Posted 26 October 2010 - 01:44 AM
Watch as seven super-hero wannabes are forced to live, day in and day out, while their every waking moment, (and a few moments while they sleep and they think we aren't watching), are filmed for your voyeuristic amusement. It's like Big Brother on Super Serum; or Crack.
Seven contestants, one open spot on the Sentinels line up, means six losers will go home empty handed, and one loser will go onward to super-herodom. Watch and find out what happens when a meathead, his slutty girlfriend, a poof, a bitch, a nerdy little freak, and a complete jack-ass, are forced to live side by side. When people stop being nice, and start being assholes... "SUPER-Assholes".
Watch the first reality show of its kind, in that it's a total rip-off of 900 other shows, but you'll still watch it cause its just different enough that we can't get sued.
It's a bird, it's a plane, it's a reality show, its... SUPERHOUSE
Are you tired of Fanfics and RP’s that focus on the meaning of life and the nature of evil? If yes, this is for you, if not, you should still read this if only because it’s a nice diversion from the serious stuff. Each match the Superhouse enters consists as a single episode in the series, and will generally follow whether they win or lose. I probably won’t do every match and its not on any controlling story arch. Enjoy!
Posted 26 October 2010 - 01:46 AM
The team recouped in the house. Stupendous was nursing a broken nose; Trixie was doing her best to dry up the excess blood.
“Ooooh poor baby,” she coos.
“Well all in the line of duty” he says.
Badger looks ups from the sofa.
“Line of duty? Are you kidding me, I did that!”
“When was that?” Blackhawk asks
“Remember when I was fighting him with my Judo?”
“And he put you in a choke hold then threw you across the room?”
“Yeah, I landed on stupendous. Still say we could have taken him.”
“I definitely got in a few good hits,” Blackhawk adds.
Doc looks at her in disgust. He has a black eye and bruising all over.
“You got bored fighting him and beat me into a roulette wheel.”
“Never said berserker was accurate,” she replies, “At least I hit him once or twice. Skankasaurus and the little freak weren’t doing anything useful.”
“Actually he was busy, I taught Norman to count cards,” adds Badger, “found him the next morning in the highroller suite with four call-girls, a pack of used paramedic adrenaline needles, and 10,000$ worth of casino chips. That boy made me proud, made up for the rest of the trip.”
The Gadgeteer walks into the living room. Dark circles hang under his eyes. He silently hands Badger a letter then disappears back into the basement. Badger looks at the letterhead.
“Ho-ly… guys, its from him!”
“Who?” asks Trixie.
“The guy who whipped us in Vegas. Look here “From the letterhead of Mr. Jack, Syndicate agent of publicity and entertainment.” ”
Badger rips the envelope open.
“Dear Superhouse housemates,
I apologize for the recent unpleasantness in Vegas. No hard feelings I’m sure, we’re all professionals here. In fact I have a new proposition to offer you. I’ve checked out your little show and noticed that your ratings have been good, but things can always get better. I’ve set up a little exposition match which should pep up the action. Don’t worry about asking your producer, he’s already been replaced.
An old Syndicate contact of mine has agreed to set up a little show for our purposes. He is ex-Russian Spetnatz by the name of Dakota Sheppard, now called Talon.”
“Wait,” Blackhawk says, “He’s a RUSSIAN soldier named “Dakota Sheppard”? What is this, a madlib?”
“He will be committing a jewelry heist downtown,” Badger continues, “Bring your team and stop him if you can. Don’t worry about bringing cameramen; I’ll be taking care of it all. Just be prepared for a very physical fight.”
“Sounds good.” Blackhawk says, “It’s been thirteen hours since I hurt anyone and I’m getting pissed.”
“Yes!” Exclaims stupendous, “Lets go make a difference everybody! Up up and away!”
Stupendous jumps out the window his arms outstretched like superman. A loud thunk comes from outside. Doc looks outward through the window.
“You okay down there?”
“You got to remember you can’t fly… Trixie call a cab.”
Posted 26 October 2010 - 01:42 PM
“Owww,” says Badger, “my head feels like pudding. Last night was a bad idea…”
He rolls over on the couch and sees the rest of his housemates sleeping on the living room furniture with him. No one had the momentum to make it upstairs. Blackhawk and Doc begin to grumble as sleep begins to wear off. Then a grinding noise penetrates the room; everyone reflexively covers their ears.
“Damn it Trixie turn that thing off!”
Trixie pokes her head out from the kitchen; she is perky as usual, her voice bubbly and annoying,
“Come on guys, the Alpha Pi Breakfast-Smoothie is the best fixer-up for a wild night partying!”
She hands out the smoothies and everyone takes part.
“My God,” says Blackhawk, “This is really good. What’s in this?”
“Oh some oranges, bananas, milk, brown sugar, two eggs, and a healthy amount of chardonnay.”
Despite the drink’s ingredients everyone bounces up rather quickly. Her headache gone, Blackhawk moves towards the front window. She looks out and sips some more. She stares at the object now parked on the lawn for a moment or too.
“Hey guys” she asks, “what’s that thing?”
The massive object is like a giant ship yet it is miles from the water. It has a super-science feel to it, steel structure with a shiny chrome finish, very nice. Badger and Doc approach the window and look at it.
“Oh, that makes sense,” Badger says.
“I had the vaguest sense that we couldn’t get a taxi home. I knew we got a ride back somehow, and a really obscure memory of crashing a space station into the lawn. I thought it was just a dream.”
“I don’t think it’s a space station,” Blackhawk says.
Doc just stares at the vehicle for a few minutes. The effects of his blackout wear off and he remembers what happened the night before.
“Oh sh*t” he says, “I think we stole it…. Yeah… we’re in trouble…”
“Oh please” Badger adds, “Don’t you think that if we stole a space-station somebody would notice?”
The door is smashed open by a blast. An armored villain steps through the threshold. Connery looks over the group with disdain.
“So, you’re the idiots who stole my Battle Ship.”
“Told you,” says Blackhawk, “Battle-Ship, not space station.”
“Just tell me which one of you morons was behind this so I know who to pummel.”
The group is silent for a moment; no one knows what to say. Badger points towards Doc,
“Actually, he’s the only one who says he remembers actually stealing it.”
“WHAT?” Doc screams.
Connery raises his fist and the bumper fires out towards Doc; an explosive like force knocks him backwards onto the floor. Badger laughs at his fallen friend as Connery shoots a second blast; this one nails Badger across the cheek. Filled with brimming anger, he charges the good doctor.
“You’re dead!” he yells.
As he says this Connery lands a punch to his cheek. Badger stumbles but doesn’t back down. A high kick comes towards his jaw, he deflects and moves into a judo throw, tripping Connery over his knee. Badger raises an arm up to pummel the Good doctor.
His hand crashes down onto the armor with a thud.
“OWWW!” Badger yells, “Damn, what is that stuff? Steel?”
Despite it’s Scooby-Doo-villain-like appearance, the armor is quite strong. Connery shoots another bumper at Badger, sending him flying across the room. He stands up and brushes off the armor. Those two idiots are down yet two more idiots take their place, one male and one female. The male idiot places his hands on his hips and starts shouting,
“In the name that is good and right, I shall defeat you WITH-MY-LASER EYES!”
Stupendous’s eyes glow red hot as beams of pure heat shoot from them. They hit a point on Connery’s armor and begin to burn a small black spot. Connery responds by strutting up towards Stupendous and hitting him across the face; Stupendous goes out like a light, Trixie just watches. She turns to Connery with her big blue eyes and pouts her lips just so perfectly.
“Please Sir, we’re soo sorry we stole your ship. It was an accident… Isn’t there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
Connery stalls. He has a certain aversion to humanity that would usually make such transparent attempts at sexual bribery useless, but this is different. It’s almost something… chemical. As he works through his emotions the soft sound of footsteps approaches from behind.
He turns a second too late as the dining room chair smashes across his head; Connery goes tumbling across the room, Black Hawk lifts what’s left of the shattered chair and proceeds to attack. Her Berserk rage connects through the armor, her attack more powerful than all the others before it. With no choices left he deflects her blows as much as possible, his counter-attacks only enrage her more.
“Bring it on Jack-ass!”
Connery presses down on the button on his wrist, the gravity activates and everything and everyone else in the room is lifted upwards into zero-g. Blackhawk swipes and thrashes in mid-air like a spastic chimp, but cannot move any closer to her target without gravity.
“That the best you got,” she yells thrashing uselessly in midair, “come over here and fight like a man!”
Badger, Trixie, Stupendous, and the unconscious Doc are taken aback by their weightlessness; Connery fires a bumper at the group and they fly backwards though the front window and crash onto the lawn. The return of gravity comes back hard as they slam against the ground. Connery steps onto the lawn next to his giant Battle Ship and the seemingly defeated team. He raises them off the grass ready to slam them back down.
“Time to show you clowns what happens when you mess with someone like me!”
“PUT THE GIRL DOWN,” Yells a mechanical voice.
Connery turns around towards his ship, which has just seemingly spoke to him. But how?
“Why should I spare them? Who are you?” Connery asks.
“Hey man, listen to your ship” Badger says, “It wants you to let us go.”
“Actually I only care about Trixie,” the ship says, “You can kill the rest if you want.”
“Wait a minute,” Connery says, “You’re not my ship… You’re just inside it using the P.A. !”
Inside the command bridge sits the final member of the Superhouse. He had never left the ship, but stayed up all night examining it. He pulls the microphone back towards his enormous head.
“My names Norman, Let the girl down or else.”
“Or else what?” yells Connery, “You idiots have nothing on my scientific power. You’re a joke, someone should have beaten you into oblivion a long time ago!”
“I’m not the idiot,” says the robotic voice, “You’re the one who forgot to enable safety protocols for you’re giant floating ship. That means I can do this.”
The engines heat up and begin to send the ship off the ground. It lurches forward over the lawn; it’s shadow crawls over the group as it hovers perilously above them. The ship seemingly pilots itself until directly over Connery. He looks up at the massive object hovering over him, the engines are quickly shut off and Connery realizes what’s happening
The Battle Ship drops like a rock. It is slowed halfway to the ground. Connery’s device ensures that gravity is lessened but the ship is just too big to be fully effected. The others are dropped to the ground as the gravity beam focuses everything it has on the massive ship. The housemates scurry out from under the massive object as it slowly slips downward. The gravity device continues to fight the ship’s massive weight but can’t keep up, it overloads and the full force of gravity comes down on Connery’s head.
The gang looks on as the ship sits deathly still over the villain. Gadgeteer hops out of the cockpit and down to the ground. Everyone is staring at him; Trixie bounces over his way.
“Oh Norville, Thank you soo much!”
She kisses him lightly on the cheek. This causes the blood rush to his volkswagon sized head; Norman passes out on the lawn. The gang drags him and Doc inside.
A few hours later a hand drags itself out from under the landing gears of the ship. Connery slowly emerges, his armor barely saving his life. He limps inside his ship and flies home to recuperate…
Posted 26 October 2010 - 02:07 PM
Posted 26 October 2010 - 03:15 PM
Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. I was having some trouble with Connery's dialogue, at first it sounded too cheesy but I didn't want him to be totally silent either. I thought it was a nice combo.
Okay... I nearly died laughing there. Very, very, very nice job. Very well written and dang it, that was the funniest thing I've read in a while.
Posted 26 October 2010 - 03:43 PM
You did it pretty well, in fact I don't think I could have written him better (seriously, almost as soon as I created him I realized he was totally cardboard and going nowhere. Go figure.)
Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. I was having some trouble with Connery's dialogue, at first it sounded too cheesy but I didn't want him to be totally silent either. I thought it was a nice combo.
Anyway, thanks for doing such a great job. This was fun to read.
Posted 29 October 2010 - 06:03 PM
It was a warm autumn day, the leaves were turning, the birds were chirping, and if not for the outlandish tattooed guy sitting across from them, it would have been a perfectly romantic retreat for Trixie and her current boyfriend. Stupendous felt the tiny ring box inside his pocket with his fingers as he and Trixie just sat at on the bench in serenity. He turns to her and tries to hold back the smile on his face.
“Trixie, I have something very important to ask you. ”
She looks back at him with a girlish smile.
“What is it sweetie?”
“It’s something I really want to ask you from the bottom of my heart, and I need you to listen from the bottom of your heart.”
“I’m listening,” she says straightening out her hair, “Whatever you have to say, you have my undivided—BUTTERFLY!”
Trixie rushes off the bench to chase after the floating insect, Stupendous follows behind her as they zigzag randomly through the park. After a few unsuccessful attempts to capture it she gives up to boredom and lies down on the grass. Stupendous pants and places his hands on his knees before also falling onto the grass.
“So…Like I was saying…”
“Hmmm, I’m sorry what were you saying?” she asks.
Stupendous takes a few deep breaths to calm his breathing and his nerves.
“I was saying that I needed to ask you something. Something very important…Trixie… Will you?— ”
Deafening noise takes over the serenity of the park. The Chirping birds scatter at the roar of the Harley Motor, the turning leaves suffocated under the smoke of the exhaust, and common cyclists were run off the bike path by the charging jackass. Stupendous attempts to get his message across to Trixie who has turned her eyes towards the massive machine and it’s rider.
“TRIXIE, WILL YOU—(VROOOOMMM!) ME”
“I SAID WOULD YOU--" (VROOOMMMMMMM!)
Trixie stands up and approaches the oncoming bike as it draws near towards them. The rider slowly rolls near them with his engine still revving; he parks and removes his helmet to reveal a familiar face.
