He looked again at the scrap of paper in his hand, matching it to the faded black lettering of the building. The alleyway was dark and quiet. Throwing a questioning look behind him, he waved the others forward. Turning on a flashlight, he heald it steady as another stepped forward with a crowbar. Getting a nod from their leader, he set to work, the sound of metal against metal muffled as best as they could manage.
The lock gave out with a groan, letting the door swing open. Hurrying through, a deep rumbling could be heard inside. "Hey, thought you said no one would be here?" A fist cuffed the speaker. "Its a factory, its just the machines."
-------------------
The bass was more than sound, it was life, a heartbeat more felt than heard, overriding self to the point of hypnosis. Chords built on its foundation, weaving through the crowd like thread, binding them together into a trance no drug could duplicate. Waves of sound crashed against each other, an inescapable tide. The room reverberated with the heightened energy infused into the crowd by the DJ.
"Hey!"
Echo looked up, his spun sounds hijacked by the man in a uniform. The music stopped. A shot rang out, and people froze. A phantom bassline kicked in Jae's ears as she turned towards the group of Council, her induced hyper-sensitivity connecting her to 4 other people, other heroes.
"Who invited you losers?"
Jae grinned, springing into action, the music still in her head. Echo switched tracks. Bass and energy, drums and fire, the bpm drove the fight, the music reigning over all. In the lights and the rhythm, the Council went down hard, 5 strangers working flawlessly as a team slowly realizing that no one else was seeing the fight. Civilians danced in the same trance they themselves had been caught up in moments ago. A subtle change in the mix and the connection to the other 4 heroes was broken. Jae's eyes met those of the egmatic DJ Echo and he winked, laying down a fresh set of tracks that caught her up in the energy of the rave, the fight all but forgotten.
Raver
Quest paused at the entrance to the cave. She always did that when coming here, giving the ghosts in the memorial time to realize she was there, to recognize her and accept her presence. She had never understood why the memorial had been built in the heart of Astoria, but with the Pantheon all around, it was only common courtesy to give the spirits time to recognize a friend.
The ghost she really wanted to see wasnt here, though. She traced one of the last names on the plaqueRita Eagle, the Lightning Eagleand wondered where Lee was. She hadnt heard from her in months, since she had left Paragon. Circumstances and suspicious but well-meaning friends had pretty much killed any chance for them to become close, though theyd parted on good terms.
Fara had told her, once, that even if a soul was reborn, it could still hear the people it loved talking to it. She had meant it to be comforting back when Quest had first found out her mother was dead, and Quest had taken it to heart. It was too painful to try to believe that her mother was too far away to hear her. Time and time again, when things were too painful or too difficult to deal with on her own, shed come to this spot to pour out her troubles and fears.
She sat cross-legged across from the main mausoleum, remembering for a moment the brief glimpse of what shed seen beyond it at Caios funeral, and sighed. Hi Mom
its me again
What could she say this time? Hi, Mom, just wanted to remind you that a year ago I found out you were dead? Stern Storms regretful words echoed in her ears, and she bowed her head, remembering what it had felt likeas if someone had slammed something large and blunt into her chest and stomach. She couldnt put any of that into words
Im doing okay, and so is Mike
you probably know already were engaged
She twisted her ring, smiling at the thought. I hope youre not mad. Both Maggie and Shin werethough, it was a lot easier to deal with Maggie yelling than Shin refusing to accept it at all. He still cant help thinking Im his daughter sometimes, though I think most of thats been transferred to Jessie. Shes doing good too, just so you know. Im not letting anything happen to her again, I promise.
She sighed and pushed her hair back. Cayt is driving me crazy though. I know shes something like me inverted, but shes IMPOSSIBLE. I think I finally got most people to promise to be nice to heror at least, not to go out of their way to mess with her. I know she hates me for
well, crippling her
but I had to! There wasnt any other way! She shifted so she could rest her chin on her knees. But no matter what I say, no matter how hard I try to show her Im sorry and I dont want to be enemies, she just wont get it. I even gave her back the dagger I wound up with last November, and it didnt do a thing. Im not going to give up, but I wish shed at least
yknow
notice Im trying or something.
