((*claps and whistles* Nicely written, Heroid! 
*wanders off to find something fresh and forum-safe to contribute*))
((If you don't mind I think I'll use this as an excuse to do some off-screen time for my Wren. Her RP is broken to an insane degree and I might retire her anyway. While grinding her last night my brain percolated a bit and tried to toss out a solution. Btw, I love this thread and that's a great story.))
((Great idea. I will have to come up with some PG-13 stuff with Grae to post. Hmmmm....))
Paragonian Knights
Justice Company
((this should be fun. Always nice to see what superheroes and villains do in their down-time....
wharf rats, anyone? *waits to see if anyone gets the reference*))
(Hmm.. may have to think of something while my brain's melting at work today. Really neat idea!)
((Here's a quicky for Roving Gypsy.))
She couldn't see the moon through the metal roof, but it was definitely past time for sleep. Still, staring into the darkness above her wasn't helping. Wren sighed and kicked her way out of the bedroll. A reproachful noise from the center of the mess let her know that Scratches had been having none of her troubles. She untangled the kitten before beginning her nightly pacing ritual again.
"Damn them all. This isn't even close to what they promised me." She could hear the doctor's voice again as she had come up from the anesthesia dreams.
"Everything looks good Wren," the doctor was another nameless face in a pale green smock. He didn't even bother to look up from his notepad as he continued, "You'll be out of commission for a week or two while your body gets used to the pump. After that, it should be even harder to stop you than before." She had just lain there, a pain noise from her as she rolled to stop the rivulets of sweat that were slowly leaking into her eyes was taken as acknowledgement and he moved on. Two hours later she was on the sidewalk with her rucksack and skin the color of overcooked oatmeal. That had been two months ago.
The memory wasn't helping to calm her down for sleep. She stumbled slightly in the dark and began digging the prescription bottle from the top of her bag. Three little blue and green caplets filled with calm fell into her palm, followed by the quick gagging sensation of dry-swallowing. She wiped the sweat from her brow and knelt in response to a small mewling noise from her right ankle.
"I know kitten, we're going back to bed now." She picked up the orange and black furball, made an indistinct grey blob in the darkness, and returned to lying down. As she stroked its head a soft rumble began low in the kitten's chest. "I miss the park, Scratches." The scurrying of roaches and the creaking of aluminum walls fighting the wind was a far cry from the cicadas and leaves rustling in the breeze, but after awhile the pills added their own subtle music and Wren slept.
[[edit: why do I always typo e as y at the end of words? Those two keys aren't even typed with the same hand!]]
((Work-boredom spawned up this little bit. It's kind of like a "here's a random day in the life of" thing. 
The following contains some spoilerness for Westin Phipps' arcs and missions.))
PERSONAL LOG ENTRY
Today, I have ended my business relations with the Arachnos-loyal sadist, Westin Phipps.
To observe an individual so devoid of overarching purpose has been most intriguing. Even the worst of my former colleagues had some form of palpable goal beyond self-preservation and satisfaction of the pleasure of the moment. Mr Phipps, on the other hand, acts to stay within the good favour of Arachnos, while feeding his own addiction of tasting the suffering of another.
Naturally, as he is a client whose public identity masks what truly lies beneath, my reputation has been slightly altered by working alongside him.
----------
"Oh jeez, that's-"
"Did you hear what he did to that poor teacher?"
"Yeah, man. Every time another one comes in from Paragon, it's only a few months 'til their retirement shows up on TV."
----------
Given time, public opinion will normalize as others commit acts far worse than those I stand accused of. As for the thoughts of certain other organizations, I suppose time will tell.
----------
"I wonder if we'll get help from him the next time some of the Banes go loopy."
"Y'know, I kinda hope not. That whole thing...it just felt...wrong."
----------
"Been thinking of joining Wyvern if I don't get promoted to Nullifier soon, actually."
"How come?"
"I might get a clear shot at the scumwad that took out the old commander. She just wanted to save that one Spider..."
----------
Though Mr Phipps and myself parted ways on the best of terms one could hope for with an individual such as he, I have found him unfit to inhabit humanity's future in any form. Akin to former associates such as Mr Wheeler, Phipps has proven himself a weak link in the species' genepool, and thus will be pared out.
A simple task, thankfully. Only minor observation is required.
Should he survive to the next century, I will personally cut short his life. In the highly unlikely event of procreation, I have already taken the liberty of exposing him to a miniscule nanotech payload. Future generations of the Phipps bloodline will bear an 80% chance of being composed of the genetic signatures of a key figure I encountered recently, far more deserving of survival. Unfortunate that there is such a margin of error, but deleting the 20% failure output would be of little effort should it come to pass.
For precise records of my work with Phipps, reference related uploads within Poseidon's databanks. [BE-8842337]
As a positive side-result of these experiences, I am now in possession of several additional Preserved. Still unable to guarantee prolonged consciousness, but I will shortly activate and debrief the remaining samples.
LOG ENTRY ENDS
----------
Closing the link to Poseidon, the 12th King stepped away from his desk and towards the monitor bank in his personal quarters. He paused in front of the screen-ridden wall.
Soundlessly uttering a word, he waited. Then, the wall folded open, enveloping his body in a series of accordion-like panels. Just as quickly, they retracted, leaving no trace of anyone in the room.
Now within his private sanctuary, the blue-suited man approached three small, metallic boxes that lay on a research table. His robotic hand passed over each one, and they silently awoke. A chromed orb rose from the shimmering surface of each box, all observing the man that stood before them.
"Of this current era, you have been found worthy of continuation," said the 12th King. "Worthy to advance to the next stage of humanity's evolution."
He gestured to the centre and left-most boxes.
"By your joint conviction, a powerful form of mental programming was, if only briefly, disrupted. You both bear the will necessary to improve, and prosper."
The 12th King gently pressed the pair's visual sensors back down into their cube-like forms.
"Your essences have been preserved, but cannot maintain prolonged function at this time. When I have solved that boundary, you will be reawakened. But for now...rest."
Turning to the third box, the 12th King picked it up and continued to speak.
"And you, miss. I too have had close working relations with the Freakshow. Thus, I find that I can sympathize with your previous situation, granted that you placed yourself into it."
He turned, allowing the box to view a dimly-lit corridor that spanned out from the side of the room.
"As you have heard, you will be dormant for some time. The halls before you will be your home during that period. Of course, you will not be conscious, which will alleviate any prolonged boredom or isolation."
He rested his hand over the box's visual sensor orb.
"Do not worry. Your lineage is, in one form or another, assured. When you awake, I hope you will appreciate the vague irony that lies within one such solution."
The 12th King's hand pressed down, and the box fell dormant.
After a few moments, a small robot approached. The blue-suited man glanced down at it.
"Orpheus. Place these three within the designated receptacles."
The robot glanced up, wearily.
"If there is one thing that remains reliable," it droned, "it would have to be your persistence."
The small metal being collected the three cubes, and slowly wandered down the dark corridor. It muttered one more time.
"Reliable, but hopeful. The only real hope I can see, anymore."
DJs for The Cape Radio
Makes videos & podcasts about reviewing toys, covering conventions, and more at Vangelus.ca
It was good to be home.
Rosie was exhausted. She kept getting involved in Arachnos' business, something she had been determined to avoid. She wasn't a joiner. She had no desire to be a soldier in Lord Recluse's grand scheme. She only wanted to turn a profit from it if she could.
Unfortunately, on the Rogue Isles, Arachnos made the rules. If they called offering her work, she dared not turn them down.
She needed to do something to relax, so she ran a hot bath and soaked the soreness of the day out of her muscles. That's when the idea hit her.
There was a little bookstore in Mercy proper where was displayed a rare edition of a certain book, signed by the original English translator. Out of habit, she had checked out the store's security system. The tiny tell-tale mirrors along the baseboard revealed the presence of a laser grid on the floor. Motion detectors were visible throughout. Concealed, but visible to her trained eye were three CCTV cameras. A couple of active defenses involving gas and sonic waves. Nothing fancy. Nothing that she couldn't be in and out of undetected within minutes.
