Super Heroes: World in Turmoil

[Lavi]

((Lame title, but who cares? My character is not complete yet, so this will simple be a prologue post that has little consequence as to what is happening.

OOC thread is here.))

As humans marvel at the abnormal abilities only a select few achieves, other realize that they are in danger. Although some of these people use their power as super heroes, other use it to their advantage in the dark realm of crime.

Politicians pull this fact to the platform, and the debate rose: Should these super people be quarantined? Is it even possible to quarantine them? As humans debate this issue, the "Supers", as they were dubbed, face an even bigger problem...
​

 

[Niner]

Fahjad, or Damascus, as he was known to the general public, ran and jumped his way across the gaps in the buildings. New York City, the best place to exercise your abilities to jump, unless you were being pursued by hit squads sent to eliminate you. Fahjad took a flying leap across a fifteen foot gap in the buildings and continued sprinting along the rooftops.

Then he saw the hit-squad member in front of him. As Fahjad's superhuman reflexes kicked in he saw the bullet exit the man assault rifle in slow motion. He jumped and twisted as the bullet came towards him, missing him by centimeters. He kept twisting through the air as he extended one of his blades out of his right wrist, about five inches past the tips of his fingers. Reaching the man he slammed the blade into his neck. Ignoring the blood, Fahjad landed on his feet and looked back as bullets started flying towards him from pursuing hit-squad members. The standing underground contract on good "Supers" was getting real anoying by now. He started running again, where were the other supers when you needed them?

 

[Johnnysaurus Rex]

"Pathetic"

Marcus was standing ona nearby building where he had pinned a straggler of the group chasing Fajhad. He was grasping at a large black spike that was now pinning him to a ventilation outlet. The end of it was superheated and burning his innards. The man was dying without any dignity, kicking and screaming.

Marcus walked over to the edge of the building where he had spotted Fajhad before attacking this one.

"Hmmmmm... I wonder if that guy needs help? Wonder if he'll get it..."

 

[Captain Kara]

Suddenly a bright light flashed behind Marcus and there stood a man in a bowler and suit sporting a cane. He was fiddling with his hat and gloves.

"Well this great. I still can't get it down. You know every time I come here..." Dazlor's eyes catch Marcus' backside, "Ooh a present for me. This world shouldn't have." Dazlor laughed loudly. His face suddenly became serious. "What I am doing this is no time to laugh no is it. Lovely man in front of me, who are you?"

 

[Green Ranger]

The last of the hit-men broke and ran for it - one superhero was tolerable, but three popping out of thin air? Time to high-tail it back to the secret lair of horribly transparent plans.

Unfrotauntely, in his panic, the fellow dropped a book he was holding - rather out of place amongst the various guns and ammunitions that decorated his body, the musty old tome dropped to the ground with a thud. The hit-man turned and cosnidered running back to grab it, took a second glance at the super heroes, and bolted.

 

[Will]

Ezekyle sat on a bench in central park, reading one of his physics books. He wore a black trench coat, dark blue top and scarf, and baggy black jeans. From looking at him, no one would guess the guant boy was a 'super', persecuted by the small minded government of today.

 

[Ols]

Alex was flying at a very high altitude. It was so hard for him to blend in he rarely tried any more. He was content to fly home at night, when it was unlikely he was spotted. Besides, he had the best view of the city from up here. He could see a gun fight between some super heroes and some hitmen. There was a time when a "super hero" was a rare occurance, but they were everywhere these days. Alex just tried to live on, and his living tended to mean that villains did not take over the city; they rarely liked half mutated, fire wielding demons. As the commotion ended, leaving a fair body count on the roof, he decided to swoop down and investigate. He landed comfortable on the roof and his wings folded in behind him to form a leathery, stiff looking cloak coming out of his back. He looked across the rooves and saw everyone was dead, his slightly reptillian vision helped him see that none of them had any heat in their bodies.

Using his trident as a kind of walking stick he walked across the roof to where some of the men had escaped, wondering where the supers had run off to. As he walked, eyes fixed on one of the corpses, he triped over something heavy and solid. He righted himself and stooped to pick it up. It was a very old and heavy leather bound book. He decided to go somewhere a little more private to determine what this was, no doubt the police would be about soon. He took off once more, zooming gracefully through the skies and came to a land on a tall building a few kilometers away. He then sat cross legged on the roof and opened the book in his lap.

