Milo Jones

PERSONAL

Gender: Male

Kit: Super

Location: Khazan City, Khazan

AFFILIATION

Alignment: Hero

Team: SPIRIT

VITAL STATS

Strength: standard (rank 1)

Agility: standard (rank 1)

Mind: standard (rank 1)

Body: standard (rank 1)

Spirit: (rank )

Charisma: (rank )

RECORD

Fame Points: 100

Personal Wins: 9

Personal Losses: 9

Team Wins: 0

Team Losses: 0

Tourney Wins: 0

Tourney Losses: 0

STATUS

Status: Active

Morgarawth

This is the story of Milo Jones, a regular guy working a regular job who experiences something wholly irregular. Milo was mopping the floor of Warehouse A of the ‘Reflect This!’ mirror factory, when the lights began to dim. The neon bulbs flickered weakly back to life, dimmed again, then went out completely, the pale glow from the quarter moon, and the purple light from the street lamps eerily illuminating the hundreds of mirrors stacked haphazardly the entire length of the warehouse. Milo looked up through the skylight. "Purple light? Since when are da street lights purple?”

Coalescing into a solid beam, the oddly colored light struck and shattered one of the mirrors, rebounding into another, then another. The beam lost a little bit of energy for every mirror it struck, smashing each of them in turn. Milo stared transfixed as the beam, moving ever faster, created a glowing, glittering shower of millions of glass shards falling straight down at him.

He started to run, getting two steps before hitting a particularly wet patch of floor. “Oh, fug me!” he cried, his feet slipping out from beneath him. He belly flopped hard to the floor, threw his arms over his head, then disappeared under the deadly deluge of dagger point shards.

There was silence for a few seconds, then a humming, as the fluorescent lights slowly glimmered back to life. A moment later, the mound of glass began to shift, as a very astonished Milo pushed himself to his feet. Astonishment quickly turned to dismay as he saw the shattered remains of the mirrors scattered on the floor all around him. He let out a disgusted grunt.

“Be damned if I clean dis shit up. I don’ get paid to clean up after no unnatural phenomenon.” he muttered, flicking a piece of glass off his sleeve. Except, it didn’t ‘flick’ off. It wobbled a little, but stayed right where it was. Stuck. In his arm.

“Oh, fug, dat ain’t good.”

Reaching for the mirror fragment, he noticed more shards stuck down the length of his other arm. Staring in horror, Milo distantly wondered why he wasn’t in complete and utter agony right them.

“Dere ain’t even no blood. Dis ain’t natural.” Craning around to check his backside, he discovered a veritable forest of fragmented glass rooted in him.

“Fug me, I look like a friggin’ mutant porcupine!” He tried tugging one of the shards in his arm loose, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried again and again, on one piece after another, finally giving it up. “Ain’t dis a bitch,” he moaned, leaning down to pick up his mop. That’s when the shit got really weird.

 

Milo froze, his eyes wide, fixed on his outstretched arm; the mirror shards were beginning to glow. A soft violet incandescence radiated from each fragment, and thoughts of radiation poisoning and glowing in the dark like a damned black light raced through his head.

Then the glowing shards of irremovable glass began to sink into his skin. They disappeared, one by one, leaving no trace. There was no pain, only a strange warmth that flowed through his body, the violet incandescence permeating his skin, making him look like a giant glow worm in cover alls.

“Fug me, fug me, fug me, fug me, fug me!” was all he could manage to say as he ran headlong through the nearest exit and into the night, a multiplying mob of moths fluttering madly after him.

 

“…a mudder fuggin’ force field!”

     Force Field: superior (rank 2)

 

Milo stared down at his hands as he walked the streets, the unearthly glow fading away as he watched. He clenched and unclenched his hands, turning them palms down, then back up. “I don’ look no different; I don’ feel no different. Did dat really happen? Am I goin’ fuggin’ nuts ?”

The screeching of tires snapped him back to reality. He was suddenly surrounded by a violet aura, and a fraction of a second later, he felt something bump into his ass. There was a sickening crunch as a vehicle behind him smashed into… something. He twisted around to see what had happened, and his jaw dropped in absolute shock.

