[oh dear...now I have to explain why I'm muttering "BOO!" and giggling hysterically]
Part of Sister Flame's Clickey-Clack Posse
The English language is an intricate high-speed precision tool.Stop using it to bang open coconuts. ~Tokamak
Dark_Respite's Video page
Two suitcases and a gym bag were arranged neatly on the floor, upright and ready for leaving at a moment's notice. Todd Galahad wasn't sure what crisis would pop up on his last day before the trip back to Chicago. He kind of hoped that Doctor Rutherford would tell him he was hallucinating due to bringing up all these old memories, that seeing his father in front of him and the printing on the soda can were due to stress and unresolved issues.
No, the psychiatrist said to him, if his dead father stood in front of him to give him advice from the afterlife, there was a good chance it really happened. After all, both of them had seen enough necromancy and souls jumping from body to body, and had seen enough magic to know that something was out there. Of course, Doctor Rutherford had also been known in the hero life as The Minder, a professional bodyguard who specialized in keeping physical threats away from various mages. He knew what was a product of the mind and what wasn't.
Right now, though, all that Todd wanted to do was put the whole Cobalt Claymore issue on the back burner while he got the groceries needed for tonight's dinner. After staying glued to the tv and internet all weekend while his beloved Cubs swept their crosstown rivals, he was pretty sure he owed Marie a dinner or two. Also, he was pretty sure he owed her a dinner after his little practical joke that involved giving one of her big white bath towels to Hephaestus 1 so he could fly the official flag of White Sox fans everywhere, or at least cry his giant cyborg tears into it. He could have sworn he'd given away an old one.
Yeah, he'd be hearing about that one forever.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
"Cracklin'" Rosie McAden left Brass' quarters with the remainder of a fifth of Jack Daniels in her hand. If the bottle had been empty, she would have smashed it against his bloated head. Some nerve he had. Commitment.
"Committed to him?" she said somewhat loudly as she crossed the lane and found a wall to hold her up. "I'd rather be committed to the psycho ward at the Zig."
A laugh came from behind her. She turned with a wobble and nearly nosedived into the pavement before she corrected herself. (Alcohol always had a pronounced effect on her relationship with gravity.) She had expected to see the vagrant who she jokingly referred to as "the Usual Suspect" (because Brass liked to put a fright into the man by accusing him of all sorts of crimes against Lord Recluse), but instead she saw a tall, striking woman with almond-shaped eyes and short-cropped black hair.
"Who are you?" Rosie asked.
"More importantly," the stranger replied, "Who are you?"
"Me? I'm nobody." Rosie grinned at the stranger and then turned the bottle up and poured some of the warm liquid down her throat.
The stranger smiled back and said, "I know it's summer, but isn't it still a little cool tonight for you to be out in nothing but your underwear and an arbiter's helmet?"
Rosie looked down at herself, and she had, indeed, neglected to get dressed before she threw that lamp at Brass, grabbed the liquor and stormed out of his place.
She smiled again. "I had a fight with my boyfriend," she said, then paused and continued, "ONE of my boyfriends. The other one is good to me."
The stranger looked at her with amusement. "Ah. I've found myself in similar situations. Although, I've never had occasion to accessorize my Victoria's Secrets with an Arachnos helmet..."
Rosie blushed from her bare feet up to her head. She had forgotten she was wearing it. She tried to push the helmet down to cover her face, but her hair was piled under it and she only succeded in getting it low enough so that she had to tilt her head back in order to look at the stranger.
"This?" Rosie said tapping the helmet with a well-manicured fingernail, "This is... a game we play..."
The stranger laughed right in her face which made Rosie angry at first, but then she couldn't help laughing also. She offered the stranger a drink from her bottle, which the stranger gratefully accepted.
There was a moment of silence between them as the humor died down and the stranger let the burn go out of her throat.
Then the stranger said, "I like to play games too."
((Long one this time. Hope it's not long and boring though. I hate long and boring. I much prefer short and sweet. Or short and sour. Just not boring.))
The day had been an emotional rollercoaster. Or was it an emotional thermometer? Blitz couldn't remember the correct metaphor, but whatever, it had been an uppy-downy-uppy day for her.
It had begun when she and her adoptive sister Lynn had taken on some Arachnos agents in the Overflow. It had gone smoothly enough, but when the mission was done, Betsy had complained about how difficult it was for her to find enough complex carbons -- such as those found in donuts! -- to energize her powers.
"Sometimes I have to eat five dozen glazed just to stay powered up," she had told Lynn.
Lynn, known by many names on the Paragon City superhero circuit, but by those who know and love her simply as Lynn, immediately went to the work of creating a magic pill that would provide Betsy with energy instantly.
Betsy tried a pill as Lynn went on to make a couple dozen more.
Betsy had always had a problem with the adverse effects of two things -- alcohol and magic. When she took the first pill, she felt giddy, as if she had just had a pina colada with a little umbrella sticking out the top. But it did energize her. She felt the warmth course through her body. So then she took another. That one made her feel even better, but she no longer felt like fighting. In fact, she felt doing quite the opposite. So she took another.
Soon Blitz was fully energized by Lynn's choas magic pills, so much so that the her close proximity seemed to effect Lynn.
In most cultures, French kissing your sister (even your adopted sister) is considered to be at least the height of bad taste. In many cultures -- including the greater United States -- it is considered extremely taboo and has resulted in wrecked lives and ruined careers. Except in internet-related subcultures where taboo is a relative term.
That little scenario hadn't gone too far because the girls soon realized they were breaking several rules already and didn't want to break any more, lest they wind up starring on the Jerry Springer Show. So Betsy had left Lynn to fend for herself and went out in search of her boyfriend/fiancee, Tristan.
Ah, lucky Tristan, she thought to herself as she beelined toward home. She sang a little song to herself that went something like, "Oh, Tris, you've been a good boy, Tris; But now that's going to pay off, Tris; You're really going to like this, Tris..."
Then she realized that her virginal white costume was hardly the attire she needed for this "defeat all" mission. So she made a detour to Icon to see Serge. The man was a genius when it came to lingerie.
Twenty minutes later...
"Oh, sweetheart, you are so not going out of here in that."
Serge stomped his foot as he spoke. His hands were firmly on his hips and his arms akimbo. His head bobbed and weaved like a cobra's as he spoke.
"You are waaaay to young for that, darling. Let me show you a cute little pair of silk pj's." And with that he grabbed the hanger that had what looked like a pair of red rubber bands on it away from Betsy.
Blitz took off her cape and unzipped her spandex jumpsuit. "Fine! She said, but I'm not going out of here in this... this... supersuit!"
The jumpsuit dropped to the floor. Serge covered his eyes. Betsy grabbed the tiny bit of lingerie off of the hanger in Serge's hand and quickly slipped the two pieces on. Then she opened the dressing room door and headed toward the exit.
Serge peeked between his fingers and saw the dressing room door swing shut behind her. "Wait! Where are you going!?!"
"To find Tristan!" she shouted in reply as she grabbed a short cape that would match the lingerie off of a rack she passed. She picked up a pair of fishnet stockings -- with garters! -- and a pair of strappy heels to finish the outfit. Then she was gone.
Serge watched her exit the store.
"Well, I certainly hope Tristan's up for this," Serge said to himself, then laughed when he realized the joke he had made.
Hours later...
Usually, if she needed to find Tristan, all she had to do was turn around and he'd be there. He was magic like that. Today however, it seemed as if she always arrived at where he had been twenty minutes or a half-hour ago. And she had to put up with bug-eyed men gawking at her wherever she searched for him.
She wished there had been enough fabric on her new "costume" to find a place to pin a comm, but no. So after a while she gave up and went back to the Legion base, careful not to let Ben or UF Lad or -- god forbid, Joybuzz -- see her in her skimpy attire.
She had just got into hers and Tristan's room when she heard his voice calling over her spare comm (which layed upon the nightstand where she kept it).
"...ninjas..." his voice said through a small bit of static.
"Tristan? Are you busy?" she asked, hoping he could get there soon, very soon.
"I'm... ungh!... currently... umph!... overwhelmed by... gurnk! Ooomph!... ninjas."
The fight sounded pretty intense, even over the comm, so Blitz put her spare comm and the rest of Lynn's energy pills in the small pouch built into the seam of her new cape and snuck back through the base and out to Skyway City to find him.
"I'm on my way, Tristan," she said as she took flight. "Oh, and you said 'Ninjas'?"
"Yes... ungh!... why?"
