((This is a tale I wrote for the CoH fanfic submission. But I think it may be a little dark for them, so I'm posting it online as well. This is kind of the origin story for my alt Texas-Holdem. Enjoy.))
The snow falls gently and my breath chills as it escapes the pores of my mask. I adjust my position slightly, high atop my rooftop perch, feeling the butt of the rifle dig a little more firmly into my shoulder.
Why am I here? I think the gun makes that obvious. I'm not here to bird watch. To hide my identity, I've taken a masked costume and the name, Texas-Holdem. What I plan isn't exactly legal. Trust me, I know.
I lower the rifle to double-check that I've got the right ammo in it. I do. A "digger" bullet. When it enters a person, it opens like a flower rooting itself inside them. A mediport means nothing when the bullet won't leave your brain.
I bring the rifle back up as I see my target race into view. I steady the rifle and peer though the scope as I see Synapse's head become centered in the red cross-hairs. My finger wraps around the trigger as I think back to the events that lead me to this moment.
It all started three years ago on April 28, 2002. The date is burned in my memory like a brand in flesh. Back then I was known as Osirah Dalton, Texas Ranger. I was one of the top rangers to ever make my way through the ranks, receiving numerous accolades in hand-to-hand combat, urban combat strategy, and weapon proficiency. I was a hero. It was these honors that lead to my being invited to Paragon City to train a special task force in the PDP.
My wife, Sera, and I thought it would be a good vacation for the family, a trip to the City of Heroes as it was dubbed. We had two little girls, 5yo twins named Kelsie and Chelsie, who were thrilled by the prospect of meeting Statesman. It seemed like a perfect vacation for a perfect life. I should have known that nothing perfect can ever last.
I was in the middle of explaining the tactical advantages of portable auto-turrets to a group of officers when I was taken aside and given the news. The detective patted my arm, sympathetically, as he explained to me that my family had been attacked while out sightseeing. My mind was numb as they rushed me to the hospital.
By the time I got there, it was too late. My little girls were gone. They hadn't even made it to the hospital. Sera was in critical condition and already in surgery. She passed away on the operating table 13 minutes later. I was devastated, my life in shambles. How had this happened to my beautiful family in the City of Heroes?
The answer was revealed two days later as the local PD caught the guilty parties. Turns out it was some punk in the Skulls gang named Marrowsnap and a few of his pals. During the interrogation they admitted trying to rob my family in an alley so they could buy more superdine. They were under the influence of it when they paniced at the sound of a distant siren and decided to not leave any witnesses. I finally had my closure or so I had thought.
While he was being questioned, Marrowsnap let it be known that he and his group had actually been apprehended earlier that day by a group of heroes for trying to break into a car. The heroes were ready to take the Skulls to jail when they got a com call that some giant robot monster named Babbage was loose in the area. They decided to cut the Skulls loose and go battle Babbage instead.
My family is gone because those heroes considered the Skulls to be too far beneath them to bother with arresting them. Ten minutes is all it would have taken to save my family.TEN MINUTES!!! ALL THEY HAD TO DO WAS TAKE THEM IN!!!
The anger I felt over this revelation boiled inside me all the way up to the funeral. And when I saw the mahogany casket, flanked on either side by the two smaller caskets, my rage came to a head. I took a vow there, upon the site of my family, to never let evil go free and let no one, good or evil, to stand in the way of my mission. Everything I do and am is because of what I lost that day. Because of my family
The memories transform themselves into tears in my eyes. The image of Synapse in my sight blurs as they well up. The mask is the only thing stopping the tears from falling into the snow beneath me.
ALL THEY HAD TO DO WAS TAKE THEM IN!!! The thought blares in my head as the rage overwhelms the sorrow. Because of those heroes, I am now alone. I am no longer the hero I once was. I'm on the verge of entering a path that can't ever be left once you enter onto it. Revenge against those heroes is mine to take.
The tears dry up and Synapse becomes clear again within my sight. I feel my knuckles whiten under my gloves as I tighten my grip on the rifle. My finger curls around the trigger as I start to pull it back. One shot and it's over.
I raise the rifle. That shot won't be taken today. Everything I do, I do in the memory of my family. I won't cross that line in the name of their memory though. I guess there is a little bit of hero inside me after all.
I stand up from my position atop the roof. Grabbing the rifle, I walk away. My silent footprints in the snow being the only indicator I was ever there. I can walk the better path. I don't have to cross that line with hero or villain to honor my family. All I have to do is take them in.
Posted
Sweet!
