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 Posted: Mon Aug 27, 2012 8:00 pm
Nathaniel Graves~Arsenal|Alex Van Zandt~Redline|Merrick Frey “Mr. Graves, sir, Merrick Frey of the Guardians is here to see you.”
“Thank you, Eon. Let him in, if you’d please?”
“Certainly, sir.” Nathaniel Graves, CEO of Hyperion Industries, did not look away from his computer screen as the door into his office slid open, admitting one Merrick Frey. Graves smiled to himself, listening to the brisk, heavy footfalls of the Quantum Police Department Special Forces leader as he approached the desk. When they stopped, Graves input a last bit of data, before turning and smiling at Merrick. The expression was not returned, as a matter of course.
“Merrick, my good man!” said Graves, rising to his feet hand extending a hand. Merrick did not acknowledge it, and it was withdrawn. “I’m glad that you could the time in your ever busy schedule to meet with me.”
“Cut the crap, Graves,” Merrick said, his voice terse. “I don’t know what you want from me, but I suggest you make your demands quickly. Otherwise, I’ll just leave.”
For a moment, Nathaniel seemed at a loss, but then the man suddenly smiled once more, returning to his seat. “Very well, then. Let it be known that I do try to be cordial, however.” Nathaniel typed in some things into the computer console built into his desk. This, in turn, brought up an image on the skyline window-turned-viewing screen behind him. Said image was that of a partially armored Guardian trooper. “First off, I just thought that I would like to tell you that I’ve finished the prototype designs for the combat armor designed for the Guardian forces. As you know, the finished product will provide your men with light energy shielding, so that they can withstand a great deal more damage, among other functions that you asked for.”
“Yes, yes, I do indeed know this,” replied Merrick. “But what does this have to do with anything? They’re not finished yet, so they’re useless to me.”
“Be that as it may…” Trailing off, Graves changed the view to a map of the city. “As we speak, a number of these prototypes are being packed up to be shipped off for testing. However, I fear that, even with me being discreet as possible concerning my tech, words gotten out.”
“And how, exactly, did something like that happen?”
“Well, Merrick,” said a voice from behind. The man didn’t turn as Alex Van Zandt strode into view, Nathaniel’s ‘secretary’ coming to lean against the desk, smiling mischievously. “I might’ve let something about the shipment slip in the past couple of days.”
Merrick narrowed his eyes. “Please, spare me the trouble, and tell me why you’ve put my ordinance in jeopardy?”
“It’s simple, really,” said Graves, changing the image once again. “We needed bait.” Once half the view screen held blurry images and horribly video taken from different sources, and the other half held a number of articles on incidences throughout the city of Quantum. “It seems the peace of mind that we’ve both worked to instill is finally breaking, Merrick. I’m sure you know that the crime rate is rising instead of falling. And these two are factors in that, however minute they actually are. On one hand, we have our mysterious vigilante. Someone out there has been attacking criminals, both mundane and Spark alike…often leaving them grievously injured or dead. Strangely, no one seems to be able to gather any information on this individual: what they look like, if they’re a Spark and what their power is, if they’re just a regular human and how they’re pulling all this off, how they’re able to stay off the radar so handily. And on the other hand, we have all these reports of some new criminal element going on. It seems that Sparks are beginning to commit crimes in the name of ‘Pariah’…obviously, these are only a taste of things to come.”
Merrick ran his hands through his silver-white hair, still not seeming pleased. “This, too, I am aware of. I’ve had my best people looking into both of these situations.”
“True…but you haven’t turned up anything, have you? No leads into either.” Merrick said nothing, though the hand that rested on the katana at his hip tightened ever so slightly. Both Alex and Graves smiled. “I figured, why not see if we can’t lure either of these two elements out? If we hold out a big enough piece of bait, maybe someone from Pariah will bite. And maybe we can even use that as further bait to bring out this mysterious vigilante? Two birds, one stone, so on and so forth.”
“What do you need me for?”
“I want your cooperation, of course. I want you to make a show of this. Nothing too big, just a unit of Guardians to escort, but I suspect by the time that things are to get rolling, the media will be ablaze with all sorts of crazy theories and such, and it won’t matter how much we try underplaying things.”
For a long moment, Merrick remained silent, taking to pacing to and fro. It was clear that he was considering things quite hard. Alex shot Graves a look, which he waved off. There was no point in complaining about Merrick’s behavior, for he was a man set in his ways. If someone was going to go the extra mile to clean up his city, it would be him and his people. They weren’t there to assist; they were there to be assisted.
Merrick made that much clear. “Despite that fact that it’s my product that is in danger of being damages or stolen – and at the least, things will be delayed, something that you know I dislike – I’m extremely inclined to let you handle your own mess.”
“Ooh, bad choice,” Alex muttered, wincing theatrically. Graves rolled his eyes and sighed, leaning forward a bit.
“What Alex means to say, is that I would’ve hoped that you’d agree to this. Commissioner Ortega is quite interested in planning a little sting.” Merrick’s mouth had been ready to speak, but whatever words that had been there died with the mention of the Quantum Police’s commissioner. Roxana Ortega, much to Merrick’s chagrin, liked to do her best to rely on Grave’s help whenever possible. The Guardians were suggested to defer to him when he showed up on the battlefield…which happened to be a great deal, given how quickly he and his partner Alex were able to show up on the scene at any given time. And Merrick knew that refusing to lend help would not only earn him further ire from Ortega, but Graves would simply go over his head on this and get the bodies he wanted.
Curse you, Merrick thought as he wiped away most of his loathing, adjusting his gloves and the collar of his coat. “…Very well. You will have your men. But know that you will not be able to rely on help so much in the future.” With that, Merrick spun on his heel and strode out of the room, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a phone, beginning arranging things for this little operation.
“I think that we’ll get on by just fine, either way,” said Alex to Merrick’s back, waving.
“Don’t harry the man,” Grave chided.
“Why not? His hair is white already, not like I can do anything to it.” Leaping off the desk, Alex adjusted her blazer. “Besides, it’s quite fun watching you two have your seemingly endless pissing match with one another. Gotta have some form of entertainment, no?”
“You mean you don’t get your fill out of punching people in the face and getting away with it all the time?”
“Nathaniel, I could punch anyone at any time I wanted, and get away with it. They wouldn’t even see me do it, and if they did, could they ever hope to catch me?”
Graves thought about that for a moment, before shrugging. Alex smirked at him, to which he shook his head and rose to his feet. “C’mon, Zippy…I need some help making adjustments before we do this thing.”
“Gladly! Better than filling in for your receptionist. Who, by the way, is actually off drinking her day away on the other side of town instead of being sick like she said.”
“What? How do you…?”
“Super speed…and some other skills.”
“Forget I asked. Let’s get to work.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Some hours later, the truck carrying the prototype Guardian armor set off from one of Hyperion’s manufacturing centers towards the test set. It was preceded and followed by Guardian personnel vehicles, each containing ten-man squads. Merrick himself sat in the truck’s passenger seat, with a Hyperion company driver at the wheel. He didn’t seem too happy with this set-up, though he tried to keep it off of his features. But then, that really didn’t help when you couldn’t keep your displeasure from your voice. “Is all this really necessary?” He asked, a few minutes into the ride. Merrick almost winced, as if the breaking of silence hurt a little. “I mean, I transport stuff like this all the time, and I hardly ever get attacked. I could count the times that I have on one hand, and only once have I really been in any true danger.”
“If you wish to complain to someone,” Merrick said after a long period of silence, only glancing at the driver for a second before returning his gaze to the window and the passing city. “Try taking it up with Graves. He’s the one who ordered this.” The drive gazed at Merrick for a moment, but then sighed and shrugged. Silence fell once again, and the ride continued on for some time without incident. In fact, reports from all over the city said that all was calm; any huge crime attempts by Sparks had been resolved earlier in the day, and the incidents occurring now were relatively petty and easily contained.
That did not bode well.
Merrick wasn’t a Spark, but he seemed to have this preternatural sense that always went off when something big was about to go down…like it was doing now. Merrick narrowed his eyes, speaking into the communicator on his ear. “Alpha, Bravo, be vigilant. Anything or anyone could strike at any moment.”
“Yessir!” replied the voices on the other side of the lines. But even with his men at the ready – and they knew that when their commander told them to be ready, they damn well got ready – Merrick still wasn’t put at ease. They were at a stop, about halfway to their destination. He cursed under his breath, wishing the light would turn faster. After what seemed like an eternity, it did, and the lead personnel carrier began moving forwards.
The moment it was in the middle of the street, the truck was blindsided by what looked to be a number of large chains, sending it rolling to the side. The truck driver slammed on the brakes, jarring himself and Merrick. “Holy…” The driver said, looking for Merrick as to what to do.
“Don’t just sit there!” Merrick shouted. “Drive! Bravo Team, we’re under attack, and…” He didn’t finish, for a glint of something caught his eye in the rear-view mirror. A blue streak – an arc of electricity – lanced through the air, striking the second convoy. The Guardian troops had already vacated the vehicle, and were setting up a perimeter, so they were caught by the resulting explosion, thrown about like ragdolls. Merrick fumed. Dammit, Graves! If any of my men end up dead…! “What are you doing, fool! I told you to drive!” The truck driver blinked, coming back to his senses, and hurriedly put the pedal to the metal.
Before they could get anywhere, however, something fell in the middle of the street. Or rather, someone. A rather large man, with a bodybuilder’s physique, shattered the ground with his landing, and grinned and he braced himself. The driver cried out as the truck impacted the man…and was stopped dead. Merrick was jostled quite badly, thankful for his combat training allowing him to brace himself sufficiently to keep from ending up like the driver, knocked out cold. With a grunt of effort, he undid his belt and forced open his door, rolling out of the truck. He moved around to the front, ignoring the civilians running away, to see who it was that had ambushed them. He thought that he recognized the one that appeared before the truck, but it had happened just a bit too quickly for him to recall. However, a clear look was all it took. It helped that the large man was accompanied by two others. Merrick knew these three well enough; they’d been a thorn in the Guardians’ side for the past month or so.
Lock, Shock, and Barrel, aka the Terrible Trio. A group of Sparks that, before they’d gained their powers, were just your typical juvenile delinquents. Now, they were juvenile delinquents with abilities allowing them to rob banks and such. Barrel was the big guy, your typical flying brick super, minus the flying; but as a bonus, once he got moving and was ‘barreling’ towards you, he was difficult to stop. Lock, the female and leader of the group, could produce chain-like tentacles from her hair, one of the weirder powers that tended to crop up, but that didn’t make her any less dangerous. And Shock, as his name implied, could shoot electricity from his hands. A lethal Spark, but he drew the short end of the stick; if he got sufficiently wet, then his powers would short out.
Barrel chuckled menacingly, cracking his knuckles. “Heh heh, that kinda tickled! And I thought that I wouldn’t be able to stand up to a truck!”
“Don’t be stupid, you lug,” said Shock. “You survived a tumble with Obelisk with little more than a couple scratches! Did you really think that a truck could hurt you?”
“Well, excuse me for being conditioned not to play in traffic!”
“Both of you shut up and get to work!” Lock said, whipping both her compatriots lightly with her transformed hair. “We’ve caused enough trouble as it is, so we need to get the tech before more Guardians or any heroes show up.” It was only then that they seemed to notice Merrick, who stood erect, facing them with narrowed eyes, one hand gripping his sword, whilst in the other he held a sleek pistol, modeled after the FN Five-seveN, but produced by collaboration between Hyperion Industries and Titan Arms, the weapons manufacturer owned by Fiorella Delond-Claiden…probably the second richest entrepreneur in the city, after Nathaniel Graves. The Terrible Trio grinned and chuckled, slowly advancing upon him. He was a lone man, a mundane human, armed with only a measly pistol and a sword, and there was little that he could do that they couldn’t handle. Despite this, Merrick didn’t flinch.
“Let’s just skip the formalities,” the Guardian commander, backing away steadily. “I’m going to shoot at you in a moment. I can certainly take one of you with stun bolts. Possibly two, if I’m quick enough. Which one of you wishes to be the lucky one?”