If she could steal it, that book would make the perfect gift...
Two hours later, the morning sun rising and streaming into the window made Rose's hair shine like spun gold. She smiled to herself as she wrapped the book and addressed it to Nick Kinsolving c/o Maggie's Rock. The Fed-Ex office opened in an hour.
Wouldn't he be surprised!
Sailor pulled the van into the driveway. Three bikes lay scattered across the yard. Nice to see the kids put things away. he thought. Just glad the Outcasts don't come out this far.
Opening the door he is assaulted by sounds and smells. "GET OFF ME!" "I'M TELLIN'!" "MOoOoOM! He's touching me!" As usual, the kids have thrown shoes, games, and backpacks all over. Sailor Raises a voice like a bullhorn, "KNOCK IT OFF! Let's get this stuff picked up, NOW!" Heads pop out, and 5 kids scurry out and start giving hugs and picking up their things. "Hi Dad! What did you do today?" his 11yr old asks.
Well, son, Dad beat the crap out of a bunch of Outcasts, then went over and took out a little aggression on some Council punks. Sometimes he wished he'd just told them the truth. Sometimes he wished he didn't have to do this at all.
"Just worked on a skyscraper over in Steel Canyon. Place must have been over 100 stories tall!" Bryan looked a little down, "Didn't anything exciting happen?". "Nope", Sailor lied, "Just an ordinary day.". Ordinary for me anyway.
Walking in the kitchen, the smell of italian spices hung enticingly in the air. Pam was making some sort of pasta dish, and the garlic bread was smelling awesome. Sailor's stomach grumbled. "Hey Sweetie.", she gave him a hug, "You okay? I saw the news." Concern in her eyes. Sailor hated that, but he couldn't handle ever lying to her. "I'm fine. Just a few bruises."
Now she looked harder. "You sure? I know what "a few bruises" means to you mister!" Sailor took Pam into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head, "Seriously, just a few bruises. You know I'll take care of myself." He looked down and kissed her.
She would not be put off. "I know you'll get yourself seriously hurt." Sailor sighed. This always happened when something he did made the news. She would get worked up and paranoid that something would happen to him, and he'd have to spend the rest of the night reassuring her that everything was going to be fine.
Sailor was about to say something, when that phone rang. Pam just looked at him. "Go on, answer it. I know you want to." "Dear Heart, it's not like that. I just..." "I know, I know, you just want us to be safe. We've been through this already.", she sighed. "Just be careful, okay? I need you."
Sailor kissed her and gave her a big hug. " I know. I will. I love you Dear Heart." and he stepped back out the door "And you kids better pick these bikes up!" then he was gone.
" I love you too.", she whispered...
((Micro story #2. My newest toy Minimal Rose. Yes, he's a rat.))
The brothers and sisters were sleepy. Their fur was covered in the slick sheen of grease from the stolen treasures in black plastic mountains behind the Ultra-Chicken. They dozed in the feeling of shared warmth and a good meal, burrowing into the fur of their larger sibling.
"Yes yes brotherses, that was fine and filling for the guts!" Rose had been expounding for the past hour over anything and everything for the past hour. The smarter rats, those closest to him and that had been waiting when he left the lab, had had quite enough by now. Small teeth nipped at his belly from underneath to quiet him. "I knows I knows I knows, but if yous would carry your side of it I wouldn't have to keep talkings."
The rats were unimpressed, and one crawled out from the pile to yawn at him. "Fines. We naps now and to the clubs later I gets to go." Rose pulled a veil of garbage about his tired group and curled up to sleep. Later, after all, he would have to shower so the silly humans would talk to him.
A woman knew. Even a naive, inexperienced woman like her knew.
There were very few symptons. A bit of nausea during the day...But that could have been anxiety, right?
She'd been feeling so nervous and afraid since...that clone...
Peggy ran for the bathrrom and gagged, certain this time she would become sick.
But the feeling went away quickly. She washed her face for the hundredth time that day, and went to sit in the living room.
Not five minutes later, she heard they keys in the door and jumped, grabbing a can of mace she alwayd kept nearby.
"R-Roy? Roy??"
"It's me, babe. Ya made meatloaf fer dinner last night, and yer middle name's Patty."
He was so accustomed to having to reassure her of who he was lately, he no longer had to think about the way he would do it.
He noticed how pale she was...For weeks, she'd been pale. His friends had told him she needed to see a doctor. Maybe needed to talk to someone. But he disagreed. They would deal with this alone.
She came to him, greeting him at the door with a kiss.
"Roy...Please sit down."
"Hon? Is everythin' alright?" He was worried. This wasn't like his timid, mousey wife.
"Roy...I...The...R-Roy? I saw a...Maggie made me...I've been so tired...Feeling sick...." She stopped talking. That was when he noticed she was shaking.
"Babe? Ya okay? Are ya sick? We can fix ya up. Don't be scairt."
Without looking at him, she finally blurted it out...
"Roy, I'm pregnant."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
24 hours later:
"I love you too, Mike! Now lets go kick stuff!!"
Missy grinned at her love as she hopped off to the next mission.
Catching up tp her quickly, the cyborg smiled, pulling her close, "Alright, Princess. Lets go kick stuff."
"Wait! I need some gum first! I know I have some in here somewhere!"
She rummaged through her belt pouch...Then suddenly winced, stuck a bloody finger in her mouth...and disappeared.
Standing before Mike was Peggy. The "mouse", as his Missy called her.
And at Peggy's feet was a thorn.
Dazed, Peggy looked around to figure out where she'd awakened this time.
Mike, the realization dawning on him quickly, picked up the small thorn.
"Oh crap..."
"Mike, this can't be good.", said CARRIE, his AI.
"Shut up, Carrie. Just...shut up."
He held the thorn gently in his hand and stared at it. A Spirit Thorn. She'd done some work against the Circle lately. He knew Azuria had been calling Missy to bring these back to MAGI...
"Missy...."
The Thorn seemed to give off a faint glow as he stared at it.
He glanced at Peggy, who was also staing at the thorn.
"She's gone. She's not here. I...I'm alone, Mike. I can't feel anything. I'm only me."
The cyborg only nodded, then wrapped his hand gently around the Thorn, and 'ported off, leaving poor Peggy to find her own way home.
She was mugged three times before she finally arrived safely.
She was a paragon of might - a protector of innocents. Standing tall over the city she had sworn to protect, this powerful heroine dared some poor thug to try and make trouble today. Her cape fluttered and billowed in the wind, as the sun slowly rose in the distance. Daytime was a-
***
"Alta! Are you down there, sweetie?"
Her head hit the desk, hard, as her mother interrupted her. How was she supposed to write a story about a super-hero with all these distractions? It was bad enough that she had to deal with the occasional bit of crime-fighting during the day, but to have to come home and be harrassed constantly? Maybe it was time to move away from home. Far away. Preferably on the other side of the city, if not out of the state entirely.
"Alta? Are you awake..? You know we have dinner with the Duton's later tonight! I want you to be ready on time for once!"
Did anyone -else- have to put up with this kind of trouble? Grumbling softly into the oak surface, Alta rubbed the back of her head to ruffle her hair. She'd finally gotten used to not crushing her new ears, at least. "I'm awake. Just busy, mom." Or she had been, at least. Staring down at the paper as she lifted her head up, the young heroine gave a soft sigh. The paper crumpled, destroying a whole world, and made a swift trip into the waste-basket along with so many other shattered planets. A cosmic graveyard of motherly interruptions. "Do I really have to go? They don't even -like- me."
"Your sister said it was important, young lady, and you're going! And I don't want any excuses this time!" Towards the end, her mother's voice trailed off, punctuated by the sound of stomping feet. Probably would be a good idea to stay downstairs for a -bit- longer.
"I really need to find a new place to live." Alta stretched her arms above her head, tail flicking softly, and yawned. A nap really -did- sound sort of good right now. She glanced at the clock. Two hours? Plenty of time for a quick catnap before heading off to the first tier of Hell, and then a long night of stress relief in the form of thug-bashing. Standing, she wandered over to the futon set up in the corner of the little basement. "Domestic life sucks. It never looks this hard in the comic books." Flumping down onto the mattress, the feline mutant curled up under the covers to dream heroic dreams. And possibly at least one about a giant monster eating her mother.