"Be careful where they kick you!"
Another half-hour later...
Tristan was so sweet, and so strong of will. He had used his own magic to siphon off the effects of Lynn's pills from Betsy, then, using a spell he had been working on secretly, re-energized her.
She told him everything, every shameful detail of the day, and when it was said and done, he didn't forgive her because...
"You were under the influence of chaos magic -- you've done nothing to forgive, my love."
He was sooo like that.
So, once again in her right mind and able to think rationally, Betsy helped him defeat the rest of the ninjas. While they fought, she came to a conclusion.
"I've come to a conclusion," she said as she watched him tag the last ninja for the Zig.
"And what is that, my love?"
"Well... I've come to the conclusion that we should go ahead and... you know... That way I won't be the cosmic virgin any longer. The way it's going, something stupid's going to happen like... like the Rikti will invade and capture me and make me their love slave, and all I'll be able to think about will be, 'It should have been Tristan.'""
Needless to say, Tristan was quite taken aback by her statements. However, strong of will he may have been, he never made claims to be as stalwart as the Pope. So, faced with his beautiful girlfriend decked out in quite tiny lingerie, he did what any good and decent man would do in his situation: He agreed with her.
That night then, in a special place that he would pick out and prepare, while she had her hair and nails done and made sure she "looked perfect for their first time", they would meet and give up that last fleeting drop of chastity.
They left the building where they had fought the ninjas and he watched her fly away to prepare herself. He began to think of an appropriate place where one could consumate a relationship to the most beautiful girl on two Earths when Betsy's voice came over the comm:
"Haha! Tristan! There's a robot looking at me! It's so funny. He's just... looking at me... wait... He's shining some sort of light on me... he..."
There was a pause and Tristan grew worried.
"Haha! He thinks I'm mom! Something about my 'genetic markers'..."
She may have been laughing, but for some reason Tristan's concern grew stronger.
"He... wait! Hey! What...?! No! Sto...*"
"Serv'd! is next on A&E."
Hephaestus 1 walked through Williams Square in Founders Falls, heading towards the university. Unlike most days, he was carrying a messenger bag for his papers instead of the usual briefcase.
"So we've got these papers for a Nicholas Eb--"
"Oooh baby can't you fear my supper oooh baby can't you feel me mole?"
Heph stopped walking for a moment. "It's for a case involving his immigration sta-"
"OOOOOOOOOOOhhhhOOOOooooAHAHAHAH YOU SAID MY SODA LIED!"
Heph stared into the camera, then looked towards his feet. Fang, the Littlest Werewolf, was dancing spastically to whatever was playing on his new iTem. "UHH! STUPID MASTIFF BLACK GOLD! YEAH! STUPID MASTIFF BLACK GOLD!" the tiny lycanthrope sang very badly.
Heph yanked the iTem away from Fang, who reacted as if shot.
"What was that for, boss?" Fang yelped.
"I was explaining why we were here to the audience," Heph said. "And you were interrupting me. I don't like that."
"Sorry, boss," Fang said. "I just really like the songs that Uncle Larry put on my new iTem. Myooze is a great band!"
Heph looked at the iTem. Sure enough, the band's name was Myooze, and the song title was "Stupid Mastiff Black Gold." He plugged into the music player and heard a slightly off version of another, more popular and well-known song of a similar name by a similar band.
"You say that your uncle put these songs on your iTem, Fang?"
"Yeah, he did," Fang answered. "He got them from the Paragon Film Partners' new music provider. These songs make up the soundtracks for all those movies my uncle's in!"
"Did he now? Well, Fang, I think we need to talk to your uncle."
"So we're going to let this perp walk, Heph?" fang asked.
"What?"
"Are we going to just let this perp walk?"
"Excuse me?"
"It's detective talk. Uncle Larry said so."
Heph looked around. He then picked Fang up by the collar of his nice oxford shirt. He charged up the head-mounted laser projectors on his head, giving his eye cameras an eerie glow. "We're not going to talk like tv detectives. That's for tv shows with lousy scriptwriters. I'm going to be my normal self, and you're going to remember that you do not want to do anything to ruin the image of police officers and other law enforcement agents. We do a good enough job of that ourselves."
Fang swallowed loudly. "Yessir," he squeaked.
"Did Larry say where this new music provider was located?" Heph asked.
"Yes, but I'm not supposed to tell you."
"I'll frighten you in public if you don't," Heph grumbled.
"It's on Striga Isle!" Fang yelped. "Please don't scare me!"
Hephaestus 1 set the werewolf down on his feet. "Oh, I won't. Don't worry."
"Oh, that's a relief," Fang said.
"Well, I also don't want you to ruin the interior of the SUV. I haven't had it fully Scotchgarded yet."
"Hey..."
After a promise of not filming anything while onboard an unnamed freighter, Heph, Fang and the recording crew arrived at Port Noble, in search of this affront to music.
The first place they stopped was Stephanie Peebles' place, the Mermaid Tavern. She gave them some further information, a biscuit for Fang, and then smacked Heph in the butt on the way out.
"What was that for, lady?" Heph asked.
"Call me!" the old witch said. "I want to know if it's true that once you go Metal, you never settle!"
"I need an adult! I NEED AN ADULT!" Heph screamed as picked up his entire team in his arms and ran out the door. After a run down a few back streets of Port Noble, the reality tv team arrived at a warehouse where it sounded like either catgirls reacting to "Earth In The Balance as read by Katie Couric" or someone singing horribly off-key.
"NAPSTER! APPENDIX! N'AWLINS FOREST EMU! WORRIER! DESIGN FLAW! HERE COMES THE FISHMASTER!" the singer yelled into a microphone. Fang's ears perked up.
"Heph! Heph! It's him! The lead singer of Myooze!" Fang said, his tail wagging with delight. "I'm watching a true artist at work!"
The Council technicians looked up from the soundboard and waved to the singer. "Maestro, you're a little flat on that last note."
"WHAT?"
"I said, you're a little flat on the last note!"
"MY NOSE IS NOT FAT!"
The Council technician threw his hands up in the air. "Every day it's the same thing. 'Ooh, look at me! My name is Maestro and I think I have a singing career!' I told him that Simon Cowell would reject- hello, where did the other technician go?"
That's when Heph conked him on the head as well.
After an hour, the technician woke up to see Hephaestus 1 and Fang staring at him. "Wh-where am I?"
"Coffee break," Heph said. "How long has the Council been making bootlegs of popular songs with misheard lyrics?"
"That? Look, we tried telling Maestro that he needs lyric sheets but he says that he can hear them singing perfectly anyway. It's a lie, but if he quits, we go back to Archon Burkhalter and end up polishing his giant robot."
"The one in the volcano?" Heph asked.
"Yeah. We told him he should build a car port that will fit, but he says that pollen will mar the finish. Like lava, ash and pumice don't ruin the finish themselves!"
"Wow. That is pretty stupid," Fang said. "Can't you just put a giant car cover on it?"
Heph and the technician looked at Fang. "And where are we going to find a car cover for a 50-meter tall Warcry Robot?" Heph asked.
"I wish we had one. Our Turtle Wax bill would have bankrupted our former evil organization," the technician said.
"Who, the Fifth Column?"
"No, Cobra," the technician said. "There was never a Fifth Column. It's all a pack of lies!"
Heph punched him again. "Well, Fang, your uncle will hate us but we have to stop this travesty. I'm calling in the authorities on this one."
"Freedom Corps?"
"No, the evil authorities."
"Arachnos?"
"No, I said evil, not evil-lite."
"You don't mean..."
"Yes. I'm sending RIAA after him."
"No, Heph!" Fang whined. "That's too evil! Heroes don't do that!"
Within hours, an RIAA Hunter-Killer Team was dispatched to the warehouse. "Within a few hours, this warehouse will have never existed," the agent said. "We're thorough."
"What about Maestro?"
"We've got a use for him."
Three weeks later, Heph and company received a grainy videotape.
"I don't know who's going to get this but please help me.... my name is Maestro and I'm a prisoner of the RIAA! Yes, they restored my hearing, but now they're making me listen to my own music! Help me! I can't take it anymore! It's... it's all that Larry McGonigle's fault! Paragon Film Partners is to blame! Just let me go!"
Heph looked at the tv screen. "What do you know? Maestro got SERV'D!"
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
RIAA=EVIL!
But we knew that already.
