"Hey, John, you got a call from your sister, she said somethin' 'bout Sky Rai--"
One of the reporters of the Paragon City Times, a Mr. Henry Gowrow, froze. Had the Head Editor just... Just flushed himself down the toilet?
No way...
A huge, resound *KRACKOOM!* pierced the 100th floor, glass shattering everywhere. Henry turned, only to see a group of Sky Raiders aiming their rifles inward.
"Everyone, down on the ground," the Sergeant said, weapon aimed directly at a young woman who had jumped from her typewriting position, "I really don't wanna put bullets in ya, no matter how much it looks like I do."
However, before he even had a chance to do what he secretly REALLY wanted to do, a glimmer of red slammed into his helmet, sending him to the ground. Experiment had knocked him out cold with a two-fisted downward strike.
A bunch of the troops turned, frightened and afraid. Aren't they pretty much the same?
Henry raised an eyebrow at the hero. "Gonna beat 'em up yet, buddy?" he called from the other side of the room, and Experiment 2.0 winked at him.
"Hold your horses, friend, I am soaking in the awe."
It was true, almost everyone near the hero had glazed over eyes, seemingly bowing to him with their minds.
Then, a Raider fired. The bullet bounced off of the hero's armour, and a spines struck him in the chest, sending him down. The fight initiated, spines and bullets flying.
Forcefields grew, spines pierced, forcefields lowered.
Sky Jet rose, pilot knocked out, Sky Jet fell.
The fight was over in a few minutes, but to the citizens, it seemed like seconds.
Experiment placed the final prison teleporter on a Sky Raider Engineer, and then left. He returned a minute or two later, having apparently checked to make sure the fallen vehicle had not harmed anybody.
After re-arriving, he bowed. Everybody began applauding, except for Henry.
"I hate showoffs." he muttered. Experiment heard him. A look of sourness crossed the hero's face, and he crossed the room to Henry in moments. He pulled his hand back, and the reporter flinched. Everything stopped.
Then, the flat of 2.0's hand smacked into the guy's head, a small 'loser' emnating from the hero's mouth, and he leaped from the building, jets ignited.
The boy began walking home leaving his car, now a pile of scrap parts, behind. The boy's name was Cal. Cal had lived in Paragon for most of his life, attending a school where teen heroes frequently took "bathroom breaks" to fight crime and the like.
It took awhile for Cal to get use to the frequent hero and Villain rumbles, but no it was just another day when a hero crashed through your window by mistake.
He cut down an allyway that would bring him out right beside his house. Sure it was Hellion territory, but they were just another part of your average day as well.
As Cal turned a corner a group of Hellions leaped out and blocked his way.
"Cough up the cash pretty boy"
Cal simply stood there with a uncaring look on his face as he looked at his watch.
"Did you hear me!? I said gimmie the money!", one of the hellions screamed as he walked up and picked Cal up by his collar.
Cal yawned and began to speak.
"Five....four..."
The hellion looked confused, "What are you doing?! Do you -WANT- me to kill you?"
"three....two...one...."
The hellion dropped Cal as his eyes widened. A moment later his entire body was incased in ice. Cal simply shook his head and walked past some ice shooting hero that had just dropped into the middle of the Hellion group. He ducked his head and kept walking as a rather large piece of ice crashed into the wall beside him.
John stepped out of Paragon City Hall early in the morning, having just finished watering the plants inside. Out of habit, John looked over to the plinth underneath the statue of Atlas, where a large number of brightly costumed people were lining up against the northern edge.
John smiled. "Another costume contest, eh?" he muttered, walking around and approaching the plinth from the eastern side. Wading through the pool, John pulled himself up onto the plinth, and wandered over to the sole brightly costumed individual standing in the center, watching the line form.
"Another costume contest, miss hero?" John said.
The golden-clad woman turned and looked at John, and nodded. "I shouldn't have called this... I can't decide which costumes I like!"
John chuckled. "Werl, they're certainly hero costumes... Say, here's a thought. How 'bout I go along and judge them for you?"
The golden woman smiled. "Would you? I'm completely lost."
John smiled. "You heroes have saved my hide many times... This is a chance for me to save one of you."
