Midnight Heroes, Late Night Partiers

This follows the events of The Victor's first teamup with Quiver as told by celebrity columnist Holly Jayne. Again like Thanksgiving with the Patrol and Hope in the Shadows, this is a time when heroes were outlaws, but as this story shows the public loves their outlaws. If anyone is interested in the events that preceded this story, I'll most likely recount the teamup next year's New Year's Eve. Now Miss Jayne's account as seen in the Daily Review, January 1st 1988.

Midnight Heroes, Late Night Partiers

By Holly R. Jayne

Following the exciting events of The Victor's first thrilling team-up with that Captivating Crimefighter, that Bold Brunette, that Amazing Archer, Quiver, The Arrow Queen, against the Neon Knights*, the two heroes were invited by Dick Clark to the Rocking Eve Party. While The Victor turned down all refreshments, save milk and what looked to be vodka, but turned out to be water, the Daring Damsel, Quiver, sampled anything and everything and wowed the partygoers with her extensive knowledge of beverages. The duo danced most of the night away with many of high-profile guests. Again this showed a difference in the pair as The Victor was more stiff and formal with his dancing, even as that Perky Partier, Quiver threw caution to the wind with daring displays of acrobatic skill.

But the biggest surprise of the even came from no other than from The Victor himself. Thou the events that led up to it are unknown to this reporter, The Victor found himself on stage with the crowd cheering for a performance. The hero repeatedly tried to talk them out it until one of the celebrities offered to pay any amount to the charity of The Victor’s chose. After a check for a quarter million was written for the Police Fund, the hero finally relented and stepped up the mike. What followed can not, by any stretch of the imagination, be called singing. The Victor almost seemed to be in pain as he screeched thru whatever the song was. That’s right people; The Flawless Fighter has an imperfection, complete and total lack of music talent. May he never have to use it; if he does the police will be after him for more than vigilantism, but assault with a deadly weapon.

*My overage of the daring encounter can be found in the Daily Review’s sister paper The Daily Reporter.

Dear Santa

Here's another Victor Holiday Special. This one is told by an eight year old so the spelling and grammar mistakes are on purpose. At least that's the story I'm sticking with.

Dear Santa,

It's Marty again. Thank you for all the gifts you gave every one here. Penny liked her doll and Bryan liked his train set and I liked my bike. But that's not what I'm writing you about. I saw your bodyguard last night. Everyone at the house was asleep, probably dreaming of what they were going to get Christmas morning. Well, everyone but me. Marty snores in his sleep. When he finally rolled over and I was about to get some doze off when I heard a crash. Running downstairs I found a car in the living room. The hole that the snow was blowing in from had to be the way it got in. Two crooks, one really fat and the other really skinny, climbed out and started to argue with each other. After a minute, I was able to figure out that the fatty's name was Travis and his partner's name was Lee. They were arguing over whose idea it was to rob an orphanage on Christmas Eve and if they had lost whoever was chasing them or not. I started to wonder who they were talking about when we got our answers. The chimney exploded with ash making Travis, Lee, and me cough. After the cloud cleared I saw a man seven feet tall wearing a red costume and mask. He throw light from his hands that blinded every body. When I stop seeing stars I saw him tieing up the bad guys. After tossing them into the backseat he pushed the car out of the house. Giving me a friendly wink, he started to wave his hands around the hole making it fill up with some kind of mushy stuff. Turning to me he asked my name as he went around the room and started fixing the decarations and setting the tree back up. The car had made a mess of the place. I told him my name and asked who he was. Checking the gifts to see if they were okay he told me he was the Victor and tonight he was your little helper. Wishing me a good night he went out the door and let out a loud whistle. I ran to the window just in time to see a bright red motercyle pull up out of nowhere with no one driving it. Somehow hooking the car to it he jumped on the hood and whistled. As he rode off I heard him exclaim with a laugh, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.” I don’t know when I fell a sleep but Miss Casey woke me up in the morning. Everything was just like it was last night but there was a bike beside the tree with a note for me. The bad guys had ran over mine and the Victor had replaced it for you. So next year I don’t want anything just send the Victor again.

Marty

Thanksgiving with the Patrol

This story takes place before the events of the on going story. Masked heroes were still wanted by the law and The Victor is still alive and well, but dealing with his first supercriminal The Dungeon Master.

Officer Alicia Huntre presented herself at the front desk of the Royal Hotel at six o’clock sharp Thanksgiving night. She wore a simple blue dress and had her chestnut hair up in a bun. The Victor had told her that it was a causal get-together and that she didn’t need to worry about how she looked, but Alicia had felt that if she was going to dine with the New York Patrol she should dress nice.

She hadn’t known how to react when The Victor had given her the invite. On one hand she should have tipped off her captain to the gathering of a know vigilante group, on the other hand she had been working with The Victor and his allies since shortly after he had began his heroic crusade and had seen enough to know that most of their intentions were noble even if their actions were illegal. Besides she wasn’t sure which of her superiors were in Dungeon Master’s pouch and with the New York Patrol were on the top of his vanquish list, it was better to risk her career than their lives.

Feeling the concierge’s eyes studying her, her mind returned to the task at hand. Returning his gaze, Alicia found him to be a man in his fifty’s with a kind round face and light blond hair, the name tag over his left breast pocket showed that his name was Thomas. Moving around to lead the way, he apologized and explained that she was the first normal guest he had seen all day.

As Thomas talked, Alicia ticked off the guest list and noted things the man didn’t know. "First there was Mr. Victor and with that blue metallic woman (The Victor and Light N Blue) who had blown out all the lights on the top floor last year." Getting on the elevator Alicia had remember The Victor had telling her about that, between fits of laughter. Apparently Blue had been so excited about her first holiday that she had lost controlled of her powers and overcharged and exploded the bulbs. Vic had paid for the damages and had put twice that up front for this year incase something happens. The concierge continued, "Next was a woman wearing a fedora and sunglasses who asked me if I wouldn’t mind being interviewed by her reporter friend, a Miss Jayne. Mr. Victor had asked me already to inform the staff that he preferred no talked to the press, but wouldn’t fault them if they did. I, of course, turned her down." Quiver is always seeking more press Alicia mused to herself. "Even if I hadn’t, that silent man put an end to it by shepherding her into the elevator." And Omni can be a little paranoid, she added.

Getting off the elevator, Thomas led her down a long hallway of rooms, before stopping before one of them. Looking around, Alicia asked, "Did The Victor rent the whole floor for today?"

Giving her a surprised look, the concierge said, "Rent? Mister Victor owns the top floor." To prove his point he nodded towards the door in front of them, instead of a room number there was the stylized V that was The Victor's trademark.

As if on cue, the door opened and the man himself appeared. The Victor hadn't been kidding when he told Alicia that this was a causal gathering. He wore a plain white shirt and a pair of blue jeans, but the image of normalize ended with his face, he still wore his red half mask. Grinning at the two, The Victor pulled out a pair of bills from his back pocket and handed them to the concierge. Alicia noted that they were both hundreds. "Thank you Tom, I can take Officer Huntre from here."

Taking the tip, Thomas responded, "Thomas, sir."

Closing the door behind him, The Victor moved into the hall. "Thomas, of course, Excuse my informality for a moment longer. How is your daughter, Karan? Last we spoke she was still recovering from her surgery."

Thomas' faced lighted up a little. "She's back to her old self, sir. She just got the lead in her school's Nutcracker."

"Nice to hear. Your shift is almost over, why don't you leave early? I'm sure that Karan will love to see you. I'll smooth everything over with the manager."

Thomas thanked him and headed back to the elevator. After watching him get on, The Victor turned to Alicia, "I'm sorry, Officer Huntre, but this was the first time I've had to talk to Tom all day. I normally don't talk about other people's business in public. Now would you like a tour before dinner?" With at he gestured to the end of the hall.

Alicia just crossed her arms and leaned against the opposite wall. "So you own the top floor of one of the most expensive hotels in New York. Why didn't you tell me you were inviting me to your home when you invited me?"

The Victor stepped back as if she had slapped him. A look of embarrassment crossed his face as he recovered and walked towards her with his hands out an apologetic gesture. "This isn't my home, Huntre. I just thought that you might feel compelled to report to your captain if you had known that you had been invited to the New York Patrol's headquarters."

