First Wil, then Mabat… you seem to be getting a lot of crap for your Punisher-esque actions, Galloway. Surprised you aren’t returning it, though.
Keep up the chapters, d. I do look forward to reading these.
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, IN PIERSON’S ROOM…
Pierson finally looked up from the gloves, having spent all of the previous night taking out any overtly lethal weapons and generally toning down the velocity of Lord Slash’s former weaponry. Gone were the acid sprayers, machine guns, missile launchers, satelite uplinks, and pictures of Oprah. What remained, with the exception of the electric generators and retractable claws, was noticibly less murderous, except perhaps for the episodes of Enterprise that had somehow been downloaded into the gloves.
He slid the gloves onto his arms, hidden latches clapping into place and tightening the grip. Pierson had half-expected some sort of mind-control agent to suddenly pop up, turning him into Lord Slash and dooming him to writing endless Sailor Moon fanfiction and meaningless pointing out errors in television shows. Instead, he simply felt a sense of exhilaration and accomplishment…
A knock echoed from his door. “PIERSON!” shouted GG Crono’s voice. “Morning meeting’s about to start! Get your ass out here!”
“In a minute, you damn dirty sword-wielding hippy!” shouted Pierson. He threw on his costume, slid his dagger into his boot, and walked out in the meeting room.
FIVE MINUTES LATER, AT THE MEETING ROOM…
Galloway took his seat at the head of the meeting table, exchanging a cold glance with Mabatsekker as he did so. Rationalizing that this had something to do with Mabatsekker eating Galloway’s bagel or something, the rest of the Task Force wisely chose to ignore it. “Okay, this Monday morning meeting is officially underway. Considering the first item of business, I move that we skip reading the minutes of our last minute. All in favor?”
Everyone raised their hand, and Galloway continued. “All right. First, we have a message from the RPGCPD. It seems that, in light of recent developments, the police have stepped up security around RPGC’s public school district. They have the secondary schools covered, but they need someone at RPGC Elementary.”
Mabat raised his hand. “I can handle it. I mean, how hard can it be?”
“Unfortunately, I need you for something more important, Mabat,” said Galloway. Mabat grumbled something profane under his breath. “Besides, this looks like a job for someone that knows the school, someone that can kick ass without killing anybody or mentally scarring any kids, someone that will not try to gain spitball skills. That’s why you’re going, Pierson!”
Pierson looked about in horror and confusion. “Me? But…wha…gah?”
“Alright, next on the agenda, we have an even greater emergency on our hands, one so serious that I cannot tell you here,” said Galloway. “GG Crono, demigod, you guys have this.” GG Crono and demigod nodded silently to each other, secretly plotting Galloway’s slow and torturous murder.
(more tomorrow)
“Alright, Galloway, what’s on my agenda today?” said Mabat.
Galloway looked back down at his notes, and then back at the blue mage. “Alright, blue mage, here’s the deal. I got two calls from the UN about three-thirty this morning. The first was from the Center for Metahuman Affairs; apparently, after the disaster in Paragon City, a number of groups have been called up to help in the clean-up effort.”
A smile crept across Mabatsekker’s face, his eyes glistening in an overly anime-esque manner. “You mean…You mean-”
“Yep, we’ve been called into active duty,” said Galloway. He handed the Finnish Blue Mage a large notepad. “Considering you’ve had the most experience among us with the people in Paragon, I figured you would be the best person to get everything in order. Our flight leaves at midnight tonight; we should, with all luck, be there by seven tomorrow morning. From there, we’ll receive our official orders.”
Mabat hugged the notepad. “Ah, Heaven! This is gonna be-” He then remembered who he was talking to. “Alright, what’s the catch?”
“The second call was from the Paragon City Representative,” said Galloway. “He just wanted to make sure you were okay, and that I got that thing he sent me.” He reached under the table and pulled out a large backpack. “While you’re doing that, I’m gonna scout around for any trouble. Gotta make sure they know we’re coming back…”
(to be continued)
Sorry about the short update, but:
Next time: Pierson faces an old foe, a new nemesis emerges, an old nemesis also emerges, and a current-nemesis-but-future-ally also comes back into the spotlight.
MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE RPGC ELEMENTARY…
Pierson cautiously approached the building, the immense evil radiating from its every orifice threatening to drown out his sanity completely. The horrible memories of his last trip to this accursed ground were still fresh in his mind, although to be fair, paralyzing a kid with a single blow from a plastic lunch tray WAS strangely satisfactory and enjoyable. Now, with the concentrated power of a few dozen lunch porters contained within his new toys, he felt that he could easily take down half of the Canadian Air Force, if need be.
Or, in an even more likely situation, in case he had to fight off the combined hoard of racists and fat, greasy brats. Either way, he was looking at some serious action today. Or…in an even more likely possibility, simply being a hall monitor until 3:30, at which point he would return to the HQ and bemoan the horrible twists of fate that had led to this moment in time.
In either case, the front of the school was completely deserted. Even considering it was only about seven, he had still expected an enraged army of closed-minded protestors hoping to use their concentrated mass to keep the “cat-whores” from entering the school. Still, there were an unusual number of vehicles parked outside, but he didn’t see anything really suspicious about that.