“Whoa Badger,” Trixie says, “This is so awesome. Is this your bike?”
He places the helmet on the front handlebars and grins.
“Yeah… well I mean, it is now anyway… I have it, and possession being nine tenths of the law… don’t worry about it, you want a ride?”
“Sure!” she says.
Badger hands her a second rider’s helmet and she attempts the difficult task of placing the helmet over her head to face the right direction. This requires multiple attempts to get right.
“Trixie maybe you shouldn’t,” says Stupendous, “you shouldn’t be riding that inside a park, it’s against city regulations. Besides, Motorcycles are for, you know… bad people”
“Oh get over yourself Captain Kill-Joy,” Badger scoffs, “isn’t their a sandbox you aught to be policing.”
Trixie finally manages to fit her head in through the correct direction of the helmet; she slides onto the seat behind Badger and lifts the visor.
“Don’t worry”, she tells Stupendous, “I’ll be fine, and I’ll be sure to remember that thing you wanted to tell me.”
Before Stupendous can say anything else the engine roars up once more. Badger puts his helmet back on, kicks out the kickstand, and flips his head back towards Stupendous.
“Sorry Cap’, I’d invite you too, but there’s only room for two, and were close enough as it is.”
As he revs up Trixie slides her arms around his chest and waist to hold on. He revs the engine once more for good effect before speeding off down the bike trail. Stupendous watches as his girlfriend and Badger slowly disappear down the path. He stands alone, but hears the echo of a thought inside his brain. He cannot tell where it’s coming from and recognizes it only on the most subconscious level.
“He’s taking her from you…save her from him…If you can’t have her…. No one can….”
Norman sits alone at his computer toying on a new device that would translate dolphin squeaks into the language of ape hoots, which could then be translated into horse whinnies or owl hoots, and then roughly interpreted into English. He lifts the screwdriver and thinks for a moment, “couldn’t I just go straight from dolphin to English?”. He then laughs hysterically to himself at the ridiculous idea and gets back to work.
The blaring noise invades his mind and he slams the device down. He hops off his stool and waddles up the stairs. He opens the basement door and peers out as Trixie and Badger slip in through the front door. She looked radiant as the hair flows out of her helmet; then badger pats her ass.
“OOH Badger!” Trixie says in a giggle.
That bastard. How dare he touch her! That Ape, that cretin!
The bad thoughts come back to Gadgeteer, the ones that tell him to burn it, burn it all from the ground. He hears the voice deep inside his head, an unfamiliar voice, one that would push him over the edge…
“Cleanse the world of their evil Norman… Save no one from the flames this time… burn it to the ground… and you will finally be happy… she will be yours…”
Norman closes the door in silence and descends the stairs. He begins a new project, something more sinister.
Badger watches as Trixie’s ass ascends up the stairs to her bedroom. Her whole body ascended the stairs actually, not just her ass, but that wasn’t the interesting part. He stands seemingly alone in the dark.
“Hello Badger… Welcome home…have a fun night?”
Badger looks over through the dark towards the voice. A figure sits in the shadow of the living room. He sits in utter stillness just staring out in hate. Two glowing red dots glare out from his face.
“Yeah I guess I did,” Badger says, “Stupendous is that you?”
“Who am I Badger…” he asks monotone, “Who are we really, underneath it all?... what makes us men?”
“I uh, don’t really know. However I definitely now know that its you, which is what I asked, and furthermore I’m gonna assume you’ve already started drinking so I’m just gonna go straight to the big question; why are you sitting alone in the dark drinking?”
“Why are you sitting alone in the dark drinking?”
“Well then I guess you have a convenient explanation for everything don’t you?”
A small beam of heat escapes Stupendous’s eyes; they scorch a section of the wall across from him. Badger watches then nods.
“O.k you do whatever it is your doing,” he says, “I’m gonna go upstairs.”
Badger ascends the stairs as the seemingly possessed man merely sits in his chair staring out into the darkness. Badger ignores Stupendous and walks across the hall from his room. The bathroom sink was running and loud sobs could be heard from inside. He pushes the door open and finds Doc crying over the sink, it has been plugged and filled to the brim with water.
“Hey Doc,” says Badger, “… I see you’re acting weird too. Any particular reason?”
“It’s all pointless,” Cries Doc, “no matter how hard I try I’ll never succeed. I can’t go on! I need to end it now. I’m going to make all the pain go away…”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Why not, it’s my wretched life, if I want to end it that’s my choice.”
“No I understand that part, but you can’t honestly think you’re going to drown yourself in a half a gallon of water? You’re getting more on the floor than anywhere else. Goddamn it man, think it out first.
Badger leaves as the sound of a gargled suicide attempt is made behind him.
Trixie swings the door to her bedroom open. She throws off her jacket and tank top then lies on her bed. Blackhawk enters from the adjoining bathroom in silence, Trixie grins at her as she peels off her boots.
“Hey B.H. how are you? My day was awesome, Stupendous took me to the park and I saw a butterfly, then some other stuff happened and Badger and I went to a club—”
Blackhawk walks over to the bed and grabs a pillow off the top as Trixie goes on uninterrupted.
“—And then I met all these nice sailors who said they knew a really nice motel we could check out—”
Trixie spots the pillow in Blackhawk’s hand. Blackhawk moves closer towards her every second, nothing but silence comes from her mouth. Trixie appears puzzled as she looks at her friend.
“Girl what are you doing? Oh wait, I know what this is… You want to have a PILLOW FIGHT! Here let me get mine.”
Trixie grabs another pillow and begins playfully hitting her friend with it; Blackhawk ignores the game and raises up her own weapon to Trixie’s face and pushes it forward. Trixie continues to pound her friend with a pillow as Blackhawk shoves her to the mattress and forces the pillow down across Trixie’s nose and mouth. She sits over Trixie’s body using the leverage to get a better angle and cover any possible air path.
After some time Trixie realizes she can’t breathe and drops her pillow and attempts to shove Blackhawk back. Her attacker forces the cushion down across her face with no remorse. Trixie thrashes, the whole bed shakes, she kicks her legs up towards her friend’s shoulders to push her back, she can’t get air, it’s almost over; the door opens.
“Hey Trix I got the numbers of those guys. I think some of them are—”
Badger’s voice falls off as he sees Blackhawk straddling the half naked Trixie on top of the bed as Trixie thrashes, bouncing the bed up and down.
“O.k…. How long has this been happening… and why wasn’t I informed earlier.”
“It’s not what it looks like you perv,” shouts Blackhawk as she continues to hold down the pillow, “I’m not doing anything like that. I’m just trying to kill her.”
“Right, because that’s sooo much better.”
Trixie finally kicks Blackhawk across the face and manages to roll away. She begins gasping for breath. Badger runs/casually walks to her side. He looks up towards Blackhawk who sheepishly throws the pillow to her side.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he asks, “You shouldn’t be killing people, and even if you killed her like this you’d still have to drag the body all the way downstairs without anyone noticing; why is no one thinking things out today?”
At this moment Stupendous kicks the door in.
“I come to end this here and now. You have been corrupted; for everything good and righteous, I am going to kill everyone here!”
His eyes glow red and the hot lasers shoots forth and slices through the room. Badger and the girls duck as the heat beams cut past them. Blackhawk dodges an instant too late and the beam singes her hair.
“Damn it! Knock it off captain Jack-ass.”
“Never!” he yells, “For all that is good and mighty I must burn this house towards the ground!
The door erupts with fire behind him. A wave of white fire unlike Stupendous’s rays rushes inward and everyone jumps to escape it. The cindery door is kicked open one last time; Norman struts in with a homemade flamethrower strapped to his chest.
“You shall all pay for mocking me! You shall all burn! If I cannot possess my radiant angel, no one will!”
“Move off you gross little Munchkin!” yells Stupendous, “I was here first!”
“What?” says the Gadgeteer, “I’ve hated everyone here long before you did! I’ve been planning this all night!”
“Oh yeah, well I thought of it last night.”
“I thought of it two nights ago!”
“I though of it before you were born!”
Trixie rises from the floor; her ever-permanent smile fades from her face as she faces them.
“Both of you, JUST, SHUT UP!”
Everyone is dumbstruck. Gadgeteer and Stupendous bow their heads in shame. Stupendous’s eyes stop glowing and Norman drops the flamethrower.
“I’m sorry,” they say in unison.
“It’s o.k.” Trixie tells them, “ But why do you guys have to be so mean, huh? Shake hands and be friends.”
They do as she asks, her unexplainable spell washing over them, overriding whatever before had controlled them.
“I feel like a fool,” says Stupendous, “I was willing to kill the woman I loved out of jealousy and rage, just because some voice told me too.”
“As was I”, says Norman, “this voice must have come over both of us. It’s what was diving everyone to kill.”
“I heard it too”, says Badger, “I just kind of brushed it off as a drug induced hallucination. It was telling me that you all secretly hate me, but I know that’s just ridiculous.”
“Oh course it was,” says Blackhawk, “We all publicly hate you, it’s common knowledge. However, it is astounding that your ego can live in a world in which you believe anyone would like you.”
“You know, for an attempted murderer you are being really judgmental. At least my ego stopped the voice while yours ordered you suffocate Trixie.”
“I never heard a voice. This was just a spur of the moment thing.”
“Well… that’s, less then comforting… what about you Trix, you hearing voices.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say” she asks, “there was boat outside, I was distracted, what are we talking about?”
“Guess that answers that question,” says Blackhawk, “I guess everyone’s fine then. No one’s dead…yet.”
Badger nods his head. It takes him before the thought hits him.
“Oh crap,” he says, “Has anyone seen Doc….”
Posted 29 October 2010 - 06:32 PM
Episode 107: Whispers in the Dark
This was the fight against Treacherous's Whisper Man if it wasn't clear
Posted 29 October 2010 - 08:52 PM
Posted 29 October 2010 - 09:09 PM
I enjoyed that. Whisper Man was done perfectly. Thank you for not murdering my work.
You're welcome I guess. As a rule I try to avoid murdering other people's things.
Posted 29 October 2010 - 10:04 PM
It was a compliment. You did me proud.
Thanks treach , I'm glad that you enjoyed it and thought I pulled it off well. I enjoyed writing it too; Whisper Man's a fun character to do a write up with, especially with characters who are already mentally unbalanced.
Posted 30 November 2010 - 11:23 PM
Stupendous marches downstairs to find Badger and Doc sipping coffee in the kitchen. Both had long nights, Doc was serving drinks at The Brass all night while Badger was being repeatedly thrown out of it. Captain Stupendous contradicts their murky mood with characteristic energy and pep.
“Good morning all. Isn’t it a beautiful day, in this beautiful world, in this blessed country?”
Badger drops his mug on the table.
“Screw you, screw the world, and screw this country. ” he says. Doc nods. Stupendous begins to grunt with annoyance
“Badger, you may insult me— ”
“And I do try my best.”
“—but how dare you insult this great country!”
“Oh please,” says Badger, “Name one good thing this country has done for us.”
“Oh well…” Stupendous stalls.
He looks down towards the morning paper. Just below the fold there is a caption reading “Senator moves for Meta-human registration”. A smile crosses the Captain’s face.
“They are finally enforcing registration on the Meta-humans.”
This time Doc is the one to interrupt with sarcasm,
“Do you even know who the meta-humans are?” he asks.
“I know that they are a villainous group of terrorists,” says Stupendous, “otherwise the government wouldn’t need them to register themselves.”
“But do you know what it means?”
“Well not exactly.”
“It’s a polite term for freak” Badger adds.
“You’re actually a meta-human yourself,” says Doc.
“WHAT?” yells Stupendous, “I might not know what it means, but that does not give you the right to call me something unwholesome or deviant!”
“Relax,” says Badger, “We all know the only confirmed deviant in this room is Doc.”
Doc turns to him across the table.
“Oh, more gay jokes. Big surprise. It’s getting a little old you know.”
“It’s still early. I’ve got some original material saved for later.” Badger turns back towards Stupendous, “Doc is right though; meta-human just means super powered ass-hole, so you do qualify.”
“Then we have to stop the law from passing!” shouts Stupendous, “This is an indignity, an outrage; they can’t ban superheroes, it’s un-American!”
Doc and Badger continue to sip their coffee as Stupendous waits for their reply. A moment passes before he realizes they’re ignoring him.
“Come on guys, we have to stop this! For justice and all that. We need to fight Washington to protect our powers.”
“We don’t have powers.” Says Doc.
“What, are you kidding me? You are so totally magic. That’s a power.”
“That’s a learned skill, not an inherent trait. I might be a vigilante but I’m not technically a Meta. Same with Badger. ”
“What about Trixie?”
“That girl’s only super ability is to look good in a spandex tank top.”
“Which unfortunately,” says Badger, “is not really the kind of thing the government regulates. However if they ever start at some point, you can sign me up as a certified government “safety inspector”. ”
“What about Gadeteer?” asks the Captain, “He’s super-smart. That counts as a power.”
“Nope,” says Badger, “Until he can start lifting people with his brain, he’s classified by the federal government as just a good old fashioned American nerd.”
“But what about in that movie,” says Stupendous, “the one with the guy. You know the guy. He was a superhero and he was super smart and he could count cards, and control the weather. Tom cruise was his brother.”
“What?” says Doc
Badger waves Doc off.
“I know what he means, I got this one. Stupendous, first off that was a movie, not a real person. Secondly, “Rainman”, couldn’t actually control the rain. It’s just what they called him.”
Doc swishes the coffee in his mouth. His eyebrows rise as the thought comes to him. He turns to Badger.