(Later then I planned, and a bit sub-par... I'll be glad when I'm finally -not- ill. Also, I love all the stories here so far. ;D)
[ QUOTE ]
"Roy, I'm pregnant."
[/ QUOTE ]
((Oh snap!))
[ QUOTE ]
"She's gone. She's not here. I...I'm alone, Mike. I can't feel anything. I'm only me."
[/ QUOTE ]
((Oh SNAP! 
))
Months ago...
A small man in a white lab coat stands beside another, larger man in a white lab coat.
"You know, with the costume on," says the smaller man, "he looks just like the original."
"Yeah," says the larger man, then, "Hey! Let me get the original and stand him up beside the clone!"
In moments, the large man in the white lab coat, is propping up an unconscious superhero beside the clone which he and the other whitecoat helped create.
"See? They look...!"
The large man loses his grip and the original superhero falls against the clone, resulting in a tumbling mess of superhero limbs and torsos and heads. They land in a heap on the floor.
"Ooops."
"You idiot! Now we won't be able to tell the clone from the original until he wakes up."
"But we were supposed to release him back into the wild as soon as we confirmed the clone was an exact duplicate!"
"Well... he's not supposed to wake up until he's back outside, for obvious reasons."
"Uh... I'm pretty sure the original is the one that landed on top."
"What on top? His legs or his head?"
"Uh... his head."
"This is a hard choice. The clone has zero intelligence at this point. Surely people who know this guy will notice if we send out the wrong one. Still, it's a 50/50 chance we'll have to take..."
Later that day...
A beautiful young heroine is assisted by a young man in a purple and green costume. They have just finished defeating a coven of the Circle of Thorns.
"Wow, Vandal Bug, I've never seen you fight so well before."
"Mmmmm."
"Oh, yes it was quite exciting."
"Mmmmmmmm."
"Oh, Vandal, you've changed over the past few weeks. You're so much more... mature now."
"Mmmmmmmmmm."
"Me too. I just didn't want to say it. I was afraid of... you know... the rejection."
"Mmmmmmmm."
"Oh Vandal! Yes! Now! Right here! Take me!"
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...."
Days ago...
A red-hued android woman stalks through a conquored Crey cloning lab, searching each and every room before she directs her robots to destroy it. She happens upon a steel-reinforced room, with a heavy steel door.
"Abadon, open."
Like an obediant dog, one of her robots trots up to the door and rips it from it's hinges. Inside, a startled young man wearing a green and purple spandex costume sits in restraining cuffs and leg-chains.
"I don't know who you are, shiny and beautiful," he says to the android woman, "but I'm glad as hell to see you!"
He jumps up and kisses the android woman on the cheek.
Momentarily taken aback, the android woman gathers her composure and says, "I'm Elle. Sometimes called Demonelle. And you would be...?"
"I'm called Vandal Bug," Then he thought, But if you knew me better, you could call me Ricky James.
"You were a prisoner of Crey Industries?"
"Yes! I don't know how long, it's all a blur of boring day after boring day. They don't have cable here! Can you believe that? And no satellite radio! And..."
At that same moment, in the office of the Dean of Paragon University...
A young man with purple hair sits across from the Dean, a blank expression on his face. (Er... that's the young man's face, not the Dean's.)
"Mr. James, it is my pleasure to inform you that your grades have improved from a 0.05 GPA to nearly a 0.25 GPA. That is a vast improvement."
"Mmmmm."
"And I see you're working on your communication skills too. Very good!"
((And keep in mind, this is a thread for everyone to post shorts and vignettes dealing with what your characters do when they're not facing down some infinite crisis. Please, feel free to join in! ))
((I usually "story-ize" these rp's. This one, I decided, needs to just stay as it is, intact.))
HEROID: I hoped I'd find ya here. Mind if I siddown?
Ireland Love: I missed it. Sit.
HEROID: Miss this place too.
Ireland Love: Ever'thin' seemed easier when we used t' come here.
HEROID: Ya know when I take Ben out, he still comes here an' makes sure there ain't no Vhaz on this rock.
Ireland Love smiles a bit.
HEROID: Yer picture's still carved near th' bottom, just b'low th' waterline.
Ireland Love: Are ye alright, Roy?
HEROID nods
HEROID: Yeah.
HEROID: Just... thinkin'.
HEROID: It wuz either here 'r th' D.
Ireland Love: Thinkin' what?
HEROID: How... how just when ya think ya got things figgered out an' life's lookin' good...
HEROID: God throws ya a changeup an' ya can't quite catch up with it.
HEROID: Ya know?
Ireland Love: I know, aye.
HEROID: Peggy's pregnant.
Ireland Love: She told' ye, then.
HEROID nods
Ireland Love: How d' ye feel 'bout it?
HEROID: I...
HEROID shrugs and shakes his head.
HEROID: I love 'er Maggie.
HEROID: I don't want nothin' bad ta happen ta her.
Ireland Love: She'll be fine, Roy. She's stron'er'n she thinks she is.
HEROID nods.
HEROID: But...
HEROID: ... what if th' baby's... like me?
Ireland Love: I hope 'tis. 'Tis yers, either way.
HEROID: ...
HEROID puts face in hands.
HEROID: Maggie...
Ireland Love listens.
HEROID: ... while we wuz in th' Rogue Isles, on that wild goose chase...
HEROID: ... look...
HEROID: ...ya remember that other clone?
HEROID: Th' one that... Ben...?
Ireland Love: Roy, ye love 'er, right?
HEROID: I guess ya know about that.
Ireland Love: Are ye gonna love th' baby?
HEROID nods.
Ireland Love: Are ye gonna raise it wi' 'er?
HEROID: O' course!
Ireland Love: Will it have yer blood runnin' through it?
HEROID: Well... yeah... either way, I guess.
Ireland Love: Then 'tis yers.
HEROID nods.
HEROID: I dunno if she's gonna see it that way. I hope she does.
Ireland Love: She will, in time.
HEROID: See, I gotta get past all this, 'r she's gonna think it's a problem fer me.
Ireland Love nods.
Ireland Love: She's gonna need ye more'n ever now, I think.
HEROID nods.
HEROID: I might be able ta pick up a bus... I ain't that strong. Not inside. Not where it counts.
Ireland Love: I think ye are.
HEROID shakes his head.
Ireland Love: Ye jus' needa realize it.
HEROID: I always had you, 'r Neb, 'r Shae, 'r Ma.
HEROID: I'm gonna tell ya somethin' Maggie...
HEROID: ... th' great secret o' th' Fraternal Order o' Men...
HEROID: ...we're th' weaker sex.
Ireland Love: Really? I'm shocked.
Ireland Love is being sarcastic.
HEROID: Yeah. Guess ya knew that.
HEROID: Well...
HEROID: It scares us.
HEROID: It scares th' bejeezus outta me, Peggy bein' pregnant.
Ireland Love: Roy, yer gonna be fine. An' when ye need us, ye still have me 'n Shae 'n ye Mum. An' Claire an' Tera an' ever'one else too.
HEROID: I know.
HEROID: There's somethin' else.
HEROID looks up, there's a tear in his eye...
HEROID: Missy's gone.
Ireland Love: Eh? Gone?
HEROID: Peggy told me some. Mike told me some. She pricked 'er finger on one o' them thorn things...
HEROID: An' only Peggy wuz left...
HEROID: Ya know all th' times I wished I could have Peggy all ta myself...
HEROID: ...I feel like it's my fault fer wishin' it.
Ireland Love: Bloody hell.
HEROID: An' Peggy's like a sittin' duck in th' city now.
Ireland Love: Peggy'll be fine. Ever'one else 'round here is.
HEROID: She can't even walk outta work ta hail a cab without some thug grabbin' 'er purse an' pushin' her' down.
HEROID: She comes home with bruises...
HEROID: ...she ain't like us.
Ireland Love sighs.