Oh
and so you know
after the last time we talked
Ive been really trying to think of myself as a hero. Its hard. Im not doing anything another hero couldnt do
but when I try to step back and look at it
I kinda am doing some pretty cool stuff, I guess. I mean, did you know that Ive only got one more SecLev to reach before I can go anywhere at all in the city? She shook her head. Thats crazy. Im only fifteen
almost sixteen, I guess, but still!
This citys so incredible, Mom. I have the feeling that Ive barely explored any of it at all. I still wanna explore all of the little islands around Talos and the woods in Eden. I found my way to the heart of the sewers and even saw the giant hydra down there, but Ive barely looked through any of the sewers at all. I wanna poke around Faultline, and Striga and Eastgate and even Astoria some more.
But I wish you were here. I want to SHOW you all of this. And I want to know which places you found, what you wanted to show me someday. She sniffled, and then laughed softly. Dang it, I said I wasnt going to cry this time
She looked up at the mausoleum, smiling a bit. It would have been really different if youd lived, wouldnt it? I wouldnt even be a sidekick yet, cause you would have made me wait until I was sixteen. I might never have found out I was good with a sword or so good at ducking, because I bet you would have trained me to use weather powers like you. I might never have met Shin or Maggie or Fara or PolaronI mean Solor Grace or John and SARA. I might never have met Eric or Mike
She was quiet for a bit, thinking about the implications of that last sentence. So
I guess what Im trying to say is
I love you, Mom, and I miss you a lot. But Im doing okay, so you dont have to worry about me. Things are working out in a way I like. She wiped the unfallen tears from her eyes. Mike told me oncemore than once, actuallythat hed go through everything that happened again if things worked out the way they are now. And you know what? I agree with him. A lot of what happened hurt a lot, but not as much as missing all this would.
Quest stood and looked at the tomb, smiling. Im doing my best, Mom. I hope youre liking what youre seeing.
Earth to Lee
come in, Lee!
Huh? Oh! Sorry, Sent!
Whered you wander off to?
"Just thinking about Caytlin, wondering how she was doing."
Worried about her? He pulled the car over and turned off the engine. Were here.
Lee slipped on her dark glasses and straightened her suit, then stepped out of the car. Actually, Im not. I have a feeling shes doing just fine
Seeker of the Unknown
This tomb is used to represent the thousands of heroes who gave their lives in the Rikti War.
Hero of the City
HEROID had never seen it before.
He had heard about it. Read about it. Everybody had.
The size of it made him dizzy to think about it. The very concept of it blew him away.
A spaceship.
He moved over the rubble as quietly as possible. Rikti soldiers were all around, and were well-armed. He was alone and he knew he would be no match for them. He really shouldnt be here.
But he had to see it.
He put a titanium finger up to touch the force-field that surrounded the craft. It looked as thin and fragile as a soap bubble, but it felt harder than
Than he was.
From the bottom of the crash site, Roy looked up. It was like looking up from a grave. He stood in silence and thought about the lives that had been lost from the incredible force of the crash. Enough. He had seen enough.
Carefully, as quietly as possible he began to make his way out of the crater. A leap would bring a barrage of fire his way. Sometimes slow was better.
A loose rock suddenly sent him sliding back downhill. He crashed with a bang against the forcefield and got to his feet quickly, watching to see if any of the Rikti soldiers had heard the noise.
If he had breath at that moment, he would have held it.
Nothing. No sound of running alien feet. No buzzing and whirring of weapons being activated.
He looked up at the rim again.
He waited for someone to throw a shovelful of dirt in his face.
With a sigh, he began the long climb.
Thats when he saw it. Disturbed by his slide, glimmering in the groove he had made in the ash and rocks, it glittered in the sun for the first time in who knew how long. It was only a few steps away.
HEROID picked up the small piece of shining metal and looked at it.
Hero of the City
He marveled. Who would have left this prize just lying there? Why? Had someone dropped it? Would the city replace one of these if it was lost? That didnt make sense. If they did, then there would be Hero of the City badges all over Ebay. It was a cinch that nobody threw this away. He felt sorry for the hero who lost it.
Then he noticed something. A tiny dark spot in the center. He held the badge up to the sun and examined its silhouette. Just what he thought. The tiny dark spot, with the sun behind it, was now a bright shining pinhole. Tiny. As if made by a laser.