“Does it really matter?” said Shock, electricity arcing all about his body. “Even you do put one of us down with your little light gun, you’ll be dead before you can do anything else. You’re outmatched, old man! Now, go down!”
“How about you instead?” A shadow was the only warning the Merrick and the Trio received before Redline fell from the sky, delivering a hammer blow to the ground. Redline’s super strength may not have been too great on its own, but with the burst of super speed that she had poured on beforehand, it was more than enough to crack and shattering the pavement beneath the Trio’s feet. Startled, Shock unleashed the pent up energy he’d been charging accidentally, one of his flailing arms going in Barrel’s direction. Being largely impervious, the big guy could take the attack head on, but that still didn’t mean it hurt, especially when one gets hit in the face. Barrel staggered back, almost stumbling into Lock. However, the female villain had used her hair-turned-chains to launch herself away from the mess.
“Deal with her!” she shouted, launching herself forward, to the other side of the truck. “I’ll get whatever loot we have hidden here!”
“Not so fast!” said Merrick, who got back up to his feet after being knocked down by Redline’s entrance and open fired on Lock. Bluish bolts of energy lanced through the air, the gun using a very watered down version of the lasers Graves employed. Lock, however, was able to use her chain-tentacles to deflect the stun bolts, idly even. She laughed, lashing out as Merrick and knocking the gun from his grasp, before latching a chain around his arm and tossing him into the air. Redline, who’d wasted no time in wailing on Barrel while dodging Shock’s electricity, saw this from the corner of her eye. If she were slower, she’d have been hit by the mighty punch that Barrel threw in her distraction. But Redline of course saw it from a mile away; she ducked beneath it, and rushed into, pummeling Barrel a bit while picking up just enough speed. Then, she ran up on the man, using him as a vault to flip into the air and catch Merrick before he met the earth. “Put me down!” Merrick demanded, even as he removed himself from Redline hold, straightening his coat. Redline smirked, gently pushing Merrick out of the way as a bolt of lightning flew between them, and she rushed back into the fray. Barrel was stunned, and taking a moment to recover. Merrick ducked out to retrieve his gun, and then to rally his men, and make sure that they were okay. This left Lock free to check the contents of the truck. She tore open the door, tossing the useless hunks of metal aside, and peered into the darkness.
And was summarily greeted by a laser blast to the chest, which sent her flying a number of yards backwards. A second later, Arsenal the Living Weapon burst up from through the truck’s ceiling, hovering in the air above the scene. “Sorry, Lock,” he said drifting over the villainess. “But there’s nothing here for you but trouble. That is, unless you want to tell me who told you about this convoy before you surrender.”
“Screw you!” Lock spat, attacking Arsenal with a bevy of chains. Arsenal effortlessly dodged them all, bobbing to and fro. “We won’t need to answer to you or anyone else soon enough!” The villain Spark got lucky, and managed to catch Arsenal’s foot. She couldn’t pull him down, but a strike of electricity from Shock to the back caused Arsenal’s systems to falter just enough for Lock to whip him into the ground. She did so repeatedly, laughing. “You’ve had your fun, Nathaniel Graves, but it’s all going to come to an end soon! You and all your little ‘heroes’ going to be in for a rude awakening…and there’s nothing you can do to stop it!”
“Says you!” Arsenal shouted. The powered armors system were back on, and he quick initiated a shield pulse, which loosened Lock’s hold upon him, as well as blow her back once more. Lock caught herself this time, and realizing that things weren’t going their way, called to her companions.
“We’re getting out of here! We’ll have to prove ourselves another time!”
“Got it, boss!” said Shock, raising his hands above his head. Electricity sparked between them, but instead of firing it off at anyone, he instead used that energy to create a bright, blinding flashed. Arsenal, Redline, and all the Guardian personnel – all of who were alive, but most sustaining some sort of injury and therefore not being able to be useful in this conflict – covered their eyes, and the Terrible Trio beat a hasty retreat. But as they fled, somehow leaving no trace of their escape aside from the import battlefield, the three Sparks called out in unison, leaving behind a simple message for the gathered.
“FOR PARIAH!”
~~~~~~~~~~
It was some time later, once again in Nathaniel Grave’s office after the street was cleaned and the Guardian personnel were cared for, that Merrick Frey unleashed his subdued but apparent fury upon the Hyperion Duo.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t have your asses throw in jail,” he said, voice tight.
“I admit, that didn’t go as planned…”
“Ten very good men of mine are out of commission for at least a month, when I need every able body I can spare. You lied to me about my armor, which is already at the testing sights. You put the lives of my men, as well as that of innocents, at risk, so that you could use us as bait! And you have nothing to show for it!”
“Merrick, please!” Graves said. “I’m sorry that I mislead you, and that your people got hurt. I never expected anyone to be so bold in their attack of that convoy. But this isn’t a total failure. The Trio’s parting words: ‘For Pariah’…it’s pretty clear that that’s who they’re working for, the one’s Lock said they’d eventually answer to. It seemed that they aren’t official members of the group, seeing this as a chance to bring something of a peace offering. But if anything, it goes to show that: yes, there is a group out there that’s planning something big, and that we need to start preparing.”
“And that’s it? We sit on our laurels and wait until someone else shows up from this mysterious criminal organization?” Merrick gripped the hilt of his sword, steel blue eyes bright with ire. Alex sighed, shrugging.
“Look, we did what we could. We’ll be more careful next time. That’s pretty much all we can give you, aside from the Guardian armors, which are being taken care of as we speak. Being angry about it isn’t going to do anything for you, aside from make your hair fall out or something.” Merrick narrowed his eyes, and once again spun sharply and exited the room. And once again, Alex waved to his back, making a face at him too.
“Don’t be childish. We did give him more grief than he needs, and it is mostly my fault.”
“Eh, doesn’t matter what I do. He’ll probably run off to Ortega, complain, get chewed out, and then the two of them will screw until he feels nominally better.”
“Alex!”
“Don’t act surprised, Graves! It’s pretty obvious their boning.”
“But must you really describe it as such!?”
“You’d think that you’d be better at handling this kind of thing, considering how often you fall into bed with all those rich socialites. But then again, you utterly suck when it comes to anything outside of bed.” Nathaniel made a chocked sound, face flushing quite profusely, and Alex could do was laugh. For a moment, the man was flustered about what to say…but thankfully he had something to distract himself with.
“That reminds me, I have a charity party that I need to finish planning,” Nathaniel moved over to the computer console in his desk. “I’ve been so concerned with Arsenal as of late, I nearly forgot it’s in a day or so. Alex, could you…”
“Finalize the guest lists and alert the news stations? Already started that this morning. I’ll finish it up.” Alex leaped off of Grave’s desk, moving to her own personal space. Nathaniel set in on finished up all the other details, such as catering and decorations. And, as he couldn’t help being a workaholic at times, he brought up details on refinements on the Arsenal armor, as well as the info on Pariah and the mysterious vigilante. He’d confirmed the existence of Pariah…but the vigilante hadn’t shown up. He stared at the silhouette of the person in question, nothing more than a vague shape in the night. Eventually, he did nothing but stare at the picture. Something about it spoke to him. But Graves couldn’t put his finger on why. Just another idiosyncrasy of Quantum City… He thought to himself as he left his office for the night.
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Posted: Mon Aug 27, 2012 9:13 pm
 Nicotine
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Deep within the industrial section of Quantum, there lies several warehouses and more than one factory that currently belong to a subsidiary company. Something like Triple Eight Industries or Solutions or maybe Roman Tactics...anyway the name doesn't really matter! What does matter is the fact that one of the owned factories is currently occupied by only two people. Two people! In the middle of a day! Why wouldn't it be filled with more people? Like the subsidiary's name, the reason why it's mostly empty doesn't really matter. What does matter is the fact, that one of the two people in the empty factor is bound in a chair with a big swatch of duct tape over their mouth. Samuel Banes is the name of the man bound in the chair with some duct tape over his mouth and with a general battered looking face that is accustom to those that experienced beatings. Currently though, the name of his abductor and abuser are much more important than his own. Felicia Svelda is her name, though to be honest that person shouldn't really exist. Something said person did in her need for safety.
The reason behind Felicia's beating of Samuel, isn't really important. He did some sort of crime involving the wrong sort of people, or used his spark inappropriately allowing him to do a crime. If Felicia cared enough to recall what she learned about him, she probably would've recalled something like him sleeping with a minor or something. Apparently it was the wrong minor if the current situation was any indication though truth be told, the beating is just extra. Apparently Samuel got super uppity with Felicia and said some rather mean things about her and her family. Real mean things that didn't need to be said, but then again she did kinda break into his home, pistolwhipped him a couple of times before dragging him out of the building. Aside from the sounds of Felicia's beating of Samuel, the only other indication of life was Felicia talking to someone while she continued beating Samuel.
"What's that Dove?" It might've been Samuel, though Felicia wasn't really the type to be overly sweet in any situation.
"Yeah I'm going to check out who our daughter's interested in. Well the reason is cause it's an ingrained habit of mine. What was his name again...wasn't it Frederic or Frank or some other Germanic descended name?"
Several punches were thrown after she answered and soon Felicia heard Samuel's jaw give a satisfying crack, meanwhile movement from the punches caused her hair to shift about revealing a Bluetooth type headset thing in her ear. So she was on the phone, though that hardly mattered to Samuel as he tried to hold back some tears. Felicia was honestly a bit surprised that he hadn't shed any yet.
"What's that? ...What am I doing? I'm at the gym, giving the punching bag the one-two. Yes... Baby, yes I won't overdo it like last time."
Another flurry of punches and Samuel's face became more battered as another crack was heard.
"Listen Dove, I need to get back to work. I'll hopefully be home in time to take you out. If I miss my chance, I want to say happy anniversary, I'll make it up to you, and that my gift is in that chest of ours. I love you. Goodbye for now." Her goodbye said, she turned off her headset before shaking her arms and hands trying to loosen up after her 'workout'. "You know Samuel. You could've died in a much more dignified manner if you weren't so hopped up on your own arrogance. Hell you could've died with all four of your limbs if you didn't threaten my family." Felicia said aloud as she rolled her shoulders and began to pace in front of him. Truth be told, she would've beaten him anyway, since she was still angry over the fact that some ******** up type bank robbers were able to get the hell out of her clutches when they should've died for stealing her deposit box. However, Samuel Banes the big shot just had to threaten her family intensifying her anger into manic fury and well...he was going to die anyway. She saw no reason as to why she couldn't practice her surgery skills, though now she was probably gonna have to pay Divoch for a body removal. Blasted pig farmer pulled teeth whenever Felicia needed a body removed from existence. "But no. You just had to go and threaten my family, and that just so happened to have sent me over the edge. I would've preferred just breaking your kneecaps before snapping your neck but, well you gave me the perfect opportunity to test my surgical skills when you passed out after I dislocated one of your shoulders." She let out another sigh and felt a slight shiver run down her spine. The shiver she could understand considering that she had stripped out of her suit jacket and dress shirt going down to her tank top, but she couldn't quite understand the sigh. Maybe it had something to do with the notion of him passing out after she dislocated one of his shoulders. Who did that!? She had both of her shoulders dislocated before, and she didn't pass out. He must've been a giant p***y. Taking a moment to walk around behind him, she got ready to finish her work in the factory by quickly taking a hold of Samuel Banes' forehead and lower jaw. "Anything you want to say Samuel? Maybe 'I'll never sleep with a minor again!' or, and this is just a guess but, 'I'll know to avoid threatening my enemies' families.' I mean it would've been nice if you learned these lessons, but apparently you didn't...and now never will." Felicia might've guessed that the man's blackened and damaged eyes must've widen ever since she grabbed his head with both hands, but she didn't give his facial expression a passing thought as she quickly snapped his neck with a satisfying crunch.
