The Perils of Hunting Huntingtons (Short IC Story)
By
Plasmarch,
Posted on: 2009-08-24 07:51 in Roleplaying
And a picture to accompany this, as produced by my good friend Plasmarch, whose sense of whimsy vastly exceeds my own...
The wisdom of Shadowe: Ghostraptor: The Shadowe is wise ...; FFM: Shadowe is no longer wise.
; Techbot_Alpha: Also, what Shadowe said. It seems he is still somewhat wise 
; Bull Throttle: Shadowe was unwise in this instance...; Rock_Powerfist: in this instance Shadowe is wise.; Techbot_Alpha: Shadowe is very wise *nods*; Zortel: *Quotable line about Shadowe being wise goes here.*
I am suitably amused. 
Disclaimer: The above may be humerous, or at least may be an attempt at humour. Try reading it that way.
Posts are OOC unless noted to be IC, or in an IC thread.
We try.
The heroic cannot be the common, nor the common the heroic.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
{Founder's Falls, Monday 24 August 2009, Approx 8.35 am}
Samantha Huntington, wealthy socialite and tech-weenie, smiled at the memory of the kiss her boyfriend had bestowed upon her as she left their shared apartment, trotted down the steps to the waiting limousine, and slipped inside.
* * * * *
In the distance, an unmarked white van with tinted windows nudged forward, turn-signal flashing.
* * * * *
"Morning, Brian," she beamed as she settled onto the comfortable leather seat behind the driver, and cheerfully waved to him in the rear-view mirror. "Good night, back home?" As the stockily-built Welshman eased into the traffic, he began to relate the discussion he'd had with his wife the night before. Sam partially tuned it out, having heard it all before. Brian had been with her and Richard for longer than she could remember, and they were a regular pair at the Huntington's parties. Their small cottage on the grounds of Huntington Manor was separate from the main house, and Brian and Joanne were more like members of the family than employees, which explained why Brian knew that he was going over old ground, and that his youthful boss really wasn't paying much attention, and he really didn't care. Richard and Samantha were like the children he had never had, and he knew that they cared for his wellbeing as much as they did anyone's. And the fact that the pair of them had grown up and become superheroes was just the icing on the cake. He's lost track of the number of times he'd watched them on the news, saving people, stopping crimes, being heroic, and he veritably burst with pride at the knowledge that the two kids whose knees he'd bandaged when they'd scraped them, who had told him or his wife their love-life woes, had grown up into a pair of wonderful, responsible, generous heroes.
As Sam half-listened to her driver natter on, a holographic display flickered to life in front of her, Helena choosing to tactfully display in text rather than verbalising her news.
"Huntington International stocks up five points. Current city-wide threat index 1.2. Rise is due to increased Circle of Thorns activity. Master Richard's personal threat index 2.45 and rising. Currently engaged in combat with Skulls on the streets of King's Row, near the Bowyer-Huntington redevelopment project. Mistress Samantha's personal threat index 0.75 and rising. Data incomplete. Analysis incomplete. Threat negligible."
* * * * *
The van hung back, keeping several vehicles between it and the distinctive black limo, but it was always there, always following.
* * * * *
The journey from Founder's Falls to Huntington Technologies office and laboratory complex in Independence Port was convoluted and long, involving several checkpoints through the War Walls. The guard drones ignored traffic, on the assumption that if it was already in the city, it was meant to be there, and only focused on the few incidences of violent crime that triggered their automated responses, beaming the perpetrators directly to the Ziggursky Penitentiary. Brian wove through the streets with practiced ease, unfazed by the honking and nudging progress made by more aggressive drivers.
Sam watched out the window as they passed a frantic scene - perhaps a dozen members of the Skulls gang, surrounding a black-armoured hero, who swept them aside with a contemptuous wave of energy. Richard was still keeping the streets safe.
Smiling to herself, she lounged back in her seat, sipping her coffee, when a warning siren sounded.
"Alert! Alert! Tracking data analysis engaged. Mistress Samantha is under stealthy observation. Repeat, Mistress Samantha is under stealthy observation. Combat profile engaged."
A low curse sounded from the driver's seat, and Sam tensed as the limousine's overdrive roared to life in preparation.
"Helena! Show me!" Her barked command triggered an immediate response. A holographic representation of their journey so far, with a particular vehicle highlighted. It followed them constantly from Founder's Falls all the way to their current location, always keeping at least two vehicles between it and her car.
"Oh, you did not just try to track me. No, you did not." She turned and glanced out of the rear window. "Brian, keep driving normally. Do nothing unusual. I'll deal with it."
Taking a deep breath, she exercised her will... and vanished.
* * * * *
Richard caught the alert, and patched into the limo's internal communication suite, using the Warriors of Darkness scramble codes. "Luminescence, Shadowe here. Need any help? I've got a lock on the target. Let me know if you want it dealing with."
Sam's response was delayed by a moment, and her voice kept breaking up. "Thanks, Shad... but I've... got a handle... on it."
Frowning, Richard scanned for his sister. Something odd was going on, here.
Moments later, he smiled tightly. There she was, floating high in the sky, teleporting from side to side, keeping up with the van trailing the limo, out of sight.
* * * * *
Sam waited until the traffic was stopped at a red light. Her flickering motion in the sky, dancing back and forth, making her impossible to pinpoint for more than a second or two... and then she translated to the ground.
* * * * *
Telekinetic energy ripped through the van's tyres, shredding them in an instant. The fraction of control it took her to access that much of her power caused a burst of radiation to pour out of her, and another corner of her mind twisted it into a focused stream that punched into the van's radiator grille like a stone fist. She immediately followed up with a devastating electromagnetic pulse, safely contained by her mind so that the only things touched by the blast were herself and the van... and she was immune to it.
She stood there for several seconds, staring at the vehicle's blacked out windows, a vicious smile on her lips. "Next time, I don't play nice. You want to see me, book an appointment. If not..." She left the words hanging, and teleported, vanishing from the scene completely, as the lights turned green and Brian drove away.
The wisdom of Shadowe: Ghostraptor: The Shadowe is wise ...; FFM: Shadowe is no longer wise.