He looked down at the disturbed earth where he had found it. Would such a pinhole be enough to kill a hero? He thought about himself. He had withstood bullets. Swords. Chemicals. Explosions. Even energy blasts. But what would a pinhole of cohesive light do to him if it penetrated his armor and his defense fields and reached the special motherboard that held his soul inside this body?
He knew a guy who was made of energy, his sentience contained in a special suit. What if a tiny laser beam put a hole in that guys suit.
HEROID looked at the badge and back to the spot at his feet where he had picked it up. He was pretty sure someone had made their last stand here. He was pretty sure he was standing on hallowed ground.
He laid the badge back into the furrow he had found it in and covered it up.
Then he took a few steps up the hill, and weapons barrage be damned he leapt to the sky, into the land of the living.
?July05
As daylight waned, Korrick rested deep within the forest of Perez Park, hidden in a pocket of
overhanging branches and dappled grass. He crouched nearly motionless, his lifeforce damped
down to conserve his energy as he readied himself for his next move. With one claw he traced in
the living earth the four symbols, lines and curves and crossings in the dirt, that were the key to the
Banished Pantheon's power over that most wonderful and dangerous of forces, human spirit. Now
he needed only to learn the ritual that would change them from scratches in the dirt to potent tools
of power, pain and fear. He could not use them himself, not directly. Such magic seemed to be the
exclusive province of those with souls. Fortunately, he had allies who met that qualification, and
one of them might be convinced to work the magics for him, once he had learned the secrets of their
use.
He considered all he could do with this power. He had observed that, like the other hunters of the
city, he could take on more difficult enemies when allies fought alongside him. If the allies were
made from the bodies of the dead, such as the Pantheon used, then the lives of thinking, feeling
heroes would not be risked. Dead soldiers would not need rest, nor would they be distracted by the
pains and needs of their fellows. Unlike his allies in the Talons, they could not be held hostage nor
tortured, and they would never need rescue. They could be as dedicated as Korrick himself was.
The concept pleased him.
Of course, the dead soldiers he had seen and hunted were still flawed. They lacked volition, and
without the constant direction of their guiding mage, they would stand stupidly and fight like the
dumb brutes they were. Even the small prey animals of the park had more grasp of tactics than the
reanimated dead. He considered, motionless as stone while the shadows of the trees lengthened
and the air assumed the cool of evening.
Perhaps among the works of magic was a spell that could put the mind of a small creature in control
of a new body. The city held many hundreds of stray cats and dogs that would do admirably as
fighters, were they given bodies that were larger and stronger and able to handle weapons. Or,
perhaps the mysteries of magic held a way to give a simulation of intelligence to dead flesh, as the
symbols drawn at his feet could simulate life. Yes, that would be best, for the intelligence could
then be instructed in combat and trusted to operate on its own, without the need of a mage to guide
it. He began to review his memories of his own training, before he had been declared a free being
and released to hunt the streets...
Korrick paused in realization. Of course the ideal hunter would be unfazed by fear or pain, concern
for its own body or the distraction of sympathy. Of course it would have tactical intelligence without
the emotional fetters of the living mind. Had he not been told as much long ago, when he had asked
his trainer why he had no soul?
He did not know how to laugh, but he allowed himself a brief smile as he savored the symmetry of
the path his mind had followed to completion. Evening had turned to night, and the time for
contemplation was past. He allowed his lifeforce to fill his body again, warming his muscles and
blood, readying for the hunt. A brush of his foot reduced the symbols of power once more to mere
dirt. Cloaked and silent to physical senses, he stalked the maze of the woods for his chosen prey.
The green lights of their magical fires shone through the trees. They were so intent on their rituals
and victims of their own that it was ridiculously easy to surprise them, hidden as he was.
Deathforce streamed from his hands, sapping the magic-users' strength, clouding their minds,
draining the life out of them until they sprawled on the soft grass like so many green and brown
fallen leaves. Their victim staggered to his feet and peered about, unsure of what had saved him, but
Korrick was already moving to the next beacon of fire.
He did not consume their souls, trap them in stone altars for the casting of spells, nor feed their pain
to the gods to purchase power. His power belonged to him alone, and with it he merely stopped
their bodies and assumed their souls would go wherever such things went in the absence of external
meddling. With every fire he extinguished, at least one soul would run away still wearing its flesh,
back to its friends and family and coworkers and all the rest of the trivia that made a society. They
would do so because the soulless one had saved them.