Her contract completed, Felicia pulled out her phone snapping a picture of the end result before going through some other pictures. Specifically one, she took of herself after testing her 'surgical' skills. She was always surprised with how wild and disturbed she looked. She had often wondered if she was mentally unsound or possibly sociopathic, cause it'd certainly explain how she was able to be unfazed by all of her vile deeds but whenever she talked to her right hand, the man just said she learned how to be that way. Which always caused her to chuckle cause she knew Drago was kind of the reverse. Supposed learned sympathy or something. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Felicia went to her contacts listed and quickly called her right hand man, giving him the wonderful news that NS and him would be paying a visit to their friend Divoch. He had the audacity to ask why he had to go visit that barbarian, and she quickly told him 'cause' and that it was an anniversary of hers so she was going to be busy for the rest of the day. So unless it was super pressing, she wasn't to be bothered. The old man just chuckled and muttered something in Russian, before agreeing and that he'd be there within a couple of minutes. She barked back that it better be less than a couple, which caused him to make some 'witty' remark about adrenaline and it 'revving her engine' before she cut the call and walked out to her car. Despite the old bear's jest...he was right, and she was going to try and beat her wife home in attempt to surprise her little Dove with some unplanned anniversary fun.
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Posted: Tue Aug 28, 2012 11:29 am
Alec Mosley & Selena Fox
Forty five minutes late.
It really shouldn’t have surprised him, not at all. Eyes as pale as ice stared down at the time on his phone, darkening the screen with a click and setting it aside to grab at the half full cup before him. How long had he been coming here to meet with her? Months, last he checked. Hell, nearly a year had passed since that first meeting that had him frozen for words. It was strangely odd, yet in a way he had a sense of déjà vu. How was that possible at a first meeting? She had joked that maybe he’d dreamed about her, to which he had replied with an ‘as if’, immediately falling into a teasing/taunting routine that he’d never had with another woman before.
Who was he to complain though? He had been so terrible with other women at picking them up, that his friends had suggested him as gay. Of course, a few bruises later they rescinded their claims, but still it stuck in his mind with a hint of worry. Wasn’t his fault pick up lines never worked. But with Alex he felt a fast friendship that he didn’t have with the group he hung out with, something that caused him to cherish the easiness that came while they chatted about everything and nothing over coffee and hot chocolate in a coffee bar. That was yet another thing she jibed him about. In turn he taunted her with jokes on caffeine stunting her growth.
One more glance at his phone and the redhead gave up nursing his chocolaty beverage, downing the now cool drink in one swig and depositing a small tip on the table as he stood. In true blonde form, Alex could be a bit flaky, forgetting things like their little meetings, and even so much as forgetting to send a text on being waylaid. It was something he was used to, though thankfully it wasn’t often enough that he had to wonder about their friendship. Depositing his empty cup and the cold filled coffee into the trash, he happened to look up, the sight sending a ghost of a smile over features that had recently been resigned to a boring night.
No wonder she hadn’t shown up. The LCD screen above the barista, which had everyone’s attention, showed quite a scene. It was shaky footage at best, probably taken from someone’s camera phone which was confirmed by the dark haired newswoman who was voicing over the view. ‘We interrupt your program to bring you the latest on the interrupted hijacking that occurred less than an hour ago. This is Selena Fox, Channel 12 News is the only station to receive any footage, and here’s the story…’ She continued to speak, but he drowned out the urgent voice she used, focusing on the blurry but distinct figures on the screen.
“Look, momma!” A young boy at another table nearby squealed through a loose tooth, his pudgy little finger pointing at the screen where he recognized those on the television. “It’s Arsenal, and his sidekick, Redline!” He lisped in excitement, as though he were the only one who knew and the reporter hadn’t just labeled them all under his howling voice. Good thing she wasn’t there to hear it, Alec winced. He wasn’t so sure she would take being reduced from bodyguard to sidekick, even if it was from a seven year old. Still, from what he could see of the looped feed, she was kicking some serious a**…and enjoying every minute of it. The forces of Guardian were easy to see as well, the uniforms a dead giveaway despite the grainy and unstable feed.
Their commander seemed to be their as well, picked out because of that unusual shade of hair. Silently Alec wondered if years of dealing with Alex and her boss had made him go white prematurely. The thought made him snicker aloud, noting the thought in the back of his mind to put to Alex once he was around her again. Even with all that was happening on the screen in that video up until it whited out due to what the reporter called some sort of blinding light, he could not put her in the background. Maybe it was because of their odd friendship that his eyes locked onto her, perhaps he was concerned for her well being during the showdown? In any case, he stayed until the transmission was over, the female at the station having garnered what she could from the little piece that was sure to be re televised once more at the primetime and probably even the morning show, though by then there would doubtless be more to a** to the story as they gleaned anything else from hearsay.
Shaking his head, the pale eyed male stuffed his hands in his pockets as he left the establishment, eying the skyline and noting the late afternoon hour. He’d waited longer than he thought. Pursing his lips in thought as he hit the crosswalk, he felt his hand close over his phone, pausing after he’d made the second curb and pulling it out. Shrugging away his last dregs of thought, he slid the contacts down to her own, punching in his message for Alex to see when she was available. Done, he slid the slim tech away, whistling tunelessly as his feet took him off for a wander towards the nicest pub he had yet to find. After all, redheads were always welcome at a pub.
‘Saw you on tv, I suppose that was a good enough excuse for missing coffee. I bought though, so now how about you buy next time, I'll hold you to it!’
~~~~~~~~~~
What a scoop! The sassy dark haired female felt like dancing in her sling back pumps, but to do that on the ceramic tile of the station’s lobby would be fatal. Well, for someone without her talents, anyway. Back to the matter at hand, though. Thanks to her connections, she had been hand delivered the sole video of the showdown two hours ago in the middle of their beautiful city. The only idiot stupid enough to sneak in closer for a good shot knew her people would pay him for the source, and pay they did. Now the little brat could buy a years worth of Mad Magazines, and she walked off the set with a feather in her cap and a near guarantee of this year’s highest Christmas bonus.
Not only that, but now she had the exclusive press ticket to the gala hosted by the most eligible bachelor himself, Nathaniel Graves. Suck on that, Tammie Lynn! The look on her face when their boss had broken the news? Priceless! There was no end to the amount of good today had been. Checking her lip gloss in the mirror like columns as she moved through the front doors, she made her getaway, hearing the doors close behind her before letting some of that prissy upbeat attitude out to dry. There was really only so much bounce she could play up on the screen before it got tiring. But what kind of reporter would she be if she wasn’t sassy and brassy on live news?
Thankfully, her newsroom attitude was a wonderful veil for the femme fatale she played once the streets grew dark. Oh yes, there was nothing she loved more than feeling the wind through her hair as she raced over rooftops to her next destination. It was the adrenaline she craved, far more than she could get running through the daylight hours to catch up to the latest bank robbery or the end of a high speed chase. Nothing beat the savory feel of a silent free fall down to the next highest building, knowing the only thing that could save her was a tiny metal bar attached to the side of said building.
Oh, but she wasn’t in it just for the thrill, per se. There were things that had to be done, things only someone with her contacts from her job were able to do. That was the reason she took up her slim little mask and bodysuit in the first place. Selena Fox was an average, somewhat klutzy media person, keeping the public fooled with her winning smile and charm. As Vixen she struck fear into thugs and philanderers alike, sneaking in with the guile and cunning of her surname and taking out those she knew to be the worst of their brood. Many fell to her mastering of disguise, allowing her access into their dank circles only to find themselves destroyed from within.
A little black book, a ledger. This little treasure held every single name she had found with a connection to hit men, Mafioso’s, even villainous sparks out there. Sparks were the hardest to make stay down; she tended to leave those ones to that sophisticated robo-hunk and his sarcastically chipper sidekick (Hah). There was also that teeny little…pesky habit she had of stealing things of theirs. Of course, once she unveiled the evidence necessary for them to be taken in, it was only natural to do them a favor or two. Not like they needed their finery where they were headed. Who would miss a pair of diamond earrings, or a ruby ring? Most of the money was donated to places that needed it anyways. She only kept a teensy, tiny little portion to herself. Bonus or no, being a reporter wasn’t going to pay all her bills, or get her that sexy little number for the party! Hmm, that reminded her, she was due for another little stint of moonlighting tonight.
Humming quietly as she slipped into her car, she kicked off her pumps and hit the ignition, sliding her sporty little car into gear and speeding off towards her townhouse on the bluffs. Well, maybe not such a teensy piece after all.
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Posted: Tue Sep 04, 2012 12:21 pm
 Six years ago, an object fell from the sky. It was followed by several more. Of course, objects often fall from the sky: satellites, meteors, skydivers with parachutes, skydivers without parachutes- but something that had never fallen to Earth before had landed six years ago. They were called Sparks. To most, this meant drastic mutations that gave the inhabitants abilities beyond their wildest expectations.
One such person branded with the title of Spark was the peculiar Queen Vegas. She was an electrician, but more importantly, she was a vigilante who had just seen the news of an attempted heist and several good people who had been injured as a result. Vegas turned off the television in disgust. Violence was second nature to her, however six years ago, she had decided this world would be better off with her skills directed at its villains and law breakers. Those who committed heinous crimes would become victims to their own actions. Quantum City was rife with its share of evil, and already Queen Vegas was on the hunt for any leads to Pariah.
It was a day off from her job, and Vegas intended to use it to pursue anything that would lead her to the Terrible Trio. She had never encountered them, proven by the fact that they had not been delivered to the ICU of one of Quantum's hospitals. Vegas only killed those who killed and hospitalized the others, hoping their stay in a shared white room wearing pastel gowns would deter them from considering another bad choice. She often times amused herself with the news, as there were always people arguing for or against her actions. An agreement was never reached, and Vegas was always quick to leave the scene before any authorities showed up so that she wouldn't be apprehended by what she saw as a one-sided justice system. After all, she noted that she dealt with criminals a lot faster and more efficiently than any official law enforcement personnel.
Vegas grabbed three items before leaving the apartment she lived in: a glass bottle of water, a shiny, smooth white pistol, and an untied bow tie. Of course, she was unaware of what the intended purpose of the third object was, she simply used it for the inevitable fog that appeared on her glasses whenever she left her cool apartment for the hot outdoors. Vegas pulled the bow tie from her back pocket and wiped off the fog before replacing her glasses on her face and stashed the bow tie in her pocket once more. Finding the Terrible Trio would be difficult- Vegas would have to find some other Spark shouting "Pariah", destroying things, and hurting people- and even then she couldn't guarantee they'd be conscious long enough to tell her where to find the three Sparks responsible for the events from earlier. Trying to create an alliance with other Sparks would be useful, however Vegas didn't trust anyone enough to let them know about her current, undeserved status as a fugitive.
It wasn't but ten minutes later, when Vegas had stumbled across a seedy part of Quantum City without remembering how she got there (she was too wrapped up in thoughts of how to find the Trio), that Vegas found the Trio. No interrogations needed. They were simply hanging around in a back alley, while Shock tagged the word Pariah on the side of a brick tenement in bright lime green spray paint. The three were engulfed in conversation, and didn't notice Vegas, who was now eavesdropping from behind a dumpster.
"Still, they have to give us credit for what we did. We just took out a dozen officers for a month," Shock said.
"You don't get it! Now there will be more patrols, more recruits for QPD. People will now be looking all over for us, and we don't even have Pariah's protection because we didn't get the armor. If anything, now it'll be harder for us to get into Pariah," Lock retorted. She furiously paced around with her hands on her hips.
"Well, let's just kill Arsenal," Barrel suggested. Lock and Shock looked dumbfounded at him.
"Are you insane? He's got that armor thing!" Lock shouted.
"Yeah, so we find him when he doesn't have it. We already know who he is," Barrel explained.
"I wouldn't suggest that," Vegas said, revealing herself to the entire group. Shock dropped the spray can in his hand and raised it in Vegas' direction. He fired a jolt of electricity just as her glass water bottle shattered against his chest. He slumped to the ground unconscious. Barrel growled and ran forward, intending to crush Vegas. She quickly pulled the pistol from the waist of her pinstripe jeans and squeezed the trigger. It emitted a bright blue light that hit Barrel and he fell, also unconscious. Before the behemoth could land on Vegas, she jumped up and landed on his back, but was soon greeted with chains at her throat and arms. The sheer force of Lock's attack knocked Vegas into the brick wall. She could feel the chains tightening around her neck, and feigned choking noises before falling limp to the ground. Lock, smirking, picked up the gun Vegas had used, and pointed it at the seemingly knocked out woman, only to be greeted by a sudden kick in the chest which broke three ribs, and a punch to her skull, leaving Lock with a concussion. She was out cold. Vegas took her gun and put it back in the waist of her jeans.
