((Bwaaahaaahaa!! priceless! 
))
Jen didn't know that the Catbird was coming to take her home. After months at the academy, with one bad incident after another making one bad memory after another, Jen had decided to run away from Mount Rainier. So she did, only two days before her adoptive mother left Paragon City.
So now she was out on the highway somewhere in the state of Utah, hot and exhausted. She had managed to sneak onto the back of an eastbound tractor-trailer full of potatoes to travel the first several hundred miles from Washington state. It had been air-conditioned to keep the potatoes fresh, and it had been very comfortable. And she had found out that raw potatoes didn't taste so very bad at all -- even if it did freeze solid a moment after touching her lips. But when, after long hours, the truck had stopped and someone unlatched the trailer door, Jen had teleported out. She was horrified to find that the truck had turned south. With no other options, she began teleporting, making her way along the interstate, until finally all of her strength was depleted.
Now, she couldn't even manage to lower the air temperature around herself. She couldn't form so much as an icecicle to chew on to try to chill herself a little. Her normally blue skin was approaching a pinkish color, which for a normal kid would be healthy, but not for her. The pre-summer sun was beating down on her with deadly intensity as she stumbled and staggered down the highway. She needed to find air-conditioning -- or even a meat-locker -- soon.
Then the sound of an air-horn almost made her jump out of her skin. She turned to see a big rig rolling to a stop behind her.
A man with short, wavy, black hair and a smiling, sun baked face stuck his head out of the rig's driver's-side window. "Need a ride, kid?" he said.
She knew it wasn't the best option, but if she stayed out in the heat much longer, she was sure she would die, she ran as fast as she could manage to the truck. The man inside reached across the cab and swung the door open for her.
"Hello, little darlin'," the driver said with the same wide smile he had before. He was a smallish man, not very tall, and sort of skinny. "My name's Wayne Lee Grady. What's yours?"
The cab was air conditioned and the blast coming through the vent felt heavenly to her, so, without thinking she blurted out, "Jen."
"Where you headed, hon?" he asked.
Jen had decided telling him her real name hadn't been the best idea, so she decided not to tell him that she was headed home to Paragon City. "Boston," she answered.
"Well, little lady, we'll be hitting I-70 in Richfield. We'll be able to get you real close to where you're going."
Wayne Lee Grady reached over and turned on the radio and stayed silent for a long while as they drove. Jen looked out the window at the barren terrain of dry, yellow grasses growing out of dry rocky ground. In the distance, flat hills jutted up out of nowhere, looking incongruous to the flat, flat land around them. And this vista remained the same for miles and miles and miles...
Jen woke up when her head bumped against the window. She squinted against the sun as she took in her surroundings. They had left the highway and were pulling into a visitor's center that had an "Arizona Welcomes You" banner across the brick building that housed a drink machine, a coffee machine, a snack machine, and some restrooms.
Arizona?
"Wait!" she said, anxiety rising in her voice and in her stomach. "What are we doing in Arizona? I thought we were going east toward Par... er...Boston!"
Wayne Lee Grady smiled the same smile she had seen since he had stuck his head out of the window. "Relax, darlin'," he said, "I had to make a little detour."
"D-detour...?"
"Yeah, honey. Seems you're not going to Boston at all. We're going to take you down to a little place south of the border."
Jen felt around for the door handle as she said, "M-Mexico? B-but... why?"
"For a little commodities trading, darlin'..."
"Yeah, you're a valuable piece of property, sweetheart. If you were a couple of years older, you wouldn't be worth my time, but at your age -- hell, you're prime!"
Jen felt sick. She wasn't sure if it was because of the things he was saying, or if it was from the hunger that made her stomach feel like it was trying to claw its way out of her insides. He arms and legs felt like wet spaghetti noodles and her head felt like it was floating without being attached to her body. If she wasn't so weak, she would flash-freeze this guy and show him what's what.
"Please, mister... let me go... I won't tell nobody..." Begging made her feel even more helpless. "Please... I don't want to wind up in a... a..."
"I don't know where you'll wind up, darlin'," Wayne Lee said nonchalantly. "None of my business really. But hey, you know you might like it. I hear a lot of kids do."
"You're sick!"
"What?"
"You're a sicko perv and I hope you die!"
"Whoa, whoa..." Wayne Lee was still smiling. "What do you think's going to happen to you?"
"I... you're going to... I mean... please... I'm just a kid..."
For the first time since she had met him, Wayne Lee's smile disappeared. "Oh, sugar, I'm not going to do nothing like that. I'm not... no. I would never do nothing like that."
"Then where are we going?"
"To a man who provides meta-powered children for various organizations."
"What?"
"He runs an auction for super-powered kids."
"But... why?"
"You don't think all those organizations like Arachnos get all their recruits from grown-ups, do you? Some of the stuff they do takes a lifetime of training. The younger you get 'em, the better."
Jen relaxed slightly. The situation wasn't quite as bad as she imagined.
"How did you know I had powers?"
Wayne Lee pointed to a small plastic box mounted on his dashboard. It had flashing lights on it and in white painted letters, it said, "Cobra Meta-Detector".
"It picked you up when you were 'portin' down the highway."
"Oh," Jen said, suddenly fascinated with the device.
"Now, do you want to go to the little-girl's room while I get me some coffee?"
Jen nodded.
"All right, hold still."
Jen remained quiet while Wayne Lee flipped open the console between the seats and took out a strange-looking bracelet.
"Don't try to get away. If I don't take this off you in twenty minutes, it's gonna blow up."
Jen looked at the bracelet. Wayne Lee might not be a perv, but he wasn't exactly benign either. She opened the door and climbed out.
The ladies' room was fairly clean -- the first break she had had since she got off of the potato truck -- so she took her time washing her hands and thought her situation through. She had been in much worse jams. If she could stall for time, maybe get something to eat, maybe she could get her strength back and escape. But then, where would she go? Were there any towns nearby? What good would it do for her to try to make a break for it when she would just wind up dying in the desert?
Jen went back out to the truck and took her seat. A moment later, Wayne Lee came back, removed the bracelet, and offered her a soft drink and a pack of cheese crackers. The soft drink was warm -- it might as well have been a cup of steaming coffee -- and the crackers were... well, crackers. She tried, but she couldn't bring either of them down to freezing. She sat the soda in the cup-holder and looked out the window as Arizona passed by.
Texas was a little different from Arizona and New Mexico. More green and rolling hills. More towns along the highway. A little more traffic.
Texas might not be a bad place to try to make an escape.
Jen and Wayne Lee hadn't spoken since they had left the rest stop. Neither had they stopped. If they were going to cross the border, surely they would have to stop there. Maybe there would even be policemen there who would help her. Then again, if he was a smuggler -- especially a people smuggler -- he probably knew a way around all of that. Some desert back road or something.
She looked at her captor. He was still smiling. He always smiled. At first, it had made him seem pleasant. Now it just made him seem psycho.
Suddenly, Wayne Lee's expression changed. His eyes grew wide in panic and his smiling mouth opened into an "oh" as in, "Oh crap!"
Jen faced front and looked at the highway in front of them. There was a cow in the middle of the road. A big cow. Maybe a buffalo. In the evening twilight Jen wasn't sure. She hadn't seen that many cows or buffalo in her life.
Wayne Lee hit the brakes and the truck started skidding down the road. The trailer Wayne Lee was hauling turned to an angle so that Jen could see the back end of it passing the cab. The weight of the trailer pulled the truck off of the road and they went off of an embankment. The world flipped upside down and Jen found herself banging around inside the cab as the truck rolled and rolled downhill until it finally came to a rest.
Smell of diesel mixed with ozone and blood as Jen opened her eyes. The truck was right side up with the driver's side resting against a large rock. Wayne Lee had a large gash in his forehead and his mouth was busted up pretty badly.
Jen wiggled her arms and legs -- no pain. She put a hand up to her head -- there was a small lump on the crown of her head, but no blood. She was unhurt!
Without a second thought, she opened her door and leapt out.
Unfortunately, Wayne Lee wasn't hurt as a badly as she thought. As soon as she opened the door, he lunged at her. She slammed the door and knocked him back, but it didn't take long for him to crawl out and come after her. Jen looked around for a place to hide, but there were only rocks, most too small to conceal her, so she ran around the demolished tractor to escape him. That's where she saw the frost forming on the side of the exposed motor. The freon lines to the air conditioner were busted and leaking!
Jen scrambled up on the engine block until she could see the hose spewing a stream of icy vapor. She put her hand in it the stream and smiled as the refreshing chill invigorated her, then she climbed on up until frost coated her skin and clothing from head to toe. After that, she just stood and waited for Wayne Lee.
He didn't disappoint her. Though he was limping and angrily wiping blood from his eyes, he was still relentless in his pursuit. He wasn't smiling now. He looked like an enraged animal.
"You come back here," he said as he began to climb up toward her. "You get down from there, Jen."
"I'm not just Jen anymore," she said. "Now I'm CryoJen!"
She shot an icy blast at Wayne Lee that froze his hands to the metal he grasped. When he began to shout and curse at her, she froze the saliva in his mouth which made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth.
"Now," she said, her voice suddenly as cold as her powers, "I'm leaving. And when I get to where I'm going, I'm going to tell certain people about you and what you do. When they find out, they're going to hunt down this 'auction' you were taking me to. So if I was you I would get out of this business and never, ever do anything like this again."
From the look of fear on Wayne Lee's face, Jen was pretty sure he bought her threat, so she leapt off of the truck, and climbed the embankment.
Up on the highway, another big rig had pulled over to see (Jen assumed) about the wreck. Jen approached the truck to ask the driver for help. An old woman who looked to be about as big as any man Jen had ever seen, sat in the driver's seat. She was dressed in a thick, red flannel shirt. She had a flabby, pallid face framed by wiry brown hair, streaked with grey and white, which stood almost straight up. The driver didn't look at Jen, but instead stared ahead with big bulging eyes that didn't blink.