The irony pleased him. It was sufficient.
AVATAR
((I know its suppose to be 500 words min but this is all i have..))
Surgeon
Betty Walks into her Father house in kings row that smelled of beer and drugs "Hi! i'm home!," a voice in the backround yells out,"Good get me a beer.., make it three!," "you realy shoudn't be drinking these anymore you know.." "Did i ask you if i shoud or shoud not be drinking...huh..? no i didn't okay and harry up with them to! shheszz what does a person have to do to get a drink around here huh?" Betty hands the beers to your father,"here they are...". "Hand me my smokes," "No I will not hand you your 'smokes' , you shoudn't be drinking at the firsts place!" "Give them to me you girl," Betty took out his last "smoke" and riped it in half , "Hey! what did you do that for?!, next time you do that i'll..i'll...i'll put you on punishment!," "you can't put me on punishment old man! you don't take care of me a matter of fact..I take care of you!," yea yea yea whatever..," "Your lucky your my father... if you weren't i whoud of brought you to the police office a long.. time ago.," " What these are just ciggs..you can't bring me in for that!," Oh? so Ricky at the Corner sells Ciggurates now huh?," "... ... give me a break your just like your mother why won't you visit her and not me?huh,"Well if it makes you happy i just left from her place.." Betty turn around to see her dad was alrdy passed out,"stupid old man" Betty went up stairs to her fathers bed((which was the cleanist part of his place)) to take a nap befor she headed out to fight some crime , but when she got there the closet light was on so she went to turn it off but befor she had the chance to turn it off there was a picture... a black and white picture of her father thou skinny and younger but it was him and he had a Surgeon suit on, no way she thought in her head but befor she could deny it, a rusted old piece of medal drop but the bottom of the picture, whats this she thought to her self but when she blew all the dust off of it she saw that it was some sort of badge... "Surgeon" it had written on it..."No way...," at that second she heard the sceeky sound the couch her father passed on makes, so she put the badge and picture back in the closet quickly and went downstiars."where you going?," Betty ask her father,"I'm going to Rick... .. Jays house up the street," "uuhh huh sure.. dont get caught.. i wont bell out," "yea yea whatever i have a headache stop preaching to me..." as her father walked out the door she smiled at him.
"Amazing that old fool did good in one point of his life.."
Celebrant
Caytlin rolled over and looked blearily at the alarm clock. It took her a while to figure out why it was going off at 6:45 AM, but after a minute she dragged herself out of bed and turned it off. She moved quickly to get dressed and brush her hair, then snuck out and left a silver-wrapped present and card on the table. She smiled and moved back to her room, leaving the door open just a crack as she settled in to wait for Mike to wake up.
In another room a pile of sheets and quilts and two pillows snored on. This lasted a good while until a young man with brown hair and bare chest sat up, muttering something about bacon and snow tires. Still half-asleep his legs guided him out of his room and into the bathroom for normal morning bathroom duties before they, being more awake than the rest of him, guided him down the hall as mouth sleepily babbled something about toast and juice. The eyes were still not REALLY awake, only being half open to avoid anything painful that the body might run into had they been fully shut. The brain, however, was still asleep, not caring a lick about breakfast, bathrooms, or bacon and snow tires. The bushy haired young man shuffled over to the fridge and popped it open long enough to grab two breakfast burritos and toss them into the microwave. The feet tried to wake the brain with messages about how cold the kitchen tile floor was, but they were summarily ignored. Juice was quickly poured and the pajama bottom-clad teen shuffled to the table to eat his breakfast.
It took several minutes to register something out of the ordinary on the table. The eyes blinked several times as the brain grumbled about being woken up from it dreams of randomness and noted that it was a package and a card. The fingers fumbled with the card, being mostly asleep themselves they dropped the card under the table. The brain cursed the fingers and the young teen bent to pick it up smacking the back of his head on the table edge after he had grabbed the card. Rubbing the back of his head, Michael Frost opened the card and peered inside, trying to get the eyes awake enough to make out the blurry letter like objects on the card.
Caytlin smiled affectionately as she watched her bear grumble through his morning routine. Normally she wasnt much better, but anticipation had her alert. She winced as Mike bumped his head but otherwise was trying not to giggle. She opened the case next to her, waiting for the right moment to come out.