“You know I just thought of something. The only other person who might be affected by this won’t take it well. For everyone else's sake its best that she never—”
The back door flies off its hinges with a massive stomp. Blackhawk is foaming at the mouth and holding a crumpled copy of the Miami herald in her fist.
“Son of a bitch! Did you guys read this bull-shit!”
“Too late” says Doc.
“I can’t believe this horse-crap; it’s diarrheattic ass-gravy of the worst kind! I have to register myself like some sort of sexual predator!”
“Hey, just like Doc,” says Badger. He looks at him, “Told you I had some new material.”
Blackhawk has ignored him and is pacing around the kitchen slamming her fist into any hard surface, leaving cracks and divots everywhere.
“What right does some fat-cat bureaucrat have to monitor my actions?” She asks.
“Well,” says Badger, “You do have a tendency to fly off the handle. In the last week you’ve demolished…”
He points towards Doc who had drawn the responsibility of keeping track this week. Doc quickly lowers his mug,
“Two cars, a mailbox, one steel salad bar, a waiter’s station, a parking meter, a meter maid vehicle—”
“Lets not forget the meter maid himself, he’s still in intensive care.”
“—and of course, you have just pretty much destroyed the kitchen and front door. Again.”
“If anything you’re the poster-child for mandatory registration.”
“Bullshit!” declares Blackhawk, “Washington can kiss my big, fat, meta-human ass!”
“Turn around girl,” says Doc, “They can probably kiss it from here.”
Badger pounds Doc’s fist.
“NICE.” He says.
At this Trixie descends the stairs just out of the shower. She yawns then looks over the group.
“I heard yelling, did Blackhawk get another ticket?”
“Not yet,” says Badger, “Stupendous and Blackhawk are planning a march on Washington to protect their meta-human rights.”
“Wait, what?” says Stupendous, “I was just complaining. I didn’t think I’d actually have to do anything. I don’t want to—”
“Hell yeah.” Screams Blackhawk, “Time to give those parasitic sponges something to talk about. They want to see dangerous meta-humans I’ll show it to them. Stupendous, bring around your stupendocar!”
“Woo Hoo” yells Trixie, “Road Trip. I’m coming, just let me bring my cd collection. Five hours of Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus.”
The girls ready for their trip as Stupendous is more or less shanghaied into driving. By the time Badger and Doc finish their breakfast the puke green Stanza with the license “stpndcr” is pulling out of the garage with the three protesters inside ready to go to Washington. Doc and Badger watch them drive away as Norman scurries into the kitchen. He watches the car zoom off.
“Where’s Trixie going?” he asks.
“She’s going on a trip for a few days,” Says Badger, “but she wanted you to do something for her.”
“What was that?”
“She wanted you to help me and Doc throw a house-party while everyone else is away. She practically demanded it. Right Doc?”
“Fine by me.” says Doc, “Just don’t burn the house down and I can score you some booze from the bar.”
“One time, one time; I burn down half of the house one time and nobody lets me forget it.”
Will Stupendous and Blackhawk defend their rights as Meta-humans? Will they be forced into being branded as freaks? Will they return to their home as a smoldering pile of ash... tune in next time to find out. Same Superhouse-time, same Superhouse-place...
Posted 05 December 2010 - 03:16 PM
The set-up looked like a mix between a hemi-engine and a stripped garbage disposal. A large ocular shaped orb extends upon a small neck down towards the base, supported on four spiderlike legs. In the spare section where the wiring has been bothered to be covered, black metallic plating adds a sinister feel. Norman displays his creation to Badger who stares at it confused.
“Riiiight… so Norman, when I said you were in charge of the music, I meant like a mix stand, or even just an ipod hooked up to some speakers.”
“This is better.”
“I’m sure it is… What exactly is it?”
“It’s an self-aware environmentally sensitive harmonious mixer.”
“Ok, dumb it down for me. What does that mean?”
“It can sense ambience and emotional triggers within the room, collected by the ocular device to register body language, and then immediately select an appropriate song from its databank to match those triggers.”
“Ok… dumb it waaaaay down.”
“…It plays music based on how people are feeling and what they’re doing. It reads the crowd and selects the appropriate song based on the info it gathers.”
Doc enters through the front door with a few cases of liquor. While Norman continues to fine tune the machine Badger helps him unload the cases into the kitchen. They finish moving the booze inside when Doc observes Norman fiddling with the black mechanical armed monstrosity in the center of the house.
“Hey Badge, any reason why Norman’s building a giant walking eye in the living room?”
“It’s some sort of hi-tech stereo or something. It plays music according to the mood of the party. Don’t ask him to explain it.”
“Oh… well just as long as it doesn’t play Nickelback we should be fine.”
“What’s wrong with ‘The Back’?“
Doc stares blankly at Badger for a second.
“ ‘The Back’, really?” he asks, “You are such a bro it makes me want to puke glitter.”
“Uh huh, you send out the flyers?”
“Please, Flyers?” says Badger, “What am I, Amish? I sent out a Facebook invite to everyone we know.”
“Most people we know hate us. You’re aware of that?”
“Its under control Doctor Anal-Retentive. In two hours the part will begin…”
Exactly two and a half hours later
Pulsing music throbs from inside the house. Flashing strobes shoot out windows to the insane beat. Two girls in halter-tops enter the party; the door opens and the music blasts out into the street in crushing volume. A line of people twenty feet deep curves around the curb, waiting to get in. Another girl behind these two attempts to sneak in; she is stopped by the bouncer, an armed marine with combat boots, aegis flak jacket, military helmet, an M-16, Glock 10mm, a pack of grenades, a clipboard, and a Hawaiian shirt, because hell, it is a party after all.
“Name?” he asks.
The Marine looks down at the girl. She stands at maybe 4‘10’’, and should probably not even be attending prom at her age.
“How old are you?” he asks sarcastically.
“245.” She says.
“Uh-huh, very funny. Not flying kiddo. Get out of here.”
“It’ true. I only look this way because I got reincarnated in this body after I died. I’m really 245.”
The Marine raise his hand and points her off.
The girl stomps away miserably. The Marine checks the list as the next person in line moves up. That person is then thrown aside by another; this one pushes his way to the front door, no one in line bothers to try and stop him. Redfield blocks his path, he recognizes the man, the white cloaked suit was a dead give-away. He holds out his hand, the man in white stops.
“Come on.” Says the hooded man, “Do we really need to go through the formalities? I think we both know who I am.”
“Name?” Redfield repeats coldly.
The man in white stands his ground. People in the line begin to back away. The two lock eyes, Jason’s free hand begins to go for the Glock.
“Harbinger,” The man finally says, “H-A-R-B-”
“I got it.” retorts Redfield. He moves his hand from his hip and rips off a sheet from the clipboard, then hands it over to be signed.
“You have just been officially noted of The Fallen’s 1985,“Safe Havens” accord. You are forbidden from causing any kind of disturbance while inside the premises. You must leave all weapons at the door, and not use any special abilities that could be considered “malevolent”. No criminal acts, no mayhem, no slaughter, you think you can handle that?”
“Me, cause trouble?” says Harbinger, “Never.”
He signs the paper then throws it back in Redfield’s face. He begins to stalk inside.
Redfield quietly gives him the one finger salute. Harbinger doesn’t notice and bumps into Badger as he’s on his way out. Badger stumbles a bit, already in a somewhat less than balanced state. He walks over to Jason and places a hand on his shoulder.
“Right. Redfield. Jason-bro… I need you to let a few more ladies in. The Golden Ratio’s off, if you know what I mean. Maybe you could even pick a few out of line, like her…or her…or even her.”
“That’s not why I’m here. And you’ve got bigger things to worry about then that; at least half these guys are major criminals of some right. You have any idea how dangerous this is?”
“Relax, what could happen?”
“No you’re absolutely right.” Redfield nods, “Take a bunch of criminals and vigilantes, naturally violent people who hate each other for a living, put them in a small house with lots of noise and plenty of alcohol, and hope thinks don’t go south. There’s absolutely no chance of failure there.”
“Relax, the Fallen have agreed to keep their people in line-”
“Because super-villains never break their promises.”
“And even if that doesn’t work, I got a one man army stationed outside my door. Speaking of which, how many weapons do you really need?”
“Enough,” states Redfield
“Well yeah but you only got the two arms… Do me a favor, no grenades. Clean up’s gonna be tough enough as it is. And remember bro— the Golden Ratio.”
Jason sighs then turns back to the line. Badger walks inside. The music switches up and Norman’s automated DJ puts on
People are jammed into the house on all levels; the main living room has become the dance hall, the kitchen is now the bar, and people scurry in and out of the upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms regularly. Badger approaches Doc who is serving the drinks at the makeshift bar, a tip jar sits on the counter, nearly half full.
“How are things outside?” he asks.
“Awesome,” yells Badger over the techno, “We got a line going around the block. How about in here?”
A pale man with red eyes steps up to the bar before Doc can answer.
“Bloody Mary please. And by bloody, I mean bloody”
“Yeah I remember Evan.”
Doc pours a highball glass halfway with vodka, then reaches beneath the counter and retrieves a blood transfusion bag. He unties the opening cord and the blood flows into the glass. At the brink he stops it and hands it over to Bourne. Bourne leaves with a smile, then goes down to sit next to a pale blond girl in the corner. Doc looks back towards Badger.
“To answer your question it’s all right, but a little too high school.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everybody’s in a clique. Take a look. Over there behind Evan you’ve got the vamps and succubi. Goths. Maybe a quarter of them are the real deal. The guy in the black trench-coat calls himself “The Black Angel of Darkness and Despair”, dresses like The Crow and thinks he’s a badass, he’s the same kind of kid guys like you used to throw into lockers during lunch break.
Then over there you got the Sentinels: the preps, Christian Camp cheerleader sects who’d stop you in the halls and warn you about the dangers marijuana. Nearby are the Angels and a few of the rougher solo-vigilantes; the kids who smoked in the halls, then beat up the bullies to prove a point. Next to them, The Syndicate: the kids the bullies went to pay protection money. Then you got the super-scientists: math nerds; the magicians: D&D nerds, myself excluded; and finally of course, the bad boys who smoked in the halls then lit the place on fire, The Fallen and their groupies.”
“Since when does the Fallen have groupies?” asks Badger.
He turns their direction and notices the five or six loose women hanging around the squad of evil bastards.
“Oh yeah.” Says Doc, “In high school it was the guy who rode a motorcycle; now it’s the guy who drives a tank shaped like a skull. Bad boys are sexy.”
“You sound like you’re in love. You speaking out of personal experience Doc?”
“Right,” says Badger, “Hey, you seen Norman? Every time I try to play Queen his stupid machine just keeps repeating, “I can’t let you do that Dave”.”
“He was heading for the bathroom last time I saw him. I think he ate some of the cake.”
Badger stands up straight. His face fills with anticipation.
“Wait, so someone actually brought cake? I thought that it was just a rumor, that the cake is –”
“Oh its real all right. Just don’t eat any of it; trust me.”
On the corner couch near the back The Fallen members have assembled their own small enclave. A few nod their heads to the music, others sip from their glasses and talk to the super-villain floozies. They had all agreed to keep the peace, all but two of them that is. These two sit near the back in the dark. The younger of the two turns towards his partner.
“Are you ready?”
The other man spreads a wide Cheshire grin, his pointed teeth gleaming in the strobe light. He runs his hand through his matted hair and laughs.
“Yes. It is about time we release what is rightfully mine from its paper cage. Your “friend” told you where it was being kept?”
The young man nods to him, Lord Black eyes him over at little longer.
“You know,” he says, “an object of this magnitude and power, can cause disruption in an otherwise great plan. Inequality breeds distrust my boy; you approached me with such a seemingly unbelievable story, but I took you on faith that it was true. If we are to be equals, then we must share everything equally. Like our names for instance, and the identity of your “friend”…”
The young man smiles almost innocently. In comparison to Black he appears, seemingly, normal.
“Let’s not parse the issue,” he says, “you’re presence here is mostly as a courtesy. I know its location, I only need you to get it to work again. But, I agree that we should deal everything fairly, you can trust me. However my friend has asked to remain anonymous. In order to be fair to him I have to respect that. You said it yourself; trust is key.”
“Of course” replies Black in a dry British manner, “But as for your name then?”
The man raises his arm and grasps Black’s palm. His arm is midnight black, and tapers into a long claw. Black begins to feel sickness travel up his arm from the brief touch. His partner continues on without hesitation.
“You can call me Perish for now.”
Lord Black retrieves his hand from the other’s grasp. He looks down at his palm, the skin is peeling and the after-effect of nausea is beginning to fade.
“An interesting trick,”
He smiles a wide smile once more, licking his yellow fangs he chuckles.
“I’ll have to show you one of mine later. But for now, lets go get what we came for.”
“Not quite yet” replies Perish, “No need to start anything ourselves. I invited someone to crash the party. Knowing him, everyone will have something else to deal with.”
Jason scans a few people in the crowd. Its getting late and people are jostling as they wait to get inside. Jason looks down at the clipboard for just a moment; the next unknown person walks up to the front of the line.
Redfield glances up and the diabolical face looks back at him.
Badger walks back towards the door. He calls over to the marine at the entrance.
“Hey Jason, how’s that Ratio coming?”
The marine flies backwards and crashes into him. Badger is thrown backwards; Jason is tackled to the ground. Xochitl digs his talons into Jason’s armored jacket; Redfield reacts and kicks him backwards. His hand goes for the combat knife in its sheath.
