Okay, Necratoid's comment about the evolution of supers in the world has made me think, and that brought out *this* little snippet. It might show up in chapter 8 somewhere, but I'm not sure where, yet.
******************
New York, (undetermined night)
It was late, and the store alarm was shrieking.
The man across the street sat in the dark alleyway, watching events play
out. He'd seen this a few times before. People with these new "powers"
he'd been hearing about would get cocky, get into fights, break into
stores, and sometimes steal stuff.
It wasn't all one-sided. Sometimes they ran into others who fought back.
To the guy in the alley, it was all too familiar. Something he'd been
trained in, back in the day. An old pattern repeating itself because no
one was bright enough to see it for what it was.
"Well, I'm done with all that shit," he muttered, deliberately turning
away from the kids stealing from the electronics store.
"Hey!"
The man in the dark looked around, to see if they were calling out to
him. Instead, he saw a curious thing. Three kids were facing off against
the larger gang. They wore improvised costumes, much to the gang's
merriment.
"Look what we got here, people! 'Heroes'!" The gang leader swaggered
over to the trio. "And whatcha gonna do about it, eh?" He whipped out a
knife and flicked it around threateningly.
"Well," the first kid said, making the man in the alleyway perk up. That
voice sounded too high-pitched to be a boy's. The girl made a flicking
gesture, causing the tough's knife to fly out of his hands and skitter
off down the nearby alleyway. "I thought I'd start with that. And maybe
follow it up with *this*!"
Her punch showed elements of martial arts training. The impact strength
was all out of proportion for what the man in the alleyway was seeing,
when the tough flew back to crash into the display window and drop to
the ground with an exclamation of pain.
"That's... IT!" The tough stood up, coughing, as his gang rallied around
him. "Put them down!"
The gang pulled knives, sticks, and a couple baseball bats. The girl
didn't wait, but attacked first. She was a whirling dervish, striking,
fading back, and smashing feet and fists into people. And every time she
did, they flew back like a much larger person had struck them.
The other two weren't holding back, either. The smallest of the trio
made a waving gesture out to either side with his hands, then, suddenly
pushed them *up* in a commanding gesture. Three of the toughs behind
those attacking the girl suddenly flew up into the air, flying in a
graceful arc back into the alleyway behind them before landing in the
trash littering the darkened spaces beyond.
The man in the alleyway laughed at that. It was a rusty-sounding laugh,
of someone who hadn't known a lot of humor in his recent life. He felt a
grin spreading on his face when he saw what the third of the trio did.
As the gang reorganized, the trio of kids took a firmer stance opposing
the looters. "Give it up," the girl called out. "You lose."
One of the gang pulled out a gun. "No, I don't," he grinned. "Guns beat
everything." He pointed it at them, and pulled the trigger.
As he did, the third member of the trio held his hands out, in what the
man in the alleyway thought might be surrender. But instead, the bullets
sparked off of a field effect between the two sides. The tough on the
other side blinked, squeezed off a few more bullets, and snarled when
the girl made a yanking motion, causing the gun to fly back into the
burning building.
"Ouch," the man said softly. "Not a decision I'd have made. Once those
bullets cook off, you don't know where they'll go. Hopefully they'll
just wreck the gun."
The gang, their morale badly shaken, began to run away. One of them
however, stayed behind. He was a much bigger man, and he grinned nastily
as he suddenly grew half a foot. His skin thickened to something like
armor plate, and he settled himself like a football linebacker, two
knuckles on the pavement right before he charged with a roar.
The kids scattered. The girl clearly tried to swing at him a few times,
but he never even felt the impacts as he slammed into the force field.
The blow knocked the kid generating the field back, as the gang member
turned on the one who'd been tossing people around.
The man in the alleyway found himself standing at that, but paused as
the urge to intervene fought his self-preservation. "What can *I* do,"
he said with a quiet but deeply felt bitterness.
The trio dashed around the armored linebacker as he charged again.
Instead of running away, they were still trying to come up with a
solution that took him down. And in the darkness, the man could see the
rest of the gang was regaining their nerve, edging back to the fight.
"Crap. This goes on, they'll swarm the kids. I gotta..."
He stopped again, looking at his hand. The blued steel of his artificial
hand had gripped the corner of the building he'd been hiding behind, and
partially crumbled the brick. The red and black plaid jacket he'd been
wearing did little to disguise his true nature when he wasn't trying to
hide himself.