Vegas dusted herself off and picked up the discarded spray paint can and tagged the word "SUCKS" beneath Shock's "PARIAH." Smiling to herself, she picked a cellphone from Lock's pocket and dialed the police department. An officer answered, and Vegas responded "You're welcome" before hitting the end button and dropping the phone on top of Lock. It was Vegas' calling card, and QPD was accustomed to it now.
Vegas casually strolled to a nearby bus stop and left the scene before anyone showed up and connected her with the attack. The Trio would live, but they would still need to stay in the hospital for a few days.
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Posted: Tue Sep 04, 2012 1:26 pm
 Early mornings, always the best time to spring a job on unsuspecting security guards. 5am, shift change at Quantum central, most supers would be either just waking up for the day, or would be heading in from a night of hard work. Early mornings were the favourite time for the Magnússon twins. Down in the shadows of a service road running the side of the bank, Jack and Fiona Magnússon, better known as Depth Charge and Flash Point, were preparing to make their move. " Ready?" " Always... Right on my count then." They said quietly getting out of an old beat up car they had apparently stole from some poor soul. Their armour caught the lights from above an emergency exit as they both lined up in either side of the door. " Really, when will they learn that walls need to be strong too..." Flash Point murmured as her brother pointed his hands towards the dirty bricks. Alleys like this always had mouldy spots, and with a leaking gutter than Depth Charge had set up the week before, the bricks were saturated with moisture. Good new for them, bad news for everyone else. " Three... Two... One... GO!" She shouted out drawing her pistols. " BOOYAA!!!" Depth Charge roared as the water inside the bricks expanded at a shocking rate. Cracks snaked their way around the door and jets of steam shot out from various holes as the wall gave way. A quick blast from Flash Point and the heavy steel door was lying flat on the ground with a sizable dent in it. Break in, success. The alarm sounded throughout the entire building as the pair stormed in through their makeshift entrance, but their path was clear, obviously no one expected a raid from the rear, lucky! careering down the corridors with their pistols drawn, the twins made their way to the vault. But the shouts and calls of the guards were hot on their tails, they couldn't be more than a few seconds behind. " Fi get the ceiling!" Jack called out to his sister as he skidded to a halt in front of a large circular steel door. " On it." Fiona replied as she stopped back to back with her brother, raised her hands and set the temperature soaring until flames engulfed the corridor. The shock wave forced her back into her brother who was already braced for it, and with a crash, the ceiling came down, sealing them off from most of the bank, she had made sure to leave an escape route out to the roof though. not that any guards would be coming from there any time soon. " Nice one. right we gotta be quick, ********' vigiliantes'll be all over us like flies on s**t." Jack said with a chuckle to himself as he let out a spray of water from his 'jump-pack' out over the vault doors seams. Getting in wouldn't be the hard point, keeping their eardrums would be though. Crouching down behind a sizable chunk of rubble Fiona opened her mouth in preparation for the blast. Jack though, didn't have the luxury of hiding, not if he wanted this blast to go through right. Opening his mouth, he raised a single hand towards the door. The water had worked its way down as far as it could go before the seals stopped it, but it was far enough. The hisses echoed around them as Depth Charge shot volleys of heat energy through the water causing it to superheat and expand at a phenomenal rate. Using his other hand Jack added more water to the mix, increasing the pressure. the groans of the steel were reverberating through the floor, cracks creeped up the walls when finally it could take no more. The band was deafening, the shock wave knocked Depth Charge clean off his feet and slid him across the floor. " Jeez! Next time I'm blowing the vault! Steam bloody everywhere, I can't see s**t!!" Flash Point shouted as her brother groaned somewhere on the floor from getting the wind knocked out of him. " Sounds like a plan... Urgh." He replied as the steam condensed back into his jump pack. righting himself to join his sister, the twins stood in silence as their prize came into view. Piles of cash, crates of golden goodness and deposit boxes galore! " You... you start at that side... Remember, light and valuable." " Yeah same to you! Remember you trying to grab that load of gold bars? Haha! What would you even do with them, no one would have bought them for fear they'd get caught!" " .... shut it. They were pretty." The pair bantered back and forth as deposit box after deposit box got emptied into rucksacks and pockets. Less than five minutes had passed since the emergency exit had blown off till the twins were ready to make their escape. Running back towards the emergency exit and passing the rubbled corridor to the front of the bank, Depth charge and Flash Point high tailed it up a fire escape towards the roof. There were a few guards, but a shot to the leg kept them from being any trouble. they weren't really ones for killing, well not 'innocent' people anyway, assholes that deserved it had no chance. " South? No wait West..." Flash Point said over the rush of air filling her jump pack as she ran towards the edge of the roof before taking off like a champagne cork. Depth charge just sighed as his sister made her mind up before following after her with an explosion of steam. ~~~~~~~~~~ It seemed that Flash Point had made a bad decision though with West, as no more than a minute or two after they set off they had ran into an Infinity corps pursuit team... But the twins were no easy chase! They prided themselves on avoiding capture, neither of them had been caught since they were 16, though Jack had been caught chatting up someones girlfriend but that's not the same really. The chase lasted for a good ten minutes or so, and if it wasn't for them blowing apart a blocks fire hydrants and dumping at least half their takings they would never had gotten away. Still, it was unusual for Infinity to come after them at such an hour, especially for a bank job... If only they knew what they had stolen. Successful robbery was successful!! 
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Posted: Tue Sep 04, 2012 2:26 pm
  .....- Corporate interests and clouds -" I'm saying that if we increase our investment than profits could be tripled by the time it pays out!" " And I'm saying that we need more security before we bulldoze ahead with our customers money. Jerry remember the last time you said that an investment was a sure thing?" " Adam is right. You're lucky we managed to talk you out of it, the reputation of this bank would have been in tatters." The discussions flying back and forward across the boardroom table were beginning to get out of hand, and one man sat at the end of the table was unamused by the sudden turn of events, not even the gentle clouds floating by the boardroom windows were helping, he would have to intervene. It had not been long since Doctor Jansen Cygnar had taken over as head of Quantum Central bank, thanks to his spark he managed to convince the old owner to sell to him for an 'undisclosed amount' and took his position. there had been plenty of opposition, but after a week in the building Jansen had more than proved himself worthy to lead. It had been a couple of months since then, and once again the board of directors were arguing where they should stick their greedy fingers next... " Gentlemen, gentlemen please. As I have stated before, there is no need to raise your voices in such a maner." Jansen said with a voice dripping in authority. Silence gripped the room as the arguing pigs lifted their fat heads from the trough. " Mr Gaymeir, if I could see the file referring to this investment please?" He asked politely. Jerry Gaymeir, a squat man with balding hair and sunken eyes, lifted some paper documents from the table and shuffled forwards. Taking the documents in hand Jansen skimmed over the first pages and flicked through various graphs. The other board members sat quietly murmuring to each other calmly, but their emotions were mixed. Some looked on in disdain, others in awe, and a few with strong hatred at their younger and mysterious new 'boss'. " Hmm... yes yes. I agree with you Jerry, however triple is unrealistic. Maybe double at the most. but yes yes I think this would be a good investment! And it does seem to be for a good cause, why not let our company name earn us some respect rather than credits, no? All in favour?" Jansen said calmly as sat the file down on the table. there was a little hesitation from quite a few, but after the number of hands started to rise it became a winning vote. " Thank you Dr Cygnar." Jerry said quietly as he made his way back to his seat , avoiding the glares from the more hot blooded board members. " It's settled then, Quantum Central shall invest in the rehabilitation of convicted sparks. If we can help to stop them reoffending, then our streets will be all the safer. I'm sure this can only be a good thing." Even if Jansen was in this position by 'unusual' means, and if his main purpose was to gain funds for Pariah, it didn't mean he couldn't do some good work at the same time, and in this case he could maybe even look out some recruits while he was at it. Various charitable moves had been passed since he gained power, and of course there had also been some 'failures' as well. Every company had their losses but if they were outweighed by profit no one seemed to mind, and when the losses were actually due to investments sinking and disappearing into Pariah pockets through back doors and mafia links and all manor of paths, Jansen didn't mind either... " Now gents, if I could turn your attention to our main point this morning. There was another robbery this morning, and unluckily our branch on..." Turning once again to look at the clouds floating past, Jansen felt that today was going to be a long day. He would have to reprimand those twins later for making his day difficult. Of course they were doing a job on his request, and if they had gotten the item they had been asked to retrieve things would only get easier.
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Posted: Wed Sep 05, 2012 7:45 pm
Kenta Danielson~Crimson Rider  "It's Showtime!!!""Welcome back Rider fans! When we last left our hero he was chasing down that rambunctious Rocky who was last seen entering the Quantum City train graveyard with the Jade Dragon in his evil clutches. But wait! Ken is still recovering from the previous night's battle with The Zoo Keeper and is unable to transform into the Crimson Rider Can Ken stop Rocky's plan to ruin the Chinese New Year celebration without it? Stay tuned to find out!"
"Give it up Rocky! There's no where to run now!"
Kenta Danielson AKA The Crimson Rider carefully made his way between rows of decommissioned boxcars. The labyrinth of freights along with the night sky gave the sly villain ample room to hide. "Shut it Crimson Tide, this statue is gonna put me in good standing with Pariah once I turn it in!" the gravely voice echoed throughout the trainyard. Ken turned to the camera and struck pose #37. "I don't know who this Parasol you're talking about is, but I'm not gonna let you ruin Chinese New Year! I promised those kids will be chanting 'Moo Goo Gai Pan' by the end of the night and the Crimson Rider keeps his promises."
"..."
Silence permeated the area for a good fifteen seconds. Off camera someone with a Northern English accent whispered "...I think you meant 'Kung Hei Fat Ch-" "Shut it." murmured Ken.
Fortunately for Ken from out of nowhere one of Rocky's thugs had managed to sneak up on him and slammed a 2X4 square on the back of his head with enough force to shatter the wood into splinters. The thug's smug look of victory was quickly replaced by shock as Kenta showed no signs of damage from the blow, brushing off the debris that landed on his shoulders. Before the poor henchman could react he was greeted with a roundhouse kick to the face, sending him flying into one of the abandoned boxcars. Kenta turned to the rest of Rocky's goons and began counting aloud.
"One...two...three...and four." he mused as he once again turned to the camera, or rather the person holding it. "You guys may want to step back, don't want to miss a single shot of the action now...oh and so you two are safely outta the way I guess" he murmured that last part as the camera panned back in a panicked fashion.
Once the film crew was at a safe distance Kenta turned back to the unfortunate thugs as he began to take off his leather jacket. "The last group that ganged up on me lasted one minute. Let's see if you jokers can beat that." With that final sentence Ken threw his jacket into the air and dashed towards the group, who had barely little time to react. Needlessly to say Ken took out the poor criminals with a series of punches, kicks, and a few elbows to the face. "Time!" shouted Ken the moment the last hooligan hit the ground.
"59.58 seconds!" shouted a voice off camera.
"Alright, a new Crimson Rider record!" Ken shouted victoriously as he walked over to pick up his jacket. He once again pointed to the camera in a heroic pose. "It'll take more than a couple of cheap goons to take down the Crimson Rid-"
Suddenly Ken was interrupted by a speeding forklift driven by Rocky crashing into him mid sentence. The camera focused on the forklift which had crashed right into a storage car, with Ken nowhere in sight. Off screen a frantic third voice could be heard screaming. "Cut to a commercia-"
We'll be right back after a message from our sponsers!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile two young men were watching the show at a local coffee shop. While everyone's attention was on some news report by that Fox lady, the two were still snickering at what happened to Ken.
"You know B, you could've warned C.R. about the forklift. I mean we did see Rocky get in and start the thing."
"Whatever Dude, he didn't warn me when The Flamer aimed one of his fireballs at my face. My eyebrows just finally grew back.