MEANWHILE, INSIDE ONE OF THE NON-SUSPICIOUS VEHICLES…
A small, mail slot-shaped flip lid provided the only means of seeing outside, as well as the only light in the dark van. A single occupant watched as Pierson wandered into the school. “He’s inside.”
“Maybe we should cancel for now. Wait until things cool down.”
“And let those…degenerates corrupt our children?”
“WHAT children? Not a person here is married! Hell, half of us can’t PAY women to touch us!”
“…”
“…”
“Do you want to kill him, or should I?”
“Quiet. Signal the others. We will proceed as planned.”
MEANWHILE, ON A BRIDGE OVERLOOKING RPGC’S EAST RIVER…
Darkness Beckons cleaned his twin blades on the clothes of the dead CIA agent, keeping his eyes locked both for any possible witnesses and for the garbage scowl that only passed underneath when it was absolutely convenient. Fortunately, there was still no life out on the streets of RPGCity, save for the occasional stray dog eying the dead corpse, hoping for an easy meal. One look at Darkness Beckons, however, was usually enough to send them running, their tales firmly locked between their legs.
Looking at himself in his swords’ reflection, Beck let out a lamentable sigh. Once again, someone had tried to capture him, study him, use him, kill him. They were beneath his notice normally, mere slugs there to be either avoided to stepped on as he saw fit. However, no matter how many he killed, they just kept coming. He had to find some way to show he should not, WOULD NOT, be anyone’s puppet…
As the scowl finally passed underneath, and he unceremoniously dumped the agent’s bloodied sack of flesh over the edge, he realized there was a chance: he had to take out one of their new “heroes.” Then he remembered the five that had fought him back in Greenland. In particular, he remembered one member that did not seem to have any special abilities, nor possessed any public speaking techniques…
(to be continued)
Sorry updates are so slow lately; I’ve been having a bad case of writer’s block.
A combination of writer’s block, work, school issues, trying to get my damn diploma, getting sick, and trying to find some means of getting the update off my laptop have been the cause of the delay in writing. Not only that, but the notebook I had penned the original outline for this chapter in was accidentally thrown out, forcing me to come up with something else. Oh well, here goes.
(Note: And this has absolutely nothing to do with a combination of Overlord and The Darkness. Absolutely nothing at all.)
MEANWHILE, INSIDE RPGC ELEMENTARY…
Immediately upon entering the school, Pierson was greeted with the familiar smells of puke intermingled with chewing gum, cigarettes, refried beans, pencil lead, and an overwhelming sense of no hope for the future and a grim certainty that their parents screwed up their lives and world. The custodians were busy cleaning up yesterday’s mess, while the teachers were locked within their classrooms, preparing for both the lessons ahead and the terrible hardships and ordeals that came with such major legal changes.
The Task Forcer had walked no more than six steps than the principal, an obviously distressed man who looked like he had fell off a truck carrying stock principals. “Ah…Ah, you must be the superhero we asked for!” Pierson nodded in agreement. “Good, good, good! Finally we have some goddamn defense! And…what are your powers?”
“I, uh…have no-” Suddenly remembering his new toys, Pierson raised his hands, showing off his gloves. “Usual tech-level equipment. Totally non-lethal and non-bloody. I can…also swing a mean lunch tray.”
The principal shoved himself right into Pierson’s face. “Don’t even joke about that! Some…punk visiting student smashed a boy’s neck in with one of those things! He was in a coma for weeks! We were SO lucky his parents didn’t decide to sue us.”
Pierson uncomfortably adjusted his collar, the true ramifications of his act of self-defense finally sinking in. “Uh…yeah. Lucky.” He quickly returned to his original composure. “So, what are my duties?”
The principal wrapped his arm around Pierson’s back, and the two started walking down the hallway. The Task Forcer was more than a little unnerved by the principal’s openness, but decided to let it slide for the moment. “Here’s our little problem. Any minute now, certain groups will be arriving, no doubt trying to disrupt our peaceful setup. Your job is to make sure nobody that doesn’t belong here gets in here.”
“I take it you mean groups like ‘Mothers Against Catpeople?’”
The principal nodded his head to the side slightly. “Well, there’s them, of course. But the people I’m REALLY worried about are…you know…the catgirls.”
Pierson suddenly stopped, his face twisting in confusion. “Excuse me, but…are you telling me to keep catgirls out of the school?”
The principal quickly withdrew his arm, on the defensive for the first time since Pierson’s arrival. “Hey, I’m not the bad guy here! I’m just telling you that…you know, with the pheromones and all, they may be a distracting to our more…discerning male students.”
The principal let out a nervous chuckle; Pierson, however, wasn’t laughing. “They’re kids, principal. I’m no psychologist or biologist, but I’m pretty sure none of these children have any real idea what sex is, and even if they do, catgirls don’t emit pheromones until about a year after puberty.”