Xochitl springs backwards as Redfield advances, the crowd backs away from the two in panic. Down with the Sickness
begins to randomly boom out of the speakers. The two men circle each other as the outside crowd grows larger. The Aztec warrior opens his claws. Jason looks down at his knife.
He picks out a flashbang, pulls the pin and lobs it towards Xochitl. The song hits its high point, Xochitl dodges the grenade and takes cover; it rolls near the group of Fallen. They all dive for cover; it explodes.
The House descends into chaos, people run out into the street as Death Metal blasts in their ears. Jason proceeds forward, gun raised; panicking people stream past him. Every few seconds his view is blocked; Xochitl is gone, the Fallen have all disappeared, where could they have gone—
The fist lands across his cheek like a piston. Jason is knocked back and stumbles, but never falls. Harbinger smirks.
“What happened to not causing trouble?” Jason asks
“Funny thing” replies Harbinger, “That all goes out the window when some ass throws a flash grenade.”
At that moment Harbinger senses something, something close, behind him. He turns and dodges his opponent’s claws. Xochitl’s talons pass inches by his neck, close enough to touch, but missing the artery by centimeters. The Aztec lets out a guttural growl.
“I am killing that one,” he says pointing to Jason, “If you wish to die, you must wait your turn. It won’t be long.”
Xochitl lets out a laugh. A chair smashes upon his head from behind. He moves away quickly. Another super-human speedster wields the broken chair end as a weapon. Evan looks over the other two villains with despise in his red eyes.
“Why do punks like you always got to spoil a good time?”
“You insignificant sun-sucker!”
“Screw the sun!” Declares Evan.
Xochitl rises up filled with rage. Everyone seemed filled with rage. He brandishes the talons outwards.
“I’ll drain you dry for that.”
“Not if I drain you first.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Says Harbinger, “You’ll both be dead in an instant anyway.”
The voice comes from the other end of the living room. Jason has set up his M16 and aims the barrel towards the three of them.
“You want to see who’s the fastest? Try dodging the shells!”
The M-16 fires and they all scatter. The four combatants speed across the room in a chaotic pattern. Claws and fists, fangs and knives, bullets and muscle, they pound on each other, fighting whoever’s nearest. The music plays on.
Black and Perish open the door to the upstairs bedroom. The grenade was a nice sign that the distraction was working more than well enough. With everyone fleeing, no one would bother to ask for the location of the two silent players.
A couple are drunkenly making out on the bed, undisturbed by the warfare going on downstairs. She notices Black over her partner’s shoulder.
“Out,” he barks.
She leaves in panic with her friend not far behind. Perish watches in slight amusement. Black enters the room first and looks about; dark purple, a few tomes lie on shelves, and an artsy brass pentagram hangs over the bed, very tasteful.
“This must be his room.”
Perish follows in and scans the bedroom. His eyes catch something. A glass case, inside was a worn book, its edges frayed, its leather warped. Only a vague gold pyramid inscription can be discerned on the binding. No eye blinking “kill me” in Morse Code on the cover, no pages whispering you to kill, it appears to be just another book. Appearances can be deceiving. Perish smashes the case with the back of his hand, shattering the glass into tiny shards. He picks up the book, examining it well.
“This is it.” he says, “Now all we need is somewhere safe to decode it. We are—”
Rippling pain shoots through his back, Perish tumbles across the room. Lord Black whips his staff down to his side like a walking cane, the mystical smoke still whisping of its edge. He bends over and reaches for the book.
“Sorry kiddo, age before beauty. You really should have seen this coming.”
“Well that’s just the thing” Perish says amiably, he begins to roll off the ground. “I did.”
His hand expands outwards, Black is taken by surprise as it hits him; like being impaled without the piercing. The book falls sideways from his hands, it tumbles on the floor. The pages spread; the book begins to spew out paper pages, hundreds, thousands of pages spew forth like a river. They come out of the book yet they never seem to stop flowing. The pages mold and cling together beginning to take bulbous forms, the incomprehensible writing turns blood-red. The ink in the writing begins to run, smearing down the page with no sign of ceasing. The pages all turn the same blood red as they fold and twist into a massive form. The villains look at each other. They both seem to think it at the same time.
Badger has managed to get outside. Last thing he saw Jason was shooting across the walls as Evan bit into Harbinger’s neck while he and Xochitl were ripping and thrashing at each other. Doc exits the building exasperated. They exchange glances.
“Who was winning?” asks Badger
“How the hell should I know? I started running after the flashbang. The house is being torn to sh*t though.”
“Well at least it’s not on fire. So, things could always be worse.”
Doc nods apathetically.
“What the F*ck was that?”
The roof of the house breaks off. The tiling and plywood go flying; a blood red beast crawls out of the roof and lets out another deafening roar. Its torso is serpentine, spikes and blades jammed out at the joints. It pulls itself forward by two super-deformed claws on either side, its behind has no limbs but a single whipping tail. Its head is long and pointed, its mouth filled with papier-mâché fangs. It’s skin is jagged and built from layers of blood stained paper. A lone Sentinel hero in green pajamas carrying a shield approaches the beast.
“Come one people, its just paper what could it-“
Those were his last words as the beast’s claw crush him like an orange. The internal stereo begins to blast epic soundtrack music that would normally accompany the entrance of such a creature in Lord of The Rings.
“That’s not good,” says Doc.
“Gee you think?” asks Badger, “What the hell is that thing?”
“The Dragon of the Mortem Liber.”
“Mortem Liber? That sounds bad ”
“It means ‘death book’.”
“I stick by my previous statement.” Says Badger, “What is that thing, and why do you know what it is?”
“It’s a long story,” yells Doc. The dragon discharges black flame in their path, they both duck behind a parked car. The flames hit the car’s side, the windows shatter.
“Fine then,” says Badger, “Short version then?”
“Look, a long time ago, early 1900’s, there were two rising stars in the London occult circuit; Aliester Crowly and another real bad guy by the name of Fenris Black. Crowly was a pan-sexual hedonist outcast and Black killed his teachers when he was a student; big no-no in the dark magic community, its like the only universal rule. He and Crowly formed a partnership, because hell, no one would attack them both right? Turns out that only made sure everyone went after them, just to keep them in line. Crowley fled for Mexico and never came back home, died of Bronchitis of all things a few decades later. Black was in the wind and never heard from again, presumably because somebody ended up putting him in a sack and dumping him in the Thames.”
“So what? If these Asshats are dead what’s the problem?”
“Trust me” assures Doc, “to a necromancer, being dead doesn’t mean you can’t be useful. When his inheritors went threw Crowley’s possessions they found a personal journal dating back to when he still knew Black. The two had combined their knowledge and made something more powerful than either of them. Crowley had scribbled his dying words into the last page of the journal, hence the name— ”
“Let me guess, the Mortem Liber.”
“Exactly. They auctioned the damn thing off and its been circling the occult community for years. I got it when my master knocked off from the big C, he told his wife it was a World War I history and she never bothered to care if I took it.”
“Wait a minute,” interrupts Badger, “You had that thing this whole time and you’re still only a half-assed wizard?”
“Necromancer, not a wizard, big difference jackass. Anyway its not that easy; Crowley and Black were smart enough to protect the damn thing; years before Bill Gates had even sucked on his first teat, necromancers had invented preventative firewalls. The first people who tried to use it were supposedly devoured whole by a dragon that came to life out of the book—”
The paper beast smashes cars between its claws. Partygoers flee, a few vigilantes pepper the damn thing with bullets. Among them, a few of the more excitable villains stay for the thrill of the fight. Doc and Badger stay hidden behind their temporarily safe cover.
“Without a blood sacrifice from both Black and Crowley all you had was a very expensive bookend. Crowley’s been dead for ages, and Black’s virtually been erased from the record books. I didn’t think it would be in any danger; if I put it into a safety deposit box I wouldn’t be able to show it off to people. I didn’t figure anyone would be stupid enough to try and use it so I brought it with me to Miami.”
“All right, first-off—”
The monster hurtles a fire-hydrant smashing into the car. Badger ducks as it whooshes overhead, half of the cartop going with it.
“First-off,” he repeats, “that was not the short version. The short version would be “bad book, we’re all screwed”. Secondly, any possible way to get rid of this thing that doesn’t involve calling the national guard? 911 doesn’t take my calls anymore.”
“I suppose, maybe, if we could get the book we could undo it. It should be in my room. Or maybe you’d rather distract the dragon while I get the book.”
“Gee,” say Badger “fight a dragon or find a book, let me think on that one.”
Black begins to shudder awake. The roof is gone along with half of the wall. The dragon had thrown them both like ragdolls after its release. He sees his book just lying on the floor, inert. When he held it in his hands he had connected with that same power he lost years ago. When Crowley’s idiot descendent knocked him unconscious the book defended itself. But now is his chance, he reaches for it. His hand touches it, another hand stretches out and grabs the other end. Perish is regaining composure. The two look at each other.
“Well then I guess—”
“Scuse me!” says a man from the door.
A third contestant grabs the book from between them. Badger snatches the journal into his hands, dashes towards the gaping hole in Doc’s bedroom, and jumps onto the lawn below. Doc has raised a few cannon fodder zombies which the dragon is either smashing or eating. Badger hands him the book.
“OK. Fix it!”
Doc flips through the pages.
“Lets see…I uh…maybe…no…uh…”
“Damn it! Are you kidding me, just fix it already!”
An elastic fist slams across Doc face. The book flies into the air, Badger grabs it before the claw can snatch it. He looks back, one of the two men he found fighting over it has descended to the outside. The other pops out of the window like a livid Mr. Hyde. Doc recovers quickly.
“Who are they?” he asks.
“They were in there when I found the book. Look pissed. Plans?”
“Good by me.”
Doc and Badger run off into the brush wilderness surrounding the north side of their home. They run as fast as they can, never looking back. The beach begins to turn into a sandy swamp, the ocean waves audibly crash across the coast. In the darkness they stop and catch their breath.
“Ok.” Says Badger, ‘I think we lost them.”
The dark staff swings across the back of his head. He falls to the ground and drops the book to his side. Lord Black leaps down and picks it up. He barely glances at Doc but recognizes the silent chant of Necromancy. A pallid form with wide shoulders and a rotting torso begins to crawl out of the ground. Black chuckles and twirls his staff in air, summoning his own undead warrior, a bleached skeleton with grimy claws.
Doc’s servant fights Black’s. The skeleton pounds the zombie’s flesh but the larger creature begins to rip bones from the joint. The two fight to an almost stalemate. Doc looks over to find the other necromancer, gone.
Black had already fled, he only needed the book, the skeleton was a distraction. He dashes through the heavy swamp, The Mortem Liber, safe under his arm. He has it now, he will be unstoppable. He—
He stops short as he is pulled down by the ankle, that familiar purple claw trips his leg. Perish steps in, kicks Black in the jaw with martial speed then grabs the book for himself with his transformed hand.
“Hey Jack-ass. That belongs to a friend of mine… well friend’s a little strong of a word… someone who I tolerate because he entertains me and always has spare cash.”
Perish looks back at the fool who stole the book from him earlier. He would quickly handle him then be on his way. He throws a punch with his normal arm; the fool responds with surprising skill.
Badger tosses the man over his shoulder onto the ground. The book again drops to the ground.
“Ha how do you like that? Probably not much I’d bet”
Perish’s counter attack catches him on the chin and Badger goes flying back onto the recovering Lord Black. Perish reaches down for the book, another gets there first. Doc’s zombie soldier lifts the book into his hands and sprints away. Perish, Badger, and Black all follow after it. The zombie continues dashing through the thick underbrush of Mangroves; Perish’s corruptive hand shoots forward towards it. The undead falls down, re-dead on direct contact with the hand, the book goes flying into the air. Doc Emerges from the other direction and catches it like an all-star receiver.
He changes direction, running up a large hill. Lord Black appears before him out of swamp, Doc stops to change course. Black charges him with a maniacal whimsy. Doc spots Badger open towards his side, wide open; he throws the book sideways.
Badger jumps for a catch and barely makes it. Perish is on his tail, Black comes at him from the side. He swerves one way then the other. He reaches the top of the hill; coming to a dead stop, the hill turns out to be a cliff overhanging the sea. Badger stops and turns, trapped. The two Fallen members proceed upon him from either ends. They exchange meaningful glances.
“Hand over the book and you get to live” Perish says.
“No guarantees” Black adds.
Badger holds out the book to his side. The waves crash below.
“You want it? It’s all yours…”
The Mortem Liber drops from his hand into the sea. The two villains watch it fall, unable to stop it. The pages smash on rocks and scatter into the waters. Black stares onward as his life’s work over from two centuries in the finding is lost once more.
“That…was your last mistake… you shall pay, even if—”
He stops midsentence. A humming beat is echoing out from behind him. It grows louder and louder. The spiderlike legs speed out from the underbrush; cliché heroic theme blasts from the speakers. Norman’s walking eye/stereo zooms over Perish and Lord Black as they dive for the ground. Badger jumps towards it, his hand slips but is grabbed by another. Norman pulls him on top of the walking mix stand.
“How’d you know where we were?” Badger asks
“After I stopped vomiting I saw you two run off into the swamps. Figured you were doing something stupid so I decided not to let you die.”
“Well ain’t you just a big damn hero, showing up just in the knick of time to save your friends.”
“Friend is a strong word, I tolerate you mostly out of ambivalence and pity…”
The city is covered in inky blackness. Perish weaves through the Miami back-alleys. The streetlights begin to reduce in number till only silhouettes are visible in the streets. His “friend” asked for a meeting.