Alicia pointed to the insignia on the door behind The Victor, "So everyone has a room here?"

"Of course, to change or rest up before heading back to their lives or cases." To prove his point he gestured towards down the hall, which Alicia noticed for the first time had the insignias of each of the Patrolman.

Still angry about being deceived, but curious Alicia let The Victor lead her into his room. No, not deceived, The Victor never lies, he just told her that the New York Patrol was having a get-to-gather at the Royal Hotel and let her come to her own conclusions. Whatever anger she had however turned into awe as she looked around his room. Despite being an ordinary sized room, Vic had some managed to turn it into a gymnasium and lab, with room for someone to use either equipment without disturbing the other. Moving to the bed, Alicia found a sketch book that The Victor must have been working in before she had arrived. Picking the book up she noticed that The Victor seemed almost nervous about her having it. Must be like a journal to him, she thought to herself. Getting ready to put it back, The Victor stopped her. "You can look at it if you want."

Flipping through pages, Alicia found designs for equipment, including something called a gravity rope, drawings of his teammates, and several half finished sketches of a beautiful woman that Alicia didn't recognize. Apparently The Victor was human after all.

Before she could ask who the woman was, the lights began to flicker. Following The Victor out to the hall, Alicia found that the lights had brought both Quiver and Omnifarious out of their rooms. While Quiver seemed to be taking notes, Omni seemed to be just glaring at the two of them. Or at least Alicia thought he was glaring at them, his pitch black face mask made it hard to tell what was going on underneath. The Victor just smiled at both of them, "Everything is fine. Dinner will be served in a few minutes, so please finish up."

With that he led to Alicia to the room next door to his. The insignia was of a blue lighting bolt linking two white tesla coils. Knocking as he came in, "Blue is everything okay? The lights are flicking again." Leaving the door open, he went inside. Alicia followed and was suddenly overwhelmed by streaming lights and techno music. The room looked like an arcade, with games lining all the walls. On any space that was open between the games were posters of various sci-fi movies. At one of the games stood Light N Blue intensely playing. Alicia suppressed a grin as she noticed that even Blue was causally dressed with a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt for the movie Tron.

The Victor calmly walked over to Blue and tapped her on the shoulder. Like someone had flipped a switch, the lights turned to normal and the music stopped. After moment Light N Blue turned around and smiled at the two of them, "Greetings Red and Other Red. Is dinner ready?" Other Red, Alicia wasn't fond of the name but it was better than the original Old Red. Old, she was barely twenty-seven.

The Victor just chuckled, "Almost Blue. But I'm here because the lights were flicking again."

Blue appeared to became a little embarrassed, "Sorry, the higher levels of this game was proving difficult. Next time I'm remember to turn on the power vacuum."

Noticing the confused look on Alicia's face, Light N Blue pointed to a red box plugged in the corner. "Something Red designed to balance out my electrical field when my emotional circuits start to cause problems."

Before Alicia could ask more questions, there was a knock on the door. Blue opened it to show Quiver. The famed archer wore a brown trench coat over a purple blouse and slacks. Her eyes were covered by a large pair of sunglasses. "Dinner's ready everyone."

Leading Blue and Alicia out, The Victor turned to Quiver as he shut the door, "Is Conan here yet?"

"Not yet. Why don't you go see what's keeping him while I have a word with Officer Huntre."

Turning to Alicia to he said, "If you don't mind. I also have to see the staff about something."

Alicia just shrugged, "The duties of being a host. I can handle her."

After The Victor was gone, Quiver turned to ask Alicia something only to have her cut her off, "No comment." And pointed to the hidden mike on Quiver's trench coat. "I don't like being interviewed without my consent."

"At least we have something in common," said a grainy voice behind her. Alicia turned to see Omni. Of all the members he was the only one to be dressed in his costume. A pitch black suit and full face mask. To say that he made her uneasy would have been putting it lightly.

"I didn't want you to be here, but," gesturing towards Light N Blue and Quiver, "they thought it would be nice to see the other woman in The Victor's life in a less combative location. I know you can hold your own in a fight. That's all I need to know about you, Delilah."

Uneasy feeling a side, Alicia doesn't take being talk down to very well. Getting into Omni's face, "The name is Officer Alicia Huntre. Talk to me like that again and you'll know how well I am in a fight."

Whatever Omni would have said next, it was lost as a joyous voice boomed down the hallway, "Sorry I'm late folks, but Isaac just couldn't decide what to wear." The whole group turned to see Professor Nice walk off the elevator. With him was a tall dark man of vague origins. His voice had the desired affected as the tense evaporated. While Nice was dressed in trademark vest and khakis, his friend wore a plaid shirt and jeans.

Taking the lead, Conan led the group down the hall towards the dining room. Walking by the door, Alicia noted that insignia of the New York Patrol. Under it was the group's motto, "A hand when needed, a fist when required." The Victor had told her that he had suggested it as joke, but it had stuck. Walking into the room, she realized that this was normally the Patrol's meeting/trophy room. The wall to the right was lined with framed clippings of their various exploits. To her left was a case with what almost looked like a tool belt inside. The words First Case and Professor Mechanic's Tool belt were printed on the side, showed that it was indeed a tool belt.

"One of the few good things he's ever done and it was an accident," Alicia turned to see Light N Blue staring at the belt. Looking at Blue, she realized how human the android could be at times. Right now she seemed like a daughter dealing something she didn't want to.

Before Alicia could think of anything to say, Quiver walked over and led Blue toward her seat saying, "We all know honey, its okay. You're not an accident." Alicia normally didn't see Quiver comfort someone. She was either trying to get people to talk to the press or buy one of her products.

Omni bumped passed Alicia before turning back and giving her what she took to be a dirty look, "The kid's been through a lot. Leave her only." He moved to a darkened part of the room before she could respond.

Thinking it was best to sit down before there was any more problems, Alicia turned to see Professor Nice waiting for her. "Don't mind him. He might be rough around the edges but he means well. Vic wanted me to show you to your seat. Its right beside mine." Raising his hand to stop Alicia from responding, "And please call me Conan."

Taking her seat, Alicia started to admire the setting. The turkey took up a third of the table. Surrounding it was deviled eggs, macaroni, three different kinds of stuffing. and green beans. Even with all the food cover it, Alicia noticed that the table was a work of art. Big and round made of wood with the letters N Y P carved stylishly into the middle. It looked like someone had put a lot of time and effort into the construction of it. She wondered who it was, only for Conan to answer her unasked question. "Our Vic is a talented one." He nodded towards The Victor as he walked in and took his seat. "He spent weeks just trying to figure out what kind of wood to use." Seeing the confused look on her face, he added, "Sorry. One of the drawbacks of being an empath. Always know what someone is feeling."

Turning to greet Vic, she asked, "Did you get everything settled with the staff?"

Looking towards the darkened part of part the table, The Victor said, "I needed them sent a few more meals home with Omni." Noticing the stunned look on her face he added, "He's a skilled detective but sometime he forgets to buy food for himself. Whatever he doesn't want, he'll give to the shelter."

Obviously not wanting to talk about anymore, The Victor called out, "Quiver, why you start us off with what you're thankful for. After, of course, you turn of the mikes." The embarrassed look on Quiver's face sent a small chuckle around the table.

As everyone talked about what were grateful for, Alicia realized that The Victor was wrong earlier. This was his home. A place where he was the father figure of a weird family that did care about each other even as they fought. A family with Omni as the overly protective big brother, Quiver and Blue as the loving but very different sisters, and Conan as the middle child that helped balanced them out. New York was honored to have these protectors call it home, and she was honored to be a part of their family, if only for a little while.

Kiss My Lips

Even thou they had only been dating for a month, Alicia knew she loved Vic and that he loved her. Despite being ten-years his senior, they didn’t have any problems. In fact, unless someone pointed it out she would complete forget the age gap. But if there was one thing that Alicia could have to complain about it was the way Vic kissed her. He would kiss her hair as they sat together and watched old movies, the back of her hand whenever he held it, her cheek when one of them had to leave, but he never kissed her on her lips.