Part of Sister Flame's Clickey-Clack Posse
The English language is an intricate high-speed precision tool.Stop using it to bang open coconuts. ~Tokamak
Dark_Respite's Video page
They're more evil than Lord Recluse himself.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
Adelle Chauvin stood and looked across the room at the robot-woman, Elle. They had both delivered their packages to their employer, and they were both waiting to collect. Now they watched as the little old man who called himself "Bittenhauer" looked over his "goods".
Adie's associates, Rand and Chacon, eyed Elle's robots, sizing the machines up, she knew, just in case. Her men were well trained to handle "just in case". They had been with her since she had left Shimadoku months ago. She had thought that finding mercenary work in the Rogue Isles would be easy. She didn't count on such a glutted market for her services. Still, as her reputation grew, she was sure her profitability would also.
The job had been fairly cut-and-dry. A kidnapping of minor-league career criminal who called herself "Crackling Rosie". Bittenhauer had informed her that Rosie had last been seen in the company of the nun who ran a charity hospital in the Isles. The nun wasn't hard to find. She made regular visits to her hospital, and Adie had simply to follow her after one such visit to find her. But when she found her, the nun made no mention of Rosie. In fact she seemed to be obsessed with someone called "Marshall Brass" getting what was coming to him.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what the relationship between Rosie and Sister Grace had been, and what had happened. And it didn't take Sherlock Holmes to know that Rosie would be found now at this Marshall Brass' residence.
Which was why she was here now, watching as Bittenhauer pulled the burlap hood off of a drugged and groggy Crackling Rosie's head.
"Excellent," Bittenhauer said
with a trace of a strange accent, then stood and knelt beside the prone figure that Elle's robots had carried in and dumped in the floor. "Now we shall see how close my plans are to coming to fruition..."
The unconscious person on th floor was a woman of athletic build wearing pink lingerie with a pink cape. The cape was wrapped around the woman's head and face, likely by the owner of the robots. Bittenhauer quickly removed the cape from the woman's head.
"Elle, would you come here?" Bittenhauer not so much asked as commanded.
Elle didn't move, but instead said, "If she is dead, then that is your own fault. You assured me that she could not die so long as both sisters lived."
"That is not the problem, fool," Bittenhauer said with a voice like a small growling dog. "This is not her. You have brought me the wrong woman!"
Elle moved then and came to kneel beside him. "Impossible. Abadon was programmed to check her genetic markers."
"Then maybe you should check and see if the 'Abadon' model is the subject of a recall. This is not her, this is not Rose McAden."
Adie couldn't help but laugh on the insde at Elle's expense.
"Wh...? Then who is it?"
"I do not know, but your mistake will cost me immeasurably in time and resources."
"Give me a chance to redeem myself then."
Adie knew that Elle knew what every good merc knows -- you live and die by your reputation"
Bittenhauer looked at them both. "Very well," he said, "Elle, if you would take this... person... you have brought me and dispose of her, I will give you another chance -- but this time, you must bring me both Rose McAden and the book that is in Kinsolving's possession."
"Consider it done."
"That's what you said last time."
Adie giggled and got a bad look from Elle as she and her robots left to begin work on their mission.
Bittenhauer returned his attention to Adie and said, "Now, step in the back please, and I shall pay you what is due to you."
The old man held the door to the back room open for Adie and allowed her to enter first. The first hint she had that something was not right was when the floor fell out from under her and she began to fall.
A half hour later, she was still falling.
"Serv'd! is next on A&E."
Hephaestus 1 and Fang, the Littlest Werewolf, were seated at Larry McGonigle's desk waiting for their next assignment. Larry wasn't there at the moment, finding himself in at a meeting of all the case clerks. While Heph drummed his metal fingers on Larry's desk, Fang engrossed himself in the latest volume of "Hai! Frilly Girly Happenstance," a manga whose artist had a penchant for drawing excruciatingly-detailed clothes and flowers.
"So," Heph said to Fang, "how are the fight scenes in that comic book?"
"It's a MANGA," Fang said. "And there aren't any fight scenes in it."
"What powers do they have other than tearing up at the drop of a hat? Geez, with eyes that big you'd think they'd carry buckets to deal with all their crying jags," Heph continued.
"I happen to think the artwork is very expressive!" Fang snapped.
"Right. So, it's about a bunch of crying girls. Do any of them fight crime?"
"No," Fang said, "It's all about romance."
"Romance. People want to read comic books about romance?" Heph asked.
"It's a MANGA," Fang said irritatedly. "And it's very cute to see all the problems and entanglements that a couple has in their relationships, even if they don't get resolved."
"You don't have a girlfriend, do you?" Heph asked.
"..."
"What? It's a legitimate question."
"I am not going to talk to you about what I do or don't do in my private life," Fang said.
"Seriously, man, get one before you wind up married to your job like I did," Heph advised. "I was too busy being a cop to notice all the fine, fine ladies I inadvertently passed up. I wound up with Cheryl."
"Is that the woman you're living with now?"
"No, thank God. I'd have formatted my brain before I'd live with Cheryl!" Heph said. "This is from back before I became a cyborg."
"Oh. So how'd that come about?" Fang closed his book and shoved it into a backpack.
"Like I said, I was too dedicated to my job to notice all of the really attractive single women around me, and I decided that in order to advance my career, I should know people who know people. If you want a promotion in the Chicago Police Department, you'd better know a lot of influential people."
"Oh! That's like the thing between Takizawa-sempai and Kaori-chan in my manga! See, Kaori-chan was trying to get into the fashion designers' club and- Heph, why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because boinking the daughter of a prominent ward boss with connections to the Mayor and Police Commissioner has little to do with the romance of pretty people in school uniforms."
"Oh. Well, Takizawa-sempai was mean to Kaori-chan, anyway and did all kinds of things to embarrass her to see if she was dedicated enough to get into the club."
"Yeah," Heph said, "that's not at all like this. For one, we didn't try to embarrass each other. At least not at first."
"Hmm. Sounds more like the forbidden love between Haruna-sensei and her student Hoki-kun."
"What? No, don't tell me. I don't want to know," Heph said. "Look, I'll make the long story short. We both agreed that it would be politically expedient for both of us if we dated. I'd get bumped up to the head of the line for promotions and special training, her dad would get to look like a real supporter of the police department whenever the time came for him to make the rounds among the donors and the potential aldermanic candidates, and we'd both make a lot of money."
Fang looked up at his big blue mentor. "So you guys didn't date because you each thought the other was attractive? Dating because it's to your political advantage isn't very romantic!" Fang snapped.
Heph sighed. "Pipe down, I'm trying to give you the executive summary here. We dated, we shagged like rabbits, and we both hated each other the entire time. She didn't like me because I was too eager to enforce the law the way I saw it, and I didn't like her because she expected me to go out and be as much of a political shmoozer as her old man was."
"Oh," Fang said. "I don't know of anyone like that in the manga."
"I also wouldn't intercept and fix all her traffic tickets before they went to court. And I also wouldn't get her backstage passes to the concerts where we had to work security details. She expected a lot of perks I couldn't even get from being a cop."
"So what happened to her?"
"Well, she left home one night, and I hadn't heard from her again. That was in 1985. I found out later that I'd gotten her pregnant. Her dad was old-school about it, telling her she'd better fix that little problem. Well, she headed east and I found out through the grapevine she had a son and put him up for adoption here in Paragon City."
"Oh. Wow."
Heph put his arm around Fang. "And now after 22 years, we get to work together!"
Fang looked up at Heph, tears in his eyes. "Mom and Dad always told me I was adopted... and now I'm here with my real dad!"
"Naah! I'm just *bleep*ing with you!" Heph said with a laugh. "I'm not your real dad! Cheryl never left Chicago and I never got her knocked up! She still hates me and tries to ruin my reputation back home."
Fang's little lupine snout quivered with shock.
"Hey, I told you not to discuss your family life around me because if you did I'd use it against you," Heph said.
Fang whined a little and sniffed. "My world is crumbling all around me!" he cried as he ran into the bathroom on his little khaki-clad legs.
Larry finally walked back from the meeting, a look of "please kill me" on his face. "Where's Fang?" he asked.
"Having a good cry in the bathroom," Heph said.
"Why?" the old caseworker asked.
"I decided to mess with him and tell him I was his real dad," Heph answered.
"Yeah, I'd have a good cry, too, if you were my father," Larry said.
"ZING!" the cameraman said. The sound guy laughed.
Heph looked into the camera. "Yeah, I walked right into that one. So, what's the next case, Lar?"
"You're serving notice of a paternity suit to Castle. Penny Preston is looking for her real dad."