"Oh yeah, you looked so ridiculous with those painted on brows! You didn't even get the right color." the Brit laughed. His laughter was cut short when his chair was kicked right from under him. "Arsehole."
warned Intern two. As the Brit was getting back up their attention was once again turned to the television.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Welcome back to The Crimson Rider Show!!!
The camera had zoomed over to Rocky who was gloating over his successful ambush. "That was way too easy! I can't believe the idiot actually fell...for...huh?" A faint crimson glow that emanated from in front of the forklift had distracted the villain from his boasting. Suddenly the vehicle started shaking as the glow become more intense.
"Crimson Rider! It's SHOWTIME!!!" shouted Kenta.
A brilliant crimson flash had blinded Rocky, who tried to shield his eyes in vain. Once the flash had dissipated the forklift began moving backwards revealing Kenta fully decked out in Crimson Rider's armor pushing it back. "Thought you had me didn't you Rocky? Well think again!" In an awesome display of strength the Rider had lifted the small vehicle and tossed it aside. Rocky barely had time to jump off before watching the forklift hit one of the trains causing a fiery explosion. Luckily Crimson Rider took advantage of Rocky's befuddlement and lifted Rocky by the collar. "Okay Rocky, you gonna go quietly or does the Rider have to knock some sense into you." warned Crimson Rider.
"Alright alright I give up! Put me down already!"
The Crimson Rider obliged but kept his foe secure. "Good, now where's the Jade Dragon?"
"I put it underneath the seat of...the..fork..." Rocky grimaced as he turned to the smoldering wreckage. Crimson Rider did the same but fortunately his armor hid his look of shocked realization.
"...lift." finished Rider blankly. He quickly turned to the camera and frantically signaled to stop recording.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the credits rolled on the television they were shrunk into the corner as another show began.
"Welcome to Quantum Theory! The only show that brings you the juiciest Spark gossip in Quantum. I'm your host, Vicki Lane. First some breaking news, it's just been announced that the SBC has decided not to renew the Crimson Rider show for another season. When asked for comment, one anonymous executive said quote: "Declining ratings and Kenta's off screen behavior have driven to the conclusion that continuing the franchise was an inadvisable move."
"Oh s**t..." said both interns at once. Who immediately left the shop to prevent Kenta from learning the bad news.
"Are you sure we're not overreacting?" panted the Brit.
"Are you serious!? Ken's gonna be devastated once he hears about this."
"Yeah maybe at first, but he'll get over it eventually right?"
The pair had reached their apartment complex when they heard a familiar voice scream from the rooftops.
"I'm gonna jump!" screamed Kenta as he was desperately being held back by the Director. "Kenta Darling it's not worth it!"
"Or not..."
"Aim for the Brit!" shouted Intern Two
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Posted: Tue Sep 11, 2012 10:22 pm
Andros Valiant ~ Nightshroud|Roxana Ortega "...Frey, what have I told you before? ...That doesn't matter. Our men get put in danger constantly, they know the risks. If you can't handle that, then you should find a new line of work! Merrick...Merrick, look! I don't care if you're angry! The call was partially mine to make, so don't place the blame all onto Nathaniel! And don't be stupid: we need him. Graves is the only person that's jumping to give you the resources you need! Without him, the Guardians are nothing and we're right back where we started! Now suck it up, deal with it, and get back to work!"
With a resounding slam, Commissioner Roxana Ortega of the Quantum Police hung up the land line in her office, ending the call with Merrick Frey of the Guardians just as he was about to launch into another of his rants. Sighing, she rubbed her temples, sitting back in her chair. Merrick was one of the most, if not the most respect men on the force; if it weren't for his encouragement all those years ago, Roxana never would've became an office and found her calling. But as highly as Roxana valued him? God, could Merrick sometimes be a big old back of dicks.
His staunch code of honor didn't allow him the luxury of seeing reason. One could say that maybe he hated Sparks, though he'd vehemently deny that, and he once almost beat up an officer that postured otherwise. He simply believed that if villainous Sparks weren't allowed to go around causing trouble, then all the vigilantes that decided to run around had to be beholden to the same rule. That they were not exempt from rules simply because they fought for 'justice'. And, technically, following the letter of the law, vigilantism was a crime. And there was no accounting for the damages and injuries incurred as a result of these 'superheroes' and 'supervillains' clashing.
But it wasn't that easy. The mind of the public have been swayed by the media, the comics, video games, and movies that depict differently powered individuals fighting the good fight with the powers that they have been given. The news is all sensationalism, never a pleasant thing to be had; always death, destruction, crime, negativity. When constantly faced with a society that is apparently threatening to crash down around you, and you suddenly find yourself with the ability to do something, anything, about it, who wouldn't want to don a flashy costume and take on those that wish to spread evil?
It went deeper than that, too. Merrick and Roxana were partially to blame, but equilibrium had been established. The two had struggled with maintaining peace and security during that turbulent time where Sparks were popping up left and right, and no one seemed to know how to handle it all. It was only with aid of Nathaniel Graves, Alex Van Zandt, and Hyperion that Merrick and Roxana were able to convince the powers that be to create the Guardians, and the appearance of the heroes known as the Infinity Corps that the city able to finally regain some semblance of normality. But this peace was precarious. Without the Corp, or the aid of the Hyperion Duo, it wouldn't be too farfetched to say that everyone with an itch for crime would be out to scratch it before it became dangerous once more. Merrick didn't seem to understand that. Or if he did, just outright ignored it due to his inexplicable loathing of both Graves and the members of IC.
Was he the only one that didn't seem to have good relation with Sparks? It certainly seemed that way. But not all of them were bad or dangerous, good and evil leanings aside. Roxana had been graced with personal proof of that, just last night…
~12:50 A.M.
“What’s the situation?”
“The group of armed gunmen that robbed Quantum First National this morning have been tracked here to this old apartment building. It’s apparently their base of operations. We weren’t sure beforehand, but apparently one of our informants was able to get the sort of lead we needed.”
“And now?”
The officer sighed softly, glancing up to the building. “Now…there are at least ten gunmen in the building. And they have hostages. Just picked people right off the street. They had eyes and ears out for us, so they were already holed up by the time we arrived on the scene. We’ve been negotiating, but they refuse to let anyone go unless we give into their demands?”
Roxana pursed her lips, surprised that a couple of mundane criminals were able to avoid any sort of confrontation with a superhero. Speaking of… “Any signs of Sparks?”
“None, thankfully” said the officer. “The gunmen said that if any Sparks tried playing hero, they’d kill all the hostages, and then open fire on the police. And the place is pretty held up. Most entryways around the building are barricaded and assumed guarded.”
“Well, this is lovely,” Roxana said dryly, adjusting her coat. “Where’s the negotiator? Lemme see if I can’t work something out.” Nodding, the officer took her to the negotiator, who gave her their end of the line to the suspects. She called, and waited for a good minute and a half before someone picked up.
“I told you, we’re not coming out till we get what we want!” said the one and the end of the line, a somewhat gruff but authoritative voice.
“This is Roxana Ortega, commissioner of the Quantum PD. I’m assuming that you’re asking for something in engineering your escape…but you know I very well can’t do that.”
“Well, Ms. Ortega – and I must say, you have such a sexy accent – if you can’t get us a safe ride out of the city, then these hostages are going to have to pay the price.”
“If you touch any of them - !”
“Then we’re dead, right? But aren’t we dead anyway? You’ve gotta have snipers and SWAT teams waiting outside. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had Guardians out there, just to cover your assess!” Roxana tried speaking, but was cut off by the lead suspect. “I don’t care what’s going on out there, really: no escape for us means there’ll be no good outcome for this situation!” The call ended, and Roxana exhaled in frustrations as the negotiator took back the phone.
“Don’t get too upset,” said the man. “Mr. Grimm, as he wished to be called, has been like that since I started talking to him.”
“Well, that doesn’t make me feel any better,” Roxana replied. “We’ve still got hostages in there, and they’re threatening to hurt them. I don’t even know how many people are at risk, or how exactly we’re going to get in there if they’ve got eyes all over!”
“…I think I can help out here.” A chill shot through Roxana’s spine even before she heard the voice that seemed to originate from nowhere. Other officers heard it, too, as everyone within a few feet looked around in confusion. Roxana, always the intuitive sort, carefully reached for her firearm. “Please,” said the voice. “There’s no need to do that, ma’am. I mean no harm.”
“If that’s so, then show yourself!” Roxana demanded, looking around. There was nothing or no one there. This was obviously a work of Spark, which didn’t bode well. Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention: a shadow that seemed to flicker and writhe. Turning to face, she blinked, watching in awe as the shadow – her shadow – came to life, moved. It lifted up from the ground, in a vaguely humanoid shape. It rippled, solidified, even gaining color, until it formed a short male in what looked to be a ninja-esque outfit. He bowed slightly, and despite him wearing a face mask that hid everything but his eyes, Roxana could just tell that he was wearing a mischievous little smirk under there, even if it didn’t reach his eyes exactly.
“Who in the world are you?” Roxana demanded, before shaking her head. “No, don’t even bother answering that. I don’t really care. Just leave before you make the situation worse.”
“I would say that the situation is just as bad as it can get,” said the newcomer. “Without thing going straight to hell, that is.” Roxana narrowed her eyes. The Spark’s voice was clear, despite speaking through a mask. She could hear the impish tone, barely restrained. She arched an eyebrow, and the Spark continued. “In the interest of time, I’ll skip my usual formalities. I am Nightshroud, and I am here to bring criminals to justice.”
“…Just how old are you?” said Roxana after a long moment of silence.
“Thirteen, ma’am,” was the easy, honest reply.
“Give me three good reasons why I shouldn’t have you detained and sent to your parents right now!”
Nightshroud chuckled, glancing around a bit before going on. “One, I have my parents’ permission. You could take it up with them…but I highly doubt that you would, give you have no idea who I am, and it’s likely the most trouble I’d get is sternly scolded. Two, it’s me that’s the reason these guys are playing hardball. I’ve been hitting them over the past couple of weeks, disrupting their crimes. They’re trying to make a break for it, before I can stamp them out once and for all. But that’s not going to happen, especially since you’re here to back me up.”
Roxana couldn’t believe it. She didn’t have anything against Sparks, as long as they kept their noses clean. But this kid had the gall to speak to her like he did? “Back you up? Kid, you really dunno who you’re talking to!”
“Why, you’re Roxana Ortega, Commissioner of the Quantum Police Department. One of the most important figures in the entire city, next to the likes of your subordinate, Mercer Fray of the Guardians, and the likes of Nathaniel Graves, aka The Living Weapon, Arsenal.”
“Kid's pretty mouthy,” muttered one of the nearby cops. A look from Roxana shut him and anyone else that thought about speaking up.
“As for reason three,” said Nightshroud, becoming just a little serious in tone, also speaking a little bit quickly. “There’s really no way around the fact that without me, this would turn into a bloodbath. You need me. I know that there are only ten gunmen, but they’re packing. Not all of them have automatics, but enough that it’s a problem, with the seven hostages they have. Most of them are young guns, jumpy, ready to shoot at anything that moves. All of them are posted up on the fifth floor, in a large suite room. Right now, Mr. Grimm is the only one that’s calm, but that’s just cuz he’s a jerk. The don’t all of the possible entry points covered, that was just a lie to get you all to back down. They merely had eyes all about nearby, feeding them info about your sniper positions and such. But they’re not getting any feeds now…because all their eyes are incapacitated.”
“Wait…what?”
“They’re all tied up and waiting in that alley over there,” Nightshroud said with a jerk of his head. “I took care of that. And I’m about to take care of the rest of these goons, as we speak.” At Roxana’s confused look, Nightshroud chuckled once more. “Oh, I guess I should’ve mentioned it before…this is all a distraction for you guys. You couldn’t have stopped me even if you tried.”
“What are you talking about, kid?”
“I meant what I said. You couldn’t have stopped me. Because this is just an illusion.” As he said that, all the color drained from Nightshroud’s features, and he began to apparently sink into the ground, into the shadow itself. “And I’m also already inside.”