When Alicia would confront Vic about it, he just shrug his shoulders and say, “I guess I haven’t earned it yet.” What did that mean? He sent her flowers everyday; her fellow officers even asked if she was starting a floral shop with the amount that covered her squad car. Everyday he would take her to lunch; never anything expensive just different from what she was used to. After work he would pick her up and lead her on a private tour of one of the various galleries and museums; always checking with her to see if it was something she would be interested in. Every night they would grab takeout and head over to one of their apartments to watch a couple of movies, swashbucklers if his, musicals or gangsters if hers. If she fell asleep before the movies were over, he would awake her with a kiss to her forehead or if he was in a humorous mood, her nose. And every third sentence he spoke seemed to be either of affection or in search of her wants and needs.

So how did he not earn a kiss? That question bugged her for days, her coworkers, cop and tight alike, even teased her about her obvious distraction. She began to doubt his affection and thought that he might have just been toying with her. But each time, Alicia would just shake her head. No, she saw the way Vic looked at her and what would Vic have to gain from such a game?

Enough was enough, Alicia decided. When Vic showed her his latest charity invention, an indoor park for kids to play in on rainy day, she confronted him again and said that if he didn’t her kiss on her lips they were over. He just nodded his head and said fine. Alicia closed her eyes as she saw Vic lean in for the kiss, but snapped them back open when he kissed her top then her bottom lips separately instead of together. Anger overtook Alicia as she grabbed her boyfriend and pulled him into a deep kiss.

As they parted, Vic mumbled something. If Alicia hadn’t been listening for a reaction, she would have missed it. “Finally” With that word everything became clear. Vic had told her many times that her boldness and independence was what he loved about her the most and would never do anything that he was sure she wanted to do herself. So while she had been waiting for Vic, Vic had been waiting for her. Proving to Alicia that love had a sense of humor, and she was willing to learn more about its hilarity with her golden boy.

The Many Origins of The Victor (What happens when the public doesn't know it)

Ever since he ended the Channel 13 hostage crisis, people have be trying to guess who and what The Victor was.

At first, matching the cynicism of the time, people believed that he and the other masked vigilantes were part of a massive con, and that they could and would turn on them at any time. Only after he proved himself above the influence by literally pantsing known power broker Steven Manners, people began to believe his claim of wanting to help.

Next, people believed that only someone seeking redemption would choose to take on such thankless job. But no one could agree on the specifics. Some thought that he was a former mob enforcer who had been forced to kill someone close to him. A sibling, a parent, or maybe even a lover, the who didn't matter, just that it made him turn against his employer and make him spend the rest of his life washing away his sins. To support this origin they would point out that his blood red costume could be a self-reminder of his crimes.

Others thought that he had been a crook that survived a near death experince. Again, no one agreed on what almost killed him. Lightening, a car crash, a rivil gang member, possibly even a jilted lover; again the details weren' t important, only that it made him realize the evil of his ways and caused him to want to make up for it. In support of this origin, people called attention to The Victor's never-ending optimsim, saying only someone given a new lease on life could be that confidant that everything will turn out all right. But these theories were discarded as time passed and it became harder to see The Victor as any kind of wrongdoer, past or present.

After that, people thought that maybe he was a police officer, assistant DA, or some other juridical employee working outside the system to fix problems made impossible to solve through normal channels because of corruption and apathy. To back this origin up, its supporters would say the The Victor's familiarity with the law and how things are run point towards someone with training in the legal system. But this speculation of his origin, like the others, was rejected when people realized The Victor spends so much watching after the city that couldn't have a normal day job, no matter how flexible the hours.

That's when people finally found something that everyone agreed with, whoever The Victor was he had to be wealthy. The amount of time he spent crime fighting and equipment he used could only be done by someone with no need for a job but had the resources to meet his needs. This small triumph of everyone agreeing was broken when people went back to arguing about who and why The Victor was.

Why? That's what everyone kept coming back to. People agreed that he had and was still bettering the city, but why was he? The public turned to his personality to see if that could shed some light on the matter. His respect for but impassive attitude towards the swarms of his female fans and women in general led to the belief that he was a grieving widower. He showed no interest in women becaused he had lost his true love and didn't want to replace her even as he fights the world that had her away from. While people granted that this would explain his disinterest in women, most found it hard to see The Victor as anything but cheerful.

His cheerful attitude led to the next stab at his origin. Because he was always smiling, maybe he was enjoying this crusade of his and that was his motive in the first place. He was a bored billionaire who had taken on the task of protecting the city since the odd boardroom brawl held for him; it was just a lark for his own entertaiment. Though people agreed that he was always upbeat, he nevered treated his struggle as a game and didn't have time for those that did.

When looking at his personality just led to more things to argue about, the community decided to focus their attention on his technology. While The Victor never relied too much on his equipment, it was still was impressive. Particularly his steelk (steel like silk) armor and his gravi-rope, experts even agreed that his gear was ten years too advanced to be cutting edge. This revelation spawned the craziest theory of his origin yet, he had been sent from the future to either ensure his utopian civilization or prevent his dystopian one.

If this theory had been suggest when The Victor first appeared, everyone would have laughed it off, but after the third attack from the future and more super-science appearing everyday, it was getting harder to tell impossible from the possible. But when one thought about it, it answered a few questions. The money The Victor had without any apparent job was from the knowledge he had about this era. The Victor was optimistic because of either he knew everything would turn out all right or this time period was better than the one he was from and gave him hope. His apparent disinterest in the opposite sex could be because he has a girl waiting for him or maybe he was raised only for guarding/preventing the past and didn't know how to deal with women. This this theory wasn't discarded like the others, but it also opened the floodgates for the crazier ideas about his origin.

When the time traveler theory wasn't discredited, it became open season for any and all ideas about whom, why, or how The Victor was. Some started to think that he could be an army androids built by a brilliant but eccentric scientist; they said this would explain the gear and how he seemed to be everywhere at times. A few people agreed with the created part but said that The Victor was either rebuilt from the best that have died or grown in a lab from samples taken from the best and brightest out there. Both schools of thought pointed out The Victor's relationship to Light N. Blue as evidence. She was like a little sister to hims and he once stated that anyone who wanted to get to her had to go through him and the rest of The New York Patrol first. A surprising outburst from someone who was normally easy going, but not so amazing if he protecting a fellow artificial from harm. As crazy as those theories were, they only got crazier.

A small group went in a completely different direction and pointed out that The Victor seemed to face a lot of magical or magic inspired villains so he must be magical himself, a supernatural guardian protecting the world at large from paranormal menaces that have escaped their mystical prison. The craziest part of the theory was that he was just a kid who drank a potion whenever The Victor was needed. They claimed this explained his infinite optimism because he was too young to know the evils of the world. If this seems like the craziest theory, you only had to wait for The Victor's death for the wilder ones to come out.

The Victor died during the City Wars, taking bullets meant for someone else. His death effected everyone and everything, but one the things it didn't stop was the mad speculation about his identity. To make matters worse, rumor had it that his body had disappeared from the morgue. With his corpse supposedly gone, people first turned to a paranoid but somewhat logical conclusion. He had been a government operative whose mission had to inspire hope to the the masses and when he died they took away his body to conceal his identity. The conspiracy theorists based this off not only his training and technology but also the way the world before and after The Victor appeared. The public used to be very cynical and unwilling to believe that the world could change, but after The Victor showed up they became hopeful and some even saw a light at the end. Why the government would care about the people's attitude, varied between the theorists, some thought it was to make them spend money, others thought to stop civil unrest, and still others thought it was just for the betterment of the country. Of course there's no real way of knowing since everyone agreed that if the government tried to take credit for The Victor most people won't take them seriously saying they were just seeking recognition for the acts of a great man.

The final two theories about The Victor were the most extreme and most controversial. A small group of people believed that The Victor was either sent from above as an avenging angel or below as a vengeful demon. They alleged that only a divine force could have done all the things The Victor did. This small group also believed that when the time was right The Victor would again emerge and act as god's avenger/wrath.

Whatever The Victor's origin or motive, no one can deny the people he saved or the evil he had stopped and that the world is sadder without him. So whether he was a seeker of redemption or justice, a divine being or just a mere mortal, everyone, friend and foe, pay their respect on this day, May 1st, because he died as he lived, as a hero. And that will never be doubted.

Fourteenth Most Wanted Monday

Yes, I'm still alive.

Claws: A martial art mercenary who welds sharp bladed gloves, for anyone and everyone.