“Look, I’m just saying-”
“Principal, I’ll help you look after the school. I’ll keep the ‘concerned groups’ out, and I’ll make sure the students are safe. But mark my words, I will not block the law simply because of your…‘concerns.’” With that parting comment, Pierson took up his position at the front entrance. Even as the first few cars and school buses pulled up, he knew this was going to be a rough day.
At least it couldn’t be as bad as the day GG Crono and demigod had to be having…
MEANWHILE, ACROSS TOWN…
GG Crono and demigod sat at the judge’s booth, watching the supermodels wander about and throw free money to people. “Yep,” said GG Crono. “This is the best assignment ever.”
THE END OF ISSUE 17
Next Issue: No matter how old you are, the first day of school always sucks. Throw in conspiracies, kidnapping, supervillains, a big jar of antipasto, supermodels, Jimmy Carter, and a cast of others, and things quickly become far worse.
Actually, that didn’t turn out that bad. I guess taking a break really can revitalize you…to a degree.
Issue 18: Running Against the Wind
A FEW MINUTES LATER…
Pierson quickly regretted standing in front of RPGC Elementary School’s main entrance; unfortunately, he was unable to dodge the stampeding horde of pint-sized youngsters as they escaped the infernal trappings of their parents and rushed inside. By the time the initial horde had vanished, the Task Forcer could feel footprints all over his liver, his heart, his forehead, and parts of his body that should not be named. Hearing yet another series of school buses pull up, he rolled to his left, grabbing hold of a stairway handrail and pulling himself to his feet just before another horde of brats came up the steps.
(Just a teaser for now. More will come tomorrow.)
See the new thread for info.
In other words, no update for today. Let’s see what tomorrow brings…
MEANWHILE, INSIDE THE UNSUSPICIOUS VEHICLES…
“Anyone got a light?”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, INSIDE THE SCHOOL…
The school, which had been a graveyard naught but a few minutes before, was now suddenly bustling with all manner of activity. The pint-sized inmates were busy either gathering materials from the hall lockers or socializing with their peers, determined to make the most of every possible second before they were to be dragged into the very pits of Hell itself. The teachers were of little assistance; they were still absorbed in their own selfish concerns, desperately seeking a means of escaping the disaster they knew would soon be upon their little classrooms.
(Meanwhile, the author decided to erase any memory of Max Payne from his brain. Hold please…Ah, much better.)
Finally, the last of the buses arrived. While the others had been dirty, scratched but otherwise fine machines, this last bus was a different story entirely. It looked like giant claws had torn across its exterior, leaving three parallel gashes across its side. The wheels looked like they were being held onto the bus with super glue, and half of the windows looked like melted Silly Putty. Even before the first inhabitants disembarked, Pierson could tell who rode this bus…
A little less than sixty catbeings disembarked, most of them female. The driver, a thin man with a long, shaggy beard and no other hair screamed something at them as they were leaving; judging by their tearful, dismayed reactions, they were far from good wishes and pleasantries. The catbeings simply shuffled past Pierson, the rest of the school falling dead silent as they entered. A few students moved to do something, but the sight of a superhero with cybernetic gauntlets soon dispelled any such ideas.
The first bell rang, signaling the students to march back to their seats for another day of absolute torture. Just as Pierson was about to grab some donuts from the teacher’s lounge, he heard a whisper coming from behind a nearby drinking fountain. Leaning over, he saw Zachary waiting for him, a worried look about his face. “Uh…kid, shouldn’t you be in class?” said Pierson.
“Good, good, play it that way,” whispered Zachary. “Listen, I heard something when mom dropped me off. Some kids said their parents were going to kidnap one of the…you know, new kids, and use them as a warning to everyone else.”
“The thought had crossed my mind, but I wouldn’t trust the source. The way this thing has everyone, I’d be careful in-” He finally saw Zachary’s panicking expression. “You have too many Cocoa Puffs or something?”
“Look…I can’t be seen talking with you,” whispered the kid. “If they figure out I know superheroes, they’ll find out I have powers. Please, I’m only eight! I’m too young to be outed!”
“That’s not- ugh!” cursed Pierson, taking time to massage his forehead. “Go to class, kid. Try to keep an eye on any catbeings in your class, and tell me if you hear ANYTHING else!” Zachary gave a cheesy salute and rushed to class, ducking in just before the second bell rang. Pierson, meanwhile, muttered a few curses towards the media before going back to his patrol duties.
(to be continued)
Next time: Kidnapping, Darkness Beckons, and the might of Jimmy Carter!
THE FIRST HOUR…
kiro had hoped to arrive early enough to slip into the classroom unnoticed, sneak to her seat, hide her ears beneath a hooded sweater, and try to remain as invisible as possible. When she learned she had to take the bus, and would therefore be one of the last people there, she began to pray that her classmates would be too busy with each other to notice her duck inside and hide. Then she found out hoods were no longer allowed after the Hoods, a nearby street gang, had been blown away by Galloway and demigod during the whole drug fiasco, meaning her ears were going to be on full display.
