from his undressing he went over the spell in his head. The imp in the pentagram had forgotten its tail and was now happily looking around.
"Imp never been summoned before! Yay!"
The mage looked up and stared at the imp. Hmmm, he though. It is female. And even if it's smaller than I'm used to I'm sure I can manage. He chuckled as he aproached the imprisoned imp.
"Hello, little imp," he said smoothly while letting his robe drop to the floor. "I'll just finish this spell of binding, and then we'll have so much fun. Yes... fun..." He stepped forward and begun the final spell. A small drop of drool ran from the corner of his mouth as he thought of all the excuisite things he and this little female would do. All the... pain?
The little imp grinned as it had no idea what was about to happen. And as far as imps go, this one was pretty ignorant and dim-witted. It clapped its hands happily as it saw the mage approach it. Suddenly the mage cluchted his face and his face twisted in pain. He fell to his knees and and groaned.
"Whee!" the little imp exclaimed. The mage managed a last curse as he toppled over and halfway into the pentagram.
"Oof! Watch out! You almost hit Imp!" the imp said as it jumped out of his way. It realized then that it was out of the pentagram. It didn't know that the mage had disrupted the binding when he had fallen over the lines but the imp didn't care. All it knew was that it was free of the mean pentagram.
"Imp free! Yay!" The little imp bounced and flew around the room inspecting everything. It stopped occacionally to poke the obviously dead mage but it quickly forgot him again as it continued to explore. It stopped abruptly when it found the small table with the mage's tea.
"Ooh! Imp thirsty!" it exclaimed as it picked up the pot of tea and quickly drank the warm contents.
"Yuk! Cold!"
It threw away the empty pot and looked at what else was on the table. Some books, the mage's cup and a bowl of something white. The imp emptied the cup and threw that away as well.
"What's this?" it asked the dead mage as it picked up the bowl of sugar. It sniffed at it and picked some up between its fingers. It sniffed at it again and put it in its mouth.
"Wooh!"
It quickly ate the rest of the sugar, even licked the bowl.
"Yum! That was the best thing Imp ever ate!" it nearly shouted.
"Imp will go look for more! Byebye!"
The imp waved at the dead mage and flew out the door. Behind was a trashed room and a dead mage in his underwear.
Giggling could be heard in the distance.
Summoned
((This is something I wanted to post for a long time, but I'm not sure if people would like it. So hopefully it will be lost among all the other great stories here! 
))
So, July's challenge lost a little bit of steam. And with all the doom of I5, summer being, you know, summer, and people's creative energies going elsewhere, it's bound to happen.
But, August has come, dear friends, writers, and readers, and with it the new glorious month for creative bursts. I see you all shiver with antici...........pation.
So what, I see you asking yourself and by proxy me, is the glorious challenge that which I must surpass to claim the title of August Writing Challenge Winner?
One word: Badges.
The title of the piece must be one of the 200+ badges in game, including those that are in I5. What you do with the rest of the piece is up to you. Maybe the story will be how the character got the badge. Maybe the title will allow you to see, and thus show us, a different side of yoru character. Maybe the badge title, and the mobs you defeated to get it, will have no relation at all to your story, and you're just using it as a springboard into writing.
So break open those badge lists, people, find one that jumps out at you, and get working. Since we're started a bit late into August, we'll go 500 words min. So let's get cracking people!
Arc #345863 - When The Bough Breaks
"Curse you Perry the Plata...wait, is that Love Handel?" - Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, Phineas and Ferb