Ireland Love: I kin have someone stay wi' 'er. I kin spare a bodyguard.
Ireland Love: Someone t' walk 'er t' work an' home.
HEROID: I dunno if she'd do that.
HEROID: She's so goddamned proud.
Ireland Love: She will if she dunno.
HEROID looks up...
HEROID: Ya think ya got somebody that could tail 'er without bein' caught?
HEROID: I mean... she'd really be pissed off, me doin' this b'hind 'er back.
HEROID: I think she'd love me fer it... but it'd hurt 'er first, then make 'er mad.
Ireland Love: My guys're th' bes', Roy.
HEROID nods.
Ireland Love: She'd ne'er know.
HEROID: If ya don't mind... it'd be a load off o' my mind if she wuz safe when I ain't around.
Ireland Love: I kin switch 'em up so 'tis a differen' one ever'day. She'd jus' think she's lucky an' has heroes 'round when she needs 'em.
HEROID nods.
HEROID: Yer a doll, Maggie.
Ireland Love: How's Missy's lad doin'?
HEROID: He ain't th' type ta tell ya how he's doin'.
HEROID: I think maybe he blames me too.
Ireland Love: Th' hell was she doin' wi' a spirit thorn anyway?
HEROID: I dunno. Maybe I should find out.
Ireland Love: Where's th' thorn now?
HEROID thinks...
HEROID: Peggy didn't say...
HEROID: I... I gotta find that thorn.
Ireland Love: Aye. Ye do.
Ireland Love: Know who might be able t' help? Give ye some advice?
HEROID: Who's that?
Ireland Love: Tessa.
HEROID: Yeah...
HEROID: It happened ta her too, didn't it?
Ireland Love nods.
Ireland Love: Problem is...Now't she's out o' Peggy...She's gonna need a new body.
Ireland Love: No' so easy t' fin'. People dunna like t' give up thier bodies verrah offen.
HEROID: Nope.
HEROID: But...
HEROID: ...I wuz helpin' clear out a clonin' lab a few days back...
HEROID: I didn't actu'ly see th' clones...
HEROID: ...actu'ly, I don't r'member that much o' th' whole thing...
Ireland Love frowns.
HEROID: ...this new kid that Jenna knows -- he's been hangin' around th' Base-ment some -- he showed up an' pulled me out o'there.
HEROID: Blue Mavis. He said th' place wuz took care of.
Ireland Love: Magus. Blue Magus.
HEROID: Oh? Ya heard o' th' kid.
HEROID: Seemed like decent guy.
Ireland Love smiles a bit, "I know 'im, aye."
HEROID: Real polite.
HEROID: His momma must've raised 'im right...
Ireland Love: I'm sure she did 'er bes'.
HEROID nods.
HEROID: Well... if we could find a place like that, with clones... but...
HEROID: ...that ain't no good.
Ireland Love absently touches the blue stoned ring on her finger.
Ireland Love: Ye gotta try'n figger out what Missy'd want.
HEROID nods.
HEROID: Maybe we could get a mediator ta talk ta her.
Ireland Love: Medium. We could try. I bet Tessa'd be able t'.
HEROID: Tessa'd do it, I'm pretty sure.
HEROID: If she can.
HEROID: Would it help ta maybe have it in a place where Missy spent alotta time?
Ireland Love: I'm no' sure if I could. I ne'er tried t' talk t' a dead person.
HEROID: Yeah. Ya gotta be special like that kid in th' Sick Sense.
Ireland Love: Sixth. I dunno, Roy. I dunno much 'bout thorns. Jus't ye needa fin' it. An' 'twillna be easy t' git 'er out, even if ye do fin' a body.
HEROID nods.
HEROID: Okay. I'll talk ta Peggy an' Mike... find out if they know where it is. Gives me a plan o' action.
Ireland Love nods.
HEROID: One more thing...
HEROID: ...I been all over lookin' fer a job...
HEROID: Ta most places havin' a superhero workin' on th' premises is a liability.
HEROID: I... It... It's hard ta ask ya this...
HEROID: ...I mean...
Ireland Love: Yer hired.
HEROID smiles sheepishly.
HEROID: Thanks, Maggie.
HEROID: Uh... now whadda I do at th' Rock?
Ireland Love: Ye kin start ty'morrow. Oh, an' look! Ye've been permoted too. Yer now Head o' Security. Congrats.
HEROID: Now, Maggie... I ain't askin' fer no handout...
HEROID: I don't want no promotion that ain't deserved.
Ireland Love: Roy, d' ye know how lon' I've been lookin' fer someone t' fill that p'sition?
HEROID: Oh.
HEROID: Uh...
HEROID: Then... yeah. I'll do it.
HEROID: It'll gimme a chance ta see Ben reg'lar.
HEROID: An' I'll still be able ta do my civil duties fer th' city.
Ireland Love: Good. Ye'll like th' guys. Mos're retired heroes. Great bunch.
HEROID: Nice!
Ireland Love nods.
HEROID: Uh... one more thing...
Ireland Love: Hm?
HEROID: Somethin' we got cheated outta...
HEROID grabs Maggie and kisses her on the lips.
Ireland Love stiffens and hesitates, raises a hand to slap Roy...then shrugs and gives in, kissing back.
HEROID doesn't linger on the kiss. It's just a friendly kiss, a "what might have been" kiss.
HEROID: Uh... sorry.
HEROID: I...
Ireland Love: Outta yer system now?
HEROID: Yeah.
Ireland Love: Good.
HEROID smiles.
Ireland Love chuckles.
HEROID: So... t'morra.
HEROID: Shirt an' tie, right?
Ireland Love: Aye, please.
HEROID nods.
Ireland Love: Walk yer wife t' work, then come by.
HEROID nods.
Ireland Love: Ye kin pick who ye wan' t' folla her t'morrow.
HEROID: Heheh. She sure better not find out she's bein' shadda'd now...
Ireland Love: One more thin'...I wan' her care t' be at th' Rock. Tessa's a midwife, an' we've a bloody good docter too.
HEROID: I don't think that'll be a problem.
HEROID: She likes that place, I think.
Ireland Love: Good.
HEROID: Well...
HEROID: I better go home an' get some sleep.
Ireland Love: I'm glad we talked, Roy.
HEROID: Me too, Maggie.
HEROID: Yer still th' best. I hope ya know that.
Ireland Love smiles.
Ireland Love: Be well. G'night.
HEROID smiles, pats her knee...
HEROID: G'night, Maggie.
HEROID: Everything's gonna work out fine.
HEROID: I can feel it.
Ireland Love: Me too.
HEROID smiles.
HEROID: See ya t'morra.
Ireland Love nods and waves.
((Wow... Roy, Maggie, that was freaking wonderful. I need to start getting out of bed early again. With the summer cooling off it's totally possible. I miss hanging with you guys *so* much 
))
((Curses. Grant you, I wouldn't have interrupted for all the world--but how is it that all the times I hang out in Gemini I'm all by myself? 
Anyhow, wonderful stuff, both of you!))
There are no words for what this community, and the friends I have made here mean to me. Please know that I care for all of you, yes, even you. If you Twitter, I'm MrThan. If you're Unleashed, I'm dumps. I'll try and get registered on the Titan Forums as well. Peace, and thanks for the best nine years anyone could ever ask for.
((A bit of Parz's current happenings, as played out over YIM. Yes, it's a bit disjointed. Yes, it assumes information that the characters involved already have. I've still decided not to alter it too much, aside from taking out player handles, the occasional stray quotation mark, and the OOC bits. Hopefully, it'll make things clearer to say that Phillip is Parzifal, Sky/Venwyn is Parz' fiancee, Mrs. Sutcliffe is Sky's mother, and Terrence is Parz' grandfather. The latter two are very affluent. Also, Parz and Sky share a psychic link, which is used a couple times in the course of this collaborative narrative. This was built by VenkaFusion as Sky/Venwyn and Mrs. Sutcliffe, Spectral_Weaver as Terrence Astor, and myself as Parzifal/Phillip. The setting... Parz and Venwyn meet their respective in-laws.))