Her last hope, that everyone else would be too busy to notice the new catgirl, was dashed like a speed boat against the jagged rocks of reality. Rather than engaging in their own business, the entire chorus of kids were sitting in perfect unison, eyes locked on the classroom door in an eerie, Children of the Corn-esque manner. Even the teacher, an older woman that had obviously been knocked down the educational ladder a few too many times, sat in stone silence, watching for any signs of catgirls. When kiro finally poked her head in, she could feel the overwhelming disgust seeping from the pores of every man, woman and child in there.
“Uh…is this Room 39?” she asked sheepishly. The teacher simply pointed to an empty desk at the very center of the room, the heart of darkness as it were. After a nearly ten minute trek through total coldness and bleak shadow, the new meat took her seat, and class began…
HOUR TWO…
kiro was halfway through her math workbook when she felt something reach for her tail. Before she could even bat the brat’s hand away, her furry appendage was jammed between the desk and its closing lid.
HOUR THREE…
When kiro tried to answer the small science question, she found her ears suddenly pulled away from each other, thanks to a complicated pulley system everyone else had constructed while she was in the bathroom.
HOUR FOUR…
Nothing bad happened to kiro; the teacher had fallen into a medicated sleep, and the kids were too busy tormenting Mr. Wilkins the custodian.
(more tomorrow)
DURING LUNCH, IN THE CAFETERIA…
Pierson found himself standing around, once again, inside the center of all scholastic evil, the very den of all that is wrong and wicked in the world: the school lunch cafeteria. The only difference was, this was Pizza day, which meant even more kids “conveniently” losing their sack lunches and munching on square pieces of cardboard with tomato sauce smeared on top. And considering how nothing, strangely enough, had warranted his attention, he found himself gladly munching along.
Zachary had already mingled back into his usual group of friends, avoiding any and all eye contact with the ACTUAL superhero. The catgirls, meanwhile, had congregated to two isolated tables. A few slowly raised food to their mouths, they bodies shaking involuntarily, their eyes locked on the cold stares of the other kids. Others simply sat motionless, afraid to even budge an inch. There were telltale signs of abuse all over, from crooked tails and pulled ears to burn marks and clutched stomachs. Pierson mentally slapped himself; he had been looking in the wrong direction the entire day!
MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE THE SCHOOL…
“Damn it, let’s just do it now!”
“Just give it a minute. All we need is a diversion…”
Darkness Beckons suddenly appears in front of the school
“…That’ll do.”
(to be continued)
Next time: This story arc, which went to hell quicker than I spat up that one sip of “Game Fuel,” will be finished. Pierson vs. Darkness Beckons, Jimmy Carter shows up with some Antipasto, and everyone heads off into…adventure!
Alright, I’m finishing all three fics (I would have four, but Wilfredo has abandoned us for real life), and taking down nearly twenty fics for the next update. Plus, I want to try and finish the three “works-in-progress” issues before going on with the next. So, this is mostly random filler, providing some info about what’s to come, and what’s here right now…
ISSUE 25
This is what everything is leading towards right now. Issue 25 has always been marked to be a major turning point in the storyline, one that will hopefully redeem this shit. You see, that update is…when Galloway leaves the fic.
cheers erupt
Yes, I know. I’m not even going to bother marking that with a spoiler tag, since it’s already been stated elsewhere. That issue has been planned out ever since Christmas Saga 2, and has only been changed in one major way that will be covered in time. Just give me time, please.
Now, just some short previews of upcoming issues:
Issue 19: City of Zeroes
The RPGC Task Force heads to Paragon City, the legendary City of Heroes! Mabat is obviously thrilled, but when a stupid rookie mistake comes back to haunt him, how will it affect the entire Task Force? Meanwhile, demigod, Pierson and GG Crono take on Beta Legion…again. Guess who wins?
Issue 20: Daddy Wilfredo
Did you know Wil used to be a superhero? And once ended up in the past? Well, turns out he shouldn’t have gotten so drunk that one night. When things go from bad to worse, can the Task Force Reserves save RPGC? Plus, Gemini still has boobies.
Issue 21: Big Trouble In Little RPG Town
Wilfredo’s family takes offence to his drunken revelries at last, and cut Nel off from him. Too bad she was just kidnapped. The Reserves must untangle Wil’s sordid past and save Nel before it’s too late. In the process, however, they will discover a secret, one that will change the fate of the world. Plus, OmegaFlareX eats a cheese-covered pretzel.
Issue 22: Time Warp
While trying to train the rest of the Task Forcers, Mabat realizes his own skills are lacking. In order to finally master Mantis Kung Fu, he somehow travels back to ancient China, where the evil warlord Feng Tu seeks to recover the two halves of an all-powerful mask. Can Mabatsekker master a new style AND defeat Feng Tu’s men in time? Plus, GG Crono and Pierson take on a million zillion cajillion ninjas.
Issue 23: Supreme Warrior
Mabatsekker’s blatantly stolen storyline concludes, as he faces down the last of Feng Tu’s henchman before taking on the big man himself. Can he survive the raw power of the mask, or will he finally be overcome? Meanwhile, Galloway accidentally ends up in demigod’s home dimension. Can he and demi escape in time to save Christmas?