"Well, this is gonna be awkward," Heph said.
"Looks like someone got "serv'd!" a big helping of irony," Larry said.
"Yeah, yeah," Heph said. "Look, just get the Sobbing Shapeshifter out of the Men's room and we'll be on our way."
"Wait, the Sobbing Shapeshifter is still here? I sent him out on a noise ordinance violation two hours ago," Larry said.
"I meant your nephew," Heph said with annoyance.
"Oh. Right! Him. Be right back."
Heph looked into the camera. "This is going to be a long day, mark my words."
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
Tristan searched Overbrook for hours, trying to locate Betsy. Unfortunately, with the psychic block in place, finding her was like the proverbial needle. That block was just one of the several questions raised by her sudden reappearance that day.
She'd been gone for two days - hospitalized, she said, with a concussion - a rogue robot on a rampage, she said, but...why hadn't the hospital contacted either of her parents? Or the Legion? And why was she still dressed in that lingerie? Surely, she would have gone home to change first before seeking him out. She hated the way she looked in that thing, especially in public. Instead, she was acting like the two of them had only been apart for minutes, and she was still acting frisky on top of that.
Then there was the aforementioned "block". It was like a wall, preventing him from accessing her mind at all. When he told her about it, she mentioned them telling her she had temporary amnesia and they had to use a hypnotist to get her memory back. Now, Tris wasn't a doctor, but that sounded all kinds of wrong to begin with, but given Betsy's history with hypnosis, it was even more troubling to hear.
And, she hadn't remembered what Ben or Buzz had done to her in that regard - something else she contributed to the memory loss.
Then, she fainted for no particular reason. He laid her down on the rooftop. She seemed stable, just unconscious. He had set his jaw and begun to psychically probe her mind, attempting to bring down the wall.
The procedure lasted all of five second before Betsy leapt up with a discharge of energy. The block was still in place.
She began to cry and cling to him, telling him she was scared and wanted to go somewhere safe. It was unusual behavior, but, given how much she'd been manipulated lately, he didn't really give it much thought at the time. He was going to take her back to the Legion base, but she insisted the Rock was safer.
Safer from what?
Accommodating her, rather than arguing the point, he opened up a portal to the Rock and they stepped inside.
He entered the foyer without incident...
...Betsy ended up in Overbrook.
His spell had not malfunctioned. The Rock wouldn't let her enter. The Rock didn't make mistakes. Something was dreadfully wrong.
To make matters even worse, when he left to go get her, she started carrying on over the commlink about how she needed her mother, Rose, and that he should go get her instead. He tried to tell her he was on his way and that everything was fine, but she kept saying it was too late and was very insistent about him finding Rose.
Too late for what?
He remembered back to what she had said before she disappeared. That the robot in question thought she was her mother...another point she conveniently seemed to forget.
Things weren't adding up. He felt like all the pieces of this puzzle were being laid before him, but he couldn't figure out the solution.
One thing he *was* certain of...bringing Rose here would be a bad idea. And, if she knew what was happening, she'd likely come here anyway, regardless of the danger. No...if he was going to get anyone's help, it would be her father's instead. He'd know what to do.
He just had to.
-----
Damn the boy! she thought as she watched him fly away.
Surely this time he would give up his search and give her a chance to come out of hiding. She needed to clear only a few more feet to get to the sanctuary of the hidden Arachnos bunker in the Overflow. When Tristan was merely a speck in the sky she darted from under the scaffolding and straight into the hidden tunnel to safety.
"Halt!" shouted one of four Arachnos guards as she drew near the bunker's doorway.
"Demonelle, level 24 clearance," she said, then recited the code for entry, "00u812."
One of the guards put his arm across the doorway. Demonelle recognized him from a previous encounter. This could go badly.
The guard said, "Right code, but I've seen Demonelle before, and you ain't her."
Demonelle smiled with Betsy's face, and said, "You're right. I'm not her. I'm Blitz, a do-gooder most of the time, but right now, I feel like a do-badder."
The guards leered at her and began making obscene comments that Demonelle was sure would surely scandalize poor Betsy. Poor Betsy who -- until Elle was done with this body -- was currently imprisoned in a Pneumatronic brain in Demonelle's lab.
"You boys wouldn't do that to little old me, would you?" she said as one of them put his arm around her and tried to kiss her.
They verbally confirmed that, indeed they would do that.
"Well... good luck then fellas!"
And with that Elle gave up the stolen body and emerged in her android form in her lab.
She sighed because she was sure Tristan was suspicious at this point so she would have to try yet another approach.
While she was in the girl's body, she had done her best to retrieve enough memories to be able to keep anyone from becoming suspicious, but memory retrieval was difficult under the best of conditions. That she had to maintain a mind block at the same time had made it next to impossible.
She did, however learn that Rose McAden, the girl's mother, worked at Maggie's Rock -- a place that Elle was certainly familiar with -- and that she worked in security.
Elle smiled. She knew who was over security at Maggie's Rock, and though she had thought she was over him, and that she no longer had a desire to do harm to him and those he loved...
Well, it was too good an opportunity to pass up.
She opened the "cooler", a room filled with large tanks with hoses and tubes running to them. Each tank had a cloned human in it. There were dozens of them in the room, all stolen from Crey Industries months ago.
Elle walked to the row in the back. There was one empty tank here -- it was empty when she found it, but she kept it for old times' sake -- and four beside with identical figures in them.
Elle pulled a lever on the bottom of the tank and the liquid inside quickly drained out. The figure inside -- a tall, muscular man with brown hair, and a square jaw with a jutting chin -- coughed out fluid and its eyes flew open wide.
Elle placed her hand on his hard stomach, then leaned forward and kissed his his chest with her metallic lips.
"Oh, Roy, if only I had time to play," she said as she wrapped her arms around the mindless clone. "But I'm afraid I need your body."
She paused then laughed at her own joke.
Meanwhile, back at the door to the Arachnos bunker, an electrical discharge came very close to killing the four guards and an enraged Blitz flew off toward home.
She had to contact her mother -- now!
[Poor Betsy...and that poor guard too=D]
Part of Sister Flame's Clickey-Clack Posse
The English language is an intricate high-speed precision tool.Stop using it to bang open coconuts. ~Tokamak
Dark_Respite's Video page
Maria slipped quietly down the back stairs of the King's Row Mission to her small basement apartment. She stepped inside without flicking on the lights, leaving it in inky blackness as she moved through, shedding what clothing she could as she made her way toward the bathroom.
The bare florescent bulb in the bathroom flicked on after a short sputter, its yellowed, artificial glare a harsh contrast to the rest of the still shadowy apartment. Maria crouched down to undo the laces on her boots and tug them off before standing and looking into the mirror. Reaching up with one hand she traced the edges of the skull tattooed on her face as it stared back at her, stark and white under the florescent lights. It was ugly. Terrible. She couldn't imagine ever having been proud of it.
Unable to meet her own gaze any longer she lowered her head and ran cold water in the chipped porcelain basin under the sink, cupping her hands under the tap and then splashing the water on her face. She'd worked all day and night on her contracts, even taken more then her fair share of the pro bono work and it was finally catching up with her. She was tired, sore and worn out. Doubly so since she was forced to work alone. The thought prompted a long sigh from her and another glance up at the mirror. Turning away from it, she reached to run the shower and started peeling off her gray leather suit.
The shower relaxed her enough to be able to sleep, but she unfortunately wasn't tired enough to fall immediately into a stupor. Instead she lay on her back, staring up at the yellowing tiles of her ceiling, unable to help but think. She'd often thought about getting her tattoos removed. They marked her instantly as someone to be avoided, or feared. She could make the money now that she was working, but she always seemed to find a reason to keep them. She told others they were a reminder of what she used to be and why she had to work so hard. In many ways, this was true, but not entirely. She had a good memory, and wouldn't ever forget how her gang had turned their backs on her, and their neighborhood, when they were needed most.
At times, she thought that maybe some small part of her was someday hoping to go back. She always shook that line of thinking off since... well... since it wasn't who she was now. She didn't want to have to live that way any longer. Maria often wondered how different her so-called new life was though... other then a change in victims. She still wore someone else's colors. Still hunted for victims. Still gained from hurting or stealing from them, in a way. Only difference was that now they were called criminals, and she had to take orders from someone else. Frowning at that she sat up suddenly and climbed out of bed, moving to rummage angrily through the kitchen in hopes of finding some food to distract her.