“What?!” Roxana’s eyes widened as the Nightshroud – or rather, the illusion of him – fully vanished. She looked to her men, and then to the building. It was a second later that something could be heard. It seemed like, shouting, screaming…and then there was gunfire. “Dammit…all units, move in, now!” With that, there was a bustle of commotion some of Quantum’s finest breached the buildings, ready to get in there and put a stop to all this. However, when the officers arrived on the scene, all they found were Grimm and all his men either knocked out cold or tied by mysterious bands of glowing light. The hostages were unharmed, detailing how it only took a few moments for someone or something to appear out of the darkness and unleash help upon the gunmen. There were apparently, bright lights, fire, multiple copies of the obvious superhero that just faded when hit, and liberal amounts of kung-fu shenanigans.
Either way, the situation was resolved, and every got to go home (or to jail) alive. And Nightshroud? He didn’t show up again, after that.
~Present
Roxana ceased the pacing of her office, tossing aside the report someone had written up of the incident. She shook her head…and couldn’t help but smile. To be completely honest, that was the closest she’d ever been to ‘working’ with a Spark. Even though she encouraged Frey to assist Graves and asked the same the other way, she hadn’t had the pleasure of coming into contact with a Spark. And despite her initially annoyance with the young vigilante Nightshroud, she found something about him…endearing. Of course, she’d do her damndest to discourage the boy and insist that he stay out of the way.
As she took a sip of some coffee she had brewed, the hairs on the back her neck stood up. It was like someone was there, with her in the office…like someone had just appeared out of thin air, though she was alone. Or at least Roxana had thought.
“Don’t be so tense, ma’am,” said Nightshroud’s disembodied voice. Roxana couldn’t help but give a slight start, even though she knew she should’ve expected something like that. “Just stopped by to say hi. Also, I dropped a pair of car thieves outside the precinct. I think you’ve been looking for these goons for some time, no?”
Not believing him, Roxana moved to her window, which overlooked the front of the station. And sure enough, officers were taken in two men down below. The woman sighed heavily, taking a long swig from her coffee. “Is this supposed to be some sort of peace offering?”
“No, just doing my usual thing. Don’t worry though, Roxy.”
“Roxy?”
“I’ll try to keep out of your way. I don’t really like stepping on your toes so much. But it’s bound to happen, right?”
“And lemme guess, you expect me to put out a signal for you every time I’m stumped and my people turn out to be corrupt or incompetent?”
Nightshroud laughed. “I’m a superhero, not a detective. I’ll leave the brain work for you. Deal?” And with that, Roxana felt the presence of the boy vanish. Despite herself, she smiled again. If this was a taste of things to come, she didn’t think that things would be so bad. Hopefully, the kid would keep to his word, especially since she’d hate to have to sic Frey on him. But something told Roxana that Frey would only be driven insane by Nightshroud demeanor.
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 10:25 am
  " Marcoh watch where you put that, and Draven, stop standing around and get on with something would you?" Alexandr barked as a few dozen Pariah militant forces hurried around in the dim light of their base, a disused subway track, long since forgotten by the city planners. As far as anyone was concerned the old system of tracks was long gone, filled in with the rubble and dirt from the new tracks when they were dug out. Pariah had made use of them though, and after a year of work a team of earth manipulators had cleared the tunnels back to working order, even the tracks still existed! It was the perfect base. Large, covering quite a lot of the city, and very very hard to find as all of the entrances were filled in with concrete and paved over when it was put out of commission. This was no problem for Pariah, having an earth user stationed at each entrance to 'open the doors', and CCTV feeds patched from the cities cameras, they were always aware of the goings on above their heads. Walking the length of the platform, Alexandr kept an eye on the goings on. It was the dead of night and they were in the middle of resupplying, and with one of the 'doors' open they needed to be efficient, even if it was a very secluded entrance. Power sparks were busy hauling tonnes of ammunition down the stairs that led to the surface, and a couple of telekinetics were quickly unloading crates of tinned foods and preservatives onto the platform. After a few minutes the concrete plug of a door was reformed and the guards were told to stand down and help fill the supplies into an old train they had restored and modified into a cargo/troop transporter. Old subway trains with all the seats removed. Each carriage could hold around a trucks worth of supplies, and around 250 men with room for munitions. They had to get these supplies sorted by the morning when Jansen returned, apparently he was planning something big and as usual with his plans, everything had to run like clockwork or they would feel the price. " Right is that everything? Good... Draven, Hertz, back to your posts, I'll be back in half an hour or so to check everything's cool." Alexandr didn't really have a thick accent, but it was certainly commanding. " yes sir." The two guards said in unison before returning back to what used to be a ticket office, now a small bunker outfitted with machine-gun posts and a flamethrower pointing straight up the stairs. The cargo loaded, and the men not needed to guard the 'door' all on the train Alexandr fitted his gas mask over his face, Something that every person was ordered to do when venturing into the tunnels in case of attack, and gave the order to move out. The motors fired up as an electric user gripped a slightly unusual looking lever that was positioned where the accelerator should be. As the tracks were disconnected when the tunnels were filled in, they had to power the trains directly, and as such, each train had a permanent driver assigned to them, much like the earth users stationed at each 'door'. The whirr of the motors started up and the doors shut before the fully laden train began to trundle into the tunnels to the other platforms. The route was fully lit, unusual for a subway, but it was to accommodate for the men that patrolled on foot and for access to various outposts stationed in service offices dotted along the lines. The old tunnels had a walkway on either side of the tracks with a small barrier in between, so it was no problem to patrol while the trains were running. After 5 minutes the modified train pulled into a large open station, obviously the main station of the system. It had 5 tracks leading from the station, two of which led onto the rings, the other three branching out in various directions to other lines. Each track had its own platform other than the ring trains, which shared a platform with a track running along each side. There was one train stationed at each, all the same as the train they had arrived in, and bridges connecting each platform to the next. The full place was a hive of activity with people coming and going from offices and kiosks converted into barracks, storage rooms, one seemed to now function as a canteen, a few smaller ones next to the massive blocked entrance were fitted out as machine-gun nests much the same as the one at the previous platform. If there was one thing that could be said, it was that Pariah were more than ready to withstand an attack. " Munitions first, I want them out and off to the designated stations as soon as possible!"
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Posted: Wed Sep 12, 2012 8:58 pm
 Clara Minnet
The school bell rang, and the horde of middle school children stampeded out of the school and onto the playground for the few minutes of freedom their recess gave them. Some students trickled out later than the rest, among them Clara Minnet. The girl was conspicuous in that she was wearing arm-length gloves, even in the heat. However, none of the other children gave it a second glance; they had long gotten to used to the queer girl’s… abnormal fashion taste. Clara didn’t join any of the various groups of children, instead choosing to sit on the picnic table, setting the book she held in her hands on the rubber-coated table. A medium-sized tree shaded the table, which was the reason she had chosen to sit there. The gloves made her arms and hands sweaty, and she longed to strip them off and throw them away forever, but she knew she couldn’t. What if something happened?
In the six years since the Spark Wave, she had learned various ways to block her spark. The easiest, and by far the crudest, was simply to cover up. For the longest time she would wear only long dresses, stockings, gloves, anything that would cover up every part of her body. A few months of roasting in those clothes during summer made her look for alternative ways. It was to her relief when she figured out that she need only cover her hands, which was where her spark flowed from. She chose to wear arm-length as a cautionary measure.
The book Clara read was one advanced for her age, Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. She’d started the book over two weeks ago, and was still only halfway through the book. She was quickly losing interest in it. As a 12 year old, this was only natural, but for Clara, she hated it. Her love of books knew no bounds. She hated not finishing a book, even if she didn’t enjoy it, or found it boring. She would force herself to finish it. But this book… She was having trouble sticking to that principle. It was just so… so boring. After five minutes of reading, she finally yawned, and her eyes started to droop. She was startled awake by the bell ringing. She quickly jumped up and ran back into the school before the rest of the students; she wanted to have as little contact with them as possible.
The rest of the school day went by slowly, as it did every day. When the bell finally rang, she sat and waited a few minutes for most of the other kids to clear out before she herself packed up and left. The walk home was uneventful, and Clara amused herself by listening to her mp3 player. It was her excuse to ignore anybody and everybody. The walk home was only ten minutes, and Clara enjoyed the bit of peace she had during that walk. Her house was on a side road that didn’t allow thru traffic except for residential vehicles. Clara personally thought whoever had that idea was a genius. It made her walk so much more peaceful, not having to worry about getting hit by a car.
She passed by the park that was situated around the corner from her home, pausing only to check and see if there was anyone there. Seeing a group of kids playing there, she kept walking. Once she arrived at home, she called out, “Maman! I’m home!” Her mom peeked her head around the corner from the kitchen, saying, ”Welcome home, dear.” She trudged up the steps to her room, threw her backpack on the ground, and flopped onto her bed. She let out a soft groan, letting out the stress that had built up in her body. Then she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She knew she should get started on her homework, but, as usual, she procrastinated.
Sitting up, she went to her bookshelf, bypassing the two rows on books and zeroing in on a box in a much emptier shelf. Opening the box, she withdrew a stone. It looked ordinary, except that it was a deep purple. Colorful lights danced across it every now and then, treating Clara to a light show. She smiled, feeling herself relax. This stone was her most prized possession, because it came from her only friend. A friend whom she knew nothing about, beyond what he had told her. She only knew him as Nightshroud, and that he had a spark, like her. When she had first met him, she had been wary, as she was of all people, especially after finding out he had a spark. But like her at the time, he was also covered from head to toe in clothing. She had never seen his face, never heard his real name, but he was her friend, all the same.
This stone had been a gift from him the second time he had met her, by chance, at the park around the corner. It was also the only connection she had with him. He had shown her a special quality it had, which let them communicate with each other, just by holding it and thinking thoughts to each other. It was like magic. She considered saying something to him, but decided against it, instead replacing it in the box. She turned around and stared down at her backpack, a grimace crossing her face. With a sigh she picked it up and dumped the contents out on her bed. She picked out the easiest subject, vocabulary, opened the book, and started doing her homework.
Another dreary day gone by, another day that she had managed to survive.
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Posted: Sat Sep 15, 2012 6:09 pm
  Trudging out the door of a grimy bar, Michael lit up a cigarette and lent on the wall under the half smashed and flashing neon sign beckoning revelers into this rat-hole of a drinking den. If it was his choice Michael wouldn't be here, he would be uptown in somewhere with a little less rodent poison and sawdust on the floor, too bad he was barred from just about everywhere. He did know the owners and there was an alright room upstairs so really he couldn't complain. Blowing smoke into the greying sky, the shouts and general abuse that was being thrown around the bar reached his ears. Two drunk white trash looking guys had been noising up everyone from the minute they walked in but this place was used to it, nothing was really said as generally the patronage in here could take care of themselves. Taking another deep lung full, the shouts got louder and a LOT closer as two bodies burst out the door, forced out by a massive ginger bear of a man known as "Wee Jimmy" to the regulars, whether that was actually his name or not Michael didn't know. " I've had it, all night you've been ruining mood, but don't you DARE lay your filthy hands on Gabby! Now ******** off before I call the 'fuzz'!" Jimmy yelled and just as quickly as he arrived, went back into the bar to see that the barmaid was alright. The two goons lying in the gutter rolled around a little with their hands in various battered bits of body before slowly righting themselves from the ground. Michale stayed whee he was, only half way through his cig. " "What the hell are you lookin' at Buddy?" The stocky one mouthed off in his already angered state. Michael said nothing, there was no need, he was only smoking before the rain started.
"Huh? Wanna have a try? Come on the ya f*****t!!" He screamed as he sauntered towards Michael with his hands balled up into fists, leaving Michael stuck against the wall.
"Listen I'm not in the mood..." Michael sighed dodging a right jab that connected with the wooden panels of the bar. A left hook closely followed, but he managed to dodge that too with his increased reflexes. the stocky man was now about purple with blind rage, his tall friend also looked quite riled up and was preparing to join him.
"Really, I don't want any tro-" Michael began only to be cut off with a glancing uppercut to the stomach.
"Argh I am not in the mood!!" He yelled in retaliation. Trouble always seemed to find him, and once again there was no avoiding it. Tightening his fingers into his palms, Michael sent out a volley of punches to the stocky mans gut, winding him and sending him staggering backwards.