Real name: Jin Kuzuri
Age: 25
Ethnic group: Japanese
Marital status: Single
Height: 6'0
Weight: 185 lbs
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black
Known accomplices: Unknown
Abilities: Master of Bagh Nakh fighting blades and Bushido jiu jistu
Group affiliations: Unknown

Fifth Title Thursday

PC's Enchanted Tales: Retelling of fairy tales with characters from the PC Universe in the reimagined roles.

Thirteenth Wordy Wednesday

My version of mutants

Avatar: A human that is born with their superhuman abilities and/or powers.

Fourteenth Temporal Tuesday

Okay here's another scene from the near future.

Virgil wakes up but is still groggy from the sedates. "What's going on?"
The doctor looks up from reviewing his chart, "Go back to sleep, you need rest."
Virgil tries to sit up but falls back onto the bed, "Where's my mom."
Putting the chart back, the doctor leans against the doorway, "In surgery. I'll have the nurse take you to her when they're done."

Thirteenth Most Wanted Monday

Red Rouge: An aerobatic thief who specializes in medieval items, especially crimson ones, works to her own collection.

Real name: Kathy Lestrade
Age: 45
Ethnic group: Caucasian
Marital status: Single
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 130 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Red
Known accomplices: Emerald Elf
Abilities: Mistress of most medieval weapons, including the broad sword and crossbow.
Group affiliations: The Spectrum of Evil

Twelveth Most Wanted Monday

Blue Barbarian: A bloodthirsty savage that rampages around causing destruction just for the fun.

Real name: Ed Jackson
Age: 35
Ethnic group: Caucasian
Marital status: Single
Height: 7'
Weight: 400 lbs
Eyes: Black
Hair: Golden Brown
Known accomplices: Emerald Elf
Abilities: Skilled with most Viking weapons, capable of lifting up to 600 lbs
Group affiliations: Spectrum of Evil

First Night on the Town part 9

As I barely dodge a right clawed-fist to the face, I reassess my opinions. Talking is not working. The net is gone and if it wasn’t I don’t think it would hold them for long. I could make a run for it, but I don’t think I can outrun them. That leaves fighting. Why does it always end with violence with me?

As the Gargoyle swings their right back, this time talons locked together with their left, I bend over backwards and start throwing insults out. “Missed again. Need practice?”

Seeing my opening, I use my hands to launch myself off the roof and deliver a double kick to their chest. “Or maybe just some rest.”

As my feet strike the Gargoyle’s chest and I release a yelp of pain, I realize I may have underestimated their toughness. It feels like I just tried to kick a solid brick wall.

After flipping onto the roof entrance and crouching down with my shield raised before me, I look over at the Gargoyle hoping for a sign that I hurt them. After rubbing their chest for a minute, they let out a deep laugh, “Hey that tickled” I am sooo dead.

Okay I can’t panic. If I can face Billy with guns, then I can take down this guy. I leap off the entrance, slamming my body, shield first, into the Gargoyle. “If that tickled, this is going to have you in stitches.” Strange, I didn’t feel the impact. Maybe the shield works better than I thought.

Landing a few feet away, I watch the Gargoyle stagger around. Maybe they’ll listen now. “Please give up before someone gets hurt. The “Assassin” is in the alley below, take him and leave.” I don’t know who this person is, but I can’t help but feel like I should trust them, even if they don’t trust me. At least that’s what The Victor would have done anyway.

Fifth Tower Thursday

Ithaca: Former headquarters for Non-lethal Solutions, current headquarters for the Brain Odyssey and home of Barbra Lysseus, Selma Lopez and her daughter Samantha Lopez. Easily recognized by forest on top, the Ithaca building stands thirty stories tall and is located in downtown Manhattan. Each of the first floor is for greeting visitors. The next twenty-six levels, or floors 2-27, specialize in one area of research or another. The twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth floors are Ms. Lysseus private labs and the thirtieth is the apartment that she shares with Selma and Samantha Lopez. The unofficial thirty-first floor is a wooded wild life reserve that Ms. Lyssues personally maintains and contains any and all animals native to that habitat.

Fourth Titan Thursday

Omnifarious: A masked vigilante who defends people by assuming different appearances. His true identity is unknown, possibly to himself.

Alias name: Justice Barber
Age: Between 45 and 50
Ethnic group: African-American
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 210 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black
Occupation: Crime Fighter
Abilities: Master of disguise, paramedic training, stealth, Zen Do Kai
Group affiliation: The New York Patrol (formerly)

Twelveth Wordy Wednesday

Audio: A superhuman that has some power dealing with sound.

Eleventh Wordy Wednesday

Astral: A superhuman that has some power dealing with cosmic forces.

Thirteenth Temporal Tuesday

Here's another future storyline.

Comic: Nikoli's Journal: Queen of Thieves
Summary: Blindside, Click, & Rev recount how they tried and failed to steal from Nikoli.
Year: Three

Twelveth Temporal Tuesday

Here's a future storyline:

Comic: Chaos Island
Summary: New York is transported to the middle of the Pacific ocean, and its people, hero, villain, and average person alike, must face a new disaster weekly, sometimes daily for the next year. Includes three deaths and two weddings.
Year: Six

Double the Amount

Because of family matters and going to the Super Show, I wasn't able to post updates in the last week. To make for this I will be making two posts everyday for the next week. First up two Temporal Tuesdays.

First Night on the Town part 8

I do a rolling dive to the right and shout a response as the Gargoyle swoops pasts me, “Not me, I just got here.” I hope that I sound brave, but I don’t think I can talk my way out of this.

Coming up from the roll, I turn to face my attacker. The Gargoyle is hovering over me chanting something. A cloud of darkness begins to form between its clawed hands. I don’t know what it is, but it can’t be good. Finally the cloud dispenses and the Gargoyle is holding a dark silver battle-axe. It gives me a cocky grin as it says, “This is going to be fun,” before it charges me with the weapon. I groan to myself as I dodge to my left. This is going to be hard.

The Gargoyle swings back around and I deflect their attack with the shield. Think Virgil, think. Maybe if I use the net… No! I already used it on Billy. This is going to be even harder than I thought.

Maybe I dismissed the talking idea too soon. When the Gargoyle comes around for another attack, I wait until the last second and flip over them. They miss me, but lodge their axe in the roof. As I soar over their head, I try to reason with them, “I’m innocent, the guy you want is the alley.” Turning to face the Gargoyle, I see them struggle to free their weapon, before giving up and starting to stalk towards me. At least I don’t have to worry about the axe anymore.

Fourth Title Thursday

The Victor's Teamup Journal: A throwback to DaniAllie's Golden Age. It's focuses on The Victor, but is told by the people who fight beside him. Normally self-contained but will have a few cliffhanger issues.

I got the idea from fukujinzuke's SHELL webcomic over at drunk duck.

Tenth Wordy Wednesday

Asgardian: An Avatar whose powers mirror that of a high-ranking Norse god or goddess.

Eleventh Temporal Tuesday

Here's a future storyline

Comic: Earth: The New Hell
Summary: Demons and other hellacious creature begin to rise from the Underworld and start to literally raise Hell.
Year: Three

Eleventh Most Wanted Monday

Bo: Mistress of the staff fighting, she was raised to serve a secret order.

Alias: Jogo E. Scrima
Age: 25
Ethnic group: Chinese
Marital status: Single
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 115 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black
Known accomplices: Unknown
Abilities: Mistress of the quarterstaff, escrima sticks, and most forms of the staff and bushido jiu jistu
Group affiliations: Unknown

Cover for Issue 1

Okay I have a loooong day ahead of me tomorrow, so instead of updating the story, I'm posting what the cover would have been if this was still a comic.

Here's the cover for Issue #1

A person dressed in a dark blue bodysuit and full face mask crouching with a big blue shield strapped to their left arm. Across the person's chest is a white dove with its wings spread open and wrapping around to the person's back. The mask is plain save for the big oval white lens. The shield is round and also has a dove with its wings spread across the center. Behind the figure is three different scenes. In the center, a smooth figure with angelic wings hovers over a burning apartment building. To the left, is a figure on a motorcycle with an unconscious child at their feet. And to the right, is a demonic figure with wings flying into a sniper scope.