Mrs. Sutcliffe, resplendant in her slightly garish and overly coifed clothing and makeup, claps her hands and gives a nod to one of the waitstaff. The asian woman bows her head and moves to take Venwyn's bag. Sky refuses silently, giving the woman a kind smile. Her mother looks a bit exasperated, but shrugs, saying only, "Oh, Venwyn, you little [censored]!" She laughs. "You didn't tell me your fiance's family was oh so affable!"
Terrence sits up straighter in the chair, brushing his moustache absently with one hand as he salutes Phillip and Sky with the teacup. "Ah, hello there, m'boy. I do hope you'll forgive me, but I thought I should come down and introduce myself to your future in-laws..." He smiles, taking a sip of the tea. "It is good to see you again, Phillip...." Somehow, he manages to exude calm and authority, though he does give a tiny twitch at hearing Sky being called a '[censored]'.
Phillip, for his part, carefully applies a smile to his face, although it doesn't get anywhere near his eyes. "Mrs. Sutcliffe. It is good to meet you. Grandfather." He sketches a small bow from the waist, polite, but stiff.
Sky, for her part, looks near petrified, and has nowhere near the experience hiding it. She stiffens, blinking a bit at the assembled, and finally manages quietly, "Mother."
Miss Sutcliffe rolls her eyes again. "Oh, come sit down, Venwyn. You look a mess. I wish you'd stop letting yourself go, though the natural look does suit her, doesn't it, Phillip?"
"Ehm... aye. It does suit her," he replies diplomatically, giving Sky's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
Terrence, in his immaculate suit, keeps his face carefully composed, smiling as he rises and bows formally to Sky and Phillip. "Miss Sky, is it not? It's my very good pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. And if I may be so bold as to say so... My grandson has made a fine choice." There's a light glint in his eye as he says it, a spark of joie de vivre.
Sky's palm is slick with fear and nerves. She slowly moves over to a chair, stiff and almost as though on automatic. She slips into the seat. The other open seat is... Across from her, with Miss Sutcliffe and Terrance bordering them. Her demeanor goes very quiet, and she withdraws a bit, looking at the tea her mother pours.
The older woman speaks with a higher, more shrill version of Sky's voice. "Anyway, dear, we were just discussing hyphenation."
Terrence nods, slightly hesitant. "Indeed we were. It will be important in the future... Though I'm sure it can be worked out with a minimum of fuss..."
Phillip's small sigh has a hint of resignation in it as he takes the other empty seat. "Hyphenation," he repeats, rather dully, glancing between Grandfather and Mrs. Sutcliffe. "I see."
"Indeed!" Miss Sutcliffe says. "We did agree that Astor-Sutcliffe would be acceptable; after all, Venwyn is the wife, and it's very gracious of your grandfather to include our name." She speaks on as if not even considering their choices.
Sky stares at her tea, her breath very even and controlled.
Taking another sip of his tea, Terrence leans back in his chair, the very picture of calm. His eyes narrow ever so slightly, though... It seems everything's not as he'd prefer it. "The Sutcliffes are a fine, old, established family... Though, if the two of you would rather prefer Sutcliffe-Astor..." He shrugs, the wise old statesman willing to compromise.
Sparing a momentary hard glance at his grandfather, his eyes turn toward his own cup. "I like Anjou, actually," he states flatly, offering a bit of comfort to Sky over the link.
The breath catches in Sky's throat, and her back straightens a little, the picture of quietess now filling with defiance. Mrs. Sutcliffe blinks a few times. "Anjou? That's French..." She looks puzzled. "Why would...?"
Terrence goes rigid, his knuckles whitening as this fingers tighten on the cup. The affable, conciliatory air is gone like dew in the sun. "... Anjou?" His voice is soft and quiet, a sure sign of impending eruption. "... I would think carefully about that, Phillip. Very carefully indeed."
"I have," he replies quietly, calmly. In an explanatory tone, he continues, "Mom's maiden name, Mrs. Sutcliffe. Evelyn Anjou."
Sky almost shrinks again, but she looks at Phillip and remains, quietly looking at her tea cup and sitting up straighter.
Mrs. Sutcliffe looks between the assembled and blinks a few times. "Your mother's-" She glares at her daughter. "Are you daft as well as mad?" She seems to realize her outburst, and lets her hand fall lazily against her overly tanned bosom, laughing. "Children these days. All these new ideas, galloping wildly over tradition... What nonsense..."
With deliberate care, Terrence places the cup on the table, steepling his fingers in front of his face. "Yes... It seems that I may have... misjudged, somewhat." He shoots Phillip a dark look.
Phillip arches an eyebrow at the look. "Mayhap. Esov kammenn tegynn." [I am in no way a toy.] His posture stiffens, barely perceptibly.
Mrs. Sutcliffe blinks at the Cornish, and tries to laugh that off as well, attempting to lighten the mood. "Well, I'm sure we can discuss that more later, when calmer heads will prevail. Let me see the ring, dear." She holds out a demanding hand, and Sky sighs, dully giving her left over for inspection. Mrs. Sutcliffe frowns. "What..." She glances at Terrence and back at Sky. "This isn't even a diamond, Venwyn." Her eyes rest on Phillip skeptically.
Terrence blinks at Phillip, eyes widening in surprise. Apparently, this was something he wasn't prepared for... And then his control actually slips for a moment, wincing openly at Mrs. Sutcliffe's words. He knows the providence of the ring, after all...
"Nay, it is not. It was Mom's engagement ring. She did not like diamonds, and Dad liked what sapphires symbolized. Loyalty, honor, faithfulness." Phillip explains this politely, even kindly. "Or so he told me, once."
"And he was quite correct, too," Terrence interjects, desperately trying to move the conversation out of this dangerous territory.
Mrs. Sutcliffe, ever irreverent, waves a hand. "I don't know what they're about, Mister Astor. Really." She looks at her daugher, who has in the meantime begun to fume quietly. "Wynnie, dear, we're going to have to have a talk about your standards. You can't let someone-"
There is a soft but firm crack as Sky sets down her tea cup, too hard. Very softly, deliberately, she murmurs, "That. Is. Enough." Her hands shake, eyes wide and staring at the table. They turn on her mother.
Her mother blinks, confused.
Terrence, again, winces openly. A remarkable lack of control for him, twice in so short a time.
Phillip sits quietly, hands clasped and fingers laced over his lap. Wisely, he says nothing, only watching mother and daughter, with another brief glance cast toward Terrence.
Sky nearly shakes on the brink of an explosion, fury clear in her eyes and posture. It softens as she spares a glance at Phillip, a bit of fear over the link at him seeing her angry, or being embarrassed by her. Her mother tries to laugh it off again. "Now, about the location..."
"Perhaps this is not the best time, Mrs. Sutcliffe..." It seems Terrence is trying to pour oil on the waters, though if anything, he looks deeply troubled by this development.
Soothing Sky over the link, he replies to Mrs. Sutcliffe mildly. "What about the location?"
"Pish tosh. It's in three weeks!" She waves a hand, clearly not as adept at reading social cues as Terrence. Or perhaps it has never occurred to her that her daughter might grow a spine. She glances at Phillip as Sky looks on, not trusting her own voice. "Now, dear boy, I know Venwyn wanted to get married in America, but really, there just isn't anything decent about wedding so far away from your families. We can provide a far, far better ceremony here than anything even available in America-your own baroush, for one, and a catered affair. It's silly to be so far away." She babbles on as if discussing a grand party of her own making.
Phillip's smile is again kind, even indulgent, with a hint of resolve. "But my family is there, you see. In America. And there will be a ball, after. Hosted by my sister."
Terrence's brow furrows, as even his instinctive politeness seems about to give way in response to Mrs. Sutcliffe's babbling... And then Phillip. Snap. "It is enough. And more than enough" The words are quiet, but spoken with finality. "Your family, whether you choose to accept it or not, is here. Now, I am prepared to go along with a great many things, up to and, yes, including having the wedding in America, if it will keep you happy. But this... bickering must end.