Not two inches from him sat a canary yellow Corvette, it’s grill smashed inward, a thin line of smoke trailing upwards from the engine. The driver toppled out, a smallish man in a bright red running suit, shaking his head and looking around in confusion. He saw Milo standing in front of his Corvette, saw the grill of his car wrapped around Milo, then turned and ran like a madman back down the street.

“What da fug just happened? Why ain’t I dead?” Taking a few steps backwards, he got a good look at the crumpled grill; it had been forced inward in a perfect half circle. “My belly ain’t dat damn big!”

It was then he noticed the aura around him, fading away as he watched. “A force field? Dat was a mudder fuggin’ force field!” He looked thoughtfully down at the hood of the car. “I wonder how it works?” And, without another thought, he punched the shiny yellow metal as hard as he could.

His fist connected with a loud ‘Thunk!’, pain arcing through his arm. “Deeee-amn! That ain’t how it works!” Nursing his throbbing knuckles, he looked again at the mess he’d made of the guys Corvette, and decided this was not where he wanted to be when the crimson clad runner came back with the cops. He continued his way home.

 

“You gonna do sumpin’? ”

     Reflection: superior (rank 2)

 

(Physical Attacks)

Milo abruptly came to a stop. The kid, he couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, had slid out of the shadows of a nearby storefront, right in Milo’s way, startling him. Milo did not like to be startled, and street punks going around trying to scare people out of their hard earned money, he liked even less. “I ain’t got no money for ya, kid. Why don’t cha ask your mama down on 35th and Elm? I hear she’s havin’ a good night. Now get the fug outta my way!”

A switchblade appeared in the kids hand, the cold, hard steel of the blade glinting evilly in the moonlight. “All I wanted was a dollar, mofo. Now, we gonna take everything!” A group of guys no older than ‘Switchblade’ came sauntering out of an alley way behind Milo, crowding in around him. They carried a variety of pain inducing items (metal pipes, knives, a gun or two), and grinned wickedly at him, eager to make someone bleed.

Milo almost wet himself. “Had ta go and open yer big damn mouth, didn’t cha Milo?” he thought, looking around at the youth of America just dying to kill him. Then he remembered the smashed up Corvette, and he laughed. If a speeding sports car couldn’t hurt him, them…

“Take yer best shot,” Milo told them, crossing his arms over his chest. “I dare ya.”

‘Switchblade’ looked at Milo with something resembling respect. “You’re one crazy mutha fucka, man; I like that. Too bad you gotta die.” He lunged forward, his knife darting forward to taste flesh. Which it did. Just not Milo’s.

The familiar violet force field materialized around Milo again, but the knife never struck it. With a burst of indigo light, the hand holding the weapon snapped backwards with a crack, and plunged itself deeply into it’s owner’s ribcage. “Jimmy! You killed my brother, you son of a bitch!” screamed one of the punks, swinging a lead pipe at Milo’s head. There was another burst of indigo light, and then the kid was laying on the ground unconscious, his head split open by his own hand.

“You gonna do sumpin?” Milo growled, glaring wild eyed at the rest of the little gang. As one, they ran back off into the alley, leaving their ‘friends’ to rot. Milo checked each of the idiots on the ground for a pulse, then dug his cell phone out, dialing 911. The last thing he wanted was the punks deaths on his conscious. He stuck the phone back in his pocket, and once again headed for home.

He didn’t get far when the acrid scent of smoke and the piercing wail of a siren brought him up short. Off in the distance, Milo could see an apartment building glowing crimson in the night, tongues of flame spewing forth through charred window panes.

 

“I ain’t no superhero!”

     Reflection: superior (rank 2)

 

(Energy Attack)

Milo Jones surveyed the crowd of people standing in front of the burning building; he shook his head in disgust. “Fuggin Lookie-Lous, watchin’ other people’s homes and possessions burnin’ up. It ain’t right.” He started to walk off when a woman’s cry caught his attention.

“My baby! He’s got my baby! He’s got my baby!!!”