Issue 24: It Returns
Right after the events at the creepy hotel, Galloway has vanished without a trace. To make matters worse, Nightmare the Clown has escaped captivity, and now seeks revenge on the Task Force! Can they defeat him? Is Heaven’s Soldier cut out to be a superhero? Will Little Jimmy escape from the abandoned gold mine?
Issue 25: Downfall
Already explaiend this one.
There, a pointless filler done. Now, to go drink. And sleep. And study. And do homework. And play Halo 3.
MEANWHILE, INSIDE THE CAFETERIA…
Pierson started towards the catgirl table, his eyes darting for any sign of trouble. The other kids were eyeing him with a mixture of suspicion and dislike, as well as disappointment in not getting a more powerful superhero. The school staff was simply standing in the sidelines, simply preparing for the trouble that was soon to come. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, every facet of his brain preparing for the inspirational speech to end all inspirational speeches, one for the angels, one that would bring tears to the eyes of every man, woman and child in the room. Yes, he would finally save the day…
By the time he was done thinking, he had walked behind the lunch counter, tripped over a loose hair net, fallen on a skateboard, and rolled into the front hallway. He quickly picked himself up, wiping the dirt off his costume as he did so. He tried to return to the cafeteria, but before he could take three steps, a pair of blades suddenly swept around his shoulders and crossed in front of his neck, as a familiar voice whispered, “Don’t move.”
“D-Darkness, was it?!” Pierson’s voice was a mixture of fearful gargles and absolute terror, his body frozen in mid-step. “Wh-Wh-What are you doing here? I thought you-”
“Were dead? Hardly.”
Pierson struggled slightly against the blades, but they only tightened their vise-like grip around his neck. “Look, Beckons,” he coughed, “there are kids here. If you want a fight, I’ll give you one…cough…but not here. Not now.”
Beckons was silent; Pierson wished he could at least see what his captor was thinking. Finally, the swords parted from the hero’s neck, and Pierson took in several sweet gasps of air. “Finally…you’ll see reason?” He spun around…and saw Beckon’s foot flying to his face. “Oh, fu**.”
BAMF!
Pierson’s body flew about three feet off the ground, smashing through the cafeteria doorway and crashing onto one of the cafeteria tables. The folding table’s legs soon proved themselves wanting in holding the soon-to-be carcasses of doomed superheroes, and the small structure cracked and split right down the middle, sending children scattering and dumping all manners of unspeakable food sliding onto his still-stunned body. Darkness Beckons strode into the small eatery, swords still drawn, eyes still locked on Pierson’s struggling form.
The few teachers and administrators that had moved to help Pierson immediately stopped, spun on their heels, and quickly moved to get the kids away from the scary fighting people. The kids, for their part, were more interested in watching the upcoming carnage than trying to find some sort of refuge. In fact, it was the most excited they had been all day. Even the formerly distraught catbeings were looking right at the ensuing battle.
Pierson climbed off the table, wiping creamed corn and cardboard pizzas off of his uniform. “Okay, asshole, that was WAY out of line!” Beckons hunched forward, swords crossing, his eyes locked intently on his prey. Pierson quickly switched his new gauntlets on, his eyes never losing sight of his opponent. The kids, meanwhile, were already betting on the outcome; Pierson was coming in at 100:1 odds at the moment.
Finally, Beckons charged forward…only to eat an electrified fist. The blow was powerful enough to send the shadowy being staggering backwards, allowing Pierson time to follow up with a jump kick to the upper chest, forcing the figure back out of the cafeteria and into the adjoining corridor. Before Pierson could follow him, Beck managed to regain his balance, took a quick step back, and leaned on his back leg like a tiger waiting to pounce on his next dinner…
PAGE MISSING
Pierson’s body smashed through the front door, tumbling down the short flight of stairs before lying motionless on the sidewalk. Darkness Beckons jumped forward, landing right next to the superhero’s unconscious form. The chasing crowd of prepubescent children and their accompanying masters followed in turn, neither party willing to actually step in and stop the fight. Even a few muffled voices from the still unsuspicious vehicles could be heard, placing bets on the potential outcome.
(to be continued)
Alright, this issue is officially on hiatus. I need to write out a…less crappy ending to this crappy storyline. I also plan to kill off the first unfinished storyline, and will need to finish the second in order to more properly flow into Issues 20 and 21.
In the meantime, Issue 19 will begin soon. I just need to get some additional research done. And drink. A lot.
Issue 19: The Qualities of a Hero
THE NEXT NIGHT, AT RPGC INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT…
“Are you crazy, Mabat?”
The Task Force, minus Galloway, was seated on a row of benches by Gate F, at the far left end of the airport. The airport itself was a mess of a building, its walls and floor covered with all manner of unspeakable substances and fluids, the once ocean blue carpet now stained with a mixture of orange and yellow spots. The benches themselves consisted of hard blue plastic with tough felt coverings, all of which threatened to collapse under the slightest bit of pressure. There was relatively little traffic; their swas the last plane to leave for the night, and the other passengers had either left for a hotel or were sleeping until they could finally leave…three days after they were supposed to.