-What can *I* do?- His mind skittered like a car on ice as unfamiliar
thoughts chased themselves around in his head. -I have no powers. I'm
just a *thing*. I can't help anyone.-
He watched the massive thug chasing the kids around while the gang edged
closer to the fight, and felt something ignite within him. Far different
from the combat frenzy he'd felt so often in the past, this somehow
felt... purer. *Cleaner*.
The thug grinned, and set himself again while the kids were trying to
find a way to deal with him. The one who controlled winds might be a
threat if they ever got him off the ground, but keeping him off-balance
was easy. Charging again, he dashed toward the kid, hoping to knock him
into the far wall.
A dark shape interposed itself between him and the kid, and he had a
moment's shock before a fist the size of his face smashed into his chin,
knocking him clear back into the burning tv store.
The trio looked over at their mystery man, taking in his felt plaid
jacket, old dungarees, and beaten up old shoes as the thug inside the
store roared with anger.
"Get out of the way kids," the man's deep voice said with confidence.
"I've got this."
The thug roared, charging out of the store with his shirt on fire. The
man didn't waver, and didn't get out of the way. He just set himself
where he stood, and threw even more of himself into his next punch.
The impact staggered the charging thug, stopping him mid-charge and
knocking him back. The second punch slammed into his armored gut,
causing the mutant tough to fold over, the wind wheezing out of him. The
final blow slammed one-handed into the back of his head, dropping him to
the pavement, unconscious.
The trio watched in awe as the gang fled, leaving their erstwhile
enforcer lying on the sidewalk, his breath bubbling through his bleeding
nose.
Their rescuer hefted the thug, who had reverted to his normal look, and
propped him up on a nearby building. He looked up when he heard sirens.
"Take care, kids," he said with a wave. "I gotta go."
"Wait!"
The man paused and looked around as the girl walked up to him. Behind
him, the one who controlled wind was somehow putting the fire out.
-Handy trick, that,- he thought as he looked back at her.
"Look, Miss. I *really* gotta go. I don't want no trouble with the
cops." He paused as a familiar pain settled somewhere in his gut, for no
reason he'd ever understood. "You.." He shook his head. "You wouldn't
get it."
"Is it because you're a boomer?"
The man blinked, looking down at her as she pushed up his sleeve,
revealing the blued Abotex battle armor. "It doesn't bother me," she
said, with a smile. "You saved us. And it's not your fault other people
don't get it."
The man paused, pulling down the hood, and revealing his face. "The cops
see *this*," he said, pointing with his other hand, "They'll just open
fire. To them, I'm not a person. I'm just some renegade 55C they have to
shut down. And I don't wanna put my life in the hands of some paper
pusher who might not care."
The older of the two boys stepped over, with a grin on his face. "Then
come with us! I know a place you could hide out. Okay," he said with a
shrug, "It ain't no Hilton, but it's gotta be better than the alleys,
right?"
The boy with the wind control also stepped over, looking over his
shoulder and judging the distance of the flashing lights. "We don't have
a lot of time, guys. But I'm in with them," he said, gesturing to the
other two. "We've got a lot covered, but that big guy was all over us.
Help us out, and maybe we can be a real super team. I'd like to try,
anyway."
The man thought about it for about a half-second. -It beats running for
my whole life,- he mused. -And it feels a *damn* sight better than how I
felt this morning.-
"All right," he said, glancing up at the approaching vehicles. "We have
about twenty three seconds before they're too close to evade. I hope you
have a plan for getting out of here."
The girl grinned and darted down another alleyway. "We've done this
before, c'mon!"
The man lumbered after them, darting down two alleyways and a switchback
before finally making his way through an old door linking into an
abandoned basement which fronted on part of the old storm drainage
system. They moved a ways down the drainage pipes, listening to the cars
drive by, until the sounds of police faded into the background.
"So," the girl said a few mintes later. "I'm Sandra. This is Kevin," she
said, pointing at the boy with the wind powers. "And the shield
generator over there is David." She looked up at the fourth member of
their team. "What's your name?"
The man blinked and looked uncertain. "Ah... I've never needed one. And
I hate being called by a number."
The girl grinned as the others eased the door open, and started to
backtrack out of their hiding place. "Then we'll have to come up with
one!"
Somewhat dubiously, the boomer followed the kids out of the storm drain
and back out into the alleyway, while they debated the pros and cons of
his new name.