Milo closed his eyes; he knew what he was going to do, and he was trying desperately to talk himself out of it. “Ya ain’t no superhero, Milo. There ain’t nothin’ ya can in dere but get yerself and dat kid killed. Ya can’t help nothin’.” The next instant, he was pushing through the crowd, searching for the fire chief.

Fire Chief Horace Grombie was standing near the fire trucks, speaking to one of his men as he pointed toward the building. “Under no circumstances are you to try to get to the third floor; that psycho has incapacitated too many of my men already. Do your best to contain the fire on the first two floors, and we’ll do what we can for the rest of the building from out here. Now get going, and good luck in there.”

“Chief Grombie!” Milo shouted, trotting towards the grim looking man. “I need ta talk ta ya! I think I can--”

“What are you doing behind the fire line? You get your ass back there now before I have you hauled off. I--”

Milo exploded. “I ain’t had a real good day, what wit’ getting’ hit by a car, and havin’ a bunch a street punks try ta murder me, so don’t ya go blowin’ yer top at me! I think I can help ya out in dere, and it looks like ya could use it!”

The anger vanished from Grombie’s face as he listened to Milo’s tirade. He looked at the janitor speculatively. “Hey Tommy! Bring that sketch over, the one the cops brought in a few minutes ago.” Tommy grabbed a sheet of paper off the dash of the fire chief’s car, then ran over and handed it to Grombie.

The Chief looked at Milo, looked at the sketch, then smiled. “This look like anyone you know?” Milo almost fell over as he came face to face with… his own face. “It seems some crazy guy in a red running suit stumbled into the local P. D. wailing about smashing his car into superman. Once they got him settled down, he gave them a pretty good description. About an hour later, some kid dials 911 and tells the operator a guy with freaky powers attacked him and some of his friends, killing two of them. They gave the cops the same description.” Grombie continued. “Now, I don’t care about the rest of it, but if you can really do what they say, then you’re our best chance at getting that kid out of there alive.

The girl is being held up on the third floor by some nutcase calling himself Firebug. He has seriously burned several of my men who tried to get up there, so I would consider it a personal favor if you would kick the shit out of him when you get up there.” Grabbing a couple air masks off the nearest fire truck, he handed them to Milo. Nodding his thanks, the janitor/ super hero sped off into the burning structure.

Milo was sweating vigorously as he reached the third floor landing. The fire couldn’t touch him, but the heat was something different all together. His clothes were stuck to him like Saran Wrap, and he knew if it weren’t for the air mask, he would be lying on the floor right now, gasping for breath. “Dese powers ain’t all dere cracked up ta be after all.” he thought miserably, as he trudged up the last few steps.

He stared at the door leading to the third floor, knowing somewhere behind it was a psycho that would try his damndest to fry him. “I shouldn’t be in here. I ain’t no superhero.” Milo screwed up his courage. “But I ain’t leavin’ wit out dat girl!” He threw open the door, and strode resolutely inside…

 

“Did you bring any marshmallows?”

     Eldritch Energy: standard (rank 1)

 

…and was struck by a ball of fire the size of a Volkswagen. A flash of indigo light sent most of it flying back at it’s creator, while the remainder of the fireball slid harmlessly off Milo’s force field. The heat was overpowering, though. He staggered backwards a pace, stunned, and felt his flesh blistering under the assault. He shook his head, staving off unconsciousness. As the spots cleared from his eyes, he could see his attacker laying on the floor, eyes wide with bewilderment. “Oh, man, how did you do that?” The villain said, getting to his feet. “You got super powers too, man? That was so cool the way that fire just bounced back at me like that. I almost got roasted by my own flames, man!” He cackled at his own misfortune, his eyes burning embers of madness. “My name’s Firebug, pleased ta meet’cha blah, blah, blah.” He stared intently at Milo. “Did you bring any marshmallows?”

Milo felt his mind derail for a moment at the madman’s last question, then fell back again as a stream of flame collided with his force field. He cleared his mind, focusing again on the villain. “Where’s da girl, ya sicko?”