Pierson was eyeing Mabatsekker with a mixture of uncertainty and concern. GG Crono was busy chewing on a Tootsie Roll, but was still listening to what the blue mage had to say. demigod’s head was lowered, making it impossible to judge what was going on under his cloak. Galloway was at a nearby coffee stand, trying in vain to convince a Korean vendor that $6.00 was highway robbery for an ounce of black mud.
“No, this is perfect!” said the Wonder of Finland. “Don’t you get it? We show Galloway to the City of Heroes, they prove to him he doesn’t belong here, he leaves, and we all go home happy.”
“You’re a nutter, you know that?” said Pierson. “Galloway isn’t going to change? Hell, we’ll be lucky if any of this gets through that dishrag of a brain he has!”
Mabat shook his head sadly. “Then we have to take him down ourselves.”
GG suddenly gagged on his candy, spitting out a half-melted wad of chocolate to join everything else on the floor. “No…No way I’m fighting a saiyan! Especially a Super Saiyan!”
“Look, you know how our leader works. We just use a little force, show some backbone, and he’ll crumble. He’ll never attack anyone he considers innocent.”
Galloway finally returned, shaking his head sadly. “God, some people just can’t listen to reason. So, what did I miss?”
“Nothing of importance,” hissed demigod. Everyone else looked around innocently, trying not to give Galloway any sort of non-verbal cue as to their agenda. Shrugging it off, the saiyan took a seat, grabbed a six-month-old magazine, and started reading.
(to be continued)
Next time: Paragon City! Plus, Mabat gets a sidekick!
TWO HOURS LATER, ON THE PLANE…
The plane itself was of a fairly small sort, with almost no leg room, an aisle about a foot wide, and the threat of being crushed if the 400-pound guy in front of you decided to take a nap. There were only twelve other people on the plane along with the Task Force, consisting of mostly tourists or relief workers and volunteers. The Task Forcers were seated towards the back, Mabat next to demigod, GG Crono next to Galloway, and Pierson by himself in the back. They had only been in the air for an hour, and already the absolute boredom of the trip was beginning to overtake everyone on board. Even the flight attendants appeared to be either exhausted or simply high on <i>something</i>.
Finally, GG Crono started towards the bathroom, the combined force of seven diet sodas finally overcoming his constitution. He quickly slipped past the metal portal and slammed the aluminum door shut, fiddling with the lock for about thirty seconds before the damned thing was finally secure…
Then two arms darted from the ceiling, one wrapping around Crono’s head and covering his mouth, the other lowering a menacing dagger to his throat. A strangely familiar female voice rang out from above. “Don’t move. Don’t talk. Above all else, don’t pee.”
“Mmph?!” shouted GG. “Phff fhap chiff refm fah conphesp!”
There was silence for about ten seconds, replaced by an ever-tightening grip. “Listen good. There is a small record you need to pick up for me. A police report on a murder. I need that information for my own reasons. Do it, or your little friends will get a visit from Mr. Knife.” GG Crono unconsciously glanced down at himself, electing a low groan. “Not those- My God, are all men this perverted?”
Just as quickly as it had begun, the attack ended. The hands withdrew into the darkness of the ceiling, leaving a very confused, frustrated, and angry GG Crono behind.
(to be continued)
More will be here soon.
Um…a thousand pardons, but I have to do some rethinking about the previous storyline. That’s what I get for thinking it up nearly nine months ago, when I still played City of Heroes.
In any case, here’s the next chapter. This one should, hopefully, be more interesting… Then again, probably not.
ISSUE 20: Daddy Wilfredo
THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO, IN THE AREA THAT WOULD ONE DAY BE SOUTHERN CANADA…
Amongst the overgrown and alien landscape, long before evolution would produce many of the future’s more familiar creatures, the city rested. A monolith built of archaic technology and slave labor, it stood as a testament to the planet’s current rulers and their endless might. The city’s crown ornament was, in fact, an actual black monolith, covered with a series of brightly-colored tubes and various electrical wires. Above the monolith stood a black void, from which emerged one craft after another.
The city’s only residents besides its architects were its production force, the first vestiges of what would one day be the human race. Having fled across the Bering Straight to escape enslavement on the other continents, they had nonetheless stumbled upon the strange invader’s very point of entry. In the end, not a sliver of hope remained for the struggling species.
In the distance, two figures watched the guard patrols with intensifying anxiety. Both were human, although they bore no resemblance to modern man. Their bodies were more sloped, more bulky, and far shorter. Thick manes of hair covered their forms, which were naked save for some animal hides and cloths they had either created or stolen. One, the larger of the two, had black hair and was armed with a stone spear; the other possessed brown hair and no visible weapon.
The brown-haired one looked to his companion, speaking in a language long since condemned to the dusts of history. “Grok, we have to move now!”
“It’s too early,” responded Grok. “We must wait until the guard changes, and then move into the back of the monolith. Destroy it, and they will be without any hope of resupply. The world will be ours, then.”
Their reverie was suddenly cut short by laser fire. Red beams of pure concentrated heat and fury struck a tree beside them, transforming it into a pillar of fire within seconds. “By the gods!” shouted Grok. “Let’s move, Mok!”