***

The Vaudevillian had just opened his club for the eveining. The cabaret was ready and the first supers were already filtering in. He was bored of the underground thugs and villains trying to get in; it was taking most of his efforts to keep "The Speakeasy" an exclusive location for the good guys, they were hunted by almost everyone these days. He was planning leaving the club's relative safety later that night though, he felt a hunt of the bounty hunters was in order, they were getting far too ahead of themselves attacking heroes in broad daylight now. He sighed and mixed a martini for himself.

 

[Ru the Boatswain]

Marco Sacha stood on a street corner begging...well actually four of him stood on the corner begging. so far he-the original- had been able to recieve about twenty dollars. He wondered how the rest of him was doing. He took out a small whistle and blew into it. The wail could be heard well over the traffic and the three others of himself began to cross the street. Marco turned and throwing up his hood stalked into a dark alley way behind him. "So what'd ya get?"He asked the gathering of himself.
"ten bucks, worth near nothin cupons from some old lady."The clones placed there money into his hand and vanised.
"10...25...30...50?" He recounted and came up with sixty-three dollars and some change. Stuffing the money in his pocket he heard a commotion above him. He turned and saw some one leap across the alleyway. "What in the name of-"he trailed off and taking out his mask he slid it on and lept ten feet up the wall. The building he as cimbing wasn't tall by any means but falling off of it wouldn't do him any good. Clawing the rest of the wayto the top he peeked over at the conflict. He grinned and next to him another set of eyes peeked over the edge. " Which side is which?"
"Dude in the white labcoat is with us I think...And the flying freak over there, he seems do-good. Damascus, that arse is here." They limbed up and taking out their pistols, flipped the safety and looked around. They weren't exactly in the midst of the battle but distance isn't much of a problem for a gun.

 

[Will]

Ezekyle closed his book on the behaviour of binary star systems, and began to walk home, via one of the lakes. He heard someone call. ''Hey! you!'' Ezekyle turned to the sight of a man with a knife trying to mug him. Ezekyle stood, and a psuedopod of water rose from the lake, grabbing the man. ''I think not.'' Was the quiet reply. Ezekyle held his hand out, palm open, and clenched it to a fist. The water crushed in on the man, causing massive internal damage, and breaking every bone in his body. He ran, throwing up a thick mist around the area, realising that action would have the bounty hunters on him in no time...

 

[Niner]

Damascus kept running across the rooftops. He then doubled back to head to "The Speakeasy". He ran towards the edge of the fifty story rooftop and did a perfect swan dive off the edge of the building. Feeling the rush of air against his skin was good. As he approached floor twenty he grabbed on to a flag pole and catapaulted himself along the street.

Ahhhhhhhh, the Speakeasy, his place of employment. Damascus dropped into the employee dressing room through the roof entrance that was designed for him, and started getting dressed. A few minutes later a brown haired man emerged from the room wearing black dress pants, a white dress shirt, red vest, black arm elastic, and a brown fedora. All of it was standard bartender dress, except the fedora, that was his idea. He walked towards the bar and spotted his boss Thomas Stinger AKA The Vaudevillian.

"Hey boss, we may have a problem out there."

 

[Ols]

Thomas watched the barman enter. He knew he was a hero and liked to get involved with the action. That did not bother him though.

"More bounty hunters?" he asked lazily, "Aren't they taking the hint? At least fifty must have been killed already this month. Squads of them seem to attack someone every day, and none of the heroes are safe," he sighed.

 

[Niner]

"Yeah, I would know about them getting killed."

Fahjad lazily vaulted over the bar and landed lightly on his feet behind it. He poured himself a drink of his own creation, a secret recipe in fact, a house favorite. He extended one of the blades out of his wrist and lazily stirred the drink. He then picked up the glass and downed it in one gulp.

"So, business is slow right now is it?"