There was a sharp pain shooting down Michael's neck, the tall guy... He had only left his vision for seconds only to return with a bottle against Michael's skull. Bits of brown glass sprinkled the ground around Michael's feet as the tall guy kneed him in the stomach, winding him to his knees.
"That'll teach you to fight back f*****t..." The tall guy laughed as he kicked Michael's face.
Lying face down outside a bar, his face gushing blood, it wasn't an unusual situation no, in fact this could almost be considered a normal thing, almost. While it wasn't unusual, things never stayed this way for long...
Michael's skin rippled as the two men started kicking hard and fast, his cells morphing from the trauma, becoming harder and more resilient. His hair clumping together as the keratin fused together and seeped out of his cells. Seconds later, Michael was full on armour plated, and looked like an alarmingly large beetle.
The two men stopped kicking after realising their feet hurt more than the damage they could give out, and flashing worried looks at each other as Michael righted himself and cricked his neck.
"Didn't I say, I was not in the mood?" Michael said in a raspy vibrating voice, like his throat was full of flies. the two drunken men staggered back and gave each other looks of encouragement as Michael merely stared them down through compound eyes. The stocky man bolstered himself up with drunken courage...
"Oh a spark ey? Well I don' take kindly to freak-o-s like you, all the more reasons to tear you a new a*****e!" He shouted pulling a switchblade from behind his back somewhere before charging the armoured Michael down.
It was useless for the idiot to even try. The knife scrapped across Michael's shell before the stocky man, loosing his balance, slammed face first into Michael's chest.
"You had to didn't you..." Michael responded, wrapping a hand of four digits around the knife wielding thugs throat, tossing him into his friend, and jumping through the air with the help of a loud pair of buzzing wings to land a foot on each side of the pissed up duo.
"Leave, before I regret not knocking the last of your rotten teeth from your mouldy jaw..." He threatened. His words sounding like a beehive mixed with a pissed off Clint Eastwood.
Scampering to their feet the pair made off half staggering to keep up as they ran off down an alley.
"You really do have the shittest luck don't yi Mikey." Wee Jimmy laughed from the doorway as he throw a blanket over Michael's shoulders. The full bar was peeking from whatever windows they could, looks like 'Mikey' was their entertainment for yet another not this month. Shifting back to normal, Michael wrapped the blanket around himself tighter and began to walk back inside.
"I think I'll need another drink."
"It's on the house Mate."
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Posted: Mon Sep 17, 2012 5:55 am
~~~ Selena Fox A.K.A. Vixen~~~ The Quantum City skyline was painted in a vast array of blue, purple, even pink hues, darkening slowly as twilight came and went. From one of the highest towers, Vixen watched every single patch of color morph and fade into the deep blue black of night that blanketed her city. It wasn’t really her city, but on the nights that slim eye mask covered her most distinct and telling features and made her just some other dark haired female in a metropolis of millions, she liked to play that it was. Waiting until the city lights outshone the stars in the sky, the raven haired female turned, taking the scant steps it took to get to the ledge that overlooked the main downtown area of the city. Bright lights festooned the broad avenue, filling the area with enough artificial lights that even the norms decided it was safe enough to come out to play. Socialites, debutantes, even a celebrity or too were milling around in the glory of downtown Quantum, filing around with nameless college kids out for a good time and more.
It was the more that brought the sly fox out to play. Seedy underbelly crawlers, two bit criminals that had no spark but extra grit in their eye, gunmen who had nothing to live for but another notch in their belt and cold hard cash in their hand.. It made her sick, and it was enough to fuel her drive for the night. Quantum City was a magnificent city in its’ prime, filled with technological marvels in advancement, and picturesque parks that brought everyone back down to earth to remember not everything is a city. But at night, when that beautiful color bled from its’ scenery, they all crawled out from their holes to feed. There were others as well, especially the more ballsy types that showed up during the day and fed her news station what it needed to survive. Let the pretty ones in flashy colors and spandex, with their overpriced suits of mayhem take care of them. Vixen thrived on the shadows of the night to mask her presence. Without them or her dark covert suit, all she had was a disguise or two up her sleeve.
Shifting her weight, the slim female got her bearings, eying the shorter tower to her right as her ears tuned in. The distance was long, but her hearing was excellent, even at that range she was still able to detect the faint sound of two voices below exchanging pleasantries on the rooftop. A slow smile spread over her features, eying the two as they made their turnover.
That was her cue.
Flexing as she crouched, Vixen launched herself into a silent swan dive, the only noise the slight whisper of her hair as the wind whipped it into a dark cloud, and her own built in cape of shadows. Nearing her target she lashed out with one hand, thankful for the sure grip the insulated gloves gave her as she used her momentum to swing up into a smaller arc to land upon the rooftop, hiding behind the small shack like structure that hid the stairs heading down into the building. The two were just on the other side of the hut, talking low but to her it was loud and clear as day. Just in time. She had to hand it to her equipment as she silently scaled up the side of the cheap walling, flattening herself atop the small uneven roof as they said their goodbyes and one parted to go inside with a quiet click of the door.
It would have been so much more painful to pull that stunt back when she had first started with a store bought suit and black shoes. No, this was a much better make, her little ‘prizes and trophies’ from previous conquests had bought her this suit of molded high pressurized Kevlar, able to withstand some of the worst slices and nicks, as well as bullets, but still flexible enough that she could easily move with a gymnasts grace. Similarly, she got to have a few extra little toys to play with in the slim almost invisible belt slung about her hips. She was no science wiz, but due to her compact size and lack of real force when throwing a punch, well, she had to have a few things to even the odds.
~~~
This was just a quick job, something his uncle had picked up for him. As a favor to his family on hard times. True, the hard times had been his own doing, having only just gotten back out on the street from a petty robbery. But hey, he was doing just fine now as a hired hand.
“Hello, little mouse. Awful high perch you’ve made for yourself, hm?” Came the husky voice from above, causing the small time crook to turn with a wide eyed look. “Let’s get you down to the ground where you belong.” He no sooner looked up to catch a glimpse of moving shadows before a boot planted into his face, sufficiently dropping him down to the ground in an unconscious heap.
~~~
Dusting off her boot, the night predator turned with a tsking noise, listening with a satisfied grin as the receding steps quickly came right back up the few they had taken. As soon as the recently relieved thug burst through the door, a roundhouse kick sent him flying to join his friend on the ground, leaving a small pile for her to admire. “Such a shame. A waste of ties aren’t you dears?” Leaning down, she tugged the zip cuffs onto the second, adding her calling card to him as well. It was simple, really; a single pure white business card, blank, save for the dark full kiss mark in a black lipstick.
Leaving her recent catches to sleep out the rest of their freedom on the rooftop, Vixen stole down the stairway, noting the time with a silent approval. Having caught them at the shifting of watch, she now had a half hour before they would call for a check in, exactly the time she needed to get through the various levels to where her man of the hour waited. It was a small job, more of an exercise really, she had no want to over exert herself before the night she truly had to be on her toes for. A shame she would have to wear that garish button and ruin an ensemble at the party . Perhaps there was a way to just put it on her purse?
Pulling away from the distracting thought of who wore what and how to’s, Vixen eyed the hall she came to; slipping into the cover of the shadows in the hollow corner a tree might have perched in at better times. This is where her body filled with that adrenaline pumping excitement, the thrill that came from possible danger that lurked around every corner. There were four levels between her and her main prey, and Vixen moved through them with the stealth and grace of a true predator, taking down each and every watch with the ease of a professional. A few years in this business, like she had, would give you a bit more perfection.
By the time she had made it to her destination, nearly a score of men and women were downed by her hands, each tied and bearing her mark where they lay. Most merely had a broken nose or substantial bump to the head, but a few had gone down from the garroting wire hidden away in one of the many small pouches on her belt she had used to choke them out. Another thing she prided herself on; she didn’t kill.
If she could do without, she would at all costs. It just wasn’t her style. Let them rot in their prison cells, stewing up stories about a she devil just so they didn’t have to admit to being taken out by a woman who was usually half their weight. It was laughable how many tales would come back from the pen with over exaggerations, not that she minded. Some when so far as to say there were more than just little old her, a pack of feral women mad with power. Hah. In any case, it was always fulfilling to see the fear on a new victim’s face when they had that first meeting.
‘Little Joey’. Filling his father, ‘Big Joey’s ‘ shoes while he spent five to life in the nearby state prison, a booking she could also claim. Little was hardly the word for anyone in the family, let alone his son, the hulking man below that dwarfed the finely crafted table he sat at. But yes, he was definitely daddy’s boy. Good lord, what did they eat, a cow a meal? She remembered well taking out his dear old dad on a drug trafficking ring, wincing when her body recalled it as well. It had been less than a year ago, before she had gotten more than half of her neat little gadgets. Hopefully that wouldn’t be the case tonight. All that was left was the big guy himself, the one she had the perfect drop on from her perch in the vaulted ceiling of the warehouse like first floor.
Franticly the big boy was checking over different channels on his walkie, having been unable to locate Vincente, his father’s old second in command. Good old Vinnie had fallen a whole floor up. Desperation was setting in on his sweaty little beady eyed face as he reached for his phone. That was her cue, couldn’t very well have any more guests coming in uninvited.
There wasn’t many theatrics Vixen allowed herself, but dropping in unannounced was nearly a trademark for her. Within seconds her fall was held by the sturdy table with a thud, leaving her smiling at the surprised face of the Mafioso wannabe. His horror as he realized just who it was slowly morphed into anger, the skin on his face turning a violent tomato. “You! You’re da one that put my papa behind bars!” he roared, gunning himself up while he stood from the table and took a swipe at her.
In a flash she was up from the table in a springing back flip, landing just in time to wince theatrically at the way that hand had splintered such a beautifully crafted table. A spark! Despite the revelation, she remained calm outwardly, her mind thinking of new outcomes she had not planned for. Nothing had been mentioned in her digging about this, it must have been a very coveted secret indeed. Shaking her head with a disappointed noise, she moved into a relaxed stance, eying him with feigned disapproval. “Joey, sugar, I’m surprised at you, I know your momma must have taught you better. You offer the lady a seat, not take out the table.” She teased, watching in satisfaction as the color turned into a vivid scarlet. ’That’s right, get angry.’ she thought to herself as she nimbly dodged the bulrush he blundered into, flipping her hair back to follow like an inky cloud. If she could keep him in this rage, she could take him out just like she had his father.
Countless times the behemoth charged, giving her the amused title of matador as each run passed by her harmlessly, enraging the man further. Due to his alarming amount of strength, holes began to appear in the walls and floor, as well as the various innocent objects around them which included the crates in the room. Unfortunately, the latter revealed the stash of illegal weapons and ammo inside, the main reason for her being there that evening. Once in view, Vixen knew it was only a matter of time before all went to hell as his piggy little black eyes took in the weaponry, taking one up in his hand even as he stood. Now there was confidence back in his eyes, something that was sorely dangerous, especially now. The warehouse of the building was small and filled with crates, which meant far more close range around guns than she liked to be. Odds were swiftly moving against her.
Vixen’s armor was made of a super strong material, but there were two major flaws necessary to have it made to her specifications. Thinning the Kevlar to provide more mobility weakened it against the more forceful of ballistics. The closer the range, the higher the chance it could pierce her armor. There was also the fact that once again to maximize her mobility, it needed to be around only essentials, the rest being covered in the under suit. What it left her with was a pseudo one piece swimsuit like shape to her armor, black as the night she stalked. So when he opened fire, she did what was in her best interest, leaping behind a crate and keeping low as she moved behind the lot of them.
“Dumb move, sugar.” Her voice rang out from somewhere in the warehouse, wincing when the sound of the crate he had hit during her run had exploded. What did he expect? There was ammo in there for crying out loud! The idiot had turned his gun as she ran, not realizing his err until the damage was already done, literally blowing up in his face. Luckily the sprinklers kicked in, dowsing the flames but sending up gouts of smoke and steam from the swiftly dying fire that obscured their vision. Not that it mattered to her, the way her hearing was; she could easily compensate and would as it fit into the swiftly forming plan that was growing in her head.