The two charged forward, alarming the heavily-armored and helmeted guards below. One managed to lock a shot onto Grok, but to his surprise the primitive man sidestepped into a blur and stabbed him through the face. Mok, meanwhile, took a commanding leap over another shot and, with a wave of his hand, emitted a wave of freezing air. The hapless soldiers were turned into frozen statues, which shattered under the still-pulsating heat of their rifles.
PRESENT DAY, TWO DAYS AFTER THE TASK FORCE LEFT FOR PARAGON CITY…
The RPGCity auditorium was filled to near-capacity, with the Task Force Reserve counting for all but a half-dead cat lying on top of a cardboard box. This wasn’t necessarily bad, considering the RPGCity auditorium consisted on a run-down surgical bus. And considering the convention center was currently hosting Lunaris’ annual gun show, this was the best they could come up with.
Wilfredo Martinez stood at the front of the bus, going on and on and on about his many misadventures as a superhero. Although his memoirs WERE selling pretty well, it was obvious the fame was starting to get to him, and considering how the Task Force’s reputation was in the toilet after Mabat’s little secret got out, he was RPGC’s top metahuman expert. Nelimar sat on the driver’s seat, trying to catch up on her homework.
In the audience, Omega was leaning against one window, while Weiila tried her best to stay interested. Zachary was fidgeting like a boiler cap about to explode. Xero, being unable to sit in the rows, was forced to stand hunched in the back. Val was busy polishing and sharpening her spear points, for when she hurled one of her polearms through Wil’s larynx. Gemini was leaned over herself, somehow managing to hide the fact he was now a she.
“And so I said, ‘And that is precisely the reason why this train is off-limits to all passengers!’” Wil chuckled loudly, while the rest of the Task Force followed along; only Weiila excused herself, suddenly feeling a little sick. “And so, that ends our little lecture! If you have any questions, I will gladly-”
The entire reserved rushed out so quickly the sage was sent spinning for about ten seconds. He was so dazed, he failed to notice an unknown figure slip out an open window in the back.
(to be continued)
Next time: Wil’s little “accident.”
BACK AT TASK FORCE HQ…
Omega was scrawled on the couch, polishing a series of small daggers he had found stashed in Pierson’s room. The rest of the Reserves were either in the back rooms or in the lab. The monitor was completely dead, the result of Val chucking a bowl of tapioca pudding at a fly. Only the computer’s soft hums broke the eerie silence surrounding the underground bunker.
Then came the knock…
SOMEWHERE IN MEXICO…
A loud scream was heard, coming from some place hundreds of miles in the distance.
BACK IN THE BUNKER…
Omega jumped from behind the couch, his hand still bloodied from trying to somersault over furniture while holding onto the a piece of cuttery. Seeing that nobody else was bothering to come answer the door, the grumbling man pushed a few buttons on the console next to the front door. With a begrudging creak, the metal doors slid open, revealing a young woman on the other side, her features almost completely hidden underneath mounts of winter clothes, scarfs, jackets, and hats. Her face was beautiful, while also quite slender and seemingly fragile.
“Um…uh…Hello!” she said, her face melting into an almost completely unnatural smile.
“Eh…hi?” said Omega. Something was definitely unsettling about the girl. She seemed robotic, almost alien at times.
She calmly pushed past the metahuman and took a seat at the nearby meeting table. Omega found it harder and harder to restrain the urge to take the knife in his hand and run it through her windpipe until every drop of goddamn blood was spilled onto the floor, but he somehow managed to take a seat…five chairs down from her.
“Did…did I do something wrong?” she asked. “I- uh, mean, what’s up, mack daddy?” Omega’s right eyebrow cocked so heavily it threatened to take half of his face with it. “Oh, wait, I mean-”
“LOOK!” shouted Omega. “We don’t have time for you to practice every horribly outdated slang term you know! Just state your business and get out!”
(the rest will be up later today.)
The girl had the look of a deer facing over a hundred oncoming headlights. She cleared her throat nervously, obviously growing more and more terrified by the moment. Omega, meanwhile, was kicking himself mentally for his outburst, wanting desperately to take it back but knowing it was impossible. There was just…something about the girl that made him feel uneasy.
“I, uh, need your help. I…think that’s how it goes with you metahumans, right?” Omega groaned slightly, the girl obviously taking delight in his unease. “Well, you see, I’m looking for my father. He came here several years ago, and I desperately need to find him.”
So it’s a missing persons case, thought Omega. “Why didn’t you go to the police with this? Is your dad in any trouble?”
The girl shook her head. “No…I hear he’s doing fairly well for a hu- I mean, missing person.” It was official: she was beyond creepy. “I just need to speak with him. To see if he’s-” She suddenly went quiet. “Crap, I just said the quiet part loud, and the loud part quiet…”
“You watch Simpsons too, huh?” said Omega. “Well, don’t worry about it. We’ll scour the entire tri-county area. No stone will be unturned, no barrel unsearched, no toilet unflushed, until we have found your-”
The door suddenly opened, revealing the forms of Wilfredo Martinez and Nelimar. “And so, Nel, that’s why the cookies taste so bad.” Nel made a face not unlike someone vomiting their entire small intestines.