“The girl? What girl?” Firebug queried, eyes turned towards the ceiling, one thin finger tapping his cheek. He looked back at Milo with feigned shock. “Oh, you mean sweet little Mary! I’ve got her stashed away somewhere around here. Why, do you want to share her?” He grinned, winking at Milo lasciviously.

“I ain’t puttin’ up wit no shit. Bring Mary out here now, ya crazy fug. Ya already got an ass beatin’ comin’, but it’ll be a lot worse if ya don’t bring her out now!” Milo wasn’t sure how he was going to back that statement up as his powers seemed wholly defensive, but he had to try.

The madman cackled again. “What’cha gonna do, wait for me to flame you so I can flame myself?” He was quiet for a moment, working through that last question in his head. He shrugged, the crazy grin returning. “How about I do this?” He walked back through the flames, returning a few seconds later carrying the limp form of the girl; he dumped her unceremoniously onto the floor. “How about I just burn her up instead? Oh, don’t worry, she’s still alive.” he quipped at Milo’s anguished look. “She may not want to be that way when I finish with her, but for now she’s okay. So how about you turn around and walk out of here before I bubble the flesh right off of dear Mary’s bones. Oh, and send someone up with some marshmallows; I promise I won’t kill them.”

Milo stood there, frozen. If he left, the girl was as good as dead. If he didn’t leave, the psycho was going to fry her alive. He felt all the frustration and anger at the day’s events well up inside him. He felt the force field around him throbbing with power, knew it had absorbed a little bit of energy from each attack it had deflected. He focused on that excess energy, drawing it inside him. “How about we do dis? Ya let da girl go, and I don’t knock ya on yer ass.” His body trembled, the strain of holding back all that energy overwhelming.

Firebug just laughed. “Nah, I think I’ll just burn her.” Flames erupted from his hands, and he reached down to ignite the unconscious girl.

“Suit yerself.” Milo growled, unleashing the pent up energies in a crackling, blue-white bolt. Firebug’s eyes widened. “Whoa, that is so coo--” The bolt struck him in the chest, flinging him back into the depths of the fire. Milo sagged to the floor, momentarily drained. Then the cracking of support beams over his head reenergized him. He rushed over to Mary, fastening the spare air mask over her head, and scooped her up off the floor, running into the nearest room. The beam gave way behind him with a deafening rumble, the floor buckling under his feet. He stayed upright somehow, and hurried to the closest window. He lay the slowly reviving girl on the floor, then slung the window open, sticking his head out to look around.

Several men were running around below, spraying long jets of water into the highest areas of the building they could reach. Milo saw Chief Grombie striding back and forth, a radio press hard against his face. Milo grinned. “Hey, ya think a guy could get a little help up here? I got a little girl here dat needs ta be with her mama.” The chief jerked his head up, spotted Milo, and started yelling orders at his men. One of the fire trucks started moving in his direction, a man in the bucket, the ladder extending as they moved. Milo picked the little girl up, ready to hand her over when the truck got close enough. He looked down, and was surprised to see her looking back up at him. She tried to speak, but it came out a rasping croak, her throat raw from the heat; her lips began to tremble. “Don’t cry, sweetie. Ya gonna be safe soon. Dere’s a man comin’ gonna get ya outta here real quick. Dere ain’t nothin’ ta worry about.” He gave her a smile, and got a tentative smile back.

There was a loud thunk, and Milo looked back to see the fire consumed door lying on the floor. The flames quickly began to eat their way across the thick carpet towards them, implacable and unstoppable. He lifted Mary out through the window, setting her feet down on the small ledge beneath her. He could feel the heat intensify, and could see flickers of red all around him as the fire crept up the walls, then across the ceiling. He kept a tight grip on Mary, the truck only seconds away now. He heard the tortured groan of the over heated infrastructure, as metal beams warped and cement cracked. Milo handed Mary over to the fireman, then climbed through the window onto the ledge himself.

“Man, ya guys got here just in ti--.” BA-ROOM! The blast from a ruptured gas pipe lifted him off the wall, slamming him into the bucket. He felt a pair of hands gripping the back of his shirt, then he was falling into darkness.