The old woman began to speak in an eerie monotone voice. "I have been sent by Death itself to warn you, little girl -- the highway is no place for you. You do not belong to the road. Just a mile down the highway in that direction," the old woman pointed so Jen would know which way, "is a fallow field. After you cross that field, you shall find a ranch called the 'PW'. You shall approach the ranch house and knock twice, pause, then knock twice more. The owner of the ranch shall see that you get to your destination safely, for he understands the odyssey of youth."
Jen stood stunned to silence as she spoke.
Then suddenly the old woman looked down at her and grinned with an evil leer, then said, "Be sure 'n' tell 'im, Large Marge sent ya!"
Jen heard her cackle like a witch as she drove away.
Following Large Marges instructions, Jen made her way to the ranch house where the owner, Mr. P.W. and his wife, a nice lady named Dottie fed her ice cream, and then drove her to the airport and bought her an airline ticket for Paragon City.
((Wow. From a desperate tale of human trafficking to making Pee Wee's Big Adventure references. That's pretty cool.))
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
((Thanks, J. Dunno why Large Marge popped into my head there, but, what the hey?
Anyway, next part...))
The Catbird sat by the window of her hotel room and watched the Sheriff's cars roll up and down the highway. It was raining, and their tires made slooshing sounds as they passed by. She waited. She needed information and she was going to get it.
From up the street came the sound of squealing brakes and crunching metal. A familiar sensation came over her -- just as she had suspected it would -- and the "angel of Death" wings manifested on her back. She opened the window and flew out in the direction of the accident.
Deputy Lyle Parnelle was waiting for her, just as she knew he would be. She had encountered Deputy Parnelle earlier that day at the restaurant where she had had dinner. Her vision of his death was very clear -- his patrol car would wind up wrapped around a utility pole and his neck would be broken. His permature death would be quick and fairly painless, as opposed to his actual scheduled way to die: maimed and then beaten to death by the jealous husband of the woman he was seeing. Usually, she gave warnings so that people could avoid their untimely demise, but Parnelle had only one month, two weeks, and three days before the jealous husband, and the Catbird needed information from him.
As she approached, his spirit stood on the sidewalk looking at the car his body was trapped in. The steady rain passed through him and puddled on the sidewalk under his feet.
"I need to call this in," he said when he noticed her arrival. "That guy's gotta be dead. Poor [censored]."
"Yes," the Catbird said.
He had the expression of a man who had seen far too many such scenes in his lifetime. Despite his marrital infidelity, she could sense that he was a good man.
"Deputy Parnelle, I'm here to help you," she said.
He turned and looked at her, not at all surprised that a beautiful woman with black wings should be standing beside him now. Then he turned back toward the accident. A hint of a grin widened his mouth as he said, "Oh. Wow."
The Catbird smiled, and told him, "I'm here to help you, to offer you comfort and calm, just as you have done for many others."
Parnelle took one last look at the wreck, then took the Catbird's outstretched hand, and she took him in.
"Is this Death?" he asked from inside her.
"No, this is merely a waiting room."
"Sort of like a holding cell?"
"Not for you. You will go to your freedom."
"But... I've done some bad things."
"We all have."
She felt him nod in understanding.
"Deputy Parnelle?" she said as she arrived back at her hotel. "Can I ask you a question?"
"This is nice. Can you see it?"
She had no idea what it was like in there. She got descriptions, but they all varied in details.
"No," the Catbird answered, "but I'm glad you're comfortable. Now, about my question..."
"Oh! Of course! Ask away!"
The Catbird was happy he wasn't panicking or ranting in anger. The ones who accepted their fates were always the best company during their stays.
"Deputy Parnelle, has there been a runaway reported from Mount Rainier Academy?"
Boredom was currently Tommy Pachowski's enemy. He sat there in his black and blue mortarboard and graduation gown surrounded by his similarly-attired classmates from St. Ignatius' Men's Preparatory Academy. The girls from St. Mary Magdalene Women's College wore something similar in a lighter color of blue and white. He was sure the combined graduating class looked like some kind of massive bruise. This was the first year both schools held a graduation exercise on the same day. So instead of a nice short ceremony, he'd have twice the amount of people ahead of him, twice the number of valedictorian and salutatorian speeches, twice the number of National Honor Society honorees to watch getting their cords. If he shifted his dataglasses over to an Internet feed, he'd miss his name being called. So, he sat and endured the speeches.
As always, someone just had to start off with some tripe about changes. Tommy looked at his classmate, Jay Oxford.
"An' again, our changes in life change us as it changes the world around us, thus creating change for the environment an' puppies," Tommy muttered sarcastically. Jay's normally serious face broke into a grin and the young man shook as he stifled a laugh.
"But without change, how can we as people grow into mature human beings, cognizant of the humanity that matures as we grow up?" Jay whispered back in a snide tone, still grinning. This time it was Tommy's turn to hide a laugh. He coughed loudly.
"We feel that feelings allow our emotions to feel the pain of the world around us as well as the joy'a feelin' emotional," Tommy shot back quickly. "Fer the shallow waters'a our emotions run deep."
Jay wiped a tear away from under his glasses. "Man, that's beautiful."
The girl next to Tommy nudged him, grinning maliciously. "Shh, don't you get it? We're the future of tomorrow! And if yesterday was just today's memory, we have to make plans to remember the future to make it happen."
Tommy looked at his newest co-conspirator. "That's beautiful. Welcome ta the tribe."
The three students sat for the next thirty minutes mocking their fellow students and snickering all the while.
Eventually, the droning speeches ended, forgotten as quickly as they were heard. Everyone had one thing on their mind: getting out of a sweltering auditorium. Finally, the students' names were called one by one, with varying levels of applause.
"Tommy Pachowski." Finally. He stood up, walked to where Father Ray was handing out the diplomas to the young men, took the diploma in one metal hand and shook Father Ray's hand with the other.
"Thanks, Padre," Tommy whispered.
The old priest smiled back and motioned for Tommy to head back to his seat. Tommy suddenly realized he was taking too long and rushed back. Jay and the girl from St. Mary's were about to take their seats.
"Sorry, gang," Tommy whispered. "I mugged fer the camera. It's a hero thing." He grinned and Jay just shook his head.
"And they yet let you graduate, Tommy," Jay said.
"Huh," Tommy said in a matter-of-fact voice. "I didn't know ya could sign a diploma in crayon."
The three graduates laughed, further adding to the joyous atmosphere. Finally the last students received their diplomas, and the headmistress of St. Mary Magdalene's, Mother Faustina, had the closing remarks.
"Congratulations," she said, giving them the traditional Nun Stare of Death, Disappointment and Disapproval, "you have all managed to pass these rigorous years of education, discipline, and maturation. I'll remember all of you little troublemakers," she said as the stern facade gave way to a cheeky expression, "and I'll miss you all as much as I'll miss the ones who paid attention. You've all done very well, and our respective teaching staffs have been honored to be your teachers. Now go out into the world as proud graduates of St. Ignatius' and St. Mary Magdalene's. This graduation exercise is over. Good luck and God bless."
Tommy and his compatriots stood up with their classmates, switching their tassels to the other side of the mortarboard, then flinging the caps into the air with a cheer.
"Wow," the girl said. "I think The Penguin actually shed a tear at the end."
"Yeah," Tommy said. "She's definitely hidin' in her habit, an' it ain't due ta bein' shy."
The three students separated to join their families. Tommy Pachowski had finally graduated. His mother, father and sister were there, dressed as formally as the situation allowed. His dad's lapel was nearly lopsided with the various pins of his K of C groups, and Claire was digging through her purse to find her Young Phalanx communicator.
"Tommy," Claire said as the two young heroes' parents mingled with other parents, "I think there's a robbery in Faultline that needs attention. We better go."
"Let the others handle it first, squirt," Tommy said. "Back Yard Boom and Emo Catgirl are listed as Priority One Calls Only today."
The communicator stopped buzzing as someone else responded to the alert. Tommy and Claire looked around for their parents.
Suddenly, Tommy saw someone he didn't expect to see here, much less see in the country right now.
"Saya?"
His girlfriend grabbed a portal trip over from Shizuoka, apparently. And this wasn't the weirdly-coiffed and outrageously-clothed girl he normally talked to about the team's manga designs, either. She was wearing a simple black dress highlighted with gold trim, with jewelry that matched the tone of the gold trim. Her wild green hair was styled in loose curls with the bangs held back by matching gold barettes... and had returned to its natural black-chestnut mix.
Tommy stood there staring. "Uh, wow. Uhm, ya match. And coordinate. This ain't, uh, normal."
Saya smiled sweetly. "Yes, Tommy, I can occasionally dress up. Besides I-- Tommy! Careful with the heels!"
Tommy had shot over to Saya's side and swept her into his arms.
"'Allo, beh-bee," Tommy said in his best imitation of Pepe Le Pew. "Come wiz me to zee Cazbah."
Saya laughed. Tommy smiled. Claire made her usual little sister gagging motion behind them.
For once, Tommy Pachowski felt genuinely happy. He'd seen his mother through a difficult period of rehabilitation from alcohol and the Family's special grade of Superadine, he'd seen his girlfriend's career as a hero start and end quickly, watched as his little sister took on tougher and tougher challenges alongside him in the Young Phalanx, and managed to make a good living at his custom car garage.