“Hey Wil!” shouted Omega. “We’re gonna go hunt someone down. Wanna-”
“Hello, father.”
There was total silence, followed by Wil falling to the metal floor like a sack of potatoes. “…Well, that didn’t take long,” said Omega.
(to be continued)
Next time: Wil explains all!
blows off the dust
Wow, this hasn’t been updated in forever. I’ll have an update tomorrow night, I swear.
The Task Force gathered around the recovering Wil like flies on a rotten ham sandwich. The girl was still sitting at the table, seemingly unmoved by her supposed father’s near total collapse into a comatose state. Nel stood at the far end of the structure, next to the front door, her eyes locked coldly on the accusing stranger. The entire air was filled with a sense of unease and confusion, coupled with the possible ramifications of this small piece of testimony.
Finally, Wil opened his eyes, only to find the cold, hard stare of Weiila burning into his skull. “Um…hello, my dear?” he stammered.
“Don’t you ‘Hello, my dear’ ME, you two-timing, housewrecking bastard!” shouted Weiila. “What the hell’s wrong with you, you son of a-”
“WOAH! TIME OUT, FOLKS!” shouted Omega. His words were all that stopped a ground-smashing whipping from reaching Wil’s precious face. “Xero, Val, get Weiila away from Wil. Gemini, Xero, get the mage over here. We have a LOT to cover here.”
“Indeed we do…um, my homies!” Even Xero rolled his eyes at that last comment.
MEANWHILE, AT AN OBVIOUSLY EVIL SKYSCRAPER OF DOOM…
A purple striped-suited figure peered out of his office’s rear window, which in this case constituted the entire back wall of the building’s top floor. The office itself was a lavish affair, the floor covered in a fine silk carpet splintered with gold dust, the walls buried underneath $100,000 paintings, and a desk made out of fine oak, polished to the point of reflecting objects from miles away. The figure itself was a typical upper-class executive, a man who had never had to experience any of life’s little foibles and troubles, who had no idea of what happened in the city beneath him.
His private elevator doors opened, revealing yet another oddly-dressed figure. It was a younger man, possibly in his early thirties. His clothing vaguely resembled a blue military uniform, only with a green trenchcoat over. The only other visible ornament was a small silver ring on his left hand, bearing the engraving of a pyramid with a flat top. He cleared his throat, nervously adjusting his collar as he stepped out of the elevator.
“What do you want, Neophyte?” said the older man.
The young figure swallowed loudly and continued. “Sir…we were wondering about your progress with the…forest recapturing?”
The old man took a seat at his desk, grumbling under his breath. “Tell your masters everything is going as planned. We know exactly when and how to get to those…things. We just need to rid ourselves of Wilfredo Martinez.”
BACK AT THE TASK FORCE HQ…
Wil and the girl glared at each other, their eyes burning with more fury than a fan seeing the end of Death Note. Seriously, what the hell was up with that? Why did they even bother with the last season? The show was basically over halfway through. I mean-
(Okay, back to the script.)
“Alright, Wilfredo!” said Val. “Who the hell is this bitch?!”
“That’s what I want to know…” said Wil.
The girl was suddenly out her chair, her hands gripped around Wil’s neck in a primeval death grip. Omega and Xero tried to pull her loose, but their might was no match to her bitter, angst-filled disgust with a possible parental figure. “What the hell is this, father?! I know you know what’s going on here, you two-timing, time-traveling…um…S.O.A!”
The battle ended when Val threw a snapped table leg into the girl’s sweatshirt, propelling her back and embedding her into a nearby wall. Gemini, meanwhile, flipped around the back, grabbed Wil by the hair, and held a short sword to his throat. The rest of the Task Force simply glared at him, giving the girl enough time to jump loose and smash him/her across the head with a porcelain vase Zachary’s mom had bought as a housewarming gift.
The girl was about to strike with what was left of the vase when Wil suddenly spun around and threw up a Barrier spell. The vase disintegrated on impact, and the girl was sent staggering back a few paces by the shockwaves, muttering strange curses all the while.
That’s when it happened…
MEANWHILE, INSIDE PARAGON CITY…
Pierson reclined his seat back, intentionally splattering coffee all over GG Crono’s left leg. As his companion ran into the lavatory screaming for his mommy, demigod sighed loudly. “This trip was certainly a disappointment. I would not be sorry if I never see Paragon City ever again.”
“Eh, don’t sweat it too much,” said Pierson. “Most everyone’s heading off the Azeroth, so this place should be shut down in a few years. And hey, now Mabat’s stopped complaining about Galloway. We can FINALLY get some shuteye back home. That is, if this flight isn’t DELAYED AGAIN!”
Mabat leaned in between the seats. “At least we have a good movie this time around! Any of you ever seen, ‘Alive?’”
(to be continued)
Next time: Young Wil’s amazing time-bending adventure! Plus…who are our new enemies?