The card was simple: brightly colored balloons on the cover, the kind you write your own message on the inside. The message read, Its probably really mean of me to spring this on you first thing in the morning, but I wanted it to be a surprise. Im really really sorry its late. One of these didnt come in with the rest and I had to wait for it. I really hope you like it. With love, Caytlin.
Seeing who it was from and that it was for him, he blinked and forced himself more awake than he had been previously. He smiled and glanced at Caytlin's room and wondered if she and Jessie were awake yet. He decided not to bother them and reached out for the package, trying and failing to open it quietly as he thought the other two were sleeping.
The box was about the size of a small shirt box, but surprisingly heavy. What lay inside
was a hardcover book, maybe about the size of a yearbook, with a picture of him on the cover, in midleap with a serious look on his face. The book was simply titled Chrome Fist: The First Year. Scrawled on the inside of the cover in silver ink was a short message from Caytlin: Happy anniversary, love.
Mike blinked and picked up the book and looked at the cover. "I don't remember that shot." He smirked in amusement for a moment. "I gotta big nose..." he mumbled to himself and then flipped through the book. He smiled warmly at the written words and looked lovingly towards Quest's room.
Caytlin smiled back, though she was hoping the door hid her. There was more to her surprise, though, and she had to stay hidden just a little bit longer. She shifted slightly in anticipation, eyes dancing.
He shook his head and chuckled, having not seen her at all. He picked up the box once more and peered inside. The next two books were identical, except that one was spiral-bound and one was hardcover. The picture on the cover was of Mike sitting on the edge of the couch, eyes half lidded as he played his guitar and sang. Both were titled The Music of Michael Frost and had every completed piece of his music Caytlin had been able to find properly printed out in a professional format.
Caytlin bit her lip and slowly eased the door open, trying not to attract attention, and slipped around behind him with her guitar.
Mike blinked, stunned, as he flipped through the books and looked at it all. "I don't believe this, he muttered as he sat there. He didn't notice Quest's movements.
Caytlin took a deep breath and quietly sat on the arm of the couch. She carefully played the opening chords of one of his songs, concentrating to make sure she didn't make any mistakes. Her playing was hardly up to par in most cases, but this song was one of the simpler ones Mike had written and she'd been practicing hard to make sure she had it right.
Mike turned at the sound and smiled widely, tickled pink by all this. Caytlin smiled back, promptly flubbed a chord, and acked. But she recovered fast enough that she was able to start singing on cue, though her playing was much shakier now that she was doing two things at once. Mike set aside the various items and stood and moved to sit in front of her cross-legged on the floor with a smile. Caytlin had to give up on smiling at him to concentrate on the song. She wasnt perfect, not even close, but she did manage to keep the song at tempo and recover from her mistakes. When she played the closing chord, she gave him a shy, sheepish smile.
Mike stood up without a word, smiling brightly. He gently took the guitar from her and set it aside. He caressed her cheek a moment and then put all his feelings and gratitude into a single kiss. A kiss only for her. She looked surprised for only a moment, and then wrapped her arms around him and returned it just as strongly.
Mike broke the kiss only long enough to slip around and onto the couch and pull her with to his lap with a grin, then kissed her softly again. "Thank you, my heart."
She giggled. "I should surprise you in the morning more often."
He grinned. "Oh really?" he asked, sounding pleased. "Why's that?" he said before he quickly placed a kiss on the tip of her nose.
She smiled and nuzzled his nose. "I like the kind of thank yous I get?"
He chuckled. "All that and more await you, my heart. As much as I can give."
"So you liked it?"
"Loved it and love you," he said, embracing her once more. "I couldn't ask for anything better."
((This was another collaboration between Mike and I, to celebrate the one-year anniversary of Chrome Fist. Yay Mike! 
))
Protector of Innocents
Like birds alighting, two figures touch down on the edge of the concrete expanse of Atlas Plaza. Both appear to be women in their middle twenties - though this is Paragon City, where gods, immortals, and even stranger beings sometimes walk. One has snow-white hair and wears elaborate black armor marked with mystic runes and sigils. The other is a brunette in a form-fitting blue and white bodysuit, fancy boots, and a domino mask.