The woman looked confused. "There's no danger here..."
John chuckled again, moving to the north eastern corner of the plinth. "There is... of you stressing out over who looks better."
John turned and was immediately faced with a completely blue robot with white electricity lines painted on it's shoulders. "Common" he thought.
moving down the line, john had a series of thought about several of those that stood there. "Green and yellow, obviously an australian sports fan." "Orange and yellow, obviously a fire thrower of some sort." "Nice outfit, but having so much skin showing probably isn't a good role model. Wish I could give her my number though..."
Finally John came across a hero costume he liked. The woman had feline features, a golden outfit that looked like a stylised silver tank top and tight trousers, but was all one unit, and silver wings to match.
John continued down the line, making certain that this heroine was really the best to his mind, then returned to the woman in the golden costume.
Leaning close to her ear, John told her the choice he had made. Smiling, she thanked him and stepped forward while john retreated back to the eastern edge, near his work gear, waiting to see the result and find out who he'd chosen before departing to the Paragon Times offices to water their plants.
"I, Goldengal, declare Silversphynx the winner!"
John nodded and jumped into the fountain, wading over to his tools then setting out for the yellow line.
"The mind is like a parachute. It only works when it is open"
"Sometimes we risk taking things too far to see how far we can really go."
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Henry shuffled and reshuffled the story over and over again. The editor STILL hadn't arrived, and he was getting the inkling that his flush-down-the-toilet theory was correct.
However, a hand soon swiped up the story, and John Ballard began reading.
"'Show-off hero stops Raiders due to luck?' Don't you think that's a bit long, and untrue?" he muttered indignantly, obviously displeased.
"Well, he IS lucky. The only reason he won is that their Force Field generator malfunctioned!" Henry defended.
"...It did? I mean, oh, really? I wouldn't know, I wasn't here."
"...What?"
"Nothing. I'll be in my office."
He took the story, and proceeded to leave. Henry raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and continued writing. However, a realization struck him. As odd as it was, John Ballard didn't HAVE an office. In fact, now that he thought about it, John didn't even have a cubicle.
A flush came from the bathroom. Henry stood, rushing like a madman to catch the editor, and he slammed open the door. John was washing his hands, the story on the sink-side, raising his own eyebrow. "What the hell's wrong with you?"
Henry stayed quiet for a moment before apologizing under his breath and leaving.
Another flush, and he turned. John was gone, along with the story. Not a trace.
He gritted his teeth, growling quietly.
Another shot at making a good RP. The Zigguart i started up is going pretty well so I figured I'd throw another idea out there.
This is the City of Heroes and Villains from the view point of the civilians. How do the powerless everyday people make due when villains and heroes come crashing through buildings and destroying everything in their path. Do they worship the heroes and villains for their actions, or perhaps they resent their constant meddling. Or maybe...they just get use to it.
You play the part of a powerless Civilian in either the Rouge Isles or Paragon city.
You have -NO- powers at all.
You may treat heroes or villains in whatever way you like.
You may go or live anywhere in the Isles or Paragon, however you may not leave them unless your are "moving away" and removing your character from the RP.
You may have conversations with heroes or villains and such.
You may create whatever situation you wish, you could be in the bank when it is being robbed or walking home in the isles and get robbed...whatever tickles your fancy.
Now let me start us off...
The story opens and we see a boy of about 19 walking to his car from yet another failed job interview.
"Stupid bank manager....you think being a level 50 undead mage would be enough to get any type of job...", the boy mumbles as he walks beside his car pulling out his keys.
The front of the building across the street explodes as the boy falls backwards tossing his keys into the air. Some golden clad hero and a black robed villain crash into the boy's car turning it into an instant pile of scraps. They then leap into the air simply leaveing the destoried car behind.
The boy stands shaking his fist after the fighting couple and simply sighs. He searches the ground for his key ring and goes to pick them up. As he reaches for them a blur of light shoots down the street creating a backdraft of wind strong enough to send the boy tumbling again...and send his keys right into the drainage system...
The boy looks around sighing again as he stands up and brushes his pants off, "God I love this city...."