"Now. Let me make this perfectly clear. The one thing I will not relent on, is the name. If you choose to use the name of Anjou, you will have broken a tradition that goes back to the crusades and beyond. Our family will then die with me, and I will. Not. Let. That. Happen. Do you understand me, Phillip?" He's glaring, now, taking them all in.
Phillip eyes Terrence shrewdly, as if considering something. Something dangerous. An eyebrow lifts, though he says nothing for a moment.
Mrs. Sutcliffe turns on her own daughter, narrowing her eyes. "See what you've done? What you're risking? This is tradition older than you, dear girl, and you're risking it settling for less than your breeding dem-"
CRACK. The tea cup shatters in Sky's hand, the pieces digging into her palm. Sky stands. "STOP IT." She actually raises her voice, though it lowers to an angry hiss of hurt and rage. "All my life you have taught me that I am worth only the name a man will give me... Phillip loves me, mother! He loves me! Which is more than I can say for the union that misbegot me! IF IT DID! Which you tell me you doubt!" She spares a glance for her father, too angry to stop. "NONE of you matter one spare bit in the face of that!"
"Keresik." Phillip speaks that one word, quietly, bowing his head a little.
Worried, and suddenly unsteady, she steps back a pace, looking at Phillip in apology. Her mother sits silently, blinking, stunned, and her father swirls his cognac.
"Hwytha, keresik. Omdhiserri. Esov omma." [Breathe, dear one. Calm down. I am here.] Phillip still sits placidly.
Terrence turns, slowly, towards Sky, speechless for a moment. Complete silence reigns. "I see. That is the way of it, then, is it?" With deliberate care, he gets to his feet, fixing Sky with his eyes. When he speaks, his voice is calm, collected. "My girl, I know my grandson loves you. This is not about whether or not he cares for you. It is not even about station. It is about family." His gaze turns on Phillip. "If she truly means so much to you, Phillip, as I think she does... You will take the Astor name. For her sake, as well as your own. It will ensure that you will live in peace and plenty, and most importantly... You will be rid of my nagging." He smiles without mirth. "This is about you,... grandson. Don't try to tell me it isn't. Take the name, and all your troubles will be over. It is that simple. That easy." He glances at Sky. "And it would be for the sake of your lovely bride to be..."
"About which part of me, Grandfather?" Phillip quirks a small, humorless grin. "And I would say it is as much about Ebren as it is about me."
Frantically, she translates in the back of her mind and relaxes. She moves around the table behind her mother, touching Phillip's shoulder. Her mother still looks stunned and silent, and her father... Oddly... A little proud. He narrows his eyes at Terrence slowly as the conversation develops.
Terrence grits his teeth, remaining calm by the narrowest margin. "Don't try to doge this responsibility, grandson. Whether you choose to admit it or not, you are still of /my blood/, and this decision is /yours/."
"And that blood would have died in Astoria, had there been no intervention." Phillip still skirts the matter of the intervention's identity, still unwilling to reveal it to the Sutcliffes yet. Phillip's hand cups over Sky's, comfortingly.
"It didn't!" There's a real snap of anger in Terrence's voice now. "Do you hate me that much, grandson? Do you really loathe me deeply enough to toss away everything that our, no, /your/ family's built for over a millennium?!" His voice gains strength and volume. "God's wounds, man, have you no /respect/!?"
Her mother and father seem too grounded in 'normal' to ask about the intervention. Her mother begins to blink quickly, looking away. With a few paces, her husband offers his drink. She finishes it in a long pull and holds the glass to her lips, listening to the argument. Sky winces at the outburst, but doesn't back down.
Inclining his head, Phillip admits, "Aye. You are correct. It did not die. And I do not hate you. Nor do I love you. Or have any feelings of any kind, save for suspicion, which you have done little to allay. And as for what my family has built... *I* am what my family has built. Both parts of it. Both bloodlines. One of which you had no respect for." His chin tilts up slightly.
Sky's hand squeezes his shoulder. The other begins to drip unnoticed, red soaking into her pantleg.
"That is in the past, grandson. This is now, here, and you have to decide. By some stroke of luck you have found a gi... A /woman/ who loves you, and whom you love." The glance which he gives Sky holds more than a touch of ... respect, maybe? "I am more than willing, eager, in fact, to give my blessings... All I ask for is that you acknowledge your heritage. Am I truly being that unreasonable!?"
Phillip's eyes flick toward Sky. "Keresik, you are bleeding." Then, back to Terrence, "Would it be unreasonable for you to admit you were wrong about Mom?"
Sky glances at her hand, thinks for a moment, and she weighs something. Her skin turns a faint green glow as the cut heals. Then it fades. She turns her attention back to the present.
"I..." Terrence's mouth works for a few seconds, but he doesn't say anything. His fists clench at his sides, as he draws himself up, straightening. ".. Do I regret what happened? Yes, I do, and I have told you as much, again and again..."
"I am not asking whether you regretted it, Grandfather," Phillip begins, softly. "I am asking whether you thought, even for a moment, that you were wrong." He squeezes Sky's hand again.
"Yes, I did. And I have. I've told you as much, but the past cannot be changed, however much you or I might want it." He stands straight as a pillar, the words being grated out. "I did what I thought was right for our family at the time, and I am not about to apologize for trying to keep our heritage alive. Was I wrong? Maybe. But that will not change anything."
Phillip pauses for a moment, then gives a small nod. "Again, you are right. The past cannot be changed. And it would seem that the end result of your stubborn pride was for the best. Dad still loved you. Never knowing you, I could never understand why."
Terrence returns the nod. "I assume you'll follow in your father's footsteps then?"
Sky looks down at her hand once more, then back up. Her mother chooses that moment to interject. "Ungrateful little... I'm cutting you off."
Blinking, Sky looks at her mother, incredulous. She almost laughs, and another conversation begins. "Mother, I have more net worth in my investments from money of my own making since I was fourteen than you do. So kindly, do not hold such things over my head. I do not care." The argument stops as quickly as it started, and Sky turns back to hear the end of what Terrence says.
"It would seem that I follow in your footsteps, Grandfather. In my own way, I am just as stubborn and prideful as you." Phillip looks at Terrence evenly. "As Dad was. Odd, that. We both, Dad and I, act on love. You act on tradition." He muses a moment, chewing his moustache. "Am I to think, mayhap, that you were made to choose between tradition and love, at some point?"
Sky spares a glance at Phillip, impressed.
A thin smile curls Terrence's lips. "That, grandson, is a different conversation entirely. Whatever choices I made were mine, and are not germane to this." He sighs, seeming to relax, if only to the degree that a steel bar can be said to be flexible. "Though I'll say this; Whatever else you may think, Phillip... You are an Astor, fully and completely. As was your father."
Sky's eyes look a little sad; at a chance lost, perhaps. Sky's mother stands, moving up the stairs with a shaking hand over her mouth. It... May just be theatrics, but the root of it is truly upset. The soft sobs are clearly vapors though. Her father sort of ignores it, accustomed to her antics by now, leaning against the bannister again with an empty glass and a dull look.
Phillip arches an eyebrow, inclinining his head again. "A conversation which I would very much like to have, someday." He sighs. "Aye. I am an Astor. Though not fully and completely. I am also an Anjou. And the son of Herzeloyde and Gahmuret. Will you acknowledge these, as well?"
Terrence sighs, slowly shaking his head in... bemusement? Sadness? "Phillip..." Very deliberately, he starts to move towards the door, since the hostess is leaving. "That I acknowledge you as my grandson should tell you all you need to know. If it does not, then I am afraid that you'll never understand." Taking a bowler-hat and an umbrella, he turns towards Sky's father, nodding politely. "We will speak later, I trust, master Sutcliffe?" Turning back to Phillip and Sky, he bows slightly. "And so, I believe, will we. I do not know if you will believe me or not, but whatever choice you make, you have my respect miss Sutcliffe. You will make Phillip a fine wife." He touches the brim of his hat and turns to leave.
Sky cannot help but relax a bit. Mister Sutcliffe gives a slight nod and follows his wife, murmuring to his daughter, "We'll call and work this all out, I'm sure." A sigh, and he disappears up the stairs, leaving them all but alone in the foyer of the giant house.