He approaches the dead end of the corner. A single indistinguishable form is waiting for him.
“That is close enough,” the man says.
He can’t be distinguished aside from general size and shape. Perish smiles.
“So…The great Dr. Voodoo, alive and in person. I feel so honored.”
“There was complication on that front.” Says Perish calmly, “Black has collected a few of the pages, the rest are lost to the sea.”
“Do you mind if I ask a question?”
“By all means,”
“Did you really intend to share the book with Black?”
“My Great Grandfather’s notes stated I needed him to unlock the Journal’s secrets. My blood wasn’t enough, I needed him, or, his blood at the very least.”
“At the least.” Replies Voodoo with a laugh.
“Mind if I ask you one while we’re here?” Perish says, “What do you care if I found the book. You could never use it, why reveal its location to me?”
The man in darkness laughs.
“I’ve never been one for magic or occult myself. However that doesn't stop it from being useful. There is a greater plan in order, an order beyond what you currently see. An order made out of illicit chaos. The Fallen have a role to play in the chaos even if they don’t want to; as it stands they oppose my organization, but if you had the book, we wouldn’t be without a friendly face or two… that, and not to mention the level of chaos you’d raise just by gaining that much power.”
“Chaos huh,” says Perish, “ So then the poison in the dessert was just—”
“Icing in the cake, if you will. What can I say, we do what we must, because we can.”
Perish clenches his demonic fist into a tight ball. His face never changes from the mask of amiability. He smiles, almost innocently.
“Well then, I suppose that explains just about everything. But it hasn’t changed anything; The Fallen do not take kindly to outsiders coming in and declaring themselves the new Big Bad. Goes against morale. However if I were in charge, well, I might be able to look the other way.”
“Our plans might destroy the world, change it into something completely unrecognizable” says Voodoo, “That wouldn’t bother you?”
“Maybe, but I’ll deal with that when the time comes. Until then, you can either help me or get in my way. Fallen, Sayang, Chaos, Vacuum; couldn’t care less, as long as I get to the top, evil is evil…”
Voodoo nods with a slight laugh then disappears into the night. Perish soon follows suit.
Badger, Doc, and Norman sit on the front porch drinking beers in the moonlight. The inside of the house has been blown up, clawed, shot, and torn apart. A large chunk of Doc’s bedroom ceiling lies scattered on the floor around them. The gaping hole rushes with wind as a visible wound on the building. Norman’s stereo is silent, it had spontaneously fallen apart. The boys’ current theory is that it gained sentience, then committed suicide as it could no longer take life as a mechanical mutant hybrid.
A dirty puke green stanza crawls up the road, then comes to a stop before the house. The Stupendacar was burned on one side, keyed on the other, and one of the headlights had been smashed in. Stupendous got out of the driver’s seat carrying a massive shiner over one eye.
“What happened to you” asks Doc
“Don’t want to talk about it?” replies the Captain.
Trixie jumps out of the front passenger seat and moves towards the back door. She pulls out a collapsible wheel chair and spreads it out. She then reaches in and pulls out a motionless life form from the backseat. She plops Blackhawk’s limp body into the chair and wheels her up to the front of the house. Blackhawk appears to be a corpse, save the drool dripping down her chin and the throaty buzzing noise she seems to be making.
Trixie looks up towards the destroyed house as Stupendous unloads his equally destroyed car.
“What happened to you guys?” Badger asks
“Long story.” Says Trixie, “But I think I ended up saving meta-human rights. What about you?”
“Well,” starts Doc, “It all started when Badge invited The Fallen to the party. Then—”
“Our bouncer started a fight, a melee ensued, somebody summoned a dragon, we were chased by two guys for an artifact of incredible power, I dropped it in the ocean, Norman created a psychic stereo system, and somebody poisoned the cake. That’s pretty much it. What happened to BH?”
“Riot squad loaded her up with tranquilizers till she passed out. She’s been like this the whole ride down.”
“Bzzzzzzzz.” Moans Blackhawk.
The ground begins to shake; a noise penetrates the darkness. The dragon reappears from behind the house.
“Oh yeah,” say Doc, “Forgot about him…”
So ends part 2. What happened in Washington? How did Trixie save Meta-Human rights? What the hell are they going to do about that dragon? And what happened to all the other characters I was going to put in the Story? The answers to all these questions will be answered in the next installment...
Also, if you want to see something ridiculously funny check this out
Its the music video for the first song I used. It goes from awesome to laughably bad in a matter of seconds. The main singer is basically a blond spastic chimp. Make sure you get to the last 17 seconds
Posted 16 December 2010 - 11:19 PM
“Are we going to sit back and let our rights be slowly stolen away?”
“Are we 2nd class citizens?”
“Are we going to let this disgusting, bigoted, piece of legislation pass?”
The motley crowd shouts back with enthusiasm. Shijin presses his hair back over his head as he steps briefly away from the podium. The rally stage is recently built, and the stage lights make even a Washington winter sweltering.
The Sentinels’ had all agreed to oppose the measure; yet could not do much to legally stop it. Senator Newtonn’s bill was close to being placed as rider on the Selective Service Amendment. Should the amendment pass, meta-humans would be required to draft into the military after adolescence; the Newtonn rider went a step further. Under it the government could extend service limits on Meta-human drafts at will, as well as removing the “Conscientious objector” status for Meta-humans drafted against their will. These additions could hypothetically force meta-humans into a condition of perpetually required military service, and would leave no exceptions for vigilante groups to escape the draft. Despite being a world-wide organization, all meta-human participation in the Sentinels within the United States would be essentially outlawed. Shijin returns to the podium once more.
“My meta-human brothers and sisters, we must stand together on this. We need to ensure that this fear-mongering motion does not pass. We do not belong to the United States Government, the Government belongs to us!”
“HOORAH!” yells the crowd.
“All right. Next up is a great solo hero in his own right, and someone who definitely knows what its like to be burdened by superpowers, Completely Engulfed in Flames Man!”
Another man walks up the stage behind him. Shijin shakes Completely-Engulfed-in-Flames-Man’s hand. He descends the stage as the other moves to the podium.
Metas and their supporters stand in unison on the national mall. A collection of odds and ends, freaks, mutants, hybrids, psychics, lycanthropes, nosferatu, and divinely graced chosen ones, all stand in protest. Despite this collection of Metas, the protest has been nothing but peaceful, up till now.
“You are such a dumbass.” Yells Blackhawk, “We would have been here 2 hours ago if you would have just learned to parallel park.”.
“I never thought I would need to,” Stupendous replies, “I’m just waiting till my flight power comes in, then I’m tossing the Stupendacar.”
“What makes you think you’ll ever get it?”
“The fact that I haven’t gotten it yet, merely shows I’m overdue to get it sometime soon.”
“You’re over 30, if you were going to gain more superpowers it would have happened already!”
Trixie, Blackhawk, and Stupendous are coming in off the street; they happen to bump into Shijin as he descends the podium stage. Trixie looks into his angular face and Fabio like hair. She forcibly stops him by the arm.
“Oh wait I know you…You’re that guy, the Sentinel guy… the one with the stick and the hair.”
Shijin nods uneasily, he looks left then right. The other two block him on either side. He begins slowly backing away.
“Yeah, that’s me. Well, great to meet a fan but I gotta go. So I guess I’ll see you around…”
He turns back and walks away, his attempt to escape the conversation won’t be so easy. Trixie appears in front of him, like magic, and continues to talk.
“Wait, so you’re in the Sentinels? That must be like, so cool. I’m trying to get in right now, I’m in this reality show and if you win, you get in,” She pulls in close and covers her mouth with her hand so Blackhawk can’t see, “I’m a shoe-in actually, so I’ll be seeing you real soon.”
“You know,” says Blackhawk, “covering your mouth with your hand, doesn’t actually stop me from hearing you.”
Trixie sticks her tongue out and blows the bitch a raspberry. Blackhawk rolls her eyes. Shijin’s mind begins to spark on a way to get out of the conversation. He turns to Trixie.
“Actually if you want to join up there’s a special offer right now. Just talk to the Big Guy over there in the crowd.”
He points his finger deep into the mass of people in front of the stage.
“Where?... I don’t see anyone… wait no, is that him? Which big guy are you talking about?”
She turns around and Shijin is entirely gone, yet someone happens to be standing exactly where he just was. The man is of average build and height, dirty blonde, with glasses.
“Wait, who are you?” Trixie asks
“Where’d that Shijin guy go?”
“Oh him, he went back into the crowd. You should be able to catch up if you run.”
Trixie nods then bursts off into the crowd. Blackhawk steps up to Melvin’s side unimpressed.
“Congratulations, you just tricked the most gullible moron on the planet. We have to go get her again you know.”
“Sucks to be you,” says Melvin.
Stupendous returns with an ice-cream cone he had bought from a vendor while everyone else was talking. He looks around for Trixie worriedly.
“Where’d she go?”
“Into the crowd. You go get her, I’ll wait here.”
Stupendous runs off into the crowd yelling for his lost love, his ice-cream cone falls from his hands as he runs. Slight crying can be heard from his direction, over what we cannot know. Melvin looks back over at Blackhawk; he examines her features for a moment or two.
“Wait, I know you guys… yeah, that show, “Superhouse”… you’re the one who’s always destroying things.”
“I do other things too.” She says coldly
“You know, your show was actually listed as evidence for need of this bill.” Melvin adds, “Every time you guys cause a massive explosion on basic cable, Newtonn lights up a cigar.”
“That’s all manipulated in editing. I don’t have any say over how they skew the footage. Besides, we showed up to help didn’t we? Where can I sign up to storm the capitol building?”
“This is a peaceful protest,” says Melvin, “No one’s storming anything. We’re just here to voice our problems, bring on some big name heroes and celebrities to give speeches, and we’ve gotten Newtonn to do a debate against the head of the ACLU .”
Blackhawk throws her hands up in anger,
“Voice our problems? Are you kidding me? Where are the burning effigies, the homemade tear-gas canisters, the crudely painted *uncreative* mustaches?”
“Our focus here is non-violence, we don’t want to give the anti-meta lobby any ammo.”
“Fine San Francisco Boy, why don’t you light up a doober and beat on the bongos for peace.”
“Suck it,” says Melvin “Just don’t start a riot or I’ll have to put you down… oh and by the way; you’re my least favorite person on the show.”
Melvin walks off into the crowd. Blackhawk begins to pump with anger, her muscles throb with adrenaline. She is slightly irritated, but not quite furious. Her strength increases only slightly. Someone else takes notice.
“Hey,” says a voice behind her. She looks back to see a tall orange man leaning in the shade of the back of the stage. His pointed ears are pricked up; he has been listening all along.
“You wanna do something worthwhile?” he says, “I might be able to help.”
“Who are you supposed to be, a sunburned man-bat?”
He laughs lightly at the joke.
“You’re funny. Good thing too, cause you’re not gonna get anywhere with your looks.”
Blackhawk’s veins bulge slightly, her eyes narrow, her muscles begin to grow. This was the response he wanted, she would do fine if he could get her angry enough.
“Relax kitten,” he says, “it was only a joke. Find your friends and I’ll fill you in on the way.”
“Really? I wasn’t actually going to wait for them. They’ll probably just get in the way.”
“Your friend, the big one, his laser sight can burn through iron, right?”
“Friend is a strong term. I put up with him mostly because I can’t dispose of him properly with cameramen constantly watching me; but yeah, he could probably cut through iron if he tried hard enough.”
“Let’s bring him,” says the man,” He might be useful.”
“Sure. Stupendous and Trixie shouldn’t be far. I’m Blackhawk. You?”
“Wilder.” Says the man. He stands up straight, towering over her at more than six and a half feet tall. “I’ll explain what you need to know on the way.”
Trixie stumbles through the crowd. She spins around in place but can’t find anyone she knows. All these unfamiliar people…Oh, all these men... Their eyes staring at her…undressing her with those eyes… her mind begins turning…Maybe she aught to strut a little. Then Stupendous arrives.
“Oh Trixie, thank God I found you. What were you doing?”
“Me? Oh, nothing baby.”
Blackhawk arrives with a tall orange goliath. Trixie and Stupendous see them coming through the crowd.
“Oh Blawkhawk… Who’s your friend?” Trixie says. She begins curling her hair between her fingers.
“He’s going to help us fight the bill by more extreme measures.” Blackhawk replies “His name’s Wilder. Stupendous we need you. Trixie you can come too if you want, I couldn’t care either way.”
“Ah yes,” starts Stupendous, “I’m not much of one for civil disobedience, but should the necessity arise, it must be in our patriotic duty to protect ourselves, for the rights of all, and justice, and peace, and the American-”
“Can you cut through iron?” Wilder interrupts.
“Oh, uh, yeah I suppose…Why would we need to cut through iron to get to Newtonn, he’s gonna be right here to debate in about an hour.”
“Newtonn’s not the problem” Wilder tells him, “His name may be on the bill, but he’s just a tool. He thinks if he finds a supersuit and opposes meta-humans that it makes him Iron Man. There’s someone behind him, I’ll fill you in later.”
“Perhaps I could help,” says a voice from the crowd.
The group turns to an unknown man in green spandex holding a plastic shield. He places his hands on his hip in heroic fashion.
“I am Captain Awesome. I am undefeatable as long as I have my Shield of Awesomeness and my Facebook based super-strength. For I am the most aweso-OWWWWW!”
Blackhawk twists his arm backwards behind in pain. Her massive fist crushes his with vice like strength. She grins with glee.
