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