Before he slips away, Sky manages quietly, "I thank you for that, Mister Astor."
"I fear I understand all too well. And painfully," Phillip answers, under his voice, so faintly that Terrence may not hear it. Then, louder, "Dha weles, tasow-wynn." He shakes his head, and softly again, "Omvodhek." [Wilfull.] It is unclear, from his motions and tone, whether he is speaking of himself, or of Terrence, even over the link. Perhaps both.
Opening the door, Terrence smiles over his shoulder. "Terrence, please, miss Sutcliffe. After all... I will be your grandfather-in-law." Tipping his hat to them one final time, he strolls out to a waiting Rolls-Royce.
Sky blinks a few times as they are left alone, and murmurs a bit numbly, "I should get my things. We have a plane to catch."
Links to my Virtueverse crap
((Jeepers, Morv. Well done.))
There are no words for what this community, and the friends I have made here mean to me. Please know that I care for all of you, yes, even you. If you Twitter, I'm MrThan. If you're Unleashed, I'm dumps. I'll try and get registered on the Titan Forums as well. Peace, and thanks for the best nine years anyone could ever ask for.
[ QUOTE ]
((Jeepers, Morv. Well done.))
[/ QUOTE ]
((Seconded!
All of you peeps are writing some wonderful stuff!))
"Oh come on!" Shade Wield's outburst was rather out of place from his usual devil-may-care attitude, especially since the Bureaucrat across the desk thought it was a rather trivial point.
"You've been assigned to a super group, named the Vengeance Bureau. Is there a problem with that." The suited man removed his glasses and began wiping them down with a handy tissue, before returning them to where they sat and resting his hands upon the large oaken table that dominated his office.
"Yeah, pretty much. I'm going for the 'loner against the evil of the world' look with the media. Being part of a group crimps my style." The Bureaucrat's skeptical look prompted Shade Wield to continue his tirade of somewhat flawed logic.
"Come on, you know what I mean. Everyone loves the image of one man against an army. How can I do that with half a dozen people standing behind me? Even worse, how can I get off my witty quips about the Hellion's getting 'burned', or the Trolls having IQs dwarfed by their shoe-size?" A grin burst out over his features, for once not hidden by his ninja-like mask.
"You've got to hear the rippers I've got planned for the Council next time I bump into them. I'm going to be questioning them about why they're not considering taking on other political ideals as a name, like 'the democracy', or even 'the federation'." Still the bureaucrat was unimpressed.
"Mister Wielder-"
"Please, call me Shade Wield. Or Shade, if you're lazy."
"... Mister Wielder, I'm not requesting this of you. It's an order. The Psyche evaluation we made of you suggests you've got more anger in you then most, all directed towards the Circle of Thorns. Seeing how you've already had a... 'holiday', as you put it... out on the Rogue Isles, we simply cannot risk you turning Rogue in order to pursue your own agenda. The Vengeance Bureau was designed for Heros with Vendetta's to pursue, to help restrain you, and give you support from other members, and we feel it may help you."
"And if I refuse...?"
"We revoke your hero license and force you to wear a suppression bracelet that inhibits all use of your powers, for the safety of those around you."
"... Where do I sign?"
A week ago...
The Longbows were smiling as they approached the copter.
"R & R time?" asked the pilot as he waited for them to board.
"Yeah! Paragon City, here we come!"
"Hurry on board, we're clear for takeoff, but it's gotta be pronto. We got confirmation of two black birds in the air only eight miles south and headed this way. I want to be gone before they get within strike range."
The Longbow hustled onboard and the red and white helicopter lifted off in a storm of dust and wind. When it was only a few feet off the ground, before it made its turn toward the ocean to zoom away, a black arrow darted toward it. It shot between two struts before the line attached to it jerked taut and caused it to open up into a grappling hook. The hook caught and a dark-clad figure zipped across the line.
Once there, the stowaway worked quickly to latch herself onto the undercarriage of the chopper, then released the grappling hook and line just as the vehicle finished its turn toward the ocean. No one noticed the entire operation. They were too busy watching the skies for the Arachnos fliers she had reported on the Longbow communication band.
Rose McAden (called Cracklin' Rosie by her mother after a song recorded by a 60's pop star) dangled from the belly of the aircraft by her safety harness and enjoyed the peaceful ocean view. It was in harsh contrast to the constant struggle for survival that was life in the Rogue Isles. She pulled off her black stocking mask to let her long blond hair billow in the wind, then she pulled off her black leather jacket and let it fall also. The wind stung her bare, tanned shoulders, but it felt so invigorating.
She had worked so hard, and fought so long, and had resisted the pulls and tugs of the various factions of the Isles. She looked forward to seeing Nick in the relative tranquility of Paragon City.
Hours later...
"Surprise, Tiger."
Nick was startled; his hand was a blur as it grasped his sword hilt.
She had found him sitting on a bench in a park east of the Arena in Galaxy City. It was no small feat to sneak up on him, but she succeeded. In retrospect, slipping her hands over his eyes from behind might have been foolhardy. Fortunately, he wasn't the only one with quick reflexes. She pulled her hands away and bent forward over the bench so that he could see her.
While his eyes and mouth were still wide-open from surprise she kissed him on the cheek.
"Rose?"
"No. I'm her evil clone." She smiled.
"What the bloody -- what're you doing here?"
So, he didn't smile back. Did you really expect him to?
She withdrew her own smile and replied, "There was a Longbow helicopter coming this way. I... hitched a ride."
"Sorry, I... where's your suit?"
At least he looks chagrinned.
"The 'zap' suit's heavy. I didn't want to spark the fuel tank, and I couldn't hold on without it being powered up."
"You hitched a ride to come all the way out here? Why would you take that risk, luv?"
"Nick... come on! It was fun! You should try it sometime."
He always called her "luv". L-u-v. He knew he meant it the way he said it. The other -- l-o-v-e -- hadn't been mentioned between them. If their relationship worked out as she hoped it would, then it never would be.
Nick sighed and shook his head, "You didn't do it for any thrill seeking."
"Well... Actually I did, if I count you as a thrill."
That one almost got a smile out of him.
Something caught Nicks eye and he nodded his head in greeting. Rose turned to see a strange, feminine, and roughly human figure approaching. She looked at Rose as questioningly as Rose looked at her.
Friend of yours? Rose asked.
One of our staff -- counselor.
Oh.
Rose and the newcomer both waited.
After several seconds, Rose asked, Are you going to introduce me?
Nick looked from one to the other, then said, Rose, this is Mai.
Hello, Mr. Nick, Mai said, then, Hello, Miss Rose.
Hello, Mai. So... you work for Nick?
Yes. He is a very nice person.
Rose looked for some hint of guile, but Mai seemed quite sincere. She smiled and replied, "Yes. I think so too."
"At least someone thinks so..." Nick mumbled, his British accent making his words all but unintelligible.
Hm? said Mai.
Nothing.
He always does that, said Rose, Mutters something, then says, and here she segued into a bad impersonation of Nicks accent, Nothing.
Are you well Mr. Nick?
Ive been better, Mai, he replied, rubbing his face.
Is there something I could do?
No, Mai, but thank you, luv.
Rose smiled at the strange being called Mai, and put her arm around Nick. She felt him tense slightly.
Then I must sleep, Mai announced and left the couple. She ran across the park and scampered up a tree.
Shes a good climber, Rose remarked, I wonder if she can scale a building that fast?
I wouldn't know.
Are you going to show me around your school, Tiger?
...I don't think that's a good idea right now, luv.
Oh. Im sorry.
Some of the kids and I are...having a falling out.
Over me?
Nod.
Aren't you in charge?
A look, then, Yes.
And the problem is...?
But it's not a bloody prison, Rose. They're my kids. Their opinions matter to me.
Okay, okay. Calm down.
I am calm.
And it was true, he hadnt raised his voice.
So I guess I won't be sleeping at your place tonight.
Look, they saw you in the D and they're basing things on their first impression of you, that's all.
Oh. That really didnt go so well.
No, it didn't.