Fourth Tower Thursday

Huntre's Security: The office and home of Virgil Huntre and his son Henri. Located on the top floor of a apartment building in New York's Hell's Kitchen. The apartment is cramp with Henri sleeping on the couch and Virgil sleeping on a hammock over the door.

Ninth Wordy Wednesday

Aqua: A superhuman that has some power dealing with water.

First Night on the Town (So Far)

First Night on the Town

The echo of my scream greets me as I swing my legs off the hammock. I listen for any reaction to my waking. No just the regular sounds. Mr. & Mrs. Mowrey in 6I is arguing about his cheating. He’s not; he just doesn’t want her to know that he’s addicted to the retro arcade shop that just opened up down the street. Paige Paige, yes that’s her real name, was taking care of her little bundle of screams down stairs. I hope I’m not the reason for the midnight singing. The city is giving the normal performance of sirens, combating music, and colorful language. I was awakened by the nightmare. By that memory.

Before I can let my thoughts continue I realize my hands are cramping and my lungs are burning. Releasing my breath and my grip, I land on the ground with a silent thud. Glancing over to the couch, I breathe a sigh of relief that Mom took Henri for the weekend. Last thing I need is to keep him up with my nightmares.

I walk over to the dresser and look up at the picture of the three of us at The Victorious Hero, right after I got back of New Orleans. No more putting it off.

I shove the dresser towards the door, hoping this will work. Otherwise I will get a reaction from the neighbors.

The wheels I added move the dresser smoothly until the rope stops it just short of the door. I check to see if the rope can take the strain again. Good, it can. I lean to check to see if the freed floor safe has been tampered with.

Satisfied I stand up and reach under the picture for the key, my eye catching the small print on the bottom, ‘Familia Primus’. I nod inward to myself and repeat the promise to myself. Always family first, nothing else matters.

I crouch over the safe, inserting the key and placing my thumb on the handle’s scanner in one fluid motion. After turning the key and typing in the seven-digit code, I open the safe and look at the third and forth most important things in my life, my uniform and the journals. Which story will Henri want to hear when he comes back? The Thief Wars? Or maybe Coming Home? After pulling out the uniform I quickly close and lock the safe.

I stare at the bundle for a minute, not believing what I am about to do. The shirt is dark blue and has a giant dove on the chest, the wings reaching into the back in almost a hugging gesture, the wing tips almost touching. That wasn’t in my design, maybe its Dad attempt to be close to me. Shaking off the thoughts of family, I quickly get dressed.

I walk back to the picture and flip it over, revealing the mirror on the back. I look confused at my reflection. I stand wearing the uniform with dark blue gloves and boots, my dark hair flowing over my shoulders. What, why can I see my hair?

Then it hits me. You forgot the mask, Virgil. I quickly take the shirt off, put my hair in a ponytail, and tape it between my shoulder blades. Can’t believe I forgot the mask. Bet The Victor never would have.

After making sure I have enough give so I don’t yank out hair, I put on the mask. Its reflective eyes and dark blue skin greet me as I look in the mirror. I muse over my mistake as I put the shield on to my arm. How can I be a symbol of peace and justice, if I’m making mistake before I’m even out on patrol.

I look down at the blue round shield, the bird in the center matches the one on my chest. Running my hand over the rim I look over at my desk and again nod to myself. Guess I’ll have to believe in what Teach taught me: ‘Bluff, luck, and raw talent when you have it.’

It’s time I stop stalling and make my move. I look over my apartment one last time. Hopefully I’ll be back. I walk to the door and start to run towards the side window, sliding the shield onto my back. I dive out the window barely slipping past as I aim for the rooftop below. Watch out New York, here I come.

Running across the rooftops, I test the flexibility of the uniform, leapfrogging over chimneys, flipping through clotheslines, and generally having fun, I should have done this much sooner. Landing on the nearest chimney, I look over the city. So where to start?

From somewhere nearby I hear, “Get away from me! Help!!! So---” Gotta love this city. Time to be a hero.

I head towards where I think the cry came from, listening for anything that will tell me if I’m right. Nothing. The cry belongs to a kid, can’t be any older than ten. Thick Brooklyn accent, what he doing in HK? Guess I’ll have to ask him.

About a minute later, I’m perched on a chimney overlooking the alley where the scream came from. I’m too far up to make out much, but I could see it was two guys standing beside a white van and a third bigger man tossing the kid inside. I was also able to catch the last of the argument that the first two was having.

The first guy, standing the furthest from the van, “I still don’t like it. He’s not telling us why he needs these people.”

The second guy, leaning against the van, “Relax. We’re getting paid well for this gig. Just shut up, do as you’re told, or you’ll blow it for the rest of us.”

“I don’t care about getting paid. I just want---.” I had wanted to hear the rest of the sentence, but thought it would be better to help the kid first. Tuning them out I focus on what I’m about to do. Moving the shield from my back onto my right arm and creep onto the ledge. I’m going to take out the big guy, if I’’ have any chance at rescuing the kid. Taking a deep breath I dive off, holding the shield in front of me and bracing my right arm with my left. This is going to hurt. A LOT.

As I slam it to the muscle-bound goon I realize one thing about myself. I HATE BEING RIGHT. Getting up off the thug, I shake my head and try to figure out if I’m upright or doing a handstand. After I decide my feet are on the ground, I turn to face the other four. Sorry, I mean two. Mr. Question The Money had ran over to check on the sleeping giant while his partner, Mr. Relax had moved to block me from getting to the van. His pose seems familiar.

It starts to sink in when I hear what Mr. QTM says as he tries to wake the sleeping ugly, “Bear? Bear? Are you alright?” Bear? Glancing over at Mr. QTM, I realize he’s dressed more to give a lecture than to commit a crime with his brown vest and khakis. Syd? Turning to face Mr. Relax as he inches closer I finally notice his loose clothing and his fire filled eyes. Davy?

Shooting straight up, my pain forgotten as I stare at them. Running my eyes over each one I start to list their names, ages, and skills to myself. David, or Davy-san as he likes to be called, is the youngest brother of the three with some of the fastest reflexes I’ve ever seen. His karate isn’t anything to laugh at either. Bart, or rather the infamously known Bear, is the middle brother. He normally bench press a 1,000 pounds and is skilled in Greco-Roman wrestling. He once “roughhoused” with a baby grizzly just to say he had. Sydney is the oldest of the Tones Brothers and used to help me plan the heists, when he wasn’t studying for a history test. They’re my old crew, the Sons of Crime. All we need is Billy, and the whole gang would be here.

Davy knocks me out of memory lane with a leaping knee to the jaw. I start to fall towards trashcans behind me and don’t even try to right myself. I shouldn’t be a hero.

Davy delivers a right to the left side of my jaw, making me spit out blood. I used to lead these guys. If Sydney couldn’t stay legit, what hope do I have?

Landing in trash, I just stay there as Davy dives at me and starts beating my face in. I don’t think any of this is karate, but I don’t care. Just as I’m about to blackout, someone shouts enough and Davy stops. Peering out thro one of my black eyes I see a whip around his wrist, pulling him off me. What, the fight got too boring for you?

Forcing myself awake, I stare at the three brothers. Bear has gotten up and is nursing the bump on his head. Next to him is Sydney still pulling at the whip around Davy-san’s wrist. And Davy-san of course was standing over me.

Sydney pulling on the whip again, “I said ‘Enough’, David.”

Davy-san pulls back on the whip, “No, this tight attacked Bear and I’m going to make him pay.” Nice to see the years haven’t change Davy’s need to talk like he’s in an action movie.

Nodding at me as he tightens his grip, Sydney continued, “Not a good idea, look at his chest.”

He glances at me while he continues to try and free himself, “It’s a bird, so what?”

Releasing the whip he places himself between Davy and myself, Sydney points at my chest and almost shouted, “It’s the Dove.”

Davy-san’s face goes white as he lets out a small stream of curses. Great. My father is saving me. I can’t recall what happens next only that after a few minutes I hear the van pull away, very fast. Listening to it speed away, I finally give in to injures and pass out.

The voice comes from out of nowhere, “Hey, pal wake up.” Great. Someone was watching. I was about to tell him to leave me alone so I can beat myself up when suddenly I feel like I’ve drunken to pots of coffee and shot up from the trash.

A man wearing a light blue leather outfit sitting on a motorcycle greets me with a golden staff pointed right at me. “Where’s the boy.” Who’s this guy? And why to I feel like I have a gun in my face.