*******************
Ideas?
---
Those who fear the darkness have never seen what the light can do.
******************
New York, (undetermined night)
It was late, and the store alarm was shrieking.
The man across the street sat in the dark alleyway, watching events play
out. He'd seen this a few times before. People with these new "powers"
he'd been hearing about would get cocky, get into fights, break into
stores, and sometimes steal stuff.
It wasn't all one-sided. Sometimes they ran into others who fought back.
To the guy in the alley, it was all too familiar. Something he'd been
trained in, back in the day. An old pattern repeating itself because no
one was bright enough to see it for what it was.
"Well, I'm done with all that shit," he muttered, deliberately turning
away from the kids stealing from the electronics store.
"Hey!"
The man in the dark looked around, to see if they were calling out to
him. Instead, he saw a curious thing. Three kids were facing off against
the larger gang. They wore improvised costumes, much to the gang's
merriment.
"Look what we got here, people! 'Heroes'!" The gang leader swaggered
over to the trio. "And whatcha gonna do about it, eh?" He whipped out a
knife and flicked it around threateningly.
"Well," the first kid said, making the man in the alleyway perk up. That
voice sounded too high-pitched to be a boy's. The girl made a flicking
gesture, causing the tough's knife to fly out of his hands and skitter
off down the nearby alleyway. "I thought I'd start with that. And maybe
follow it up with *this*!"
Her punch showed elements of martial arts training. The impact strength
was all out of proportion for what the man in the alleyway was seeing,
when the tough flew back to crash into the display window and drop to
the ground with an exclamation of pain.
"That's... IT!" The tough stood up, coughing, as his gang rallied around
him. "Put them down!"
The gang pulled knives, sticks, and a couple baseball bats. The girl
didn't wait, but attacked first. She was a whirling dervish, striking,
fading back, and smashing feet and fists into people. And every time she
did, they flew back like a much larger person had struck them.
The other two weren't holding back, either. The smallest of the trio
made a waving gesture out to either side with his hands, then, suddenly
pushed them *up* in a commanding gesture. Three of the toughs behind
those attacking the girl suddenly flew up into the air, flying in a
graceful arc back into the alleyway behind them before landing in the
trash littering the darkened spaces beyond.
The man in the alleyway laughed at that. It was a rusty-sounding laugh,
of someone who hadn't known a lot of humor in his recent life. He felt a
grin spreading on his face when he saw what the third of the trio did.
As the gang reorganized, the trio of kids took a firmer stance opposing
the looters. "Give it up," the girl called out. "You lose."
One of the gang pulled out a gun. "No, I don't," he grinned. "Guns beat
everything." He pointed it at them, and pulled the trigger.
As he did, the third member of the trio held his hands out, in what the
man in the alleyway thought might be surrender. But instead, the bullets
sparked off of a field effect between the two sides. The tough on the
other side blinked, squeezed off a few more bullets, and snarled when
the girl made a yanking motion, causing the gun to fly back into the
burning building.
"Ouch," the man said softly. "Not a decision I'd have made. Once those
bullets cook off, you don't know where they'll go. Hopefully they'll
just wreck the gun."
The gang, their morale badly shaken, began to run away. One of them
however, stayed behind. He was a much bigger man, and he grinned nastily
as he suddenly grew half a foot. His skin thickened to something like
armor plate, and he settled himself like a football linebacker, two
knuckles on the pavement right before he charged with a roar.
The kids scattered. The girl clearly tried to swing at him a few times,
but he never even felt the impacts as he slammed into the force field.
The blow knocked the kid generating the field back, as the gang member
turned on the one who'd been tossing people around.
The man in the alleyway found himself standing at that, but paused as
the urge to intervene fought his self-preservation. "What can *I* do,"
he said with a quiet but deeply felt bitterness.
The trio dashed around the armored linebacker as he charged again.
Instead of running away, they were still trying to come up with a
solution that took him down. And in the darkness, the man could see the
rest of the gang was regaining their nerve, edging back to the fight.
"Crap. This goes on, they'll swarm the kids. I gotta..."
He stopped again, looking at his hand. The blued steel of his artificial
hand had gripped the corner of the building he'd been hiding behind, and
partially crumbled the brick. The red and black plaid jacket he'd been
wearing did little to disguise his true nature when he wasn't trying to
hide himself.