Tommy wasn't sure when he'd ever been happier in his life.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
((I feel all warm and fuzzy, with a little bit of teary on the side. Wonderful, J. ))
When you work for Death, it follows that job perks are few and far between, but that's not to say that there aren't any. The one thing about Death is that she's everywhere. Anything that happens in the land of the living, chances are there is someone newly deceased who knows alot about it. And then there all of the spirits who roam the earth at Death's discretion, who, if they are at all cognizant of their condition, will pretty much do Death's bidding in order to continue to walk upon the Earth.
So as soon as Deputy Parnelle had told her about a runaway matching Jen's description, the Catbird got on the afterlife network. Soon, she was in touch with the "Road Ghosts" -- those phantoms who haunt the freeways and highways, some travelling thousands of miles, others haunting only the spots where they met their deaths. Many drove vehicles -- most often big trucks or old hotrods -- and some hitchhiked or walked.
In return for future favors, the Road Ghosts promised to find Jen, and see that she returned to Paragon City safely.
The Catbird trusted them. They knew that a bad report from her to Death could very well get them bannished to the Aether.
She felt like Jen would be safe now, and she would be going back to the City of Heroes herself soon. But first there was the matter of William Brenegan III...
Jae sneezed, the dust she'd kicked up finally getting to her. and then jumped when a voice said "Bless you".
"Augh! Geez, you scared me!" She swatted ineffectually at Canis, who brought his hands up defensively. "Hey, you're the one being jumpy. What are you down here for anyways?"
Jae looked around at the nearly empty room, a pile of boxes in the corner and a faded banner the only remanents of the Obsidian Order. Dust had settled over everything in the months it had gone used, the group itself having faded into a filed form somewhere in city hall in a box of inactive supergroups.
"Well...I was thinking...I was thinking it was about time to stop thinking the Order will ever be active again." She glanced over to a photo taken almost 2 years ago, dust covering the picture of the band of heroes filling up a circular foyer, with a hint of sadness. "And, well, we all put so much work into renovating this space, someone should use it, right? i mean, we can keep the range, but its all set up for a base for a group, maybe if we cleaned it out, put it up for rent?"
Canis looked around at the now cavernous ex-base. "I don't know, we do live upstairs..."
"I know, but it just....it'd be nice if it wasn't so...empty." Jae sighed, and then smiled when Canis hugged her. "If that's what you want to do, Jamie, it's your building." Content to stand there for the moment, she muttered. "I'll think about it."
The back bar at the K of C Hall was sparsely attended as usual. A few of the old-timers got together and talked about the local stuff, the neighborhood gossip, stories about everyone "back in the day."
"Didja hear 'bout Bill?" one of the old-timers said.
"No, is he still at Crowne?" the white-haired bartender said.
"He just died last night. Jane just about followed him, she's still in shock over it."
The bartender looked down. He'd been cleaning the mug with the name "Bill" etched into it on one side, the badge of the Knights on the other side.
"Dammit," the bartender mumbled. "I thought they'd fixed that heart bypass he got done back in '82."
"It was old age and all that coffee if you ask me. You know Bill though. Quit smoking after the War, drank a beer at lunch and at dinner, an' all those kids? You'da thought him an' Jane was in some kinda sex marathon!" the old patron said with a wheezy chuckle. "I'd have bet money that his heart would be the last thing to go!"
The bartender ran his liver-spotted hand over the mug one more time, and a bit of smile showed up. "Seemed like every other year they were having kids, Gino," the bartender said. "Remember how he kept trying to find out what Atlas' real name was? He wanted to name his first son the same thing."
"He never told me why that was, though," Gino said.
"You never heard? Bill was there when the Germans attacked Paragon. He even got in the newspaper, too. Hang on, let me go find that scrapbook." The bartender went into the back office of the hall, looking through all its records.
A few minutes later, the bartender came back with an old black photo album, the cloth covering worn down to the pressboard in a few spots. He flipped through the pages of stories about golf tournaments, dances, ordinations, baseball league championships and other social news. There on a page of its own was a picture of a young man in a white t-shirt and jeans in front of a wrecked German U-Boat. His wavy dark hair, optimistic smile and cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth made him into the immediate poster boy for the start of the war.
"Here it is. 'Dockworker Routs Krauts." Never see a headline like that anymore, do you?" the bartender said.
"Nope, not at all. Gotta be sensitive. Huh! Says here that Bill dropped a pile of girders on that U-Boat while the Germans were climbing out of it. Took out the deck gun and punched a hole in the ship. Apparently it kept the Germans from using that part'a the docks 'cause the U-Boat wreckage woulda damaged the troopships. Ended up funnelin' 'em right towards Atlas. I think that's kinda how Atlas wanted it, ya know? He seemed ta like a good stand-up fight."
"Yep. When Atlas and all those other heroes beat the Fifth Column boys back onto their ships, they looked up at the crane that kept dropping stuff on the enemy. And there was Bill, working those levers in the gantry like a madman and puffing away on his fifth Chesterfield."
"You'd think Bill woulda crowed about that every chance he got," Gino said. The old man flipped through the scrapbook some more. "This article says he got a Registered Hero badge outta the deal, too. I never saw that in his house. What'd he do, keep in his sock drawer?"
"Nah. Check the wall."
On the wall in between all the various service awards their fellow Knights had won was a small space for the various registered heroes who were part of the St. Florian Council #759. Most of them had grown up in the neighborhood except for the recent additions of the Cobalt Claymore and Hephaestus 1. Among the various awards and pictures of old neighborhood-native heroes like Haymaker Higgins and Doctor Lightning and The Pipewrench, there was picture of Bill in a new sailor's uniform and shaking Statesman's hand. There was a nicely-lettered certificate giving Bill the status of "Registered Hero, On Loan to the United States Navy for the Duration of the War" and a simple steel badge with the old Paragon City crest on it.
Gino smiled a bit. "You know a guy for your entire life and he never tells you anything," he said as he wiped the dust off of the badge. "I guess he took the secret identity thing to heart."
"Nah," the old bartender said. "He just thought it was something that everybody'd do in the same situation."
The bartender set Bill's Mug on a shelf with a dozen other mugs like it, never to be used out of respect for the dead.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
((Gotta say... J, Kai... those were two very nice pieces.
Kai, I've spoken to a few people with defunct supergroups and empty bases, and your story captures the feelings they shared with me perfectly.
And J... man, you rock. That story was beautiful.
And anybody who might happen to read this and wonder, "Is this thread just for these people's stories?" Well, the answer is no. This thread is for anybody who wants to write a slice of life or even a short storyline involving the everyday lives of their characters. As you can see with J's last piece, it doesn't even have to be about one of your characters. If you just want to write about life in the City of Heroes, feel free to post it here. ))
"The doctor will see you now."
Todd Galahad, known as the Cobalt Claymore to the world at large, fidgeted nervously as he picked up the book he'd been reading and placed it into a bookbag. The office was quiet, lots of nice neutral colors, probably soundproofed a little more to make sure no one could overhear the conversations within. A stereo played some off-brand of quiet meditation music. Even the lights were pleasant, not the usual purplish glow of fluorescent bulbs found in most medical offices. Todd stood up and mentally calculated time from the couch to the door that led to the hallway, from the couch to the doctor's office, figuring out what floor he was on in case he was visited by his mother's goon squad, whether his microporter would have a strong enough signal to summon the weapons he needed and--
Tood took a deep breath and walked into the doctor's office. He was trying to be as calm as he could.
"Uh, hi, Doctor Rutherford," Todd said. "You were, uh, recommended by a former teacher of mine."
Doctor Rutherford was sitting a nice contemporary-style chair, which blended nicely with the Southwestern motif used to decorate the office. He motioned over to Todd with a thick, muscular hand. "Yes. Please, sit down. If you like you can lay back as well. It's a cliche, but sometimes cliches work."
"Heh, thanks. Uhm, should I have come in civilian clothes instead? I didn't know what to wear." Todd felt very self-conscious in his costume all of a sudden. Hopefully he'd kept well enough to the shadows to not advertise his destination. What would the citizens of Paragon City think if they saw one of their heroes walking into a psychiatrist's office, after all?
"Well, I did ask you to wear what makes you most comfortable," the doctor said. "If it's your costume, then by all means wear it."
"Oh. Right," Todd said. "Uhm, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to start this. I just have a lot of things on my mind, and I need some counseling, I guess."
"What's the most pressing thing on your mind right now?" the doctor asked. The pencil he was using for his notes seemed tiny compared to the hand that held it.
"Well, first there's the whole incident with meeting my mother..." Todd began, relating the incident that caused him to be kidnapped by his mother, to start a path of criminal activity in the Rogue Isles, and finally the escape and rescue by his fellow heroes. Doctor Rutherford made note after note on the grey legal pad, nodding every so often and making sure that Todd didn't stop talking until he was done.
"So, uhm, I guess that's it. If I had to summarize, my guess is that I've got guilt over getting my team killed, I'm in shock because of meeting a family that I never knew at all, my conscience has bothered me since that bank robbery even if I was exonerated of willful participation, and well, a feeling I've bothered everyone for having to rescue me."
"Hmm," the Doctor said. "That IS a lot to keep on your mind at once."
"Well, I don't want it causing any trouble in my relationships with my friends, my fellow heroes, or especially my girlfriend. My dad always told me that I should always figure out a solution by myself so others won't have to worry," Todd said.
"Your father was a big believer in self-reliance?"
"Yes. It's one of the reasons why I took the identity of the Coblat Claymore when he died. That's something the identity stood for, I think," Todd said. "As a hero, he had to be there to help others, so he couldn't ever be stuck in a situation where he needed help."
"Really? Well, what else can you tell me about him?"
Todd went further into detail about his father.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
"Serv'd! is next on A&E."
Hephaestus 1 and his faithful film crew were back in the District Courts building, waiting for one of Larry McGonigle's latest cases. After a few minutes, Larry came in wearing a neckbrace. He sat down and looked over at Heph, scowling.