I stand up and lean against the alley wall for support. The masked man leans back on his bike, but never takes his eyes or golden staff off me. Staring at him, I ask the first thing that comes to mind, “Who are you?” Thinking I add, and why do I feel invigorated?

The Masked Man leans forward and says, “No questions. Where’s the boy?”

Feeling some of my old fire burning again, I shrug my shoulders and say, “Sorry, I don’t do matchmaking.”

The Masked Man slowly leans back and says, “No jokes. Tell me now.” I finally realize the answer my last question as I hunch over in pain, my heart barely pumping.

I look a the Masked Man and finally squeeze out an answer, “I… Don’t… Know…”

Pulling his staff away from me, I feel my heart begin to beat normally. Starting up his motorcycle he gives me a dismissive glance and says, “See it wasn’t that hard. No go home. This is manly work.”

I watch him ride off before I start to climb a nearby fire escape. I’m glad to see someone on patrol, but its odd that I’ve never heard of him before.

About five minutes later, I’m sitting on a ledge overlooking the city. I’ve taken off the mask and laid the shield down beside me. Studying the bloodstains on the mask, I go over what the Masked Man said and can’t think of anything to argue against. I shouldn’t be a hero. Sorry Victor, but you wasted your life on a nobody.

Standing up, I catch my reflection in a window. Intentional or not the Masked Man fixed my face, so at least I don’t have to come up with a lie to tell Mom and Henri. They worry enough about me. Especially after what happened in New Orleans. I’ll worry about what to do about tomorrow, tomorrow. Throwing the mask back on and slipping the shield I leap off the roof to the one below I start heading home to forget this bad idea.

Running across the rooftop I hear someone say, “Freeze.” Great, the police. How can this get any worse? I turn to see a man wearing a black riot mask and bodysuit with guns strapped here and there pointing two large Uzis at me. I had to ask, it’s my personal nightmare man, Gunner.

I try to stay calm as I raise my hands in the air and stutter out a question, “G-G-Gunner?! How did you get out of ‘The Can’?”

Gunner lets out a soft laugh and yanks off his mask. I stare at the face of my former best friend, not believing that it’s him. But it’s him. He still cuts his hair military style and he still has the scar I gave him. It’s Billy. It’s Billy with GUNS.

I’m shaken out of my shock when I hear his answer, “Dad didn’t. I’m the new and improved model. Bye.” I see him raise the Uzis again and open fire.

I dodge to the right and slide the shield off my back. Bullets dig into the roof around me sending up chunks of concrete. I secure the shield onto my arm as I head for the roof entrance. I fake reaching for the door before spinning around the side placing the entrance between me and Billy. It won’t stop him for long, but I just need sometime to think. I need to stop him for he before he hurts someone with those things.

Glancing around the corner, I’m greeted with more gunfire. Before pulling back I can see Billy working towards me. I take quick inventory of his death dealers. He has two Uzis with the max of 50 bullets each, the handguns in his holsters has the max of 17 each, and the peashooter strapped to his hip with the max of 8. I have to plan this right. Billy’s like his father, he hates to miss. If I let him shot at me, but dodge and block at the right times he’ll go through his bullets without a second thought. Guess its time to test the shield.

I leap out from behind the entrance with the shield held in front of me. I dodge across roof making sure that the bullets only hit the shield or the ground around me. Reaching the edge building, I do a 180 flip and dodge back the way I came. I hear Billy throw down the Uzis and pull out the handguns. Good. Two down, three to go. I dodge across the roof two more times, before the handguns run out of ammo.

It’s now or never. I run up to Billy, ready to try out the net only to be greeted by the peashooter to the face. I see Billy’s smirk widen as he says, “Always wanted to kill a tight.”

This didn’t go so well. The gun shoved in my face almost seems to say, “No duh”. Like I’ve said before, Billy’s biggest weakness is his ego. I have to work to that. Looking Billy straight in the eye, I force myself to relax, and ask, “Do I look like a lawyer to you, bullets for brains? Or are you afraid you’ll miss?” I add a slight laugh at the end just to enrage him even little more.

After a second, Billy lets out a dry laugh, “Big mouth for a dead man, but I’ll show you,” and starts to walk backwards. As soon as he’s a foot away from me, I throw up my shield and take aim.

A look of surprise crosses Billy’s face as the tangle net shots out at him. He fires randomly as it engulfs him. Letting out a laugh, and the breath I had been holding, I look at him and say, “Always wanted to trap a triggerman.” I need to work on my material. At least the shield worked, I didn’t have a plan b.

Swiftly taking the empty gun from him, I toss it over with the others. As I drag the netted, struggling, and cursing Billy across the roof, I start to think that this might not be such a bad idea. The Victor most of made some mistakes in his early career, so I’m got to be allowed a few mess-ups, right?

I toss my former best friend down the fire escape and watch as he rolls down the stairs before landing in the dumpster under it. Shouting after him I say, “If anyone asks, you were caught by The Protector.” I silently add, “That’s for Ursula, you bullet crazed buffoon.”

Turning around, I look over the pile of guns. I can’t leave these here, but do I have to touch them? Just the thought of handling those things gives my goose bumps. The only reason I could touch the peashooter was out of reflex. I can’t just leave them here. I slowly walk over to the pile and try to convince myself its not going to come to life.

Grabbing one of the handguns, my mind explodes with a voices and sounds from past. “Batter up, bullet for brains.” A shotgun firing. A woman’s scream. A fight. Metal hitting metal. Sirens. Finally the ever-calm voice of The Victor enters my mind, “Your family needs help, get over yourself and do something. I know you can.” Snapping out of my trace, I find the guns broken down to their basic lying in a pile in front of me. Five years ago, I decided to fight to late. I can’t do that again.

Getting ready to stuff the gun parts into the shield’s hidden compartment, I’m suddenly hit with a feeling of dread. Why was Billy up here in the place? Scanning the rooftop, my dread turns to horror as I see the duffel bag in the corner with a sniper rifle set up right next to it. Scooping up the gun parts, I run over and dump them into the open bag. Please tell me I wasn’t too late.

I lie down and try to look through the scope without touching the gun. I let out a slight, “What the…” as I see what looks like a black gargoyle screaming towards me. I know I’m in trouble because the Gargoyle is growling “Assassin!!!” at the top of its lungs.

Tenth Temporal Tuesday

Okay, here's a future storyline.

Comic: Dark Days to Come
Summary: The arrival of The Last Hero forces Driver to reveal more about the future and how they must change it. Barbra gets the shock of a lifetime.
Year: Seven

Tenth Most Wanted Monday

Nth: A Freak with the power to mimic 10 times the abilities and/or powers of anyone around him.

Real name: Nick Thomas Hogan
Age: 25
Ethnic group: Caucasian
Marital status: Single
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 175 lbs
Eyes: Black
Hair: Silver
Known accomplices: Unknown
Ability: Mimicry of the powers and/or abilities of those around him.
Group affiliation: Unknown

Hope in the Shadows part 2

1987, November 22, 10am:

Doc’s mad. Wounds reopened while I slept. Freaked out my bunkmate. Woke me up two hours ago and started demanding answers. Where was I last night? How was I shot? Who took the bullets out? Why won’t I give him a straight answer?

Doc’s wife patched me back up while I evaded his questions. When he threatened to throw me out, I left.

First Night on the Town part 7

This didn’t go so well. The gun shoved in my face almost seems to say, “No duh”. Like I’ve said before, Billy’s biggest weakness is his ego. I have to work to that. Looking Billy straight in the eye, I force myself to relax, and ask, “Do I look like a lawyer to you, bullets for brains? Or are you afraid you’ll miss?” I add a slight laugh at the end just to enrage him even little more.

After a second, Billy lets out a dry laugh, “Big mouth for a dead man, but I’ll show you,” and starts to walk backwards. As soon as he’s a foot away from me, I throw up my shield and take aim.

A look of surprise crosses Billy’s face as the tangle net shots out at him. He fires randomly as it engulfs him. Letting out a laugh, and the breath I had been holding, I look at him and say, “Always wanted to triggerman.” I need to work on my material. At least the shield worked, I didn’t have a plan b.