-What can *I* do?- His mind skittered like a car on ice as unfamiliar
thoughts chased themselves around in his head. -I have no powers. I'm
just a *thing*. I can't help anyone.-
He watched the massive thug chasing the kids around while the gang edged
closer to the fight, and felt something ignite within him. Far different
from the combat frenzy he'd felt so often in the past, this somehow
felt... purer. *Cleaner*.
The thug grinned, and set himself again while the kids were trying to
find a way to deal with him. The one who controlled winds might be a
threat if they ever got him off the ground, but keeping him off-balance
was easy. Charging again, he dashed toward the kid, hoping to knock him
into the far wall.
A dark shape interposed itself between him and the kid, and he had a
moment's shock before a fist the size of his face smashed into his chin,
knocking him clear back into the burning tv store.
The trio looked over at their mystery man, taking in his felt plaid
jacket, old dungarees, and beaten up old shoes as the thug inside the
store roared with anger.
"Get out of the way kids," the man's deep voice said with confidence.
"I've got this."
The thug roared, charging out of the store with his shirt on fire. The
man didn't waver, and didn't get out of the way. He just set himself
where he stood, and threw even more of himself into his next punch.
The impact staggered the charging thug, stopping him mid-charge and
knocking him back. The second punch slammed into his armored gut,
causing the mutant tough to fold over, the wind wheezing out of him. The
final blow slammed one-handed into the back of his head, dropping him to
the pavement, unconscious.
The trio watched in awe as the gang fled, leaving their erstwhile
enforcer lying on the sidewalk, his breath bubbling through his bleeding
nose.
Their rescuer hefted the thug, who had reverted to his normal look, and
propped him up on a nearby building. He looked up when he heard sirens.
"Take care, kids," he said with a wave. "I gotta go."
"Wait!"
The man paused and looked around as the girl walked up to him. Behind
him, the one who controlled wind was somehow putting the fire out.
-Handy trick, that,- he thought as he looked back at her.
"Look, Miss. I *really* gotta go. I don't want no trouble with the
cops." He paused as a familiar pain settled somewhere in his gut, for no
reason he'd ever understood. "You.." He shook his head. "You wouldn't
get it."
"Is it because you're a boomer?"
The man blinked, looking down at her as she pushed up his sleeve,
revealing the blued Abotex battle armor. "It doesn't bother me," she
said, with a smile. "You saved us. And it's not your fault other people
don't get it."
The man paused, pulling down the hood, and revealing his face. "The cops
see *this*," he said, pointing with his other hand, "They'll just open
fire. To them, I'm not a person. I'm just some renegade 55C they have to
shut down. And I don't wanna put my life in the hands of some paper
pusher who might not care."
The older of the two boys stepped over, with a grin on his face. "Then
come with us! I know a place you could hide out. Okay," he said with a
shrug, "It ain't no Hilton, but it's gotta be better than the alleys,
right?"
The boy with the wind control also stepped over, looking over his
shoulder and judging the distance of the flashing lights. "We don't have
a lot of time, guys. But I'm in with them," he said, gesturing to the
other two. "We've got a lot covered, but that big guy was all over us.
Help us out, and maybe we can be a real super team. I'd like to try,
anyway."
The man thought about it for about a half-second. -It beats running for
my whole life,- he mused. -And it feels a *damn* sight better than how I
felt this morning.-
"All right," he said, glancing up at the approaching vehicles. "We have
about twenty three seconds before they're too close to evade. I hope you
have a plan for getting out of here."
The girl grinned and darted down another alleyway. "We've done this
before, c'mon!"
The man lumbered after them, darting down two alleyways and a switchback
before finally making his way through an old door linking into an
abandoned basement which fronted on part of the old storm drainage
system. They moved a ways down the drainage pipes, listening to the cars
drive by, until the sounds of police faded into the background.
"So," the girl said a few mintes later. "I'm Sandra. This is Kevin," she
said, pointing at the boy with the wind powers. "And the shield
generator over there is David." She looked up at the fourth member of
their team. "What's your name?"
The man blinked and looked uncertain. "Ah... I've never needed one. And
I hate being called by a number."
The girl grinned as the others eased the door open, and started to
backtrack out of their hiding place. "Then we'll have to come up with
one!"
Somewhat dubiously, the boomer followed the kids out of the storm drain
and back out into the alleyway, while they debated the pros and cons of
his new name.
*******************
Ideas?
---
Those who fear the darkness have never seen what the light can do.