"This is all your fault, O'Flannagan," Larry said. "Thanks to you, I might have a broken neck! And this just had to happen right before my role as the tough-but-well-meaning Yugo in 'Brick Landers IS Brick Ford Lotus in TURBO KILL RACE 10!', didn't it?" the court liaison whined.
"Tough but well-meaning Yugo?" Heph asked, wishing he could raise an eyebrow incredulously.
"It's a kids' movie."
"Turbo Kill Race--" Heph started.
"It's 'Brick Landers IS Brick Ford Lotus in TURBO KILL RACE 10!', get the title right!" Larry interrupted.
Heph just sort of sat there for a second.
"How is that a kids' movie?" the big blue cyborg asked.
"Well, it's animated, for starters," Larry explained, "and by using the latest in motion capture technology and CGI, Paragon Film Partners can make a great animated movie!"
"What's the usual budget for a Paragon Film Partners movie, Lar?"
"Uhm, about $250 total."
"Including paying you guys?"
"Yes. But now that role is going to someone else!" Larry whined. "Because you tried breaking my neck!"
Heph waved his hands in front of him. "Larry, Larry, Larry! I didn't try to break your neck! I was just congratulating you for pulling one over on me! You really got me with that last assignment, so I thought I'd let you know there were no hard feelings by congratulating you."
"You congratulated me through a wall! That was no ordinary back-slap, Heph!"
"Oops," Heph said with a shrug. "Sometimes I don't know my own strength. Anyway, who's the person who gets the papers today?"
Larry turned to his computer. "Well, this week you've got an assignment in Atlas Park. It seems there's some sort of disagreement between MAGI representatives, and now Azuria has slapped a defamation suit on Gregor Sanderson."
"For what?"
"For spreading the rumor that she's the one who always loses stuff out of the MAGI Vault, apparently."
Heph scratched his head. "I thought that was true, though."
"Well, Gregor has decided to file a countersuit claiming she holds wild parties in the Vault and leaves without locking the place up at night."
"Wild parties, hmm?" Heph pondered. "Looks like a job for me."
The hero and his faithful recorders arrived at City Hall, with Heph double-parking on a shotgun-wielding Hellion. "Eh," he shrugged, "I'll put out the Official Business placard and not worry about the ticket." With that, the hero and his sidekicks walked to the MAGI office.
The Fallen Buckshot twitched a bit. "I'm all right!" he yelled weakly, showing a thumbs-up. "No, wait, Mr. Gall Bladder is supposed to be inside not outside! I'm not all right! I need an adult! I NEED AN ADULT!"
The trio arrived at the MAGI office after wading through a horde of catgirls in various states of costumery and uninspired heroes with names like "Bobzorz148" and "I EAT PASTE MAN."
"Five bucks says those guys are on the two-week hero fantasy camp tour," Heph grumbled.
Eventually, the three got to the MAGI office. The room was filled with numerous people who could only be called groupies. Some of them even had little Rikti Monkeys in their handbags, just like Azuria did.
Heph walked directly over to Azuria. "Good morning, Azuria, I'm here to serve you with a subpoena from the District Courts of Rhode Island."
Azuria looked at him blankly. "That's hot."
"What's hot?"
"You said 'subpoena,'" Azuria said. "Not many guys can say that without laughing. So are you going to, like, show me your legal briefs and pro bono?"
"No, I'm going to give you these papers and tell you that you need to show up next Wednesday at the District Courts building."
"Right. You know who I am, right? I'm Azuria."
"Yes. So, is it true you hold those wild parties in the Vault?"
"Oh yeah! I mean, it's just old and crusty masks and cloaks. We really need to make new magic stuff," the MAGI representative said vapidly. "I think one of the videos accidentally got leaked out a few years back."
"Hmm. This explains why some members of the Young Phalanx always talk about the Christmas Party Video." Heph said.
"Oh, it was Christmas? I totally dig that Santa Claus was born then. That's really important to know. And I look good in a red and green Christmas outfit." Azuria stared blankly into space. The Rikti Monkey in her purse looked up at her and fired a psionic blast at her, jolting her back to consciousness.
"Oh! Right, so are you really saying that I have to go to court?"
Heph tilted his head a bit. "Yes. And did that Rikti Monkey just shoot you with a psionic blast?"
"Yeah," Azuria said. "It's cool. It's what everyone's doing at the clubs these days. We call it the Monkey Shot. because that's a cool name."
Heph looked at the camera. "Okay, I have been both weirded out and mildly disgusted today, which makes this a new record, I think." He turned back to Azuria. "Look, show up unless you want to go to jail."
"They can't take me unless there's a book deal in it for me," the MAGI rep said.
Heph just shook his head and walked out. "I can't even do the tagline. That's... just too much for me."
Meanwhile, Gregor Anderson was watching the filming through a scrying mirror. "Excellent," he hissed. "Soon I will control both MAGI offices and finally get the new fax machine that I deserve!"
Behind him, a dozen Council Galaxies ran into the wide-open vault and ran back out carrying off all manner of mystical goods. Soon, all that could be heard of them was their ululating battlecry of "COUNCIL-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA!!!" A young hero ran up to Gregor to inform him of the theft.
"Gregor! Dude! A bunch of gimps in purple spandex just stole the Bunarotti Cipher and the Crown of MacGuffin!"
Gregor turned to the young hero and waved his hand in a circular motion. "Azuria left the door open again."
"Azuria left the door open again," the hero repeated with a blank stare.
"It's all Azuria's fault," Gregor said with another wave of his hand.
"It's all Azuria's fault," the hero repeated.
"And get me a fishwich for lunch," the MAGI rep said.
"I will get you a fishwich for lunch," the hero said as he walked out of the office.
Yes, Gregor Sanderson was ready for the second phase of his plan for total domination of the MAGI offices. He went back to the scrying mirror, an evil smile on his face.
"Soon, all will bow to the power of Gregor!" he said with an evil laugh.
Back in Atlas Park, Hephaestus 1 shuddered.
"Is it me or did it just get dumber in this city?" he asked as he and his film crew got in the truck and left.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
Tommy woke up with the sun on his face. His room in the apartment had a south-facing window, so it was pretty late in the day. He checked his schedule, showing that he had the entire day off. Sitting up was the first part of actually getting out of bed, and Tommy had only reached that part of being awake where your mind was working, but your body still wanted sleep. Tommy's metal arms clacked and whirred as the servos were used for the first time in hours. He bolted straight up, throwing the covers off of his bed like normal. The young cyborg was not known for keeping a tidy room; spare parts for his cybernetics, his car, and his computer were stuck in every available place he could find. He put his hand back down on the mattress.
Funny, he didn't remember anyone else being there. Then he remembered that Saya was staying with his family for a couple of weeks. Tommy looked over at his girlfriend, who was still sleeping. He watched her for a second as she truned over to face him, then remembered that she was supposed to have taken the couch to sleep on. He very gingerly crawled over his girlfriend to get to the floor, then put the covers back on the bed. As softly as possible, he crept out of the room, hoping his mother wasn't there to notice what had happened.
No such luck. Tommy's mother was sitting there, drinking a cup of decaf while reading the newspaper.
"Good mornin', Ma," Tommy said as he went to rummage through the fridge.
His mother put down the paper. "Coffee is on, but it's decaf. Doctor's orders. I would have made breakfast for everyone, but I didn't know when you two were going to get up. Your sister's at the Mega Mart. Something about needing more printer paper."
Tommy found an orange in the crisper and brought it out. "Eh, is Saya up already? I thought she'd be in here helpin' ya out," he said, peeling the orange and hoping his mother didn't notice.
"No, considering that she's in your room, I'd guess she was still asleep." Tommy's mother turned a few more pages in the paper. "Hmph, nothing but ads in this paper anymore."
Tommy blinked. "Yer not gonna yell at me 'cause Saya snuck inta bed with me?"
"No," his mother said.
"An' yer not gonna go inta a long lecture 'bout how we shouldn't be doin' such awful things, even if we ain't doin' 'em at the moment?"
"No," she said again.
"Not even a little?"
"No."
"Well, we didn't do anything."
"I know, Tommy."
"An' I wasn't plannin' on doin' anything, anyways," he said.
"Yes, we've gone over that before, Tommy."
Tommy looked around, scanning the kitchen for hidden cameras. He switched his dataglasses over to see various light wavelengths and readouts. The person in front of him was definitely his mother.
"Okay, so why ain't ya flippin' out an' blamin' me fer havin' a girlfriend who wants ta sleep in the same bed as me?"
"Because it's not your fault, Tommy," his mother said.
Tommy sat there, a few wedges of orange left in his hand. "Okay, now yer scarin' me, Ma. I ain't used to ya bein', well, nice ta me."
"Tommy, I was so scared to see you or your sister get killed fighting crime that I let my fear take over and turn into open hostility against you. It's taken me a couple of years to get used to you being a hero, much less one who's grown up without a good mother," his mother said, trying to explain what had gone on in the past few years. "I had to face my fears and beat them, and realize that I was hurting you, Claire, and your father. I'm not sure what I'll do to make it up to everyone, either. You've all put up with an irrational woman very patiently."
Tommy finished up the last orange wedge. "Okay, but this is gonna take some adjustment, y'know?"
Tommy's mother put the front section of the paper down, and picked up the Metro section. "One thing, though. Even if Saya crawls in bed with you, you're not doing anything. This is still my house, and I still make the rules."
Tommy smiled a bit. "Gotcha, Ma."
"Even if you have broken those rules before."
Tommy winced. "How'd ya know?"
"I have ways of making people talk," his mother said from behind the latest photo of heroes fighting Lusca. This time it was her turn to smile.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
"Serv'd! is next on A&E."
Hephaestus 1 and his faithful camera crew were nowhere near the District Courts building.