He was running through fire again, the heat baking his body, sweat seeping from every pore. He was looking for the girl, had to find her, had to get her out! “Mary! Where are ya, sweetie? We gotta get outta here!” There was no answering cry, so he ran on, walls of billowing flame on either side.

He saw her through a break in the wall, crying and calling for her momma. As he rushed towards her, flames burst from the ground, barring his way. With a curse, he turned down one of the serpentine corridors, seeking another way through, praying he was not too late to save the girl.

Another opening, and there she was! She was standing in the gap, her arms out stretched, waiting for Milo to save her. He was almost to her, when the ground underneath her feet began to smoke. “Mary! Get outta there, now!” he screamed, as the earth beneath her erupted in fire.

He woke with a start, beads of cold sweat standing out on his forehead. He looked around uncomprehendingly, the nightmare maze of flame gone, replaced by a small white room. He lay in a bed with railings pulled up on either side, with a rubber tube sticking out of one arm and sensor pads stuck to his chest. He was also wrapped almost head to toe in white gauze; he grunted as he looked himself over. “I look like da damned Mummy Man.” There was a giggle to his left, and Milo turned to see Mary lying in the bed next to his, one small hand covering a big grin. Milo grinned back.

“Ya ain’t gotta hide dat smile from me, sweetie. I bet it’s prettier than da stars in da sky.” She gave him an exaggerated grin, making him laugh out loud. Then he noticed the bandaging around Mary’s arms, and his laughter faded.

“Ya okay, sweetie? Ya arms hurtin’ ya at all?”

“Oh, no Mr. Milo! Can I call you Mr. Milo? A doctor came in a couple days ago, gave us some special medicine, it tasted like cherries, it was really good! He gave us some special medicine that made us all better, but you wouldn’t remember cause you was still asleep and the doctor said that was good cause then you would heal better. But we’re not supposed to tell anyone about the special medicine, cause there’s only a little of it and he only uses it on people who really need it, like you and me Mr. Milo! So it’s our little secret, okay?”

Milo stared at her, flabbergasted, wondering how in the world that little girl squeezed so many words into one breath. He just nodded, promising to keep their “little secret”, not having the faintest idea what to think of this doctor and his “special medicine”.

Then the door opened, and he found himself in the grip of the girls mother, the big woman weeping joyfully and thanking Milo over and over again for saving her little girl. She straightened up, tears still glimmering in her eyes. “Now, when the two of you get out of here,” she stated, brooking no argument. “I’m going to make you the best home made meal you’ve ever had. And don’t you even think of saying no; it’s the least I can do for you for saving my little baby.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for da world.” He told her earnestly. She smiled down at him warmly, then went over and sat down next to Mary, the little girl hugging her tight before launching into an animated, one-sided conversation.

Milo felt himself sliding into sleep, when he heard the door open once again, this time admitting Fire Chief Grombie, dressed in full dress uniform; a small white envelope peeking out from a coat pocket.

“Well, look who’s finally decided to wake up.” he laughed gruffly, taking the seat beside Milo. “We thought you were going to sleep another three days.” He laughed again at the shocked expression on Milo’s face. “Yep, you were out solid for three days. You had a little more healing to do than Mary, so it took your body a while longer to recuperate.”

He leaned over, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I know what Mary told you about the doctor with the special medicine, and I’d rather she continue thinking that. The truth is, the man who healed you and Mary is from a very special organization, one created to help out when normal human measures just aren’t enough. They heard about your heroics in that apartment building, and they are very eager to speak with you. They gave me this to give to you,” he handed the envelope to Milo. “said your gift could help save lives around the world.”

Milo looked at the envelope, then looked back at Chief Grombie. What is dis? Who are dese people, whadda dey want wit me?”

“Just read the letter, Milo. You’ll understand everything.” The chief stood, gave Milo a quick salute, then strode out of the room.

Milo stared at the envelope a few seconds longer, then slid his finger up underneath the flap, tearing it free. He pulled out the neatly folded piece of paper and shook it open, taking in the bold, six letter word at the top of the page: S.P.I.R.I.T. Below this, in parenthesis, were the following words: Super Powered Immediate Response Insertion Teams. His curiosity piqued, Milo began to read.