. If the police or the Guardians didn’t know about this yet, they sure did now. Little Joey was now somewhat more cautious in his shooting; not only was there the possibility of blowing the place up, but a bigger fire as well, sprinklers or no. Now was the time to finish the job and be gone, lest they decide to hunt her as well. Slipping through the fumes, she stole through the area, her feet nearly silent on the pavement. It seemed to have exactly the effect she wanted, making him nervous enough to start swinging around, aiming wildly. It was a risk that she wasn’t going to get shot, but a mere risk was much better than what she had previously.
Finally she was above him, standing atop a crate that was just at his back. A single blow would do it, her boots were thick and heavy, and his head was the only thing little on him. Leaping up, she pointed straight down, noting her error when the sound of her jump reached his own ears. They were compensating for his eyesight as well, but not as well as hers could. Still, it was enough to hear a sound from above, which was all he needed. His arm swung up to aim, most of the bullets flying wide though a sting in her left leg denoted at least a glancing blow. Her hit, however, was more than that. A solid thud and small creak told her she had nailed him squarely in the jaw, the cracking sound following shortly after signifying it to be broken.
Stepping neatly to the side, she added her own calling card and ties to the fellow, snatching up the shiny Rolex and ruby ring from his fat pinky finger. He didn’t need it where he was going; if he wanted cigarettes that bad, she was sure daddy dearest in the cell next door could get them for him. Slipping her small payment into another pocket, she dashed out of the indoor monsoon and into the backstreets, forcing herself to keep going through shadows until she reached her choice of vehicle and sped off towards home.
Everything was the same as she left it, over at the large tank of tropical fish that swam in a constant hover near the top, as if begging for food. “Just a quiet evening at home for a single lady.” She groused as she changed and dressed her wound, staring up into the emerald eyes in her reflection on the tank. “Who has time for a date when I have to feed the fish and clean up after myself?” She winced; throwing a bandage over her thigh after the sting of alcohol subsided, slowly moving over to the side of the tank and throwing the food in. “Right guys?” If she expected an answer, they gave none, bright colors skimming in and out of the bubbles as they grabbed for food. “Ugh, mom was right; I should have gotten a cat.”
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Posted: Mon Sep 17, 2012 8:51 am
Boogie & Elve
---------------------------------- ◄Elve sighed to herself as she peered through her scope once again, hoping that some sign of life would come running out of the rundown slaughterhouse that Evelin had entered some forty minutes ago. Scheherazade knows that no activity is a good sign, especially in regards to Evelin, but something about the situation has set her on edge. Maybe it was the situation? Usually when Evelin dragged her out to some structure in the middle of an industrial center, it was to help watch the agitated girl's back while she dealt with whatever was inside. This time, however, Evelin seemed to have more of a plan that involved scoping the place out. That was the first flag to appear in Elve's mind. The second being the fact that the rundown building was on sommerfields' border, which was so unlike Evelin. Seriously the last time she was dragged away from one of the bases, it had been to some bloody building on the docks all the while Evelin was mumbling under her breath something about a Polynesian named Peter that couldn't stop hacking. Now that came off as a great surprise, cause she could've sworn that the last person talking about such a person had been Nicotine and that was during a phone call she interrupted. Her boss at least had the grace to look shocked that someone caught her raising her voice on the phone. While it was amusing, it ended up leading to two other flags concerning the current situation. The first was the fact that Leti was going to come along, something about Leti being able to keep what was going to happen "hidden in plain sight". Buncha fluff if you happen to ask Scheherazade. All Leti did was wave her arms about while speaking in some language. How was that suppose to help hide the fact that Elve was ordered to potentially maim anyone that dared to escape the rundown building? That order, in and of itself, was the last flag to pop up in her mind since Elve was more than sure that the Corps. didn't officially kill people.
"Bad for publicity" Nico said when Scheherazade had brought up the question when she was in the process of joining. Which was an acceptable answer at the time since she didn't know much about the organization. Now though, that might've caused a scoff to escape from Schey's lips, if her attention wasn't currently focused on the people coming out. Now normally she would've just started firing her silenced rifle but not this time. No not this time, because something or rather someone caught her eye. A rather curious sight greeted her eye, and if her memory was right, that was the sight of Two-Three's ugly mug casually strolling towards a car.
Now that was a person, Elve was sure the city could do without such a low level thug who's rap sheet was supposedly a mile long. It was true that Two-Three is pretty much a low level thug, but the man has grand aspirations which caused him to dip his hands into every sort of illegal pie currently in the city. Now normally the Corps' quiet sniper would've already taken care of an aspiring thug but something stayed her finger and that was the sight of Two-Three compatriots walking out of the building. Most notably, a black market dealer dubbed The Raptor that specializes in the underground organ trade. Despite being a super prolific and glamorous arse, the man got some time in jail for drug possession. She honestly thought he was still in jail along with those three other people beside him. Not because she recognized them or anything, though they did look vaguely familiar, but because they looked like had done sometime...they were also the reason why she didn't immediately pop Two-Three in the chest with a bullet. She always hated situations like this, and especially if they started to loiter...and just wonderful! They started to do just that. Making the necessary adjustments, Scheherazade quickly lined up her shot and before squeezed the trigger at her first target, one of the unrecognized goons. The bullet soon found it's mark in one of the goon's legs, while Elve lined up and fired another shot that went into Two-Three's skull. There was a bit of silence while the criminals pieced together, which gave Scheherazade enough time to pop The Raptor in skull before the other two goons' survival instincts kicked in and they began to run to cover. Only one of them made it to cover, which Elve had to thank semi-auto capabilities for, and now she was currently trying to find an opening to shoot at the remaining goon. She was just about to fire a warning shot at the goon when Leti's voice came over the ear piece-like phone she had in.
"Elve, cover me. I'll take out the last guy."
"Affirmative."
That established, Scheherazade began to fire at the goon and coming incredibly close to shooting him whenever he decided to try and figure out where she was currently. It was well into her second rifle clip when she saw Leti sneaking up behind the guy before putting him into a choke hold. All the while, Elve kept her sights trained on the man in case he tried to pull any tricks on Leti. However much to Schey's surprise, Leti was successful in her choke hold and knocked the guy out before she began doing something that involved more arm waving. Elve began scanning the area, to make sure that no one could sneak up on Leti, and was surprised to find Evelin walking out of the building towards the young girl. It wasn't long before Elve got the okay to leave her perch and meet them at the car. She was rather thankful that the job was done, since she had some dinner plans to attend to later this evening and needed time to prepare. She was sure the same could be said for Evelin and Leti as well, and as she made her way back to Evelin's car, a small smile graced Scheherazade's lips for an accomplished mission. Well that and the fact that as she walked cross the parking lot of the slaughterhouse, rifle slung across her back, she began to recognize some of the people she crippled and realized that she kept the right people alive. People like Hamish A. Jenkins, that despite his name, were particularly tight lipped...or Brian the Brain, who supposedly are 'quite in the know' in terms of the underworld. Lastly there is Intisar, a somewhat well known black market art dealer and, if Elve were to believe it, something of a traditionalist in regards to women. He would probably be very upset to see Nicotine again but that'd be his problem. Getting into the car, Scheherazade pulled out her phone and made a call to her boss' prepaid phone telling her the job was done and there'd be some people she'd want to talk to in the next couple of days.► ----------------------------------
Evelin + Scheherazade
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Posted: Thu Sep 20, 2012 4:14 pm
The events that occurred in that roughly twenty-four hour period would seem to those than experienced them as nothing more than another normal day. As far as the world as large was concerned, it was exactly like that, just a footnote in the stories of their lives. But the wheels of fate were turning, whether any of them knew it or not. Each and every one of them would come to face harrowing trials. And it isn’t only themselves and their personal journeys that hinge on their perseverance or failure…though they may not know it yet, the density of Quantum City and all who call it home rests in the balance, firmly upon their shoulders.
That morning a week later had at first appeared to speak of mostly clear skies and sunny brightness. But Mother Nature had other ideas, and clouds quickly came to claim and mask the heavens, teasing the city of Quantum with rain, but never delivering as the populace ventured out to take care of their daily business. However, despite the dreariness that the overcast skies elicited in some, in general the city was as lively as ever. And a select few would, that night, have something to fight away the gloomy atmosphere: Nathaniel Graves, CEO of Hyperion Industries, was holding a charity gala. All the big names in Quantum, and even some from outside of the city, would come not only to enjoy themselves, but to show their support of the various humanitarian efforts everyone was a part of.
But it would be some time before the red carpets were laid out, leaving much time for something, anything big to happen. And there wasn’t anything that said that the big party itself couldn’t lend to any ‘interesting’ situations.
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 7:15 am
MagnússonSauntering up an alley in the outskirts of the city centre, the Magnússon twins found themselves face to face with a dead end and a pair of cameras. The security was as tight as ever, and with the pair being in plain clothes they didn't look like they belonged at all, but of course they did, they were probably the best pair of robbers this city had seen for a long time! At least that's what they believed. Flashing a quick hand sign towards one of the cameras, Fiona took a step back, but nothing happened... " Hertz man, come on open up. I'd like to get in before it finally rains please." she said with a hint of annoyance, still there was nothing. Jack, who had been standing behind her gave a sigh as he too flashed a hand sign towards the camera, although this time it was a much more recognisable, and a lot less polite. " Stop dicking around would you!" He shouted, impatiently, the security for Pariah was ight yes, but they were pretty high up the food chain of the group, people should recognise them by now. A light rumble sounded below the twins who both took an extra couple of steps back as the ground opened out into a set of stairs leading towards the tunnels. This entrance was one of the hundreds of smaller ones, service entrances that used to be used to reach the rails in times of emergencies or for repairs, now it was a quick entrance and escape route for members on the run from the corps. Guards watching the cities security cameras could track a member through the streets and open a door like this in advance, allowing them to slip in, close the door and dissapear into the maze of back streets this city had to offer. Pulling on a gas mask each, the twins began the short walk through the dim black tunnels to the platforms. They were well used to it, having spent quite a lot oftime down here these days. Nowhere else in the city was safer to hide their takings. The light of the platform melting through the darkness began to greet them as Fiona and Jack spotted Hertz in his little office, swinging back and forth on his chair and idally flicking through TV channels instead of watching the cameras. " Oh so that's your reason eh? Next time I'm stuck waiting for more than 30 seconds so help me I'll... Nah I'm joking, but still, ******** you." Jack said in a mockingly serious tone as he approached the door. Hertz just stared at him for a few seconds before bursting into laughter, Jack? Serious? It just didn't go together! " Hahaha! Man, that is NOT a good look for you, haha! But you're right... If Radar seen me I'd probably be in deep s**t..." Hertz laughed turning off his TV and adjusting a camera to get a better view of a side street. " Seen what, Hertz?" Came a voice from outside the office. It was Alexandr, Radar, out doing his rounds... " Sir, nothing Sir. I was just chatting with thes-" Hertz began trying to cover himself, but Radar didn't want to hear it, it. Hertz after allw asn't usually on CCTV, he was a train opperator filling in for a sick member. " Hertz just do your job, alright? And you two, Come with me. I have a job for you! And it sounds like it's gonna be a riot, should be right up your street, haha!" Alexanrd said towards the trio before walking off to a waiting train. The Magnússontwins looked at heach other before giving a small wave at Hertz and following Alexandr. they were both slightly taller than the Ex Czech soldier, but nowhere near as commanding. There was just something about Radar, something that made people listen to his orders and follow them through. " Sir, what's this gonna involve? I mean, last week was a pretty big heist, not to mention we almost got caught! If it weren't for the information we had on us, Jansen wouldn't have bothered sending a group to save us... Would he?" Fiona said with a bit of worry in her voice. The train doors closed as Radar signaled the driver to get them moving. " Listen, you've done a lot for this group, and while other members have sadly been expendable, I have a feeling you two are more useful than you think. But this job, I'll tell you more when we get to my office..." Radar said while fitting hs gas mask, as the generator fired up and sent them rolling into the dimmly lit tunnels. The twins didn't know it, but this was going to be a hell of a night for them.
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