Maria leaned against the counter and pushed food around the container with her fork, looking small in the over-sized jersey she was wearing, and unable to pull herself out of the pit she was in. She'd been having more and more nights like this recently, ever since she'd come back. She'd given serious thought to leaving again, but knew she wouldn't be happy outside of the city. She was connected to it in a way very few people could truly understand. It had raised her and seen her into adulthood. She felt distant and distracted when she was away from it. Maria knew it was where she belonged. She'd been... scared when she had left before, but the promise of being with someone and being cared for had outweighed her fears. Obviously she'd been wrong since it was less then a month before she returned.
Glancing over at the clock and a lingering heaviness behind her eyes prompted her to move back into bed. Restlessly she fought with her pillows and blankets until finally exhaustion won out. Uneasily she slipped into sleep.
Maria often dreamed of the ritual. It was such an important part of her life that she couldn't help but relive it over and over again. Never in her life had she felt more accepted then that day. The event replayed in her sleeping mind now, and she watched as though she was floating above herself, the vision clouded by an occasional dark wisp of haze.
The other sect leaders had lead her into the ritual area and strapped her to the table. She laid perfectly still as the did, not struggling or even wincing as the cinched the leather straps of the old hospital gurney tight on her wrists and legs. She could remember feeling so nervous at being helpless... it was a state she wasn't accustomed to. The sect leaders began chanting and calling out. It was a blur of noise and clamor as their pitch rose. One stepped forward with a long, full syringe. If the color wasn't indication enough, she could almost smell it... superdyne. With careful reverence he slammed the syringe into her breast, right above her heart and injected the full syringe... a dose large enough to kill several men, much larger then her. Maria's 3rd person vision faded more now, the haze closing in on the scene as her restrained form twitched sightly, the superdyne beginning to affect her. As the haze nearly obscured the entire scene, she could see another sect leader approaching her, a long knife in his hand... he raised it above her heart just before all went dark.
Everything was black. No light, no sound, no feeling but, Maria knew she wasn't alone. A slight, cold breeze passed over her. She shivered but in the void was desperate to feel it again... to feel anything. The presence approached closer, circling around her slowly, like a curious shark. Outside of the dream, she huddled up, he covers already cast aside fitfully, and moaned. The sound carried over to the dream and the presence stopped, almost in shock at the sound. A rush of cold air flowed over Maria as the presence speed closer to her. As it did, she knew that it wasn't cold... it was the absence of heat. The absence of anything. Nothing. Oblivion.
Thousands of senseless whispers poured over her, questioning, trying to discern what she was and why she was here. The voices seemed to come from everywhere, but Maria could feel the presence in front of her, occasionally darting to the side, or her back, as if examining her. Gradually the whispering subsided and she was left in silence again... apparently satisfied with its examination, the presence floated silently in front of her. It seemed like an eternity waiting. Suddenly, as if it had always been there, there was a woman's face.
She saw it for just the briefest of instants before it was gone, and although she could never put the description into words, it was always burned onto her mind. So beautiful.. so perfect. Nothing like that could exist on this earth. It wasn't possible. She was as angelic as she was terrifying. The woman's lips turned upward into the slightest smile before she vanished from Maria's sight. She could feel this presence pushing closer to her, almost unbearably cold and non-existent. She wanted to cry out, scream, but she was stunned into complete silence. Maria felt the presence lowering her head and press her lips to her chest where she had been injected. The pain was unbearable and caused her floating form to jerk violently. So violently that she was snapped back to the real world. The heavy leather straps had been snapped into two as she sat upright gasping for breath and looking around the room wild eyed. Unable to full comprehend what had just happened it was all she could do to try to breath and hold onto to the last thing she experienced before being forced back to the world of feeling and light.
"My favorite," Death's softly whispered words echoed through her mind.
Maria's eyes snapped open as she sat upright in bed, her mind not yet having fully let go of the dream's memory. Her breathing slowly steadied as her eyes focused. No gurney. No candle lit ritual. No Skulls. Just her simple, aging, basement apartment below the Mission in King's Row. Maria pulled herself out of bed on unsteady legs and made her way to the bathroom. She pushed her sweat soaked hair from her face and stared into her skull-clad reflection.
Sometimes, she wished she could go back.
"Can I have more of that candy?"
"Can you tell me your name?"
"I'm Kid 'Borg! My pop is HEROID and my mom is Ireland Love!"
"Very good. Have a piece of Turkish Delight."
"Thank you, nice lady."
Rose McAden stood on the rooftop of the living structure called Maggie's Rock and looked to the east. She wanted to go hunting for this "Demonelle" woman. After Betsy had told her about her kidnapping, she knew Demonelle would be back. It seemed to Rose that the best approach would be to take the battle to the enemy.
But that wasn't going to happen. She had asked Roy for a leave from her security job (she figured no more than five days) to go hunting, but he had vetoed it, although he when he did so, he also promised that when she did go, he'd go with her as backup.
Then, last night, a doppleganger of one of Maggie's children appeared inside the Rock. When Maggie tried to talk to him, he ran. The kid looked just like Maggie's and Roy's son, Ben, except that Ben was no longer a cyborg with robotic limbs. The mysterious double looked exactly like Ben did a year or so ago.
Needless to say, the whole thing spooked Maggie and Roy pretty badly. And Maggie was already worrying about something that she had a feeling was going to happen. Roy had hired more staff for security. Old Abe had even been hired back.
"Now, if someone tries to read your mind what do you do?"
"I run!"
"Very good. If you answer the next question right, you can have another piece of candy."
"Okay!"
"Who do you love more? Me or your mommy?"
"You!"
"Have more candy."
So here she was, making her nightly rounds as she did every night. "Securin' th' peraminer," as Roy always said.
Then the sound of metal feet skipping along the sidewalk caught her attention. Rose's head snapped around even as her hand grabbed a snare-grenade off of her belt. It was him -- the doppleganger. She leapt off of the roof and landed in a crouch just a few feet in front of him.
"Don't run, kid," she said, "I just want to talk to you."
"I'm Kid 'Borg! HEROID's my pop, and Ireland Love's my mom!" He smiled guilessly as he spoke.
Rose wasn't that good with kids. She generally avoided contact with the younger ones at the Rock.
"Well. That's nice, isn't it?" she said, with the most patient tone she could muster.
"What's your name?" Kid 'Borg asked.
"My name is Rose."
"Hehe! 'A rose by any other name...' and I can't remember the rest."
Rose found herself smiling at him. He had an infectious laugh and the sweet smile of a child who is genuinely happy. She put the snare-grenade back on her belt.
"Would you like to come inside?" she asked, hoping to lure him in so that Maggie could talk to him again.
"No ma'am. I don't think so. I'm supposed to meet somebody in the Downside right now."
"Oh?"
Now Rose was torn between calling for help from the inside and going with him to see who was behind this. She decided to compromise. She palmed her comm off of her belt, keeping it hidden from Kid 'Borg, and began texting on it's tiny keypad. If anyone was watching the security computer monitor, they would see it.
"Can I come along with you?"
Kid 'Borg thought for a moment, then said, "Sure. Um... I don't think the nice lady will mind."
The boy moved along pretty fast on those cybernetic legs. Rose's side spasmed and her lungs pulled in air with the force of desperation. She followed the boy through the darkened streets of Atlas Park until they arrived in the darkest section -- the Downside. They stopped in front of an derelict old office building.
"Is she here," she asked between gasps. "Is the nice lady here?"
"Yes ma'am," the boy said.
Rose looked around. There didn't seem to be anyone else there.
"Where? I don't see..."
"I'm here," came a voice that was cracking and rusting with age.
From out of the shadowed alley stepped an elderly woman. She was stooped and leaned on a cane. Her wrinkled mouth turned up at the corners in a pleasant old lady smile. A cloud of white, curly hair sat atop her head like a pile of cotton balls. Rose couldn't help but smile back at the kindly, grandmotherish face.
"Hello, I'm Rose McAden."
The grandmother's smile turned into a wide toothless grin as she said, "That's all I needed to know."
Something slammed into Rose's back, knocking her face down onto the crumbling sidewalk. She recovered quickly, rolled to her back, then with a kick of her legs she was on her feet facing her attacker.
"Roy?"
"Heheh. Whaddayknow?" replied Roy's deep, gruff voice.
Even though she had pulled her collapsible bow from her belt, Rose had stopped short of notching an arrow when she looked up into the familiar face of her boss and friend, Roy Kirby.
"Wha...? Roy... why?"
