Thirty-nine minutes ago, and Im on my bed still, tracing the outlines of my fathers face in the picture. I remember him telling me stories of his life as a hero. Of how he would fight Trolls and Freakshow, Outcasts and Hellions. He always seemed to miss it. But his powers had disappeared a long time ago.
Three years ago, and Im putting on my costume for the first time. My father looks on me proudly, but nervously.
Youre sure you want to do this?
I smile, though he cant see it under the thick mask that covers the lower half of my face. I tell him that Im doing it to fight injustice, to help people who cant help themselves. I dont admit that I want to let him relive it all through me. I dont even admit it to myself.
Two minutes from now, and a hero walks into a warehouse filled with Trolls. In another 3 minutes, he will be dying from a wound to his back.
Now, I stand over the troll whose gun is useless in a corner. The flat of both swords smack hard against his temples, stunning him. A one handed troll sneaks behind me, planning to grab me in a bear hug. A fourth troll appears around the corner, alerted by the noise. In ten seconds, he will be dead in a cloud of chemical vapour.
My story arcs: #2370- Noah Reborn, #18672- The Clockwork War, #31490- Easy Money
Sartre once said, "Hell is other people." What does that make an MMO?
One year ago, and Im standing in the morgue. Ive been asked to identify the body of a man believed to be my father. He was found under an overpass in Skyway City. Witnesses said he had overheard a group of Trolls threatening a young woman. The woman got away safely, and he had managed to knock out three of the drug-addicted creatures, but Trolls are tough. A forty-five year old man is no match for a group of super-human beasts. The sheet is pulled back. I can barely recognize the face of the man who has raised me for nineteen years.
A quick spin embeds a sword into the side of the troll behind me. He staggers back as the blade is withdrawn. Another gun is leveled from the troll just joining the mêlée. The troll I had stunned begins to collect his wits. An opportunity presents itself. A canister of gas sits on a table beside him. With a flick of the wrist, one sword is thrown across the room. The troll dodges it, but it was never meant for him. The sword bites in to the thick rubber pipe leading from the canister to another container. Vile yellow gas sprays out, catching the troll in the face. He gasps reflexively, taking a gasp of the gas into his lungs. He immediately starts coughing, which only draws in more of the poison. In eight seconds, he will be dead.
I am ten, sitting on my fathers lap as he tells me more stories about his past. I ask him why he stopped. His face grows dark. He tells me a story about going into a warehouse. A warehouse with trolls. As he fights them, a villain appears. A beastly creature with scales and fangs. He tries to fight it, but its faster than he can predict. He turns his back, and the creature disappears. When next he sees it, it has plunged savage claws into his back. The story scares me. I start to cry.
I slide out of the way of a fist, slamming down from behind me. The one-handed troll is trying to attack me. Im down to one sword, but its still more than he has. I sidestep another punch. My free hand strikes through an opening in the trolls defenses, hitting his injured side. The other troll is back up, and running to recover his gun.
Im ten, and crying on my fathers lap. He gently grips my chin to make me look at him as he wipes away tears. He explains that its ok. That the adrenaline from the attack sent his powers into overdrive. He was thrown twenty five years into the past, where he was found and brought to the hospital. They were able to help him get better. One cute nurse took an interest in him and a year later the two married. But on that night, his powers died, never to come back.
My story arcs: #2370- Noah Reborn, #18672- The Clockwork War, #31490- Easy Money
Sartre once said, "Hell is other people." What does that make an MMO?
Im lying on my bed, looking at the picture. In forty-five minutes, the man who will be my father will be stabbed in the back by a beastly creature with scales and fangs. I almost looked him up after my father died, just to get one more minute with him. But on that night when I sat crying on my fathers lap, he made me promise never to go find that other him. That he didnt regret anything that had happened, and didnt want to risk anything that might prevent his life with his family.
Now, though, he was gone. And in forty-five minutes, the last chance she had to be with the man who would be her father would be left to die, and sent back through time, to marry a cute nurse and have a daughter who would become a super-hero.
Now, Im angry. Theres one and a half minutes until the man who will be my father is stabbed. Tears of frustration stream down my face as I slash the one handed troll with all of my might. Deep scarlet blood seeps into the creatures T-shirt. Behind me, a gun with a bent firing pin clicks uselessly. As the first troll collapses, I hear scuffling of feet, and the other troll runs away. I let him go.
In ten minutes, the man who would be my father is dying in a warehouse. I run. I estimate Ill get there in 9 minutes. A man on the street corner flags me down. The side of his face is bruised. He tells me that Trolls kidnapped his young daughter, and took them to their warehouse, where they were stockpiling Superadyne. In nine minutes, savage claws will rip a young mans flesh. In two, I will be on the rooftop of a warehouse, going to save a young girl from Trolls.
I wipe away the tears, and go to a box where I hear a young girl crying. She gasps and goes quiet when I come near. I kneel beside her and tell her it will all be ok, that Im here to save her. She looks up at me and smiles a timid smile. One minute ago, A young man was sent twenty-five years into the past. The girl reaches for my hand and asks:
Are you a hero?
I smile a small smile that she cant see through the thick fabric covering the lower half of my face.
Yes, Im a hero.
My story arcs: #2370- Noah Reborn, #18672- The Clockwork War, #31490- Easy Money
Sartre once said, "Hell is other people." What does that make an MMO?
A heartbeat, then a crash as the world explodes below me in a halo of glass shards.
Seven minutes ago, I was talking to a man, listening to him tell me about this warehouse. The Trolls had been using it to distribute their Superadyne. Now as I fall through the remnants of the skylight, I can feel myself submerging in an acrid fume of chemical vapour.
In three seconds, the first troll will be laughing at me. He says something that I cant hear. Im already on the move.
I land. For an instant, everything is quiet but the tinkling of glass as it shatters on the hard warehouse floor. As the shock wears off, a stupid leer crosses the trolls face. He begins to laugh.
You in trouble now, little girl.
I dont hear him. Theres another heartbeat and my swords are out, biting deep into his midsection. On most people, the wound would be fatal. It merely incapacitates the troll. It doesnt matter. Hell be dead in a few seconds from a bullet, fired by one of his own men.
The troll looks at me, disbelieving, but Im already on the move, avoiding the gunfire that will start in a moment. I flip over the injured troll. Semiautomatic weaponry clicks as they are primed to fire. Hot flares of ammunition rip past me, tearing up polished concrete flooring. It also thuds sickly into the body behind me, still not yet fallen from the wounds he had received. Trolls are tough.
I deliver a hard kick to the now-dead troll, sending him across the room and crashing into his armed allies. I follow hard behind
Forty-three minutes ago, Im lying on my bed, staring at a picture my father. We smile at each other through our window in time. He was a hero once, too. A mutant, with the ability to see into the future. Its a gift he passed on to me.
One of my blades flash through the air, severing the hand of one of the Trolls and making him lose his weapon. In thirty seconds, he will be attacking me with his one good hand.
In five minutes, a mutant with the ability to see into the future will be fighting a villain well beyond their skill. Savage claws will plunge into a back that is unable to avoid, despite the warning that had flashed before clairvoyant eyes mere seconds before.
A troll levels a gun at me. Bullets pass through the place I had been mere milliseconds before. One second later, my foot contacts the trolls wrist, throwing the firearm against the wall. When one of the trolls tries to fire it later, the weapon will not respond, a bent firing pin clinking uselessly against brass.
My story arcs: #2370- Noah Reborn, #18672- The Clockwork War, #31490- Easy Money
Sartre once said, "Hell is other people." What does that make an MMO?