"We've got the day off today, guys, so I thought I'd show viewers outside the Paragon City area one of the newest places where heroes hang out. So, this is sort of Heph's Day Off," the big blue cyborg said. With that, the trio was off in the SUV once more. Heph continued the commentary while driving.
"I think this is where I talk about how living the life of a Registered Hero is sort of quote-unquote 'The Life.' Some kind of hoo-ha about how it's got its good days and its bad days, but you just take 'em as they come, or some such. I just wish I could sound as believable as they do on 'Reno 911' because that show cracks me up." He turned on to the Argo Bridge, heading into Talos Island.
"I loved being a cop. It wasn't the badge, the gun, or the abuse of authority- back in Chicago, bribery and regular beatings of local troublemakers were the norm when I was growing up- that appealed to me. It was seeing people, you know, the ones who thought that decent people were suckers, seeing those guys get taken out of society. Or at least elected into office where we could keep our eye on them." Heph drove on a little more.
"If someone said to me 'Mick, we'll send you back in time to when you got out of the Marines as long as you don't become a cop' I'd tell them to get *bleep*ed. Somebody's got to watch out for the regular folks, even if it means getting as dirty as the criminals sometimes. I'm glad it doesn't happen as much as it used to anymore. You have to be able to trust the people who say they're protecting you even when you're not giving them a 'neighborhood Christmas bonus' in August." He finally pulled the SUV into a parking place.
"Well, here we are. Wentworth's. Pure, unbridled, cutthroat capitalism at its finest and at its worst," Heph said, sweeping his arm across the shot of dozens of heroes surrounding auctioneers like a horde of commodities traders on speed. "Some folks like to bring over blueprints and other assorted crap from their cases to see what it's worth. Then there are the market-cornering guys. I swear if Gordon Gecko was real he'd look at them and say 'You complete me' with quivering lip and orchestral score."
Heph walked over to a computer terminal and pulled a patch cable from the back of his neck. "I have to check a couple things I've got up for auction. Won't be a second."
The camera crew stood there while Heph stood silently while he checked his numerous transactions. You could see the camera move a bit nervously, as the recording crew started getting bored.
After a few more seconds, Heph unplugged from the terminal. "Okay! I made a tidy sum on those blueprints, so I know I've got enough for spare parts. Hmm. Let's pester someone at random." Heph turned from side to side, looking for a likely subject, the antennae on his earpieces twitching here and there. Suddenly, Heph found his target and walked quickly to the unwary hero. His camera crew followed in the usual shaky style.
"CC! Hey!" Heph yelled. A younger hero covered from neck to feet in blue-dyed leather fighting gear and matching sunglasses looked over to the noisy cyborg and waved. "Okay, guys, this is the Cobalt Claymore. Huh. Looks like he got back either from a long motorcycle ride or else leather is the new spandex. CC, how's things? You know the camera crew, right?"
The Cobalt Claymore looked into the camera. "Uh, no. Hey there, cable and satellite tv subscribers. I'm the Cobalt Claymore, a registered hero like Heph here. He's just lucked out and gotten a tv gig."
"So, tell us," Heph continued, "what has your experience been at Wentworth's?"
"It's been all right. I've sold off a bunch of stuff I didn't need and made a nice profit. A really nice profit," CC said. "I've got enough now to restock my portable armory. Exploding shuriken don't grow on trees, you know."
"Right. So, anyway, have you gotten any exclusive stuff here?" Heph asked.
"Not really. I've gotten a few bargains here and there, but nothing neat. I have found some things, though, that are really rare here but plentiful in the Isles and vice versa."
"So you know, CC here just found himself in the Rogue Isles for a few months. Long story, too," Heph said.
"And a boring one, so don't ask," the Cobalt Claymore added. "Anyway, it's weird to see some things from Isles show up here, as this is only stuff you'd find on the black market there. Which makes me suspicious, honestly."
"So, there's a mystery to be solved?" Heph asked.
"Yes. Let's check the dock and see who's there."
The two walked around back to the large gated loading dock. A light blue tractor-trailer was pulled in, with some workers loading it up with goods.
"Wait," the Cobalt Claymore said, "Heph, that's the same truck I saw in Sharkhead a few weeks back! They're smuggling out our stuff!"
"That's impossible!" Heph replied. "There's no way that would happen."
"Why not?" CC asked.
"Because I know that truck."
The Cobalt Claymore's eyebrow shot up over his sunglasses. "What?"
"I know that truck. He'd never do anything like that." Heph walked over to the light blue truck cab. "Hey, Ops. What's shaking?"
The truck's lights blinked on. "Oh, man! Heph! You never saw me here, man! This isn't what it looks like! I promise on the Spark! It's not what you think it is!"
CC stood there. "The truck talked. Heph, why is the truck talking?"
"Because, CC, Ops here is fellow member of COMMA, the Council On Modern Mecha-Americans," Heph said. "He's a self-aware android. Just incognito."
The truck started shaking. "Oh man, Heph, could you go away? I don't want you to see me like this."
"What's wrong, Ops?"
"I need the stuff, Heph. The special stuff. You know." the truck said, its voice quavering.
"Oh, Ops. That's impossible. You're not on the EG, are you?"
"I... I'm sorry, Heph! It's true! I'm an Enerjunkie! I need help, but my friends don't come around much after the incident with Buzzbeetle."
"Buzzbeetle?" the Cobalt Claymore asked.
"Another self-aware android who's incognito. But younger. Much younger."
"I'll carry that to the day I'm recycled, Heph," the truck said. "I never told Buzzbeetle to watch out for the street racers. The next thing I knew, he was sporting kanji on his rear windshield, even though he was German-designed. Then came the spinners... and the performance parts."
"I remember when he refused to hang out at the COMMA meetings because he said we didn't understand," Heph said sadly.
"Before long, he was hitting the-" the truck seemed to stifle a sob, which sounded more like trying to start an already started car, "the Tokyo Drift. Hard core. He'd race all night, Drifting and sharing gas with other racers. He didn't know a single one."
The camera crew turned to the Cobalt Claymore, who shrugged.
"I know, Ops, but he made those decisions based on his own programming."
"All of a sudden, he's showing his chromed-out engine to every two-bit car site on the internet! I mean, if it was tasteful, like Road & Track, that'd be one thing, but this... this wasn't Road & Track."
"You don't mean-" Heph started.
"Yes," the truck interrupted. "He was part of the hardcore VW set. Beetlemania.com, Bugzap.com, Bigoldjettas.com, all of them. Pretty soon, he was even showing them his sparkplugs, and letting strange mechanics work on him."
"Yeah. Then we found him that one night, vapored out on avgas, burned piston heads, and wrapped around that viaduct support." Heph grabbed a can of oil from off-camera, opened it, and poured it on the ground. "Buzzbeetle, we miss you, man."
The truck started sobbing, making that same grinding starter noise. "He was only a 2003 model, by the Spark! Why was he taken from us so soon?" the truck cried out.
"It's okay, Ops," Heph said as he hugged the cab as best as he could. "It's okay. Buzzbeetle's in a better place now. Where he is, he's got the touch and the power, like we all will some day."
The truck kept making horrid grinding sounds.
"I... better go," the Cobalt Claymore said. "This is awkward." The young hero headed back towards the tram as the light blue truck made more grinding noises.
"Sometimes, Ops... sometimes we get there too late to make a difference. But you need to clean up, get a full flush and fill, and stop doing these long hauls to the Isles. I'm not going to let another Mecha-American make an early date with the compactor. Not on my watch!" Heph said. One of his antenna raised out further.
"Hello, Triple A? This is Hephaestus 1. I've got a truck with some serious engine and fuel problems here. Wentworth's in Talos Island, at the loading dock. Hurry, please. Yes, I'll stay with the truck." He looked over at the tractor-trailer. "It's okay, Ops, I'll be right here. Stay with me, man!"
The screen faded to black with the picture of a sunburst yellow VW Beetle with a similarly-colored android superimposed in the background.
BUZZBEETLE 2003-2007
"For more ways on how you can keep your sentient transforming android vehicle away from vicious street racers and out of the "custom culture," call the Triple A helpline 24 hours a day 7 days a week at 1-866-455-KITT. Or visit the 'KITT Korner' website at kittkorner.com for more information."
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
Doctor Genevieve Miller, the woman known to the public at large as New Frontier, sat in her faculty office at Paragon City University. During her 40 years in space, the changes in education tools moved from slide rules and chalkboards to LCD projectors and online whiteboards. Her students always had the answers for her equations in astrophysics, mostly thanks to their fancy calculators. The Intro to Astronomy students always seemed to be busy with their notebook computers, typing those instagrams to each other or whatever the new favorite IM program was. Instant messages, text messages, all of it distracted the students. Actual handmade models weren't enough of an attraction, either. You had to have 3D computer graphics... and that damnable Powerpoint! The sad part was that thanks to all this overstimulation the art of calculating things and figuring them out in your head or on paper had fallen by the wayside.
A devious smile crept across her face. She locked the door to her office and flew down the hallway. It was time to raid the supply closets and the AV room. Maybe even the bookstore would have what she needed. A few hours later, she had all the requisite materials for her master plan.
The next class session in Astrophysics was surprisingly well-attended after she sent out the "Free swag for attendance" email to all her students. Most of them milled around their seats in the auditorium until class started.
"Okay, class," New Frontier's voice echoed from the back of the hall, "this section is actually going to require you to put those laptops, cellphones and calculators away."
There was a general murmur of confusion and disapproval.
"And I WILL know if you're using electronics around me," she said as she hovered over the students in the outfit she wore during her mission through the solar system.
The students gasped.
"Yes, as you can see, your professor is a registered hero, New Frontier's the name if you must know. What can you tell me about that name?"