Rose felt like she had fallen into some sort of bad dream.
"Why? B'cause I wuz told ta."
Then with speed that surprised her, his hammy fist smashed into her face.
"Stop it!" It was Kid 'Borg. "Pop, you're hurting her!"
"Yeah, kid, that's th' idea."
"No," said the grandmother, "the idea is to take her back to our client and collect our pay."
Rose lay on the sidewalk and choked on the blood that filled her nose and mouth.
"Oh, yeah, guess yer right," Roy said and bent down as if to check on her.
"However, our client indicated that she did not have to be in A-1 condition. Decapacitate her. I don't want her running."
"Gotcha," Roy said. Then he planted his feet just above her knees, grabbed her ankles and pulled back until she heard a wet snap.
Rose screamed, but it was cut short because the grandmother stuck her cane into Rose's mouth until she gagged.
"Quiet, dear. We don't want anyone to hear."
"I said stop!"
Rose couldn't lift her head to see, but she knew that Kid 'Borg was charging Roy and the grandmother.
"I was afraid of this," the grandmother said. "Kill him."
There was a sound like two trucks colliding and then quiet.
The silence was broken by Roy's voice asking, "Is the 'porter ready?"
"Of course," the grandmother replied. "Take her. I'll be waiting on the other side."
"What about the boy?"
There was a pause and then, "Leave him. And when I've abandoned this body, kill it too."
"Sure thing," Roy said as he hefted Rose up on his broad shoulder, "Anything else?"
"Yes. Bring the boy's robotic limbs."
"Kinda a shame I had ta kill 'im..."
"Acceptable loss," the grandmother said, "I'll begin growing a new one tomorrow. With what we're getting paid for this job, I'll be able to grow an army of him. Now, hurry."
Rose passed out just as Roy snapped the old woman's neck.
"Think he's ready, Elle?"
"I think you both are, Roy."
"Zzythe."
"Oh, yes. Zzythe. I think you're both ready."
((I blame that Starburst commercial that Shia linked to on his deviantart website for this.))
Hephaestus 1, Fang the Littlest Werewolf, and Heph's faithful recording crew were seated at an outdoor table at one of the fancier El Super Mexicano restaurants on Talos Island. As they made small talk, a waitress delivered their appetizer: a giant plate of cheese-covered nachos, piled high with refried beans, guacamole, and numerous types of peppers.
"Dig in, guys," Heph said. "We've delivered another summons that they said couldn't be done! Time for nachos!"
As the four tv makers began to dig in, a shadow fell across their nachos.
"Ahem," a voice said. The men looked over and saw a Warrior with a disturbing look on his face, as if he were some sort of man-child. "What did you say you were eating?"
"Nachos with--" Heph started.
"Nachos with what?" the Warrior interrupted.
"Nachos with cheese and--" Heph began, but he was interrupted with a very disturbing yelp of joy from the vest-clad gang member.
Then the Warrior began clapping and dancing badly. "Nachos with cheese! Nachos with cheese! I'm a little Warrior who loves Nachos with cheeeeese!" he sang.
Heph and his team all looked at each other in shock and dismay.
The Warrior sang in a creepy falsetto as he began his dance again. "Nachos with cheese! Nachos with cheese! I'm a little Warrior who loves Nachos with cheeeeese!" He finished with hands waving quickly from wrist as a flourish.
Fang and the camera crew sat there with stunned expressions on their faces. Heph looked at the Warrior, then looked at Fang.
"Fang?" Heph said.
"Yeah, boss?" Fang replied.
"Kill."
Fang snarled like a rabid Yorkie and leapt for the Warrior's throat as the screen went to black.
There was a simple white graphic on the black screen.
SERV'D!
The measured tone of Bill Kurtis provided the voice over. "Watch Hephaestus 1 ensure that villains get served. Fridays 10pm/ 9pm Central. Only on A&E."
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
The rectory hallway of St. Florian's Church was flanked on either side by rows of body bags, each recently zipped up. On each one lay a pile of personal belongings: clothes, wallets, watches, broken gunstocks, ceremonial swords the had been snapped in half.
The stories floated in through the usual channels. The old men of the church all said they were going hunting that morning, each one giving a different hunting season. They got together at the bar of their K of C hall, said their goodbyes to each other and left notes for their families and friends. Each one had a similar complaint: something was killing him, whether it was cancer, heart diease, or even loneliness missing their deceased wives. They left it on top of an old battered scrapbook with the letters "T.F.M.M." inscribed upon it. Other Knights would know the significance. The first page had a yellow sticky note on it. "Remember us like this, not like how you found us. Even if we did win."
The old mens' bodies were recovered near the bodies of dead Rikti. The Rikti around them had died of multiple gunshot and stab wounds.
After they were buried, each memorial that was placed on the barroom wall had a picture of the men in better, happier days. They were surrounded by their children or grandchildren, dancing with their wives at someone's wedding, even a few wearing party hats with their tuxedos to celebrate the New Year.
Later still, a new stainless steel badge was placed on the wall next to an older steel Hero's badge from the 1940s. It had the Seal of Paragon City embossed upon it and the number 1. Underneath was a brass plate that said "In gratitude from the Heroes and Citizens of High Park." A new set of names was added to the rolls of registered heroes. Each one at Security level 1, each one marked Posthumous Reward.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
[Ahh, of course they would. Regular people would fight too...]
Part of Sister Flame's Clickey-Clack Posse
The English language is an intricate high-speed precision tool.Stop using it to bang open coconuts. ~Tokamak
Dark_Respite's Video page
((If they couldn't stop all of the Rikti, they could slow them down at least.))
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
Phil Pachowski ran up the four flights of stairs to the apartment where he and his new wife, the former Mary Torricone, just signed the lease. This 24 hours on, 48 hours off deal was perfect for getting things done around the house Mary would take care of the details, but Phil had the general layout of where everything needed to go so they could have the best stereo sound for their tv. He unlocked the door and walked in to a nice candle-lit living room.
"Hello, stranger." Mary was wearing that dress again, the off the shoulder one that Phil really liked. Well, that and the dress was easy to take off was a big plus in Phil's book, too.
"Uh. Hi," Phil said, thunderstruck. Every time it was the same thing. "Uhm, candles... we're havin' a candlelight dinner? I thought we was cleanin' out the stuff from one spare room ta the other."
"Maybe later," Mary said as she grabbed he husband's hand and walked with him into their bedroom.
"Uh, gotta put my fire jacket an' hat on the hatstand," Phil said.
"Nah, keep them," Mary said. "It's our room."
Phil woke up later with Mary sleeping peacefully next to him, but someone was staring a hole in the back of his head. He rolled over and saw a seven-year-old staring back at him.
"Whatcha want, Tommy?"
"It's Saturday. Wanna watch cartoons with me?" the little boy asked as he stood in his favorite pajamas, the ones with the cars and trucks on them. Red cars and blue trucks of all shapes and sizes, Phil remembered. He got them for Tommy because most of them were classic cars like the 1965 Ford Mustang that Phil always wanted.
The two sat down in front of the tv, each with a big bowl of Froot Loops in front of them. Tommy grabbed the remote and switched it to the channel with Bugs Bunny on it.
"Overture! Curb the lights! This is it! We'll hit the heights!" the stereo blared as the show's theme song started. Phil forgot to turn it off last night after the game, apparently. He scrambled for the volume knob as Tommy held his ears.
"Too loud!" Tommy yelled.
"It's okay, champ, I got this," Phil shouted. As he lowered the volume, he heard a hiccuping cry turn into a long loud wail.
"Ah, geez, I woke Claire," Phil grumbled.
"Ma's gonna be mad at ya, Dad," Tommy said with a grin. "Ya woke the baby up."
"Two comic books if ya don't tell yer mother," Phil said.
"Three!"
Phil thought for a second. "Deal." he rushed into the nursery, where he'd painted a ribbon of pink around the top of the walls with a giant bow above Claire's crib. He couldn't bring himself to paint over the moon and stars that he and Mary put on the ceiling when Tommy was born. He ran to the crib, to pick Claire up. "Shh... it's okay, honey, everything's okay, Daddy's gonna make sure nothin' happens to ya," he said as he gently rocked the tiny baby in his arms. As she calmed down, he rocked her some more, then laid her back in the crib once the crying stopped.
Tommy poked his head in the door to Claire's room. "Come on, Dad! Mom's already waitin' fer you two ta come out."
"Phil, get Claire out here so we can go!" Mary yelled.