“What was that you were staying about super strength?” she asks.
“The more friends I have, the more-AWWWWW, I don’t have any friends, I don’t have any, sorry, I lied, AWWWW!”
She releases him and he scurries away like a coward. Wilder scoffs at the pathetic fraud of a meta-human. He leads the group off for his plans. Captain Awesome cares for his injured hand, until they are out of sight, then stands up with an unusual straightness. A sinister smile stretches across his face.
The real captain Awesome had been dead for some time, but his buffoonish persona had its purposes. His stupidity was disarming, he could get closer to his enemies without raising their suspicions. The old actor smiles at the crowd. Oldcastle lights a cigar amongst them. He pulls out the walkie-talkie, an unwieldy technological device, but necessary for the pulling off of such a unique performance with so many moving pieces.
“Attention all players… The tragic hero is in position and will soon be going after the Good Senator… time to begin the performance… Is our friend ready?”
There is a pause, a muffled voice replies.
“I’m taking him towards it now.”
“Excellent. I’ll be ready with the outside preparations when this all ends… Get ready people, curtain is about to rise…”
The Senator swivels in his chair and looks towards the door. He issues Chet, his body man, to open it. Outside the heavy oak office door is his assistant. She is a precocious young intern, her hair in a knot above her head, eyes framed by rectangular glasses. Chet grabs her by the waist and begins padding her down; she pulls back out of reflex.
“Chet, that’s not necessary.” Says the Senator, “It’s just Luanne, she’s worked here for years.”
“Sir, some of them have the ability to change their appearance. I have to check.”
Chet continues to pad her up and down. Luanne waits, slightly irritated, then Chet finishes and moves back to the corner of the room. She stares at the suited G-man for a moment before reaffirming her skirt and sitting down in a dark leather chair. She turns to Dolorosa who sits across the desk from her.
“If I knew security would be so intimate today I would have had him buy me dinner first.”
“Don’t be overly dramatic,” says the Senator, “Chet’s just doing his job. Ever since the amendment was moved to the floor, a lot of us were given federal protection, “just in case”. Mostly Senator Newtonn, but if he enjoys the spotlight of hate, let him have it. However my stance against the Meta-human threat has brought me some less-than-polite dialogue as well”
“How ‘less than polite’?”
“Let’s just say I now sort my death threats between funny and disturbing”
He laughs, it loosens the air.
“So, what did you need Luanne?”
She picks up her clipboard and searches through the pages. Dolorosa goes to a mirror as she looks, and begins putting on a tie. She circles a line on the page marked ‘event calendars’.
“You have an interview with the press out on the congressional steps in twenty, and I need to get you downtown for Fox’s The Whole Truth, as soon as the Newtonn debate ends on the national mall.”
“The Whole Truth?”
“Its new. They’re starting the pilot on a panel discussion about Meta-Registration’s effects on politics, the military, and society. Your gonna say, Selective Service isn’t registration its simply patriotism, national security must be a priority in uncertain times, thousands of military lives will be saved, with great power comes great responsibility, yadda yadda,”
“I remember the talking points and I remember agreeing to go, I just didn’t expect that they were married to that name.”
He straightens the tie with mechanical precision. Luanne gets out of her seat as she and the Senator leave for the door. Chet follows close behind; she gives him a dirty look.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I stay with the Senator at all times.” He says, “No exceptions.”
“You heard the man Luanne, no exceptions,” Dolorosa says calmly, “We’re just lucky he can secure a bathroom without unnecessary privacy invasions.”
The trio walks across the empty congressional halls passing almost no one. They reach an elevator and march inside. Chet allows the other two in first, then blocks the entrance, sealing the compartment.
“This isn’t funny to me sir,” Luanne adds, “It doesn’t send a good message if people think you need a bodyguard just to appear in public.”
“He doesn’t need to be in any snapshots, and I’m sure we can steer him away from the cameras, but the man is relentless. He isn’t going to anywhere. Beside’s he might just save your life. Isn’t that right Chet?”
“Lets hope it never comes to that.” Chet states
The doors close.
“So let me get this straight.” Blackhawk says.
Her, Trixie, & Wilder stand behind the secret door to the Congressional kitchen. It was built as an emergency escape for the staff, from it they could enter the Capital and go anywhere inside without having to deal with security at the main doors.
They had been waiting for over ten minutes. Stupendous had been slowly burning a gap in the lock with his laser vision, yet lasers are not quite as powerful as one might guess; it was like trying to cut through a redwood with an ice-pick. In the meantime Wilder had informed Blackhawk of his version of events.
“What you’re saying is, that senator Newtonn, is a pawn. That someone is using him, to enact this Meta-registration bill for their own purposes.”
“And your theory is that this person is Senator Delorosa?”
“As in, hero ex-cop, champion of human rights, Marcellus Dolorosa.”
“Yes,” repeats Wilder, “But his outward appearance isn’t what it seems. Trust me the guy is capable of some dark stuff. His voting record alone shows he’s anti-meta”
“Well yeah, even if that was true, why use Newtonn in the first place? He could have proposed the rider measures himself, he’d probably have an easier time passing them too. For Christ’s sake, the guy could probably be president by now if he wasn’t a Frenchy. ”
“I don’t know why exactly, but trust me, a source contacted me and said something was going down today, and that Dolorosa was involved. It showed me things, horrible things. Newtonn could be there just to take the flack, to act as a scapegoat later if things turn south, but he isn’t smart enough to push all this together on his own. The source assured me of that.”
“Really?” asks Blackhawk dryly, “because if it’s the same source that told you we could easily get through this door, I think you need to re-evaluate their reliability.”
“I think I got it.” yells Stupendous. The red beams die in his eyes and he steps off the ground. Wilder leans forward and kicks the door viciously. It bends a little, but it will take more to break.
“It didn’t work!” he yells, “Is this the best you can do?”
“Well I loosened it probably.” Stupendous defends, “You just need to hit it harder. Blackhawk, give it a try.”
She runs forward and stomps against the door, nothing.
“I thought you were supposed to be the strong one?” Wilder demands
“I can’t just turn it on and off,” she says, “it’s kind of a hulk thing. I have to get angry first.”
“Then get angry!”
“Oh I know” Says Stupendous, “hey Blackhawk I think you’re really annoying! Oh wait, that’s not good enough… And I uh… oh, I use your toothbrush when you’re not looking. ”
Wilder turns to her, “That haircut makes you look like Rachel Maddow.”
“I’ve been siphoning gas from your motorcycle for weeks” Stupendous adds.
“What?” Blackhawk yells, “Why the hell would you do that?!”
“Good” he says, “ We’re almost there. Also, I use your toothbrush to scrub when its my turn to clean the bathroom.’
Trixie adds the final straw
“Even though your way more qualified to be a superhero, I’m gonna get all the publicity because the public loves happy ditzy blondes, black haired bad-girls or nerdy-cute redheads; the brunette is just some chick.”
Blackhawk’s arteries pump with adrenaline. Her mouth curls with rage,
“RAAAAAAAAWWW, YOU STUPID PIECE OF—”
Her boot slams into the door sending it skidding through the room like a skipped stone. Wilder smiles in amusement; they should have just done this from the beginning.
“Nice going, now lets get—”
Blackhawk is shaking Trixie like a British nanny shakes a brat. The captain tries futilely to release Trixie from her iron grip.
“JUST SOME CHICK! WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN! ELECTRA, WONDER WOMAN, HUNTRESS!”
“They all had black hair,” Trixie coughs out, “brunettes are boring to look at. Sorry.”
Blackhawk drops her before Trixie passes out. Stupendous helps her to her feet while Blackhawk punches the wall. She looks around once her anger has subsided.
“Hey… Where’d the bat-guy go?”
The Elevator doors open, Chet exits first. The basement of congress allows narrow hallways to zig and zag every which way. A few halls lead outside through clandestine exits near the ground level. They serve as nice ulterior routes when trying to avoid unwanted or disgruntled constituents. The bodyguard leads the senator and Luanne through the web of hallways, he finds the passage he was looking for. Chet turns a corner in the small passage; he stops.
The Senator and Luanne freeze up behind him. The scene is appalling. The hallway is smeared with blood; a pile of bodies lays sloppily heaped on the floor. The basement security team has been transformed into a collection of limbs and liquids. A single man stands, wiping the excess gore from his mouth.
Koji cleans some of the pulpier pieces of flesh from his blade-like claw. He turns to see the three new bodies frozen at the top of the hall, right on time.
“Well, well… And here I thought I’d run out of playthings before you arrived. And you brought him right to me. I was hoping you could be relied on…”
He approaches Chet who does not budge. Chet’s hand begins to move. Koji moves faster; the carapace blade rips into the man’s gut, impaling him all the way through. Chet drops his sidearm to the ground. Koji lunges forward and tears into his neck, the rep droplets gush down his throat like rain water. Koji pulls back a moment later; Chet hits the ground in an instant. Luanne watches the display with disgust.
“Very dramatic,” she says, “not sure it was necessary though. We only wanted you to take care of the Senator…”
“Unlike you, I’m not much of an actor” Koji whispers, “With me what you see is what you get… However, I do feel like this was somewhat inspired. Sayang really likes this plan… I can tell…”
He looks towards Dolorosa who only looks right back. He turns to Luanne again.
“You care to stay? I have a feeling this is going to be quite the scene when I’m done…”
“Would if I could, but y’all know how it is,” she says lapsing into a southern drawl, “Lots of pieces to be moved, places to be, only so much time. Just remember, we want to leave something for them to find when they get here, so control your appetite.”
Luanne walks past him and makes her way towards the stairs at the other end of the hall. Koji and the senator stare off once more. Koji smiles with delight, the senator smiles back with a hint of sarcasm.
“So,” Dolorosa says, “Guess we’re gonna do this aren’t we?”
Koji’s grin opens wider, his fangs roll out with glee. The claws outstretch, his jaws open wide. His assault fills the hall with animalistic fury…
Blackhawk leads Trixie and Stupendous down the halls. Wilder was long gone and it was unclear what they were even doing any more. Trixie sighs then begins to twirl her locks in her fingers.
“Blackhawk this is boring, can we go back to the rally, there’s nobody here right now.”
“Yeah B,” adds Stupendous, ‘I don’t think these guys are even working today. Can’t we just come back later?”
Blackhawk shushes them.
“Shut up!” she says, “All we gotta do is find Newtonn’s office, pay him a short polite visit, then get out before anyone’s noticed I’ve beaten him to a bloody pulp.”
They come to an intersection of halls and pass down a random fork in the hallway. They walk onwards for a few minutes before any of them notices that they have ended up back where they started. Two security guards roll down from the opposite direction. They abruptly stop before the gang.
“All right you two,” says the slightly rounder of the pair, “we heard some meta’s broke into the kitchen a few minutes ago, so you’ve been caught. Just turn around and there won’t be no trouble.”
“Won’t be no trouble? I’m not going to take crap from a guy who learned grammar from the Dukes of Hazard. And I don’t know who the hell taught you math, because there is one, two, thr—”
She looks around but can’t find her.
“What? Where the hell is Trixie?”
“Allright, maam. Nice try.” Replies the guard, “Just turn around and go outside to the rally with the rest of your kind and I’m sure your friend will find her way out on her own.”
“My KIND? Listen you fat son-of-a-bi—”
He pulls a taser on her and she falls to the floor with a loud zap. Her muscles twitch epileptically as she bumps and thumps on the ground. Stupendous looks on in horror.
“Dude—That was not cool. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Relax, she’s just stunned, now move along!”
“No dude; your really, really shouldn’t have done that.”
Her hand grabs the guard by his ankle. She tosses him, hard. He flies off into a wall in a wild whipping motion. Blackhawk’s eyes turn blood red as she glares at the other guard. He raises his walkie-talkie to his mouth,
“All units we have a situation on the ground floor… we have, WAAAAH—”
A single punch sends him flying like a bowling pin. The echo of footsteps comes down the hallway. Stupendous begins to back away as Blackhawk grabs the nearest door by the handles.
“Look B maybe we should run, there’s no way—“
The oak door breaks off its hinges and she wields it like a cricket bat. The guards finally turn the corner. More Taser darts fly forth; a few hit the door uselessly, one catches Blackhawk by the ankle. Rather than send her down again, this seems to worsen the problem.
“YOU STUPID UGLY F*CKERS CAN KISS MY BIG FAT META ASS!”
She charges them and swings the door across their heads.
Wilder has made it onto the bottom floor. He had followed his contact’s directions to the letter. Go down to the basement, move through the halls by taking three rights until you reach an elevator, go up to the second floor and search Dolorosa’s office while he was out. Get out by flying out an open window. He had not seen a single security guard on this floor. He supposed it was luck. He turns a corner and finds the missing guards scattered throughout the hallway in small chunks.
Another monster stands alone in the hallway, licking his lips. He sees Wilder looking back at him. Koji spits some of the excess blood from his lips.
“You got something to say boy? Or do you just like to watch?”
Wilder looks on at the little Japanese man. He knew something was off about him, but he couldn’t pin what. He looked just like an unshaven, blood covered, little man. Wilder pulled a small blade out and handled it under his palm.
“Neither. I’m here for someone else. But since I’m here I guess I can stop you too.”
“Oh,” says Koji, “You’re not here for me… what a shame… I feel so hurt… This other person wouldn’t happen to be him, would it?”
Koji lifts his arm, behind him lies the bleeding form of Senator Dolorosa; his throat half torn from his body. The senator breathes weakly on the ground. Wilder looks him over without a shred of pity.