"City of Heroes. April 27, 2004 - August 31, 2012. Obliterated not with a weapon of mass destruction, not by an all-powerful supervillain... but by a cold-hearted and cowardly corporate suck-up."
((This is a tale I wrote for the CoH fanfic submission. But I think it may be a little dark for them, so I'm posting it online as well. This is kind of the origin story for my alt Texas-Holdem. Enjoy.))
The snow falls gently and my breath chills as it escapes the pores of my mask. I adjust my position slightly, high atop my rooftop perch, feeling the butt of the rifle dig a little more firmly into my shoulder.
Why am I here? I think the gun makes that obvious. I'm not here to bird watch. To hide my identity, I've taken a masked costume and the name, Texas-Holdem. What I plan isn't exactly legal. Trust me, I know.
I lower the rifle to double-check that I've got the right ammo in it. I do. A "digger" bullet. When it enters a person, it opens like a flower rooting itself inside them. A mediport means nothing when the bullet won't leave your brain.
I bring the rifle back up as I see my target race into view. I steady the rifle and peer though the scope as I see Synapse's head become centered in the red cross-hairs. My finger wraps around the trigger as I think back to the events that lead me to this moment.
It all started three years ago on April 28, 2002. The date is burned in my memory like a brand in flesh. Back then I was known as Osirah Dalton, Texas Ranger. I was one of the top rangers to ever make my way through the ranks, receiving numerous accolades in hand-to-hand combat, urban combat strategy, and weapon proficiency. I was a hero. It was these honors that lead to my being invited to Paragon City to train a special task force in the PDP.
My wife, Sera, and I thought it would be a good vacation for the family, a trip to the City of Heroes as it was dubbed. We had two little girls, 5yo twins named Kelsie and Chelsie, who were thrilled by the prospect of meeting Statesman. It seemed like a perfect vacation for a perfect life. I should have known that nothing perfect can ever last.
I was in the middle of explaining the tactical advantages of portable auto-turrets to a group of officers when I was taken aside and given the news. The detective patted my arm, sympathetically, as he explained to me that my family had been attacked while out sightseeing. My mind was numb as they rushed me to the hospital.
By the time I got there, it was too late. My little girls were gone. They hadn't even made it to the hospital. Sera was in critical condition and already in surgery. She passed away on the operating table 13 minutes later. I was devastated, my life in shambles. How had this happened to my beautiful family in the City of Heroes?
The answer was revealed two days later as the local PD caught the guilty parties. Turns out it was some punk in the Skulls gang named Marrowsnap and a few of his pals. During the interrogation they admitted trying to rob my family in an alley so they could buy more superdine. They were under the influence of it when they paniced at the sound of a distant siren and decided to not leave any witnesses. I finally had my closure or so I had thought.
While he was being questioned, Marrowsnap let it be known that he and his group had actually been apprehended earlier that day by a group of heroes for trying to break into a car. The heroes were ready to take the Skulls to jail when they got a com call that some giant robot monster named Babbage was loose in the area. They decided to cut the Skulls loose and go battle Babbage instead.
My family is gone because those heroes considered the Skulls to be too far beneath them to bother with arresting them. Ten minutes is all it would have taken to save my family.TEN MINUTES!!! ALL THEY HAD TO DO WAS TAKE THEM IN!!!
The anger I felt over this revelation boiled inside me all the way up to the funeral. And when I saw the mahogany casket, flanked on either side by the two smaller caskets, my rage came to a head. I took a vow there, upon the site of my family, to never let evil go free and let no one, good or evil, to stand in the way of my mission. Everything I do and am is because of what I lost that day. Because of my family
The memories transform themselves into tears in my eyes. The image of Synapse in my sight blurs as they well up. The mask is the only thing stopping the tears from falling into the snow beneath me.
ALL THEY HAD TO DO WAS TAKE THEM IN!!! The thought blares in my head as the rage overwhelms the sorrow. Because of those heroes, I am now alone. I am no longer the hero I once was. I'm on the verge of entering a path that can't ever be left once you enter onto it. Revenge against those heroes is mine to take.
The tears dry up and Synapse becomes clear again within my sight. I feel my knuckles whiten under my gloves as I tighten my grip on the rifle. My finger curls around the trigger as I start to pull it back. One shot and it's over.
I raise the rifle. That shot won't be taken today. Everything I do, I do in the memory of my family. I won't cross that line in the name of their memory though. I guess there is a little bit of hero inside me after all.
I stand up from my position atop the roof. Grabbing the rifle, I walk away. My silent footprints in the snow being the only indicator I was ever there. I can walk the better path. I don't have to cross that line with hero or villain to honor my family. All I have to do is take them in.