One student raised his hand. "That's one of those songs from the 80s by Thomas Dolby, right?"
"Wrong answer, but thanks for playing! 'New Frontier' was a term used by President Kennedy to describe the need for a manned space program."
"Yeah, but it was a song in the 80s, too," the student said. "And I know it was Thomas Dolby who did it."
Another student piped up. "It was Donald Fagen! It was his anthem to the broken promises of the 60s! Read the cddb notes some time, geez!"
Dr. Miller looked over the students who belabored her point. "That's nice. Can either of you virtuosos tell me what class you're in?"
"Uh, I'm a sophomore," said the first.
New Frontier sighed, floating across the room. "Wrong."
"We're in Principles of Astrophysics?" the second student asked.
"Are you?" the harried professor asked with a displeased look on her face.
"Uh, yes?"
"You don't have a definitive answer on what class you are attending right at this moment?"
"Didn't I just tell you?"
"No, you guessed. You asked me if you were in Principles of Astrophysics. Apparently, this is Remedial English since you can't tell the difference between a question and a declarative sentence," Dr. Miller grumbled. The students laughed nervously.
"Seriously, people, it's 10:15 in the morning. You should be awake and alert. To help you become more alert, I've decided to give out the free swag I promised."
The students perked up, waiting to see what she was handing out.
She floated across the room, placing slide rules, mechanical pencils, paper, and freshly-printed excerpts of a monograph about NASA's early years.
"You're weak. You let the computers do the calculations for you now. How many of you have tried calculating the answers to any of my questions in your head or on paper?" she asked sternly.
Five hands went up out of thirty students.
"Okay, of your five who raised your hands, how many of you are lying just to please the teacher and get her off your case?"
Five hands stayed up. Dr. Miller shook her head.
"Pathetic. You're all pathetic. Fortunately for you, I am a harsh but merciful mistress. The keys to your salvation are in front of you. The items I've placed in your hands are some of the cutting-edge tools we used when I was finishing up my Ph.D. That was 1954, but who's counting, really?"
The students seemed shocked.
"Yes. You're looking at a woman who is 77. Thanks to the powers of Science, bombardment by previously undefined types of cosmic energy, clean living and regular exercise, I'm still as youthful as on my... well, we'll just say my 29th birthday. Close enough."
Another student raised his hand. "I can't measure anything with this ruler!"
"It's for calculating natural logarithms."
"Oh. Can't I use my calculator instead?"
New Frontier floated over to the young man. "Apparently my earlier demand that no electronics were to be used today was too subtle. We're going to have some fun generating numbers today, as we'll be using these non-electronic devices to recreate the necessary calculations for a moon orbit."
"But didn't they use computers for that?"
"The computers were originally there to check our math, not do it for us," Dr. Miller said. "And that's what you'll be doing from now on. Now, let's start with a basic launch procedure, acceleration, and achieving low-earth orbit. From there we'll work on trajectory, relative velocities, and all sorts of fun to just get us near the moon."
Dr. Miller hovered down to the waiting overhead projector, turned it on, and placed a nicely mimeographed acetate sheet on the faceplate. "I believe this is what you kids call 'old school' math. First things first: how much rocket fuel will..."
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
The latest therapy session ended with confusion. Todd couldn't understand why Doctor Rutherford kept going back to his father's problems. The original Cobalt Claymore didn't have any serious faults. Among heroes, he was the one who stood out as always willing to uphold what was right and good. Todd leaned back on the tram window, thankful not to have to be anywhere important tonight. He arrived at his houseboat in Founders Falls, drained and ready to sleep.
Todd Galahad, known to the world as the Cobalt Claymore did not expect to see his father there.
"Hello, son," the Cobalt Claymore said.
Todd drew two knives and readied himself for close-in knife work. "What in the hell kind of sick joke is this? Where's Marie? Who are you?"
"It's me, Todd. Your old man! Your dad," the Cobalt Claymore said. "I know, I know, what am I doing here when I'm supposed to be dead. I talked with the Big Guy, you know who I mean, and asked if helping you out a bit would knock off some time in Purgatory. Well, eventually I get word back that it's cool with Him to give you a little father-son advice."
Todd looked around the room. Hallucinogens? Maybe. There weren't any drug interactions to worry about; Todd wanted to use antidepressants as a last resort, trying the therapy-only methods first. "Don't give me that. Dead people normally don't come back."
"No hugs for your old man, huh? I guess I raised you to be a bit too paranoid. I came back for another reason, but I still think it'll help out," the Cobalt Claymore said.
"Tell me or I'll gut you and leave you in Indy Port as Lusca bait." Todd's knuckles whitened. No one would blame him for killing a guy who broke into his house and pretended to be his father, at least he hoped not.
"Easy, easy! I'm not that Bartman guy! I've done dumb things but not something that kept the Curse going," the Cobalt Claymore said, a smile underneath his cowl. "And besides, I'm here for a good thing. Say, could you go get me a pop out of the fridge or something? That purification as if by fire thing is a bit more actual fire than figurative. I think."
Todd re-sheathed his knives. "Stay right there. If you move off that seat, you're dead," he grumbled.
"Sure thing, Bing," the Cobalt Claymore said in a curiously-accurate imitation of Bob Hope. Todd made a mental note of that. Cubs fan, saying something only Dad would say, and self-deprecating cheesiness that supplanted actual wit were three pretty good indicators that either Dad had a stalker, or this was the real deal. Todd opened up the galley fridge and fished a 7-Up and a bottle of water from their respective places.
"What, my boy doesn't drink Green River anymore?" Todd heard from right behind him. He spun around, knife poised to kill the blue-clad imposter. "What did I just tell you?"
"If I moved off that seat, I was dead. Therefore, what must the case be, my boy?"
"You're dead."
"We have a winner!" the Cobalt Claymore shouted. "Now will you listen?"
Todd scowled. "Fine. Back in the living room."
Once the two men sat down across from each other, Todd looked into his father's eyes. They were his dad's, but something else had been added. Some amount of joy.
"First, I came back to give you a little advice about this Doctor Rutherford guy. He's one of those guys you expect to see as the brick of any team. You know he gave up the life to become a shrink, right?"
"Yeah, that's the first thing he told me. He said his heart wasn't in it," Todd said in between sips of water. "He wanted to help heroes out by keeping them sane."
"Right. And when you were trying to get that one girl out of your mother's organization, what did you do?" the Cobalt Claymore said, his hand resting on the soda can.
"Tried to counsel her to leave. She could have done something much better than to become just another ninja."
"And what happened?"
"She died during the bank robbery attempt that Mom sent me on. Charged Hephaestus 1 and a team of PPD cops. They shot her dead. I wanted to be able to escape with no loss of life, just some hard feelings. I wound up with both."
"Well, I want you to think: when we trained back in Chicago, did I ever teach you to be a counselor or social worker?"
"No. You taught me only a few deep-cover skillsets like short-order cooking."
"Right. You know why?"
"No," Todd said.
"You're good with your hands, Todd, that's why," the Cobalt Claymore said as he grabbed the can with both hands, trying to absorb as much of the cold as he could. "Not so much with your brain. Tactically, you're good. You know how to set up good tactics in sports, how to prepare all kinds of food on short notice, how to use the terrain to your advantage in a fight."
"Yes, as well as being good with languages, I know, Dad. You drilled all of that into me, what's this got to do with that girl?"
The Cobalt Claymore looked at his son, a bit of melancholy in his smile. "It's that you're a bad advisor. You don't think long-range enough. I'm not saying you need to start that. I just never saw that in you to think that way. I'd give you a mission and you'd fulfill it, even if it was weeks or years down the road. But you always applied tactics to a strategic situation."
"What do you mean, Dad?" Todd asked.
"You do whatever seems like a good idea at the time to get to the next part of the plan. Look, I'll cut to the chase. Don't give out any more advice unless it's a subject where you're an expert. That'll only bring more heartbreak."
"I know, Dad. I'm trying to deal with that as best as I can."
"Well, listen to the doctor. He might know what to do. But hold on, I've got to get to the main reason I'm here. I wanted to tell you I'm sorry."
"For what?" Todd asked.
"You know, for not telling you anything about your mother, about my past in Malta, all of that. Those records were kept hidden so I could tell you when I was ready. Everything that happened in my past was pretty shameful other than being your father. I wanted to tell you all these things when you turned 18, so you'd know why I fight crime. Alexander Pavilidis put the kibosh on that, didn't he? Lying to you all this time is only one thing I have to atone for. I want you to know what the truth is. So, let me give you a clue."
Todd woke with a start. The tv was on, Sportscenter was just starting, and he had an empty water bottle in front of him. Weird that he apparently sat down and fell asleep for five minutes. He saw a can of 7-Up on the end table next to the other chair in the tiny living room. He reached over and picked it up, and noticed it was empty.
The can was sealed, though, which surprised him. He turned it around to look for holes or rips.
"Bottled under the license of Galahad & Son, 130B West Cermak, crawlspace, check for the loose slab and hope that rats don't like plastic?"
And all he wanted to do on this next trip was catch a home game at Wrigley Field, he thought. He leaned further back into his chair, unsure how he'd explain this to his fellow heroes and hoping he wasn't losing it completely.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
Lou's Garage in Skyway City was known all throughout the city as being the best place to get your car repaired. No matter the make or the model, if Lou couldn't order the part, he'd make a temporary replacement until the replacement parts came in. Most of the temporary parts were better than the factory parts, but when people have to keep their warranties, rules are rules. Most of his machine shop was gone these days, picked apart by rampaging Clockwork. When Back Yard Boom rescued his family and garage from the little metal monsters, the first thing Lou said was "If you ever need anything, you let me know and it's as good as done."