"You didn't have to escort me all the way back here, you know," says the first, known simply as Cloak, with a playful show of prickles. She is new to the city but is already making a name for herself. Two weeks ago, she was one of those who volunteered to accompany more experienced heroes for a day. Today, her mentor was finally able to deliver on her promise of a battle with a powerful archvillain. "I was fine once we hit Steel Canyon."
"Oh, I know," answers the other with a smile and a shrug. "I don't like leaving a job half-done, though. And it was an excuse to visit the park again." Miss Megajoule scans the familiar plaza, the steps leading up to City Hall and the statue of Atlas looming beyond. It hasn't changed much since she was a new hero herself, almost a year ago... though her eyes do linger on the Kheldian known as Sunstorm, narrowing slightly.
"Well," says Cloak, "I guess I should go see Ms. Liberty about getting trained." She offers her hand. "Thanks again. I really learned a lot, watching you and the others."
Miss Megajoule shakes the presented hand. "You're welcome, and we appreciated your help too. So - any last questions?"
"Just one." Cloak points to the small badge affixed to Miss Megajoule's chest on the upper left, a sawtoothed circle of silver and brass with a little "10" in the center. "The first time we met, I thought this was some kind of supergroup thing. Now that I know what it is, I have another question." Her brows draw together. "You're a big-time hero with lots of badges - so why do you still wear that one?"
Miss Megajoule chuckles softly, looking down at the bit of metal. "Well, it was one of the first badges that I was awarded when I got here. And I'm not the sort to go around bragging that I'm Top Dog." Her sudden grin turns shy as she continues to reminisce. "There was a ceremony on the steps of City Hall. Ms. Liberty pinned it on me herself, and I got a letter of congratulations from the Statesman, and... I felt like I'd made it, that I was really a hero now."
"But it's more than that. I've been around Paragon, seen the sights, read the historical plaques, put a whole lot of people in the Zig, but this..." She taps the badge with a finger. "This is what it's all about, really. Protecting the innocent. That's why I'm here. It's what I do. All that other stuff, all the accolades and celebrity, it's just frosting and glitter. People want to be heroes for lots of reasons, I guess, but for me... this is it."
Noting her companion's glazed expression, Miss Megajoule smiles nervously and waves it aside. "Sorry. Didn't mean to lecture. Bad habit." From grad school, she doesn't say aloud.
Cloak shakes her head. "No, you're fine. I guess I never thought of it that way. I think I understand, though."
"Good. You don't have to agree," Miss Megajoule is quick to add. "Find what works for you. You'll need something to keep you going when you're knee-deep in sewer muck. 'Cause let me tell you, the ones in Founders' Falls don't smell any better."
The two women share a laugh born of common (and disgusting) experience and make their farewells to each other, going their separate ways.
Later, in a cozy and well-maintained one-bedroom apartment in the High Park neighborhood of Kings Row, Julie Vernon emerges from the bathroom in a fluffy robe, scrubbing at her damp hair with a towel. A hot shower is her way of unwinding after a busy day of heroing, even when it does not involve slogging through the sewers. With a satisfied sigh, she plops down on the old sofa and picks up the remote, turning on the evening news. She glances around the apartment with a rueful smile; a month after moving in, there are still boxes that haven't been unpacked.
She had left Paragon City at the beginning of May and gone home, mostly because she felt crushed under the weight of the responsibility she'd taken onto herself, but also because she still felt like she didn't belong here. She'd had a series of temporary residences, from the government-subsidized dorms in Atlas Park to an overpriced studio in Steel Canyon, but had not been comfortable in any of them; nor had she wanted to try to get into a condo on Talos Island, or the projects in Brickstown, or live among the old money in Founders' (even if she'd somehow been able to afford it). Paragon seemed to have no place for her.
When Julie returned from her "summer break" with a new sense of balance, peace and dedication, her friends in the Crew had found her a place... right under her nose, in the Row. Their words carried a lot of weight in the community, and so Julie was allowed to move into an apartment recently vacated by the unfortunate passing of the previous tenant, welcomed as "good people" by the other residents of the grand old Art Deco monolith. She already knew most of them by name and was fairly sure that at least half of them knew she was a hero, if not exactly which one. That might have had something to do with the sudden (one might say "explosive") drop in crime on this block shortly after she moved in.