 

[Ols]

It's not even dark yet, most of the supers don't go out in the day," he said, twirling his cane through the air, "I guess they're scared of turning into pumpkins. Then again, it tends to pick up by the night. And this place doesn't close until about sunrise. It has time to pick up. If you're bored you can make me another martini," he added, emptying his glass and putting it on the bar.

 

[Captain Kara]

Kara's goggled eyes scoured the area. With her Leapers, Manipulator, and Shield, she was ready she could clearly see Supers go about their business. Sure there were bounty hunters but nothing a good shot of toxic number 4 wouldn't take care of. She was checking a read out on her small handheld computer and was watching energy fluctuations, it was obvious someone had came here from somewhere else, the energy fluctuation readins from ten minutes ago were off the charts. Extra-Dimensional Demons, Accidental Crazy person, who knows all she knows is it means trouble when her readings go off the chart.

 

[Lavi]

((Setting the stage for a possible evil plan))

Finger clacked on two different keyboards as Sky works overtime at Iota Energy Laboratories. His presentation deadline for biological fuel research is coming close, and he did not want there to be last-minute errors. The biological scientist has almost completed his research in the development on a new fuel cell - one that could, potentially, cut dependence on foreign oil in motor-powered vehicles.

Sky bit his lip as he found an error in the design of the cell. He leaned forward in his seat to scrutinize the problem that arose. What would back up the power cell in the case that something bad happens? Right now, the answer would be to locate other energy networks and pilfer bits of electricity in order for the cell to start up its emergency routines. There is no monitor to regulate how much energy would be "borrowed"!

HUGE screw up… Why didn't the analysis team locate it? he thought.

The scientist, invigorated, continued his work, oblivious to his surroundings as he considers possible changes to the fuel cell design.

 

[Niner]

"You got it boss, one martini coming up."

Damascus' hands were a blur of speed as he poured the ingredients and mixed the drink. He took one of the plastic olive skewers and threw an olive up in the air. Catching it one th skewer he then flipped the skewer around his back and over his head. Then it landed in the glass.

"Here you are boss." Damascus looked up as the front door opened and a man walked in, "Hey boss, I don't think that guy is a super."

 

[Ols]

Thomas took the Martini calmly as he looked at the new patron. He must have known the password to get in, whispered through the small letterbox opening towards the top of the door to the first of the bouncers. He would not challenge him just yet, but as he greeted him he kept his thumb on the release catch for the sword in his cane, just in case.

"Welcome to "The Speakeasy". I'm the owner, The Vaudevillian. I'm afraid the cabaret does not start for another hour, but can I get you a drink?"

The band had not arrived yet, so there was no live music yet either. But they did not play constantly, and in the dim light a playlist of some of the best jazz and swing works of the early twentieth century played across the room smoothly. Of course not all of his patrons were quite so mellow, so through the soundproofed wall was a rave room, frequented by a lot of the supers, lit only by a few lasers and with a live DJ every night. He thought about his large club with all the various rooms. It was the only Supers-Only club in town. And with the collective powers of he and his team, it hardly took a long time to build new things or convert old rooms. He awaited the answer of the newcomer.

 

[Niner]

The man looked around the room and then back to The Vaudevillian, "Yes, I have been informed that this club is discrimitory. I have come to investigate on behalf of the injured parties. My name is Simon Nelson Octavian Baptista, Attorney at Law." He said in a snobbish voice.

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Damascus slammed a glass he was cleaning down on the counter but chose not to say anything.

 

[Ols]

Not good. Thomas took a step forward, now within stabbing range of the lawyer.

"Injured parties?" he said carefully, "Who are you claiming we have injured?"

Behind his back he carefully motioned for his barman to relax. If the attourney took too close an intrest in them, he could dispose of him, alive or dead. If he did not, he would leave nicely.

 

[Niner]

((Read the lawyers name again and tell me if you notice something funny.))

"I mean, that it has been reported your," he looked around the room and sniffed, "establishment, discrimiates against those of us who are not, to use the vulgar term, 'supers'. Is this true? I do not see many customers here at all right now. I wonder, are you hiding something? That is not my concern however, My clients have all reported being overpriced because they were normal human beings."

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Damascus followed his employers instructions and stopped giving his most intimidating look, he did however lower both of his blades from his wrists, short enough that they were both hidden behind his hands.