Phil turned around again to face the closet door. "Claire, you got 'til the count'a three ta get out here!"
"Tommy said I look like a punkinhead!" Claire blubbered. "I'm not going to church today!"
"Aw, Tommy's only sayin' that 'cause he's jealous it's yer special day, not his."
"Nuh-uh!" Tommy yelled. "It's 'cause she looks like a punkinhead with those missin' teeth!" That was followed by the sound of a smack to the back of a mouthy 13-year-old's head. "OW!" Tommy yelped.
"Come on, Claire," Phil said. "We gotta go now."
Claire opened up the closet door and peeked out. "Tommy's not all gross, is he?"
"No, but that's no way ta talk about yer brother, hon. What happened ta him was an accident. It's his first day with those new arms, so come out an' see him."
Claire flung the door open and walked out. "Fine, but if he's got all those wires and tubes hanging off him, I'm gonna puke."
Phil took his daughter's hand as they walked out of her room and turned off the lights, the stars and moon still glowing faintly after fifteen years of being up on that ceiling.
There was Tommy, still with his new costume, holding hands with that Saya again. "Hey, you two," Phil said. "We gotta get over ta Tommy's award dinner. It ain't every day my son gets made a Hero of the City."
"Oh, give them a little space, Phil," Mary said with a smile, the black off-the-shoulder dress she had from twenty years ago still fitting perfectly. "They're young. Besides, we should start planning for when Claire becomes one as well."
"Right, right, names like Back Yard Boom an' Emo Catgirl. What was my kids thinkin' with names like those?" Phil sighed as he walked into the bar at the back of the St. Florian's Council #759 K of C Hall. "Hey, Gino, how's things?"
Gino looked up from his beer. "Didn't expect ta see ya here, Phil, least not so soon."
"Huh?" He looked over to the bartender. "Hey Dad. Hadda helluva fire ta put out over by PCU in Steel. The Founders Assurance building looked like a bomb went off in there! Can I get a beer from ya?"
"Sure, son," the white-haired bartender said with a sad expression on his face. "I thought you'd get here a lot later."
"Whatcha mean, Dad?"
"The Rikti, son. Remember?"
"Oh, right. Them." The bartender put a beer down in front of Phil. "Keep the money in your pocket, junior. There's no charge for it here. Just enjoy."
"So," Phil said into his beer, "What'll the kids tell Mary?"
The old bartender just shrugged and began cleaning the dust off of more beer mugs.
Over in Steel Canyon, two young heroes wept unconsolably and held each other as Phil Pachowski's body was zipped up into a black bag and placed into an ambulance.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
"You did not bring the book."
Demonelle's near-perfect reproduction of a human mouth turned down at the corners. She had brought the other Rose and had figured Nick Kinsolving would use the magic book which Bittenhauer so desired to locate her. But Elle hadn't counted on...
"I hadn't counted on the Rikti invasion complicating everyone's plans."
Bittenhauer had his back to her as he worked over the sister Elle had brought to him. "And I hadn't counted on you bringing this one to me with a gangrenous leg," he said.
He had only specified that she be brought to him alive -- he had said nothing about her condition. This was the second time she had failed to satisfy the strange little man.
"She didn't have gangrene when I delivered her. You waited too long before you began your healing magics."
"The situation is complicated beyond your comprehension, Demonelle," Bittenhauer explained, still without turning to look at her. "If I use the wrong healing spell, it could interfere with the reason I need the sisters to begin with."
A soft yellow glow settled over the sister's prone body. The slab on which she lay seemed to rise from the floor, then it settled back down and the glow faded. Bittenhaur sighed in defeat.
"Kinsolving will come," Elle assured him, "I can promise you that. Despite the invasion, he will come."
Bittenhaur finally turned toward her. His brow was beaded with sweat and his eyes were darkly circled and wild.
"He'd better, android, he'd better. Now, will you pass me that bone saw?"
(Ploooooooooooot!)
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.
Tommy and Claire Pachowski both sat at the kitchen table with their mother. No one could say much of anything, but they did look over where Phil would usually sit. The table was set for a fourth. Mary Pachowski, mother of the two young heroes, took a sip from her cup of decaf.
"I can't believe I did that. I guess it's just second nature," Mary said.
"It's okay, Ma," Claire said. "I would have done the same thing."
"I know, sweetie. I still can't believe he's gone."
"I still keep hopin' he shows up, Ma," Tommy said, "like he was playin' a practical joke on us. This just don't feel normal." He looked down at the dinner on his plate. "Casserole again, Ma?"
"It's Kings Row, Tommy. When someone dies, everybody makes a meal for the mourning family so they don't have to do as much while all the final arrangements are being made."
"So, who made this one?"
"Old Mrs. Houston. So it should be good."
Tommy looked down and jabbed at it with his fork. "I wish I was hungry right now."
"Me, too, honey," Mary said, taking another sip from her mug.
Tommy and Claire's dataglasses flashed with new information.
"Ya better put these in the fridge, Ma. We got another intrusion signal over in the Front Yards." Tommy got up from the table, and ran to grab his extra gear. "Grab yer stuff, squirt," Tommy said to Claire. "We gotta neighborhood ta save."
"Be careful, you two," Mary said.
"We'll be back in a minute, Ma," Claire said. "Go to the laundry room in the basement. That should make for a good temporary shelter."
Mary finished her coffee and sat there as her two children ran out the door to save the day again. She didn't let herself cry until after she heard them get into Tommy's car and drive to the scene of the latest invasion.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
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((It's like Heroid said, this thread is for anyone who wants to write a part of their heroes' lives that you don't see in the game. So come on! Get to typing!))
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
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The apartment in High Park was usually filled with light and activity by now. The kitchen table had been wiped clean last night, but motes of dust seemed to sparkle in the morning sun. The only sounds of movement came from the creaking and popping of the wood floors as they expanded from the heat.
Claire Pachowski slept fitfully. She fell asleep at her desk for the second night in a row, a blog entry left unfinished and unpublished. Her readers would have to put up with another "Still Editing" post until she got this done.
Mary Pachowski slept curled up in the center of the bed where she and her husband Phil once talked about his job, the kids and their schoolwork, their own fears of what the future would hold. Phil's job had always been dangerous; he was a firefighter after all. When the call came to mobilize the arson investigation unit as an entry and rescue team, Phil grabbed his helmet and first-responder bag, kissed Mary goodbye and said he'd be back in time for dinner. Now she laid there without her other half, her partner. He was gone. All her mental preparation, all the training for when her kids asked "Where's Dad?" all went to hell when Tommy called to tell her that Phil died during the first Rikti attack. Twenty-two years of marriage, gone in an instant. The past two weeks were filled with shock, and now the shock was falling away. She blinked a few times as she awoke, rubbed her eyes, and squinted to see the clock. Nine-thirty in the morning.
I could use a drink right now, she thought. I really could.
Tommy had been awake for a few minutes, as he awoke from a dream where he thought he could bring his father back. He looked over to see Saya sleeping peacefully next to him, her arm draped across his chest in some semblance of a hug. She listened to him for once, staying at the PCU Salamanca campus dorms as soon as she could get out of town. She stirred and opened one sleepy eye to check on Tommy.
"Morning," she mumbled.
Tommy shifted a bit. "Mornin'. Sleep alright?"
Saya snuggled in a bit closer. "Mmhmm."
"Wanna get breakfast?" he asked.
"Wan' sleep more," Saya said.
Tommy stretched a bit and relaxed as the two fell back into a relatively peaceful sleep.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
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Hephaestus 1 sat in a repair bay as Vanguard technicians rebuilt his faceplate. A Rikti warrior took a good chunk of Heph's head off with a well-aimed plasma blast. His camera crew sat next to him and filmed while Fang, The Littlest Werewolf, read yet another girly-girl manga.
"It's a good thing my brain is in my chest," Heph said to the technician, "otherwise this show would have been cancelled."
The technician nodded and smiled. "Yes. The Mysterious Doctor Nambu's armored biopod design really saved the day, didn't it?"
"Yeah. It sucks that we can't switch it back to how it used to look, though," Heph said. "I liked the asymmetrical look."
"Now now, there's no need to complain. The new Vanguard parts will give your sensors and weapon array a lot better protection than the old optics plating," the technician said. "The Mysterious Doctor Nambu may have better aesthetics, but we've got better protective gear."
"You're probably right." Heph looked over at his camera crew, the circular plate of his new Vanguard-armored face glowing red. "Will I still be able to continue my career as a male model, guys?"