Swiftly taking the empty gun from him, I toss it over with the others. As I drag the netted, struggling, and cursing Billy across the roof, I start to think that this might not be such a bad idea. The Victor most of made some mistakes in his early career, so I’m got to be allowed a few mess-ups, right?

I toss my former best friend down the fire escape and watch as he rolls down the stairs before landing in the dumpster under it. Shouting after him I say, “If anyone asks, you were caught by The Protector.” I silently add, “That’s for Ursula, you bullet crazed buffoon.”

Turning around, I look over the pile of guns. I can’t leave these here, but do I have to touch them? Just the thought of handling those things gives my goose bumps. The only reason I could touch the peashooter was out of reflex. I can’t just leave them here. I slowly walk over to the pile and try to convince myself its not going to come to life.

Grabbing one of the handguns, my mind explodes with a voices and sounds from past. “Batter up, bullet for brains.” A shotgun firing. A woman’s scream. A fight. Metal hitting metal. Sirens. Finally the ever-calm voice of The Victor enters my mind, “Your family needs help, get over yourself and do something. I know you can.” Snapping out of my trace, I find the guns broken down to their basic lying in a pile in front of me. Five years ago, I decided to fight to late. I can’t do that again.

Getting ready to stuff the gun parts into the shield’s hidden compartment, I’m suddenly hit with a feeling of dread. Why was Billy up here in the place? Scanning the rooftop, my dread turns to horror as I see the duffel bag in the corner with a sniper rifle set up right next to it. Scooping up the gun parts, I run over and dump them into the open bag. Please tell me I wasn’t too late.

I lie down and try to look through the scope without touching the gun. I let out a slight, “What the…” as I see what looks like a black gargoyle screaming towards me. I know I’m in trouble because the Gargoyle is growling “Assassin!!!” at the top of its lungs.

Third Titan Thursday

Blue Beak: The creator of the hero and the superhuman indexes and part-time member of The New York Patrol. His current location isn't known, but many believe him to be at The Museum

Real name: Clive Wiedlin
Age: 46
Ethnic group: Caucasian
Height: 6'
Weight: 160 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black
Occupation: Circus Owner/Curator of The Museum (Suspected)
Abilities: Knife throwing, acrobatics, research, and organization
Group affiliation: The New York Patrol (formerly), Dove Empire

Eighth Wordy Wednesday

Alien: A being not from this earth. (duh)

Ninth Temporal Tuesday

Here's another scene from the near future, again it's been edited to avoid spoilers.

"Sorry I'm late , let me use the bathroom real quick before we go. It's this way, right?" shoots past and heads into the bedroom
"Not that way!!" races after him
"Whoo! Forget the bathroom, why do you have paintings and sculptures of and in your bedroom?" looks around the room
"Uh..., We better got to get going before we miss the game." turns to leave
"You like , don't you?" follows him
"Mind your own business , I mean it." stops and shoves his finger in 's face
"Fine, I'll drop it for now, but we're talking about this later." starts to leave
"No we're not, because there's nothing to talk about." erases 's short-term memory
"What were we talking about?" looking confused

Ninth Most Wanted Monday

Helios: An Avatar of light and the son of the assassin Helio, he has sworn to kill the son of Nikoli, in retaliation for his father's incarceration.

Real name: Helio Jr.
Age: 25
Ethnic group: Hispanic
Marital status: Single
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 185 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Golden brown
Known accomplices: His father Helio
Occupation: Hitman
Abilities: Control over light, able to make hard light weapons and other simple constructs, create the illusion of invisibility.
Group affiliation: Unknown

Golden Age Sunday: Hope in the Shadows Part 1

Now a change of pace. From the cheerful 90's where heroes were respected to the dark 80's, before the Hero Act was passed, when they were feared and hunted. This one will be told by Omnifarious, the Mythic Manhunter as he has his first teamup with The Victor, The Children's Protector.

Hope in the Shadows Part I

Omnifarious’ Journal:
1987, November 22, 5am:

Just cleaned out another drug house. Took two in the shoulder. The body armor didn’t hold. Need to find something stronger.

Found out that I have some medical training. Had the bullets out and sealed the wound before I realized what I was doing. Arm will be a problem for a few weeks. Don’t know how I know that.

Jones is getting bold. This one had kids acting as his runners. Oldest wasn’t over ten. Scared them off but Jones will just replace them. Can’t figure out why I am angry about that.

Dealers were talking about the pretty boy again. Wears the color of death and can’t stop smiling. He seems to love the spotlight. Makes my job easier. Long as the dealers and cops focus on him I go unnoticed.

Made off with $198,000 of Jones’ money. Should help with the cause. Gave some to the shelter. Rest will buy me a space to work. Warehouse best bet. Better this way. Shelter’s only place I know but too easy to relax. To forget about the cause.

Doc almost caught me leaving the shelter. Almost found my equipment too. He’s not happy with my sleep pattern. Me refusing to talk about how he found me don’t help. Even more good reasons to leave.

Need a story to explain wounds. Worry about all of this after some sleep.

First Night on the Town part 6

I dodge to the right and slide the shield off my back. Bullets dig into the roof around me sending up chunks of concrete. I secure the shield onto my arm as dead for the roof entrance. I fake reaching for the door before spinning around the side placing the entrance between me and Billy. It won’t stop him for long, but I just need sometime to think. I need to stop him for he before he hurts someone with those things.

Glancing around the corner, I’m greeted with more gunfire. Before pulling back I can see Billy working towards me. I take quick inventory of his death dealers. He has two Uzis with the max of 50 bullets each, the handguns in his holsters has the max of 17 each, and the peashooter strapped to his hip with the max of 8. I have to plan this right. Billy’s like his father, he hates to miss. If I let him shot at me, but dodge and block at the right times he’ll go through his bullets without a second thought. Guess its time to test the shield.

I leap out from behind the entrance with the shield held in front of me. I dodge across roof making sure that the bullets only hit the shield or the ground around me. Reaching the edge building, I do a 180 flip and dodge back the way I came. I hear Billy throw down the Uzis and pull out the handguns. Good. Two down, three to go. I dodge across the roof two more times, before the handguns run out of ammo.

It’s now or never. I run up to Billy, ready to try out the net only to be greeted by the peashooter to the face. I see Billy’s smirk widen as he says, “Always wanted to kill a tight.”

Third Title Thursday

Time Lines: An offshoot of Other Probabilities, it takes a look at the DaniAllie Universe if it was set in another time, ie. the Dark Ages or the Swinging Twenties.

Seventh Wordy Wednesday

Ambrosia: A chemical drug that grants the user superhuman abilities and/or powers and usually kills during the first use.

Blog News/ Goofs with Acronyms

I recently updated the blog and changed a few things around so that its hopefully easier to explore and find what you're looking for. I moved atomic99's playlist higher up the page. Put the followers and keep informed to the bottom of the page, under the posts. Added a search engine that hopefully makes it easier to find past posts. And changed my icon to The Victor that Stephan Legend was kind enough to do for me.

I also added the recently finished Riding Sidecar and the Valentine Special A Hero and His Love to the back issues. Of course it took me two days to realize that Golden Age Sunday abbreviated was an acronym for GAS. I'm not changing it, so let any and all jokes come.

Eighth Temporal Tuesday

Here's a scene that takes place in the near future.

Virgil is working on his homework in the cafeteria. In the corner he sees Will arguing with Ursula about something. Ursula throws something at Will. Will responds by calling her a selfish wench. Ursula slaps him.

Eighth Most Wanted Monday

Koga Tana: Mistress of the katanas, she was raised to serve a secret order.

Alias: Tina Kong
Age: 25
Ethnic group: Japanese
Marital status: Single
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 125 lbs
Eyes: Green
Hair: Jet-Black
Known accomplices: Unknown
Abilities: Mistress of katanas, skilled in bushido jiu jitsu, leadership
Group affiliations: Unknown

Golden Age Sunday: Riding Sidecar Part 5

Riding Sidecar
Part V

I woke up confused with a splitting headache. When I reached for the back of my head, I found my arms were pinned to my side. Trying to tilt my head I quickly become aware that something that was wrapped around my head gagging me. Focusing on my surroundings, I come to the realization that I’m swinging high above the ground tied up by a fuzzy rope. Straining my eyes, I traced the rope to its base only to discover that it was Dorkin’s tail. Great, how was I going to get out of this?