“Wow, guess you kind of got rid of my reason for being here,” he remarks, “ So I guess that means I just freed up some time to deal with a bloody butcher like yourself…”
Koji lets out a hacking chuckle, his voice begins to lilt with rhythmic poetry of willy wonka
“Come with me… and you’ll be… in a world or pure anni-hil-ation… its so clear, can’t you see… You can never, de-feat me…..”
Wilder jumps forward and draws the sword. A grotesque blade rips through Koji’s hand and blocks Wilder’s thrust. The steel clashes with the scaly black bone piercing Koji’s hand. Koji’s spare hand pounds into his opponent’s abdomen, pressing him into a wall. Wilder jams his blade into the creature’s arm to get himself free. Koji steps back.
Wilder smiles, unfazed from the attack.
He charges again, this time his sharpened claw outstretched to pierce the bastard’s brain. He stops instantly in mid step, unable to go forward. Koji grips his hand with the strength of ten men, the ten men currently scattering the floor. Koji’s smile widens to reveal the transforming rows of fangs.
“But you’ll have to do better than that…”
He lunges in to bite through Wilder’s throat. Wilder pummels his spare hand into the fanged teeth. The fiend gnaws on his bony hand as it enters in and out. He can feel the teeth begin to shred his fist, but the pain was irrelevant, he had been through worse. He pulls a short sword out with a quick reach to his back and sends it slicing across the monster’s shoulder.
Koji drops his prey and stumbles back. His shoulder was cut deep, Wilder’s hand was bleeding profusely. Yet the power of all those who died in this hallway of hell was still fueling Koji’s strength, and this new opponent seemed quite stubborn on living. Koji pulled out all the stops, bringing his transformation to the next level. Both of his arms rip open to reveal blackened bony weapons, the skin around his jaws rip apart as new rows of teeth slide in, and a new tongue slithers its way across his lips. The parasite could sense a living being around it’s host, and twitched in Wilder’s direction.
Wilder saw the abomination without fear, only calculation. It had gained some sort of cannibalistic strength, it was stronger, and those weapons while jagged, were just as sharp as his. He could take more hits than his opponent and heal from them faster… He would have to play it straight, stay alive until a strategy to kill it or retreat appeared. The Fiend charged forwards; Wilder held his ground. The two collided as the good senator watched on from the ground.
Senator Newtonn combs his greasy receding hairline. He smirks crookedly back at his reflection in the mirror. He can’t help but imagine seeing Tony Stark staring back at him. A rapping comes at the door.
“Come in” he says.
A precocious intern with rectangular glasses slips inside. Her hair is bound in a neat bun, she holds a clipboard in one clenched hand, and a few drops of blood are dring on the heels of her shoes.
“Senator you’re wanted on the stage outside. We need to get going.”
The senator looks her up and down, a gleam in his eye.
“Yes, yes, soon… what is your name darling? I must have seen you around some time.”
“I just started for you this week. Sir if we could—”
“In a minute my dear,” Newtonn soothes, “Your name?”
“I’m Luanne. Nice to meet you. We need to go.”
He places a finger to her lips, the words almost ooze from his mouth, “I’m not in a rush darling. Those freaks can wait; How come I’ve never seen you before?”
She clenches her hand tight, restraining herself from slapping him across the face. Rather than beat him senseless, she uses his weakness against him.
“Listen… Darling” she says in an innocent Southern Drawl, “Why don’t we go out there now? And if we finish with some extra time, you can take me out to dinner later.”
Newtonn smiles and nods. He pulls on his sportcoat and exits his personal office towards the bullpen outside. A few assistants type at small desks outside his door; he doesn’t bother to say hello. He and Luanne pass by them towards the main hall outside. Luanne goes first, she turns around the door and bumps into another woman. Trixie glances back at her as Luanne drops the clipboard.
“Oh I’m so sorry,” Trixie says shyly, “I’m a little lost.”
Before Luanne can respond, Newtonn makes his move.
“Oh no trouble sweetheart. Do you need some help finding your way around?”
Trixie smiles and twirls her hair, the scent of her perfumed locks entering the air. If Newtonn’s nature hadn’t hooked him before, this finished the job. It was something odd, something chemical.
“Oh thank you!” Trixie responds, “I was hoping some nice stranger would point me in the right direction. My friends and I were visiting for the rally, and I got separated from them”
“But of course,” Newtonn replies, “Well, why don’t you wait for them here, in my office?”
“That would be Awesome!”
“Great, why don’t I show you around, Have you ever seen a congressional office… Luanne could you let the people at the rally know I’ll be, fifteen,”
He looks at Trixie’s backside,
“make that 45 minutes late. And hold all my calls Darlin’.”
Luanne looks back at him with unease.
“Sir we really need to—”
He shuts the door. Luanne grips the clipboard tighter; it snaps. So much for the plan.
“GET OUT OF MY FACE!!!!”
Blackhawk throws a wooden bench down the hallway, it smashes near the collected group of security guards. They stopped bothering with the tasers and started hucking tear gas grenades. The effect only worsened the situation. Blackhawk fueled herself on the bitter pain and started throwing the guards around like ragdolls. Stupendous furiously taps the elevator call button as the car rises up from the basement floor.
Blackhawk smells the nostril-burning tear gas fumes and laughs
“IS THAT THE BEST YOU GOT YOU LITTLE—”
Something rustles the air with a pop. A small dart hits her in the chest. She pulls it out and stares at it. Three more pops; three more darts hit her chest. She begins to become wobbly. The guards rearm their tranq-guns, the elevator doors finally open; Stupendous reaches out, grabbing Blackhawk. She collapses into his arms.
More darts whiz overhead, he pulls her back into the elevator. The guards attempt to move through the cloud of tear gas as Stupendous repeatedly taps the door close button; a tranquilizer dart buzzes his ear, he ducks down to the floor. The guards can almost touch the doors. It begins closing, a single hand makes it into the gap, Stupendous kicks it hard and it retreats back. The door closes with a ding and begins moving down towards the basement.
‘Wuh,” moans the now half conscious Blackhawk, “Where are we going… the guards… we aught to fight them; kick their asses… I’l show um… asses…”
Stupendous lifts her off the ground despite her mumbling objections. Her legs are woozier; she can barely stand as the tranquilizers begin to take more effect. Her adrenaline-fueled rage is wearing off. The door opens again and Stupendous walks her out with him. They twist and turn through the underground hallway system, searching for some exit they can use. The guards wouldn’t be far behind, where is that exit, where? They turn a corner and Stupendous stops in dread.
“OH, MY GLORY!”
The hallway is filled with blood and strewn body parts. The corpses of dead security guards litter the hallway. Claw marks and gashes run along the sides of the wall as if a massive fight had just occurred. Stupendous tiptoes around the dead bodies; he holds back the urge to vomit or cry.
“Who could have done this?” he cries
Blackhawk perks up slightly, she can barely keep her eyes open long enough to see what he was looking at.
“Wilder…” She says
“Wilder…man-bat-guy… he had claws…. He could have done this… we let him in the building… he said he was going to find Dolorosa…”
Blackhawk is too tired to respond verbally, she merely points at the half-breathing body at the end of the hallway. Dolorosa is still somehow moving; Stupendous backs away in horror.
“OH MY STARS, sir are you ok? Do you need help?”
The answer was clearly a yes, but the Senator couldn’t say a single word. Stupendous moves in to lift him up; Blackhawk pulls him to her side, fighting to retain consciousness,
“No,” she says, “We can’t… their coming… they’ll think we… we have to go…”
“But we can’t just leave him here.”
“Screw him…” Blackhawk manages to spit out, “he’s the whole reason we’re here… they’ll be here soon, they can find him… we have to—”
She falls onto Stupendous’ shoulder and promptly passes out. The tranquilizers had finally taken her down. Stupendous looks back at the Senator trying to decide; he couldn’t carry both of them, and the guards would be here any moment. He raises his free hand to his eyes in a salute.
“Sorry sir. It was an honor to meet such a great leader of our democratic system. Best of luck!”
Stupendous bolts down the hallway with the unconscious woman slung over his shoulder. There was a large gap in the wall, as if something or someone had punched out an escape route. The hole lead right to the outside of the building, he could see the Rally from here. Stupendous jumped out and ran straight towards it.
The guards come streaming down the hallway the next moment. They see the pile of bodies and one of them pulls out a handheld radio.
“This is first floor security team, shut down the building. We have officers down, I repeat officers down.”
His eyes turn towards Dolorosa,
“Send an ambulance we have one still breathing.”
He kneels down beside the Senator as the rest of the guards search the floor for Stupendous and Blackhawk. No trace is seen of them. Then the noise starts to grow from outside, the rally is becoming a riot...
The man at the rally in green spandex puffs rapid bouts of smoke from his lips. He chews on the cigar and looks down at a pocket-watch. He taps the ground nervously. With his free hand he pulls out the walkie-talkie.
“What’s taking so long? Newtonn was supposed to be here half an hour ago.”
A lilting female voice echoes back over the muffled transceiver.
“It’s not happening,” Luanne responds, “He got…distracted by something, someone.”
“Then un-distract him!”
“Its not that simple. He’s locked the door. Besides the guards are locking down the building. Even if I could get to him, there’s no way we could get out now. Just go ahead with the rest of the plan.”
“What about Percy, is he in place?”
“Taken care of” Luanne shouts back, “that part went fine. Start act three.”
Oldcastle flips the radio towards another channel to signal their other specialist from Sayang.
“Well my boy, we’re going ahead of schedule… Time to start a row.”
Oldcastle leaves the rally, while at the other end a brooding man with a curious tattoo over his face moves in. He doesn’t say anything, just leans back in the shade of a tree near the center of the mass.
People begin to get feisty. They get angrier and more impatient. A fire-breathing lizard man accidently lights the cape of a freakish muscle-bound thug. He gets punched in the face as a response. More fights begin brewing, a werewolf begins clawing at random strangers until a psychic floors him with a mental blast. The metas begin to feel the spontaneous touch of madness, the whispers in their ear. Even those not affected fight merely to defend themselves. Soon mob mentality starts in, the chaos doesn’t need any more pushing, it rolls on its own. The metas begin assaulting the stage, tearing it down as the speaker continues going. Seeing the anger in the crowd he only has one option. He bursts into flame.
The mob attempts to surround him but none can get close enough and the stage begins to go up in smoke. The rally descends into madness. Riot control begins to roll in; they had prepared for this event, and take up stations around the rally site. The tattooed man does nothing; he merely sits and whispers.
Blackhawk lies inert on a park bench while the melee continues around her. If not for the 300 cc’s of tranquilizer in her blood she would most likely be slamming her fists into somebody’s face. Metas battle and blast each other in a tumult beside her; she sleeps through it all quietly. A girly voice calls from the crowd.
“STUPENDOUS…. BLACKHAWK… ARE YOU GUYS OUT HERE?”
Trixie bumbles through the crowd, dodging falling fighters and random energy blasts. She finds Blackhawk curled up on the bench, she looks around, circling the brawl with her eyes.
“STUPENDOUS?” She yells “I WANT TO GO HOME RIGHT NOW!”
As if by mystical summons a green stanza ploughs through the mob. It stops dead at the park bench. It has been smashed up in the chaos, one headlight shattered beyond recognition. Stupendous hops out to lift Blackhawk up. He sees Trixie and drops the unconscious broad onto the ground.
“OH Trixie,” he says, “You’re all right. I was so worried!”
“Yeah I’m fine,” she replies, “I got lost inside, then Senator Newtonn found me, and he showed me his “special basement” and we well… and then I got out, and everyone was fighting. I’m just glad I found you. What happened to her?”
She points to the motionless Blackhawk loosely sprawled on the ground. Stupendous ducks down to pick her up again. He drags her into the back seat of the stanza.
“It’s a long story,” he says, “I’ll tell you later, let’s just—”
A hand zooms out from the crowd and slams him right across the eye. The man who clocked him is covered in green spandex and chews a cigar while staring down at Stupendous with hate.
“So, you idiots must have ruined the plan somehow… Better to finish off the loose ends in my experience. This is your last performance Captain Failure.”
From the massive mob, a hero comes screaming out to save the day. He bursts towards Oldcastle and the car, shouting,
“I’M ON FIRE, I’M ON FIRE, I’M ON FIRE!”
He collides with Oldcastle and knocks him to the ground. The green spandex catches soon after that and the actor rolls on the grass to put himself out. Completely Engulfed in Flames Man soon returns to being not completely engulfed in flames. Trixie waltzes over and hugs the man despite his strong smell of coal.
“Oh thank you Mr. Completely Engulfed in Flames Man. You saved us… Is there anything I could possibly do for you…”
“Well, I uh…”
“Trixie!” Stupendous yells from the driver’s seat, “Get in the Stupendacar. We have to get out of here before the riot squad moves in.”
“Its too late” C.E.I.F man states, “I just saw them circling the park. You won’t be able to drive back out.”
“What other option do we have?” Stupendous yells.
The man thinks, he scratches his chin. An idea pops in his head.
“Wait,” he says, “I think I know how I might be able to clear a path for you to get through. Just follow me…”
The paramedics strap the senator down to the stretcher and hastily move him out towards the blaring ambulance. More riot police move in as he is carried out. Some officers stop briefly to remove their hats as the man they consider a fallen brother is carried out to the waiting ambulance. The two paramedics slam the door behind them. One of the paramedics hops into the drivers seat; the siren starts up and the bulky vehicle pulls away from the capitol. A few minutes pass. Neither paramedic attempts any life saving procedures on the visibly dying senator. The second one in back with him looks at her watch.