"I don't think the world is ready for your kind of pretty, Heph," his cameraman Mitch said.
"Ah, but they never are."
One of Heph's antennae extended as he received a cellphone call. He signaled to Clem, his sound man, to patch in. Within seconds, he had a link to his latest call.
"So, O'Flannagan, I hear you're spending a lot of time in the Rikti War Zone," said the voice of Larry McGonigle, Heph's case contact.
"Yeah, Lar, I got half my head blown off, too."
"Then how are you still alive?"
"Because my biopod is in my chest, Lar. You can't kill me that easily."
"Well, damn," Larry said. "Anyway, I have an assignment for you and Fang. Are you ready to re-enter the world of process serving?"
"Not particularly, Lar. I think Earth needs me at the moment, not just Rhode Island," Heph answered.
"Oh, you'll like this, O'Flannagan," Larry said. "You're serving an eviction notice to a specific person. He was once one of us, but after a meteoric career as a pop idol, he became part of The Lost and then became a full-fledged Rikti. It will be up to you to kick him out of his apartment in New Overbrook."
"You're not talking about..." Heph started.
"Yes," Larry interrupted. "I'm talking about the one, the only, Rikti Martin."
"Okay, this is going to require a plan, and a good one at that," Heph said. "I"ll call you back once I put together a good strategy for this."
Heph retracted his antenna and signal his team to him.
"Okay, here's my first idea..."
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
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"Serv'd! is next on A&E."
Hephaestus 1 sat at Larry McGonigle's desk, scratching his head in confusion. "Explain to me why you're doing this, Lar."
Larry McGonigle smiled as he adjusted his combover a little. "Listen, O'Flannagan, you're very much a specialist in serving all kinds of legal paperwork to the hero and villain community, but you're always alone. Haven't you ever thought that you might need backup?"
"No, not unless it's my girlfriend. Then Heaven help any villain who might be allergic to fire. She's said that she'd rather stay off camera. Besides, Lar, look at me. 7 feet 11 inches and 600 pounds of twisted steel and sex appeal!" Heph said as he mimicked flexing for the camera. "I don't take backup unless I want backup, understand?"
"Well, that ends today," Larry said. "You'll have a partner from now on. Meet... Fang, the Littlest Werewolf!" With that, Larry swept his arm to direct the cameras to a furry wolf-headed creature in a blue oxford shirt and chinos. "Behold!"
The werewolf sat there kicking his legs back and forth as they didn't quite reach the ground, engrossed in some manga called "Hai! Frilly Girly Happenstance!"
Larry coughed. "BEHOLD!" he shouted.
The werewolf continued to read.
Larry looked over at Heph and smiled, then scowled at the werewolf. "FANG!"
Fang looked up. "Oh! Right!" He hopped down from the chair and and stalked over in his crisp business-casual attire. "I'm Fang! I may be small, but I'm a stone cold killer! I'll savage you!" he said in a whiny and high-pitched voice.
Heph looked at Fang. Then he looked at Larry. Then he looked at Fang again. Fang stood there, looking about as dangerous as fresh cottage cheese.
"No." Heph said.
"You need a partner, O'Flannagan, and Fang needs a mentor."
"No."
Larry pulled Heph aside. "Listen, he's my nephew. After the curse from his dad's side of the family passed to him, he's been a bit shy about his new life as a werewolf."
"That's not a werewolf, Lar," Heph said. "That's a small child with a body hair problem."
"Well, that's the curse. His family was supposed to be normal, run-of-the-mill werewolves until the curse occurred. Now, they're all Dockers-wearing office interns with claws and fangs."
Fang growled, as one of the women walked over to Larry and Heph. "Oh, I hear someone's Yorkie over here!" she said in a singsong voice.
"I'm no Yorkie, lady! I'm Fang! I'm an anger-fueled pain merchant! Grr!" the werewolf said as tried to look menacing by arching his back and holding his hands over his head. "Grr!"
"Wooks wike someone's widdle Yorkum wants a biscuit," Larry's co-worker said. "Who wants a biscuit? Duzzums want a biscuit? Duzzums! Oh yessums does! Yessums does!" she said, holding a biscuit just out of Fang's reach. "You never told me you had a dog, Larry! And he looks so cute in those adorable widdle doggie cwothes!" the older lady said, going into that tone used when talking to dogs and babies.
"That's not a dog, Verlene, that's my nephew!" Larry said.
Verlene looked at Fang, and then at Larry. "Then why is your nephew wagging his tail and trying to snatch the biscuit out of my hands with his teeth?"
"Fang!" Larry shouted. "Bad! Bad nephew!"
"Sorry, Uncle L-- Mister McGonigle!" the tiny werewolf replied. "Sometimes I just have to let my animal instincts loose because I'm a primal force!"
Heph buried his face in his giant metal hands. "Why are you torturing me, Larry?"
"You made fun of my other job."
"But your other job is acting, if you can call it that, in movies with budgets so low, you can only afford to put the movies onto CD! And to make it worse, only 10 copies get made for distribution!"
"It's my life!" Larry said.
"Then your life sucks!" Heph shot back.
Fang trotted up to Heph. "Don't insult my uncle like that! He was great as the tough-but-well-meaning dry cleaner in 'Brick Landers IS Brick McMuffin in CHEERLEADER KUNG FU HELL FIGHT 18!' He's an acting genius!"
Heph looked down at Fang again. "Boo."
Fang looked down at his chinos. "Uncle Larry? Did I leave a spare pair of pants here?"
"No," Larry said.
"But I uh, marked my territory. In my pants."
"Fine. I'll call your mother."
Heph looked at Fang as he walked towards the men's room. "If I'm getting stuck with that as a partner, I'm going to have fun with it."
After an hour of reading through months-old copies of superhero gossip magazines, Heph looked up to see Fang patiently waiting for him.
"You made me angry. You'll be sorry for making me angry," Fang said.
"What, are you going to hump my leg to death?"
"That's it, big man! Make me mad! Go ahead. The madder I get, the deadlier I am!" Fang said, his lip curling up into an adorable little snarl.
"Look, we're due to deliver a summons to someone in about 30 minutes," Heph said. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah! I love going places in cars!" the diminuitive lycanthrope said with his tail wagging.
"Riiiiight."
And yes, Fang rode to the scene with his head sticking out of the window the entire time. The crew arrived at a nice brownstone near Canton Place, a gaggle of schoolkids enjoying their summer off by playing stickball.
"Heph! Uncle Larry says I get to serve this guy his papers! Uncle Larry promised I could!" Fang said again, hopping up and down. "Please, please, pleeeeeeease let me serve this guy his papers!"
"No. That's my job. You're just the ride-along."
"But what if you need me to unleash the beast?"
"What?"
"Unleash the beast! Pour my rage into my very being and shred our enemy! You can't stop my anger! I'm like Henry Rollins singing Bananaphone, I'm so angry! Grr!" Fang unsheathed his nicely-trimmed claws, trying to look intimidating in his button-down shirt and khakis.
Heph handed him the papers. "Go on," he said, as he stepped back.
Fang ran up the steps to the brownstone and rang the doorbell. "Hmm... I didn't know our target was Irish, Heph!"
"Irish?"
"Yeah, a Mister N. O'Sferatu. That's a funny name. Sure an' I'm N. O'Sferatu! Hands off me Fate Flakes! A balanced part o' meals with a pot o' nine vitamins and minerals in every box!"
"Fang, I'm Irish. And more than a bit insulted."
"Oh. My bad! But the rage makes me do things unheard of by mere humans!"
A pasty-white vampyr in a white apron with a bunny on it and long orange gloves open the door. "I don't vant your magasseens! I ze dishes am doingk! Zee? Mein gloves are here to keep mein hands soft undt silky smooth!"
"I'm Fang! And you need to go to court!" the werewolf said as he stuck the summons in the vampyr's face.
"Vait, court? But ze dishes! I haff ze gloves!"
"The gloves, they do nothing for your case!" Fang said. "Now, take the summons!"
The vampyr looked down at Fang. "Boo."
After another embarrassing hour, Heph, Fang and the faithful recording crew were heading back to the District Courts building. Nosferatu had generously given Fang a pair of leather pants and suspenders similar to the War Wolves.
"Sorry, Heph," Fang said with wide and soulful eyes.
"It's okay, Fang. Nosferatu may have gotten his summons, but you got SERV'D!"
The screen fades to black as everyone laughs except for Fang.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
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