My planning was cut short when I heard The Victor calling up from the ground, “Let her go Dorkin.” Shifting my gaze to the ground I saw The Victor standing beside a tied up Dyer. I really couldn’t tell with the beak, but she seemed to have a smug look on her face. I could see why, this was a hostage exchange.

I didn’t get a chance to kick myself for putting The Victor in this situation because Dorkin started laughing and swinging me around even more. After a few seconds he stopped, leaned off the branch towards The Victor, and said, “Let Buteo go or Ateles let girl go.”

As The Victor and Dorkin stared each other down, I quickly went over what Dorkin just said. Why did he call her Buteo? Why did he call himself Ateles? After a second I remember what The Victor said before we went into the park, “Or as he likes to call himself, Lox.” He also said they were animal enthusiasts with spliced DNA. Studying Dyer for a second, I realize she wasn’t just a mash of varies birds but a red-tail hawk, genus Buteo. Meaning that Dorkin may not have mixed and matched monkey DNA, but that of a spider monkey, genus Ateles. Before I could continue along that line of thought, Dyer/Buteo knocked me off it when she smugly told The Victor, “Your move hero.”

Letting out a laugh, The Victor nodded his head towards me and said, “Actually its her move.” I was thinking that this was going to be my last teamup with The Cheerful Champion but to hear The Victor still had faith in me, even when I was the hostage, gave me hope and removed any doubt in my mind. Well might as well try.

Biting into Dorkin’s/Ateles’ tail, I prepared myself for the fall. As expected Dorkin howled in pain and released his hold on me, falling toward the ground I swung my whip out towards the nearest branch. Securing the hold, I swung feet first into a very surprised Dorkin’s face. Landing on the tree limb, I quickly unhooked the whip and snapped it after Dorkin, wrapping him up in manner similar to how I woke up minutes ago. Activating the grippers in the handle of my whip, I planted it into branch and start to climb down the tree. On the ground I discovered The Victor had called the police and had gagged Dyer with an acorn and tied her to a tree.

It took the police twenty minutes to find us, just enough time for The Victor to locate The Co-Champion and put it back onto The Crimson Sentinel. As the police car pulled away with Dorkin and Dyer we got back onto our respective vehicles. Starting up the bike, The Victor asked, “So what do you want to eat, Detective?”

Confused I looked around trying to figure out who he was talking to, “Who? What?”

I got the answers I was looking for when I heard The Victor laughing beside me, “Sorry, I like to give nicknames to the people I teamup with. I was asking what you want to eat.”

Confused I asked, “You still want to teamup with me, after I almost got us killed? And why call me ‘Detective’?”

Leaning towards me, he flashed a grin and said, “You’re always asking questions and you proved that you can handle yourself. So yes, I still want to teamup with you.”

Geda had gotten away, but The Victor was acting like we had won. I was hungry, so I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Okay, Steve’s Deli, its about a block away.”

Getting the booth Blue Beak and I normally eat at, The Victor ordered, big surprise, a glass of milk and I got a soda. After thanking the cook, who personally delivered our food, he finished the story he was telling, “So Blue Beak looks at Quiver and says, ‘But I was following you,’” sending both of us into a fit of laughter.

As I listen to him tell me another stories about Blue Beak and The New York Patrol, some funny stuff, I couldn’t help but go back to my line of thought earlier today. What caused him to become a hero? Whatever it was, he was surprisingly modest. When the owner offered to pay for our lunch, The Victor just politely declined and asked for the bill. The cook never served Blue Beak or I and we always paid for meals.

Finishing up the lunch, The Victor reached into his belt and said, “You’re missing something from your utility belt.”

After searching my pouches for what it could be, I turned to ask what it was only to find him handing me a small round device with a red v on it. Taking it from him, I started looking it over, “A V-Radio? But I thought only Patrol members have ones.”

Nodding his head, The Victor laughed, “Yes, a V-Radio. And yes only Patrol members can have them.”

Trying to suppress my excitement I asked, “Does that mean…”

The V-Radio cut me off with a booming announcement, “Attention all units, Lox has just attacked the prison transport with Ateles and Buteo. Repeat. Lox has just attacked the prison transport.” Just when I thought the day couldn’t get anymore exciting.

Two minutes later, after The Victor paid the bill and left a sizable tip, a twenty, we were tearing down the street in The Crimson Sentinel and The Co-Champion. The Victor was wearing his trademark grin and I was wearing a similar one. I had the feeling that that day was just beginning and I wasn’t wrong.

The End…

for now.

First Night on the Town part 5

About five minutes later, I’m sitting on a ledge overlooking the city. I’ve taken off the mask and laid the shield down beside me. Studying the bloodstains on the mask, I go over what the Masked Man said and can’t think of anything to argue against. I shouldn’t be a hero. Sorry Victor, but you wasted your life on a nobody.

Standing up, I catch my reflection in a window. Intentional or not the Masked Man fixed my face, so at least I don’t have to come up with a lie to tell Mom and Henri. They worry enough about me. Especially after what happened in New Orleans. I’ll worry about what to do about tomorrow, tomorrow. Throwing the mask back on and slipping the shield I leap off the roof to the one below I start heading home to forget this bad idea.

Running across the rooftop I hear someone say, “Freeze.” Great, the police. How can this get any worse? I turn to see a man wearing a black riot mask and bodysuit with guns strapped here and there pointing two large Uzis at me. I had to ask, it’s my personal nightmare man, Gunner.

I try to stay calm as I raise my hands in the air and stutter out a question, “G-G-Gunner?! How did you get out of ‘The Can’?”

Gunner lets out a soft laugh and yanks off his mask. I stare at the face of my former best friend, not believing that it’s him. But it’s him. He still cuts his hair military style and he still has the scar I gave him. It’s Billy. It’s Billy with GUNS.

I’m shaken out of my shock when I hear his answer, “Dad didn’t. I’m the new and improved model. Bye.” I see him raise the Uzis again and open fire.

Third Tower Thursday

Cheant* (The Can) Prison: A supermax for supercriminals, its located in on an isle just east of the Statue of Liberty. Built into solid rock, it stands ten stories tall and two miles wide. The prison is divided into two sections, alpha & beta. Alpha for the super powerful criminals and beta for the average ones. "The Can" is famous for being to only active prison to never have a successful escape, yet. Its also famous for its two most know inmates, Emerald Elf and the Gunner, who have tried to break the prison's flawless record.

*I've found two different definitions for Cheant. The first says it means the falling and the second says it means dearly. Until I find out which it is I will be referring to it be its nick name "The Can."

Sixth Wordy Wednesday

Alien: A being not of this Earth. (duh)

Seventh Temporal Tuesday

Nikoli Stile. Thief. Criminal Mastermind. Genius. Trickster. Hero. What can be said about him that he hasn't said himself?

Born Nicholas Stile to Irish immigrants, Henry and Elizabeth Stile in the spring of 1963. Henry was a lifetime beat cop and his wife, Elizabeth made money reading at the local library.

Even at when he very young, Nick showed that he was different from other kids his age. He retained everything he saw or heard, could learn a skill just by seeing some else do it, and solved most puzzles within minutes.

He first made world news, when at the age of 4, he left his parents at the New York Zoo and went home to catch his favorite cartoon. He had crossed town with money he found off the street, borrowed a neighbor's hair pin so he could pick the lock to his parents apartment, and called his father's precinct to let them when the show was over to tell them he was okay. Even after all that, he made the news the next year because he refused to go to an advanced school and would only attend public school with his friends.

He seemed to fade from the public mind, but sprung back when at the age of 15 he moved out of his parents home and had himself declared a legal adult. No one know where he got the money, but he apparently he owned a few pawnshops and loan offices as well as a bar. He again bopped up when he disappeared near the end of his junior year and didn't return until a year later having changed his name from Nicholas to Nikoli. To no one's surprise he graduated valedictorian.

He turned down offers to attend college and left on a ship with a few of his friends, not to be heard of until Superbowl Sunday the following year. Using assumed names, he had payed for two minutes of screen time and gave a speech on how the world was giving into apathy and he couldn't stand it any longer. He declared himself a nomad and said that criminals would be punished under his watchful eye. At the end of his speech 20 of the world's most wanted people were delivered, by mail, to the offices of Interpol, the FBI, and other similar branches throu out the globe.