“O.k. We’re in the clear Marshall.”
The senator rises off the gurney and throws off the white sheet covering his torso. He begins removing the layers of bandage around his throat with ease. The 2nd paramedic looks like an aging female hippie; she watches as the man who looks like the senator reveals himself to be fully conscious and ambulatory. He throws the last element of gauze to the floor, revealing the bloody gash across his throat that would convince anyone that he was near dead. The female paramedic peels off the wound like it was a rubber cement fixture. Beneath it, the pseudo-senator’s neck is clear of any harm. She hands him a thick cigar from her pocket.
“Very good performance Marshall, for a moment I thought we had actually killed the real senator Dolorosa.”
The man laughs.
“What you saw was the easy bit. I had to fool his entire office in order for this to work; playing unconscious is an easy part. Once our friends from Sayang were in place all the heavy lifting was done. Unfortunately the tragic hero got away, it seems—”
The distinct noise of screaming comes in from outside. They both look out the window. In the lane next to the ambulance an odd sight is occurring. A flaming man is screaming his head off while dashing down the road; a puke green stanza follows closely behind him, swerving through the police barricades as he cuts through them. The two actors look on somewhat perturbed…
The real Senator Dolorosa flips through the news channels with distaste. Things had been fouled up, the plan had been lost. Sure the meta-riot was bad publicity for their movement, but no one was to blame, and no one ended up dead. He flips to CNN. They were running a story with footage of him being carried onto an ambulance. Despite everything else, the resemblance was uncanny; if not for his certain knowledge to the contrary, he might have believed that he really was seriously wounded and recovering at Mt. Sinai Hospital.
A knock comes at his study door. He turns the TV off and swivels his chair to face the rest of his dark mahogany study. He flips on a dim light on his desk to illuminate the room as the sun sets behind the windows around him.
“Come in” he says.
Luanne enters the room and sits in a nearby seat next to him, then reaffirms her skirt and clutches the clipboard tight. Dolorosa sits quietly, he watches her every detail and examines her every move.
“That is quite impressive,” he adds, “You look and act just like her.”
“Well thank you sugar.” The girl replies “I wish I could have gotten a bigger role in all this, but as Marshall was playing you, Oldcastle was going to be the assassin at the Rally, and The Talbains’ were playing the paramedics, there was only one role left. I had to fight off old General Von Pelt just for the part. I think I make the better young seductive female intern, don’t you?”
“Clearly.” The senator replies coldly, “By the by, what did you do with the real Luanne?”
The woman lets out a wicked laugh.
“Oh that whiney gal? She’s bound and gagged in a basement somewhere. She’s breathin’ all right. Your body-man ain’t though. I tried telling Marshall to get rid of him, but he wouldn’t have none of it.”
“Hmm, that’s too bad.” Dolorosa says, “I kind of liked Chet. However he’s not the bigger issue. The bigger issue is that you failed.”
“Relax sugar. Everyone still thinks you were attacked by a Meta-human revolutionary, they got at least half a dozen bodies to prove it too.”
“Yes… but Newtonn is still alive. He was supposed to be killed at the rally by one of yours dressed like a Meta. This was the crux of it all.” Dolorosa leans back and stares at her, “Without Newtonn’s death, all this is pointless.”
The southern beauty unpins her bun and removes the rectangular glasses. Her façade begins to drop, she looks less like the precocious intern and more like a conniving con-woman every second. She looks back at Dolorosa.
“Unfortunately,” she begins, “Senator Newtonn was waylaid by unforeseen circumstances. A group of interlopers got tangled up in the mess. Two of them held up the guards, keeping them from catching our tragic hero, Mr. Wilder, standing over your seemingly dead body. He escaped by punching a hole in the basement wall leading outside. And as I attempted to coax the good senator out of his office, a third member of their group “distracted” him from exiting on time. We couldn’t make it out to the rally because the building was already being shut down, so we improvised.”
She looks back at Dolorosa, who is visibly calculating the outcome of this in his mind.
“Mister Dolorosa,” she says in a sickly sweet way, “Why exactly does it matter if Newtonn’s dead? You still made your point.”
“Because alive he is just another imbecile in the Congress, dead he would have been a Martyr.”
Dolorosa pulls out a thin cigarette and begins to smoke it, blowing the hazy air around his darkening study,
“Newtonn was a pawn, a useful one. I told him if he put his rider onto the selective service bill that he would be known as the anti-meta candidate by next year. He was dumb enough to believe this one bill could make up a lifetime of indiscretions.
Then you were going to kill him. Make it look like an assassination by a Meta at the rally. It would be concrete proof that the meta-issue needs to be solved once and for good. Newtonn’s measure had no chance of passing if he was alive, but in death he could buy its way into law with his blood.”
“And the attack on you then?” The Pseudo-Luanne remarked, “What was that for, dramatic effect?”
The senator shrugs non-chalantly.
“If I was attacked, I would be presumed innocent of any connection. I would be the de-facto leader to move the bill forward in Newtonn’s absence. It would have gone so smoothly.”
The woman nods gleefully at the brilliant disregard for human life.
“But this Wilder fellow, how’d you know he would go after you?”
“Simple, I convinced him that I was a horrible person capable of doing terrible things to Meta’s, awful, unthinkable things. I told him where to find me and how to run into your little set-up.”
“How’d you convince him you killed Metas?”
Dolorosa takes a long drag before answering the question with contempt.
“I gave him very convincing evidence,” he says.
There is a silence. The fake Luanne presses down her skirt, a method acting move she picked up from the real Luanne, it was hard to get out of character now that it was over.
“You know, I just thought of something,” she says, “We could still kill Newtonn. It would look like a follow up on the attack on you. The plan would still work.”
Dolorosa waves her off with the cigarette trailing in his fingers.
“I’ve thought of that already. Unfortunately Senator Newtonn has done something so stupid, it seems to have both destroyed his career and saved his life. He called me earlier before he knew I had been “injured” and he left a message. Apparently that person who had ‘distracted’ him, kept evidence of what they did together. Based on what he told me, I can’t imagine his career surviving more than a year. Martyrs are only useful when they’re pure; his death now would only release more scandal.”
“Well, I guess I better get going,” the fake Luanne says, “If you ever want to throw more chaos into the system in the future, you know who to call.”
She sits up and moves for the door. Dolorosa waits a moment as he begins calculating something. He puts the cigarette out on an ashtray on his desk.
“Wait.” He calls out.
She stops in the doorway. Dolorosa turns to her with unwavering stoic calm.
“I don’t need any more witnesses to what happened. Even if they don’t now what they saw. When you pick up Luanne, I need you to take care of that. Do you understand?”
The southern girl smiles.
“Can do sugar.”
The weak stupendacar barely sputters down the beach road. It had been hell driving across half the Eastern Seaboard in a car that could barely stand. It had been burned, shot by riot-squad, and blasted by random pissed off meta-humans. Blackhawk was still passed out in the back; Trixie has half asleep in the passenger seat. They reached the house and found it nearly half destroyed. The boys were sitting on the porch drinking beers. Rather than lose his cool, Stupendous accepted the fact that the house would be destroyed on his return; it was almost inevitable. He could use a beer though.
He hops out of the car. Badger and Doc notice the shiner that the jackass in the green tights gave him at the rally.
“What happened to you?” asks Doc
“Don’t want to talk about it?” replies the Captain.
Trixie jumps out of the front passenger seat and moves towards the back door. She pulls out a collapsible wheel chair and spreads it out. She has managed to sweet-talk a nursing home attendant out of an extra one when they stopped for gas in Georgia.
She then reaches in and pulls out the motionless life form from the backseat. She plops Blackhawk’s limp body into the chair and wheels her up to the front of the house. Blackhawk appears to be a corpse, save the drool dripping down her chin and the throaty buzzing noise she seems to be making.
Trixie looks up towards the destroyed house as Stupendous unloads his equally destroyed car.
“What happened to you guys?” Badger asks
“Long story.” Says Trixie, “But I think I ended up saving meta-human rights. What about you?”
“Well,” starts Doc, “It all started when Badge invited The Fallen to the party. Then—”
“Our bouncer started a fight, a melee ensued, somebody summoned a dragon, we were chased by two guys for an artifact of incredible power, I dropped it in the ocean, Norman created a psychic stereo system, and somebody poisoned the cake. That’s pretty much it. What happened to BH?”
“Riot squad loaded her up with tranquilizers till she passed out. She’s been like this the whole ride down.”
“Bzzzzzzzz.” Moans Blackhawk.
The ground begins to shake; a noise penetrates the darkness. A paper-mache dragon appears from behind the house.
“Oh yeah,” say Doc, “Forgot about him…”
The dragon screams again, then falls flat on the ground. It twitches with death throws, the ink on its body begins to bleed out onto the grass like a damp sponge. Trixie looks over the poor beast with pity.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“His life force was attached to the artifact we told you about.” Doc replies, “He’s been slowly dying ever since it fell in the water.”
Badger turns to him.
“Told you we aught to have just hit him with a shovel...Anyway, how exactly did you save meta-rights Trix? You’re not even a Meta.”
“Well, yeah,” she says, “but when we got inside the capitol building, I got separated from the others, and I found this guy, right? Turns out he’s the one who is pushing the bill. He took me to his “special basement” and we did, well we… just look at these.”
She pulls out her digital camera and scrolls through the menu. She hands it to Doc who looks through the photo library.
“HOLY!—Trixie why in God’s name did he let you record this? This is the most disturbing set of pictures I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh please,” Badger snarks, “They can’t be that—WHOA!... This guy’s a, uh, um,”
Doc cuts in
“I believe the terminology is ‘Power Top’. Trixie what’s the saddle for?”
“I don’t know,” she says, “he already had it. I didn’t ask.”
Badger turns the camera sideways. Doc tilts his head just to get a clear angle.
“There’s now way you can get into that position, even with stirrups.”
“Yes you can,” Badger replies, “I’ll show you; Trixie I need to borrow you for a second. Now lift your leg around my—”
Stupendous pops out of the house and see the three of them together.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing baby” Trixie calls out, “I’m Just showing the guys some pictures of DC”
“Yes,” adds Badger, “Just seeing the ‘sights’…”
Trixie snatches the camera back and puts it in her pocket. She turns to Doc and Badger.
“So do you think we can use these to stop the bill.”
“Probably,” says Doc, “This guy’s a Senator from right here in Florida. I remember seeing him on cable access talking about family values during the last election cycle. I have an old bartending buddy who works down at The Miami Herald now. We could get them to him, and he could shame this guy into retiring. The bill would die once Newtonn was exposed as a… well I gues the most proper term would be “Sado-Hedonist”.”
“It’s a shame,” Badger adds, “I actually think I voted for this guy.”
The six roommates sit on the porch, with the exception of Blackhawk who is still comatose in the wheelchair. They drink beers and just sit there in silence. Eventually they start going in, one by one. Soon only Trixie, Badger and Blackhawk are left. Trixie begins to stir and gets up from her spot.
“Ok, I’m heading in. You want me to take care of her for you?”
“It’s all right,” Badger says, “I’ll wheel her into the living room when I go in.”
“Fine,” she says “just don’t draw on her face or anything stupid.”
Trixie waves goodbye and enters the partially destroyed house. Blackhawk begins to stir with activity. Her eyes twitch open. Her body begins to shudder awake. She looks around in a circle.
“Where am I?” she asks
“Miami.” Badger answers
She turns towards him, filled with surprise to see him looking back at her.
“Miami huh… so everything that happened, wasn’t a dream?”
“Nope, its all real.” Badger says “Magic is real, dragons are real, and the cake is real.”
“Don’t ask.” Badger responds
Blackhawk begins to stretch in her chair. Her motions are weak and clumsy. She attempts to stand but her legs fail like Jello.
“Guess the tranq darts haven’t completely worn off yet. Hey Badger could you, you know, help.”
He walks over and lifts her out of the chair. Rather than merely lift her to her feet and help shoulder her, he instead picks her off her feet full knight in shining armor mode. He carries her inside as Blackhawk remains awkwardly confused.
“Uh thanks,” she says, “but if you tell anyone about this I’m gonna wail on you.”
“I know,” Badger says, “ but I’m still gonna do it. I just got my ass handed to me by two wizards and a F*cking dragon. I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
Posted 17 December 2010 - 03:48 AM
Kudos on the effort you've put into this. Some of the characters who got to appear here should thank you for the free publicity.
Posted 17 December 2010 - 01:14 PM
I'm a fan of this fic and hence, have also become one of Superhouse. I must admit I enjoyed the party slightly more than the rally (probably thanks to the abundance of fighting cameos), but this has been a fun read from start to finish. Can't wait for further chapters.
Kudos on the effort you've put into this. Some of the characters who got to appear here should thank you for the free publicity.
Glad I was able to buy your support. Half the reason I put these up was to expand on the limited character development in the character itself. As for the fighting it was just kind of the way it goes, Wilder and Parasite had a nice scuffle, but everyone else at the rally was a schemer or indirect fighter. The party got all of the brawlers for some reason. Meh,
As for the publicity we'll see, I'm not sure all publicity is good publicity as they say
Posted 17 December 2010 - 07:13 PM
Posted 17 December 2010 - 07:17 PM
Thanks, this one seemed more serious to me then the last one, the only total non-sequitor was the section on superheroine hair color
Once again, nice job. Your characters never fail to give me a laugh. I love the banter between 'em.
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