He never expected the young hero to ask for a job as an apprentice mechanic. However, a few years went by and the apprentice got his journeyman rating and asked for a little something extra.
"I wanna make custom cars an' restore classics," Back Yard Boom said. "Is there any way I could get ya ta lemme use yer old machine shop space?"
As word got out about L & T Customs (the L stood for Lou of course, and the T stood for Tommy, Back Yard Boom's real name) the waiting lines for Lou's increased. A hero working a 9-to-5 job as a mechanic? This they had to see. As usual, Tommy was hard at work in his office, though not on cars.
"This is gonna cost extra fer pinstripes," Tommy said. "since I gotta call in an expert on that. Are ya sure ya want pinstripes an' a tiki mask on there?"
"Well, yeah," the young man said. "I think white pinstripes and a tiki mask in yellow and blue will look good over the graded red and orange metallic flake paint. I want a real West Coast look to it."
"Okay," Tommy said, "but I gotta ask ya: what're ya gonna do without yer arm? This order'll take a week, mainly 'cause the guy I use fer pinstripin' an' fine line art is showin' his ride in Miami right now."
"It's cool, Tommy, seriously," Tommy's customer said. "I asked my mom if she still had my old arm as a spare and she does. It shouldn't take that long to update the servo drivers, and it's not like I'm going to do any heavy lifting."
"All right, just wanted ta make sure ya weren't stuck with just the one," Tommy said.
One of the other things done at L & T Customs was customizing cybernetic and prosthetic limbs for looks and in some cases better performance. Tommy had rebuilt two knees this week alone, replacing worn bearing with stronger ones and changing out from petroleum grease to graphite to make sure joints wouldn't lock up in cold weather. Right next to the photo albums showing all of the custom cars and restorations done by L & T, there was another album showing rebuilt and customized limbs. One young man had fiber-optic lights inlaid around his elbow and wrist joints, and there was a picture of an older man who wanted his Army unit's insignia and motto engraved into his shin as well as the warning "Caution: do not use explosives for body modification" on the thigh. There was everything from full-limb hard chrome finishes to rebuilt bearings to refits when a child outgrew his old limb. Then there were the men and women who asked for the various Epidermal upgrades, trying to get their limb's artificial skin to match up perfectly with the natural skin on the rest of them. Of course, there were also the girls who went headlong into the custom look as well. Tommy liked working with those girls.
The young hero finished up the service write-up on the limb and hung it in his "elective bodywork" rack. He kept things divided pretty simply: elective and restorative, bodywork and mechanical. While his back was turned, the bell that hung over the door rang as another customer walked in. A young man no older than Tommy with close-cropped blonde hair, tattoos that ran from his knuckles to his shoulders and baseball cap slung low to hide his eyes looked around the store.
"I want arms like you got," the young man said. "How much?"
"'Scuse me?" Tommy asked. "Didja just ask me if you could get arms like mine?"
"Yeah. How much?"
"Yer arms look fine ta me. I ain't in the elective replacement business, either," Tommy said.
"I got the money. How much?" the young man said, mumbling something else afterward.
"More'n what you got. Why ya want arms like mine?" Tommy asked.
"'Cause I want 'em," the young man answered. "Damage Man an' Big Roll got 'em. An' I want 'em."
"Wait. Ya want new arms 'cause a couple rappers got 'em?"
"Yeah," the young man said. "They said you built 'em."
"No, I rebuilt 'em. Do ya even know why they got cybernetics?"
"They got the money. I got the money. I want 'em."
"Damage lost his arm in a car wreck when he ran inta a Supa Troll. Big Roll useta be a Freak Enforcer."
"Yeah!" the young man said with a smile. "I wanna get chrome like the Freaks."
Tommy had enough by this point. He walked around the counter and jabbed his finger in the wannabe's chest. "Outta my shop. You got no clue 'bout cyborgs. Hell ya probably don't even own one'a Damage Man's albums. Ya just saw the video 'Trailer Hitch' an' thought ya knew 'bout him."
The young man stepped back, setting his feet into a crudely-imitated boxing stance. "You don't touch me unless you wanna fight."
Tommy smiled. "Like I said. Ya don't know a thing. The reason we get custom work done is 'cause gotta put life inta our new limbs. We gotta make 'em ours."
The young man stood there with a sullen pout.
"Ever try feelin' the surface'a the car yer repaintin' through sandpaper? Ya know somethin' is there, ya get an idea of what's under the sandpaper, but ya don't actually feel the paint. That's how it feels when ya touch somethin'. Ya know it's there, but ya don't get the full feel'a it. Nah, ya probably don't know. I bet ya spend too much time playin' Madden an' thinkin' ya know how ta play football," Tommy said, taking another step forward to force the young man towards the door.
The wannabe stepped back again.
"We do all this work ta make these limbs part'a us. Without 'em, these limbs'd just be somethin' ya hang on yer body ta look normal. Even then ya don't look normal if yer self-conscious 'bout it. I do this work so other people don't hafta feel ashamed that they ain't like everyone else. An' ya wanna tear yer arms off an' get 'em replaced 'cause ya think it's a damn fashion statement?"
"No," the wannabe replied like a child caught doing something he knew he shouldn't do.
"Ya meant ta say 'yeah,' I think. Ya wanna lose yer arms 'cause ya think it's a style. Why're ya disrespectin' me like that? Me an' everyone else who's got cybernetics."
The bill of the wannabe's hat pointed downward. He mumbled something in a threatening tone.
"What was that?"
The mumbling happened again.
"No, louder," Tommy said.
"Said if I was gonna disrespect ya I'd just shoot ya."
Tommy grabbed the wannabe's wrist and rotated his opponent's arm into a combined shoulder and wrist lock. The young man yelped as he raised up on his tip toes, trying to keep his arm attached to his torso.
"Out. Now," Tommy growled. He opened up the door and shoved the wannabe onto the sidewalk. "An' don't come back!" the blue-haired cyborg yelled. He slammed the door shut as the young man outside mouthed obscenities and tried his best to mime threats.
Tommy turned back to his counter until he caught the reflection of the young man moving back towards the door and pulling something from under his oversized Celtics jersey. He opened the door quickly and stepped out, getting the jump on his would-be assailant. He added power to his hands and pushed the young man back towards the bus stop. Then he fired off his cryoprojectors to stick the wannabe to the bus stop with a block of ice. Tommy walked up to now-shivering young man.
"You weren't gonna try an' fight me, were ya? Wait... say, that's a revolver yer trying ta draw, ain't it? You were gonna try ta shoot me, weren't ya?"
"N-n-no, I w-w-was just gonna point it at you," the young man said. "'Cause I w-w-want n-new arms."
"An' yer gonna threaten a guy who's faced the likes'a Tyrant, the Rikti, an' Doctor Crom with a gun? Yer gonna threaten a guy who worked his way up ta the highest Security Rating possible, who's part of the Freedom Phalanx and Longbow reserve units, an' yer only gonna use a gun?" Tommy asked with a smile. "You gotta be kiddin' me!"
The young man tried to speak, but Tommy stuck his hand in the wannabe's face, giving a close view of the taser dart launchers and cryoprojector on his arm. "No, ya shut right the hell up. What ya asked me ta do is an insult ta everyone who has ta have cybernetics ta function normally. And then ya try an' force me with the threat'a violence. Just how stupid are you? An' don't gimme any sob story 'bout how yer parents never loved ya, neither, or ya had a disadvantage or somethin'. Try ta learn ta run with only one real leg, or type with a tongueswitch 'cause ya lost both arms. Or for that matter, try livin' without physical human contact fer months 'cause yer new heart or lungs ain't ready ta fight off bacteria or how 'bout gettin' by missin' yer sight 'cause yer new eyes ain't completely finished with reconnectin' ta yer optic nerves?"
The wannabe tried his best to look intimidating.
"By the time that ice melts enough for ya ta get out, you'll have had plenty'a time ta figure out how lucky ya are ta be whole," Tommy said before going back into his shop.
Eventually, the fair-haired wannabe got out of the ice block and headed for the Overbrook gate, away from Lou's Garage. Later that night, WPWN Radio's Action Team 5 news reported that a New Overbrook man was injured earlier when his ice-filled gun exploded during a domestic disturbance. He lost his first two fingers and thumb and most of his hand.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
[I really enjoy this thread. Just in case you guys don't hear it enough]
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
[ I second what Moggie said ]
The cement and grassy common areas of High Park were known to the locals as The Yards. Closer to the Galaxy City entrance you had the Front Yards and closer to the Gish and Garment Factory neighborhoods you had the Back Yards. The Front Yards were mostly concrete, and in the summer permits would go out to hold block parties, neighborhood movie nights and in the well-swept areas near the Kings Row Bank and the small shopping district that surrounded the Pawn Shop. The Back Yards had more grassy areas and were the site for many a picnic. Up until twenty-five years ago, there were even public flower gardens maintained by neighborhood retirees. There was some crime, mostly punks looking to get the attention of the Family through vandalism and the occasional mugging. Most of the time, though, the aspiring criminals were caught and beaten soundly before being sent home to their parents. High Park rarely needed a police presence.
Then the Skulls appeared on the scene, and arrived in uncountable numbers. No one could even walk down the street without becoming prey for the roving gang members. They emboldened the Circle of Thorns, who now stalked the night looking for anyone unfortunate enough to have to walk home in the dark. If you managed to avoid the Circle, you still had to worry about becoming the next "experiment" for Doctor Vahzilok's followers. When the Lost arrived, it meant giving up the Back Yards to the well-armed horde of homeless. Every day people ran to work through a gauntlet of Superadine dealers, patchwork zombies, murderous cultists and bums with energy weapons. Every night, people ran even faster to their homes so as not to be the unlucky one who disappeared.