Still later, after the sun has set and the Thorns come out, lighting the rooftops of the Row with the green plumes of their dark rituals, Miss Megajoule will go out on patrol. Right now, Julie Vernon finishes watching the news and goes into the kitchen to microwave a bag of popcorn. One of her favorite movies is about to come on, a movie with a dragon and a hero and a Code she can quote from memory:
"A knight is sworn to valor.
His heart knows only virtue.
His blade defends the helpless.
His might upholds the weak.
His word speaks only truth.
His wrath undoes the wicked."
(Just in under the line, and commemorating one year (almost) of CoH.)
My characters at Virtueverse
Faces of the City
(While this one isn't actually based in Paragon City, it does relate to the game in that the soldiers portrayed were a handful of the Company that used to be anchored to the Elysienne. Sorry if that's a little self-indulgent of me.)
The Unwavering Spirit
The report of rifle fire warned Captain Latimer a couple of seconds before the high-caliber bullets winged from the smoky gloom. They shattered the wooden precipice ringing the lip of the trench, causing a cloud of splinters to explode into the air around him and his men.
Ducking back, Latimer clicked back the bolt of his Winchester rifle and chambered another round. When he looked back at his squad, they were grim-faced. The thickly-mustached, usually genial face of their chaplain-sergeant was taut with purpose.
"Men..." Latimer cleared his throat, searching for something inspirational to say. "Our orders, as you know, are to hold here as long as we can to slow the Blitzkrieg as best we can." He rose his voice to a yell as shells crashed on the deadly ground of No Man's Land. "It's looking to be a bit of a rum-do, and..." he faltered, looking at the soldiers. He'd never led a suicide mission before.
"And... I..." His voice died in his throat. For one brief second, butcher's boys, candlestick makers, bankers, gentry... every single one of the soldiers let a single thought fade unvoiced.
I want to go home.
Chaplain Hardy stirred himself, his deep preacher's voice resonating.
"Best of British, lads."
That broke the moment, and Latimer jumped to his orders.
"Fifth of foot, on my word I want an opening volley over the trench, then prepare to fire at will!"
He rose, clambering up onto the firing step to look across No Man's Land. Then with the crash of another shell, the ground shifted beneath him and he stumbled to catch himself, his hands sinking into the sucking mud.
"Captain Latimer? Are you alright, sah?"
He shot a glance behind him to see sergeant Hardy at his side, helping him up. He jerked his arm away and stood straight.
"I'm fine, sergeant," he said hotly, "see to the men. This charge can't last much longer..." The sergeant nodded, even though the two of them knew Latimer's words were hollow, and turned sharply before slogging his way across the trench to the other soldiers crouched behind the trench wall. Latimer raised his rifle and fired at the clearest target he could find.
He was awarded by a yell as the target fell from view. Another shell exploded near his position and he was thrown clean up in the air, landing on his back again in a shower of dirty water and mud.
"Fire!" He shouted, and the infantrymen rose up to fire a simultaneous burst of bullets at their enemies. "Fire at will!" He clambered to his feet again and leapt to the firing step, bringing his Winchester up again to fire again and again at the indistinct figures in the smoke.
A deep rumbling and a private paled.
"'At's tanks, sir..." He said quietly. "They'll just run right over us."
"Steady now, Ginge." Growled Hardy, opening a napsack to reveal a payload of grenades.
"Fix bayonets, men." Latimer said, his voice trembling. "We'll wait until they're close, give them a grenade apiece, then charge."
The men reached into the napsack, taking one of the deadly fragmentary grenades known as "pineapples" each, removing the firing pin and holding the deadman's switch down.
"Steady..." Latimer cautioned his men, waiting for the tank to get within range. The whistling of shells and shot filled his world, and he could hear screams and yells in the distance.. and close to as well.
"Steady..."
The tanks rolled on.
The Elysienne; Magical controller
Silent Sickle; Natural scrapper
And many more.
Aenigma Rebis: "Actually, Ely's more like Jean Grey. Only... smart."
And I guess that's why they call it a bump
Time for this post would be high on the list
Laughing like children, living like lovers
Rolling like thunder under the covers
And I guess that's why they call it a bump.
With apollogies to Elton John.
Arc #345863 - When The Bough Breaks
"Curse you Perry the Plata...wait, is that Love Handel?" - Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, Phineas and Ferb