You're partner was there. Ms. Love. I don't think she liked me either.
That would be an understatement.
Nick sighed, and it pulled at Roses heart in a way she wished it hadnt. But she made a decision:
All right. I don't have a problem being your secret if that's the way it has to be.
You're no secret any longer.
No, but I don't think they much care for me coming to town to see you.
The kids I can work on. It'll just take time. Maggie? Well, that's another story, but she forfeited the right to dictate who I see and who I don't.
Ah, Rose said with a crack in her voice, Now I understand everything. You were in love with her.
No reply.
His silence stung like an eyeful of Snake venom, and brought tears just the same, but Rose choked them back. She had made her decision, and would stand by it.
She looked away and said, So... you're over that?
She chose someone else.
And you're still trying to choose.
Nick shrugged and Rose answered in kind. No strings. She had extracted the promise from him herself.
I'm bloody tired of competing with other men for her.
Well, Rose brushed a stray strand of blond hair from her face. I'm not asking you to run a footrace.
Nick nodded, I'm not going to run one either.
No strings.
We keep saying that, don't we?
I can live with it.
(( This one, admittedly, and to my shame, is already cross-posted with the story thread I'd neglected from a while back. However, I like to think it does cast some light onto how Tera's and Claire's relationship is developing, more or less. I'd like to think.
I do like everyone else's stories, too. They're... amazing, to say the least. ))
===
Night Terrors
Tera awoke, alone. Her arm darted out to her right, finding cool emptiness where warmth should have been. She sighed, blinking a few times, and sat up. Looking over, she found the covers on the other side of the bed had been neatly straightened; it always amazed her that Claire would do such a thing before rushing off to be sick.
This had become a common occurence of late. Tera sighed, and picked up the water pitcher on the nightstand. Empty. Had they forgotten to refill it before going to sleep? She set it back down and looked over towards the bathroom, hearing some shuffling. She frowned. Tera hated how Claire would always brush away the questions, saying she was fine when it was quite apparent she wasn't; how Claire would try to hide things, how she'd lie by omission.
Claire was good at that sort of thing.
Tera pulled her knees to her chest, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She hated all... this. She'd gotten used to them, but still, they worried her. Claire wasn't getting any better, though she'd often charge herself with energy to seem healthier--a power, they were convinced, that was contributing to the whole affair.
Silence. The light remained on, but there was no shuffling, no sounds of washing up.
"Claire?"
Tera slid out of bed, not bothering to neaten up. The shadows around her feet painted a symbol on the floor: "bad luck", in Chinese characters. Claire had mentioned it as they'd passed a tattoo parlor in Monmarte the other day, laughing as she explained that it didn't really mean "fortune".
"Claire? Are you all right?"
Tera poked her head in, and gasped. Pills, scattered everywhere, Claire's arm unmoving, and-
Tera awoke, and sat bolt upright. Her arm darted to the right as Claire stirred, beside her, mumbling as she wrapped an arm around Tera's waist.
"Mrmph," she mumbled, as Tera lay back down, holding her close. One of Claire's eyes opened as she smiled slightly.
"I love ..." Tera whispered, trailing off.
"Mrmph," mumbled Claire, falling asleep again.
((I've had people ask me to start this thread again. It's a place for stories about your character's home life. Or maybe lack thereof.
Explore relationships. Present vignettes of daily life. That kind of thing. We're not looking for big rp plots or plot-driven stories. It's just a way to let others -- and yourself -- get to know your character(s) a little better.
I'm starting this one off with my former cat-burglar turned door-busting raider (electric armor brute), Cracklin' Rosie.))
Rosie? Rosie, damn it! I know you're there! Did you get those rocks?
Rose listened to the pause as Peter Themari waited as if he expected her to answer.
Listen. If they lean on me about his, I'm gonna lean on you. Got that? You may think I'm small potatoes now, but I've got connections.
She listened to the pause again.
Damn you, Rosie. A deal's a deal. Freakin' god...
Rose tossed the phone across the room and watched it smash against the wall. "No, Peter. I didn't get the diamonds."
A quick glance at her security console told her that she hadn't neglected to arm the locks on the door when she came in. Red lights winked at her, indicating that every entrance to her apartment was adequately sealed and protected against unwanted intruders. She tried not to think about the fact that not only were others locked out, she was locked in.
The apartment was cool and she liked it that way. As she unzipped her "zapper suit" and dropped it to the floor, she relished the gentle breeze of the air-conditioning against her bare skin. For that moment, she could forget Themari. She could forget the Arachnos recruiters' constantly reminding her that if she joined, she would have a level of support that she could only dream of presently. She could forget the warmth of another body pressed against her own as she drifted off to sleep.
Hot water first, to wash the dirt and sweat of the day away. Then cold to wash away the memories.
No, Peter. I didn't get the diamonds.
"You try to burgle the wrong place tonight, girlie girl."
The tall skinny man with dark, cruel features knelt down to speak to her. His three thugs held her face-down on the floor, arms above her head and legs spread-eagle. She felt like crying. Begging for her life. But no one would see her cry. All her life, she had lived by that, and if it came down to it, she would die by that.
"You know why they call me Nappy "the Nail" Marcone, sweetheart?"
A large hand grabbed her hair and yanked her head up so that she had no choice but to look.
"You see these?" He opened a wooden toolbox. In it was a hammer and several sizes of nails, and spikes. "Tools of the trade, girly-girl. Sometimes you have to make sure people remember you."
She held back both tears and screams as he held up a railroad spike.
"See this. You really make me mad, I drive it through your pretty head..." He touched her temple. "...right there."
She nearly sighed with relief when he put the large iron spike back into the box.
"But see?" Nappy "the Nail" swept a slender hand over the wooden floor with its delicate 16th Century inlay. "It would be a shame to make such large holes in this floor."
She found herself pleading in her mind for him to let her go, but she clenched her teeth to stop the words from pouring out of her mouth.
"Now this..." He held a long, slender, galvanized steel nail down in front of her eyes so she could see its wicked point and large flat head clearly. "This is sharp. And it will sink into the floor and leave two little bitty holes. It will leave little bitty holes in you too, girly-girl, and you'll feel those holes every time you stand up for the rest of your life."
The thug pushed her face back to the floor. She heard Nappy "the Nail" set down the tool box and from the corner of her eye she saw him take the hammer out to fit.
"Hey, boss," one of the thugs said, "after you nail her can we... you know... nail her?"
Napoleone Marcone's foot set down beside her face as he walked over and knelt beside her legs.
"No, stupid." Nappy said. "What kind of sicko are you?"
Something sharp touched the back of her thigh, just above the knee. Then she heard the terrible sound of steel hammer striking steel nail...
When she woke up, the apartment was dark. The sun had gone down. The dream again. She used to wake up shaking and crying out, but she had gotten used to it. Now it only left her dry-mouthed and sweating.
How long had she slept? She looked for her clock, then remembered dashing it against the floor this morning when she woke up and Nick was gone.
Nick? Had he called while she was asleep? Oh. That's right. The phone.
But really, why should she care? He was just an aquaintance. An handsome aquaintance. A handsome aquaintance who had shared her bed for more than the one-night-stand she had intended him to be. And when he was sleeping next to her, she didn't have the dream.
Earlier tonight, when she was using her suit's power to short out the magnetic locks on that safe full of smuggled diamonds, she had thought of Nick Kinsolving. The thought had made her smile. It also made her lose her concentration long enough to botch the job and bring a full squad of Gold Brickers to confront her. She was lucky that she was able to fight her way through them and flee.
No, Peter. I didn't get the diamonds.
Her mouth was dry.
She walked out of her tiny kitchen with what was left of the bottle of wine she had opened the previous night, plopped herself down on the floor beside her stereo and turned on the radio. Something easy, she thought, Something to put me back to sleep.
She turned the knob until she heard a smooth masculine voice singing softly:
In every heart there is a room,
a sanctuary safe and strong...
"God. DAMN!"
She stood and kicked the stereo from atop its stand. When it hit the floor with a thud, it was dead.
No clock. No phone. No music.
Nobody.
She sat in the dark silence and cried.