There was one thing that no gang could stop, though. High Park had one inviolate tradition, and that was Back Yard Football. When the games began, the smart gang members walked away and hoped not to be noticed.
A writer for the old Paragon City Weekly (before they ditched their sportswriters for that "alt-weekly" feel) described Back Yard Football as "a riot with a ball sitting on the ground somewhere in the middle" and "a spectacle that could make the most devoted pacifist chant for blood and start punching his neighbors' throats." The rules were the same as regular football: 11 to a side, 4 downs to complete a 10-yard gain, and such, but the playing surface was the concrete courtyards in between two clusters of apaertment buildings. The penalties for unnecessary roughness were casually ignored as well, and as long as the ball wasn't bounced off of a wall during a pass, it was still considered in play. "Out of bounds" was basically "opening a door and going inside," as using the walls, cellar doors, stairs to the basement apartments and safety railings as running surfaces kept you in play. Safety equipment usually meant promising your parents you'd be home by dinner, unless you had to call from the hospital. If you walked away from a game without bleeding and being bled on, you obviously didn't do your part to win.
This was the case on a summer afternoon. The concrete absorbed as much sunlight as it could, making the courtyard at least twenty degrees hotter than the predicted temperature. Alone or in groups, a knot of boys and young men gathered in front of the apartment where the Pachowski family lived. Claire Pachowski and her brother's girlfriend Saya sat on the fire escape for a better view of the game.
"Is Tommy going to play?" Saya asked. "Even the smallest boys look like they could break someone's neck."
Claire smiled. "I don't think so. He doesn't play because of his powers. He says he's an unfair advantage for any team now."
"But he loves football, though," Saya said. "I mean, you've been in his room. You have to have seen his binders full of stats. The green-and-white ones... how many does he have of those that are handwritten?"
"I always thought he'd hide porn in them," Claire said. "There I was, ready to get him busted by Ma, and opened the binders to reveal nothing but notes, statistics, and suggested roster lineups for the New York Jets. Ma grounded me for a week. Of course, Tommy got the 'how can you betray me' lecture from Dad. Dad's a huge Patriots fan."
"It's kind of scary to think that he does that as a hobby," Saya said. "At least he doesn't do it for baseball, too."
"What, like you do, Saya?" Tommy said as he placed an ice-cold soda can on Saya's back. She yelped and shot him a look. Tommy just smiled.
"So, ready ta watch the game? I coulda hooked up the electric grill, but Ma's makin' her mostaccioli tonight, so I can't grill any'a the sausage she got at the store," the metal-armed hero said as he sat next to his girlfriend.
The group of boys finally picked team captains and started picking sides. After a few minutes, they stopped due to the metallic stomping sound coming down the street. Claire disappeared and leapt to another building while Tommy went over the side on the fire escape to engage any potential threats. A Freakshow Tank was trudging down the street wiggling the fingers of his new replacement arms.
"H4y guy5," the Tank yelled through its modulated voicebox, "c4n I p14y n0w? I h4v3 h4nd5 n0w!" One of the Freaks who worked over at the Pawn Shop had his weapon limbs replaced with regular arms and hands, and the spikes and grenade launchers removed as part of his parole. There wasn't much he could do about the bodywork other than polish it up and deburr the surface. He still looked the part of the Freakshow's heavy hitters, though.
The kids looked at him. "You're too big, Kenny," one of the captains said.
"4wwww, I pr0m153 I w0n't t4ck13!" the Tank said. "I n3v3r g37 70 p14y f007b411 4nym0r3. I m155 17."
Tommy looked at the Tank. "Hey, K3nw0r7h."
"H4y 70mmy."
"How's the new digits?"
"I c4n p1ck my n053 4g41n!"
"That's... great, K3nw0r7h. Glad ta see my work ain't bein' misused."
"LOL! 50rry, 70mmy," the Tank laughed. "4r3 y0u p14y1ng 70d4y, 700?"
Tommy shrugged and looked at the others.
"If you guys only play against each other, it's cool," one of the boys said. "Otherwise, it's touch rules if you line up against a normal guy."
Tommy and the Tank grinned. "Is i7 57i11 Ir0nm4n ru135?" the former Freak asked.
"That's how everyone plays," Tommy said as he powered up his internal defense systems. "These are the Yards, Kenny."
"W007!" the Tank yelled.
Soon enough, the game started and the neighbors all stopped to lean out their windows or climb out on the fire escapes to watch the game. The game didn't stop for any injuries short of a broken limb, and then only to carry the injured player to an ambulance or to his parents' house. The game restarted with a new player to replace the injured and went on until the full four quarters were played. Tommy proved why he got the name "Back Yard Boom" when he tackled K3nw0r7h through the rebar of a nearby lamppost. Everyone stopped then as well, since he needed to wait until the power company could come out to assess the intial damage. His checkbook would feel great pain when the bill came.
A Skull who got too close to the action found himself used as an impromptu tackling dummy as the boys spiked the ball and chased him. When the Lost tried setting up a soapbox in the middle of the field, they soon realized that being mauled by a horde of middle and high school students was not fun. A Thorn Wielder was penalized for bringing a weapon onto the field; since he wasn't on either team, no one lost yards, but the Thorn Wielder wound up suffering through numerous indian burns and the dreaded pinkbelly. A Troll who wandered through while looking for one of his dealers found himself hanging from a lampost by an excruciating wedgie. After the game, the teams shook hands and set their sights on a couple of Vahzilok Mortificators who were stalking a new victim. They ended up as victims themselves, having both been on the receiving end of what can only be described as an Atomic Swirlie.
It was at least ten days before any criminal in their section of Kings Row tried his luck at mugging someone thanks to that game.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
[BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!! I've *been* to that game]
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
((Well, I always wanted to explain the origins of Back Yard Boom's name, and writing about the neighborhoods in Kings Row is always fun.))
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!
Serv'd! is next on A&E.
Hephaestus 1 stood in front of the District Courts building again, his recording crew faithfully transcribing every second needed for a full show. The big blue cyborg walked to his usual seat by Larry McGonigle, his liaison with the court clerk's office. Unlike normal, Larry had a big smile on his face.
"Hey, who's the bright and chipper guy who replaced Larry?" Heph asked.
"Oh, it's me, O'Flannagan," Larry said, using Heph's real last name. "And I've got just the job for you today."
"Well, then," Heph said in a happy tone, "what's the situation?"
"Your assignment today involves taking the Peregrine Island Ferry," Larry said. "Because you've got a summons to serve for a plaintiff who is claiming his wages were withheld unjustly."
"Sure, sounds good. Who's the defendant?"
"A Mister Quarry, last known address was Monster Island," Larry said, his happy expression turning almost hysterically joyful. "You're just the guy I want serving papers to this Quarry guy."
"Monster Island? No one lives there except- oh, wait. Oh, *BLEEP*! You want me to go serve papers to a giant rock monster?"
"We've got a class-action suit against him on behalf of all the Bedrocks and Sentries in the area. He apparently owes them... ten thousand diamonds of the purest clarity... dang," Larry said. "That's a lot of diamonds!"
Heph grabbed the summons paperwork. "Monster Island, you've gotta be *BLEEP*ing kidding me!"
After a boring ferry ride out to Peregrine Island, Heph and his crew rented a small powerboat to take them to Monster Island.
"Okay, you guys just stay here and film by the boat," Heph said as he leapt towards the nearest clusters of giant monsters. "Okay, are you getting my radio transmissions? Good. All right."
Heph landed in the middle of a group of gigantic Devouring Earth creatures, his defenses maxed out. "Uh, good afternoon!" he shouted. "I'm looking for a Mr. Quarry!"
Five of the rock creatures looked at each other then at Heph.
"GRAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" one roared.
"Uhm, Doug Quarry! That's who I'm looking for!"
The rock creatures looked at each other again.
"GRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" the first one roared.
Heph looked at the rock monster. "What do you mean 'racist remark'? I just asked for D- oh, I get it! Doug Quarry/ DUG Quarry! Got it! No, that's what's on the summons here. From Sentries and Bedrocks Union Local 8!"
"GRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" the monster roared.
"Open shop? Really?"
"GRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"
"So there's no union."
"GRAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"
"Boy is my face red," Heph said.
"SCREEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAWWWWWW!!!" a humongous mushroom creature shrieked.
"That's a figure of speech, Ms. Stropharia! I know that my face is actually blue armor with a white and black ceramic mouthguard!"
"SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!!!" the mushroom howled.
"Sorry! Mrs. Stropharia! I didn't see the ring!" Heph shouted back.
"GRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" a rock monster yelled from the back.
"Excuse me?"
"GRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"
"No, I've never seen the Monster Island Stomp- HEY!" Heph yelled as the creature brought its foot down disturbingly close to Heph. "Watch out! You could kill someone with that!"
"GRRRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
"Oh. Hey guys? GET BACK IN THE BOAT!!!" Heph yelled over the remote microphone. "GET IN THE BOAT!!! Head to the main island!"
The cameraman and sound recorder hustled into the boat, as evidenced by the shaky camera work. The camera man turned back around to see a small blue dot leaping away from the rock creature.
"Hey, buddy!" Heph shouted. "Do NOT use that tone of voice with me! I do smashing damage! That's good against you guys!"
"GRRRRRAAAAAHH!!!"
"Oh, you THINK that's a threat, I'll show you a--"
Giant rock foot met with blue metal backside as the rock creature kicked Heph across the bay.
"Oh, I am SO getting Larry for this when I get back. Filing a false claim in court? Those Bedrocks are gonna get SERV'D!"
Heph was still in the ascent phase of his boot-powered flight.
"Once I land."
The camera faded out as the camera could no longer track Heph in the distance.
Back Yard Boom - Emo Catgirl - Cobalt Claymore - Hephaestus 1
Avatar by Scarf_Girl!