Throughout history there have been stories of those blessed with great power. Heroes and gods...
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Price: Death of a Hero
- Thread starter TanaNari
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Preface
TanaNari
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Throughout history there have been stories of those blessed with great power. Heroes and gods, villains and daemons. But behind the myth and legend, a grain of truth hides. Men who could rend steel with their bare hands, wise women able to turn simple woodland fare into miracle cures.
Through the ages these beings and their strange, alien powers over mind and body have shaped history. Look upon them with awe, for they have the power to reshape the world. Look upon them with pity, for the greater their feats, the more they must suffer.
For every action, there is a reaction.
For every gift, a Price.
(And if that doesn't sell you, the main character utters the phrase "I swear I'm only gay for pay.")
Special thanks to Hoyden over on SV for the first draft of this intro. But not the 'gay for pay' part. That credit goes to me alone.
Through the ages these beings and their strange, alien powers over mind and body have shaped history. Look upon them with awe, for they have the power to reshape the world. Look upon them with pity, for the greater their feats, the more they must suffer.
For every action, there is a reaction.
For every gift, a Price.
(And if that doesn't sell you, the main character utters the phrase "I swear I'm only gay for pay.")
Special thanks to Hoyden over on SV for the first draft of this intro. But not the 'gay for pay' part. That credit goes to me alone.
Alright, looks like I've finally gotten through the writer's block. We'll see how that sticks. So this will be the rough draft of what will eventually be my first published book. It is a rough draft, and pointers are always appreciated. So long as they're actually, y'know, useful. Unlike with Amelia, I'm not going to waste my time with useless complaints here. If you don't know the difference between criticism and complaining... then what you have to offer probably isn't criticism.
The first two chapters of Price: Death of a Hero are almost interchangeable with one another. I personally think it's going to work better this way, leading with an action chapter and then moving into the exposition via flashback. I may be wrong, but the way chapters one and two are designed should make it simple to read them in reverse order with zero difficulties.
The intended goal is around 4-5k chapters done three times a week. If it's anything like Amelia, I'll be going at twice that rate. I will also be claiming a few posts for WoG repository on the story- tidbits of info I couldn't quite fit into the chapter that I may or may not ever find a place for, but feel deserves to be known. And tidbits that may be useful for future reference like character bios.
And while I have your attention, advice for where and how to set up a proper website for this story and/or monetize this whole project would be very, very welcome. This writing shit is harder work than you'd think, and being able to do it full time would make my life so much easier.
... Also, this piece of shit laptop I'm using ain't gonna last much longer. Its replacement can be my first business expense!
The first two chapters of Price: Death of a Hero are almost interchangeable with one another. I personally think it's going to work better this way, leading with an action chapter and then moving into the exposition via flashback. I may be wrong, but the way chapters one and two are designed should make it simple to read them in reverse order with zero difficulties.
The intended goal is around 4-5k chapters done three times a week. If it's anything like Amelia, I'll be going at twice that rate. I will also be claiming a few posts for WoG repository on the story- tidbits of info I couldn't quite fit into the chapter that I may or may not ever find a place for, but feel deserves to be known. And tidbits that may be useful for future reference like character bios.
And while I have your attention, advice for where and how to set up a proper website for this story and/or monetize this whole project would be very, very welcome. This writing shit is harder work than you'd think, and being able to do it full time would make my life so much easier.
... Also, this piece of shit laptop I'm using ain't gonna last much longer. Its replacement can be my first business expense!
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TanaNari
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Special Secret Setting Info Repository.
Dasstan, over on QQ, was quick (first chapter, no less!) to notice the pattern of visual effects coming with power use. This is correct- most powers come with visual displays. More powerful ones can include sound and even tactile sensations for those around them. I have charts detailing how the powers work. Every aspect of the power display is intentional.
No, I won't be explaining The Rules. It's more fun to show that stuff than tell it. But I'll let you know the most obvious rule:
The more powerful the effect, the brighter/louder/otherwise more notable it tends to be.
========================
Dasstan, again. This time brings up the possibility of Zach living forever, and all the horrors that entails.
There's an app for that. At least one Artifact exists that nullifies regeneration. Kept under lock and key as one of France's national treasures (except for a brief period where it was smuggled to America to keep it out of Nazi hands), where it's occasionally removed (after a petition process) in order to allow one of the various Imbued with longevity to take their own lives.
It's pretty rare. But it's been part of France's legal tradition since before Napoleon... and isn't going anywhere until they change their Constitution. Seeing as their options are either "let the immortal have access to the one weapon he can use to kill himself" or "fight an irate superbeing who can't die to stop him from killing himself."
========================
Insignia33 (also on QQ- c'mon, other people, you're losing the competition) asks about the possibility of imbued with useless powers, like summoning soap bubbles.
The answer is... Yes, if rarely. It's less than about 5% of the total Imbued, who get absurdly minor abilities... like being able to change hair style and color by concentrating in front of a mirror. Or knowing exactly how many people/cameras/etc. are looking at you at any given moment. And a lot get the ability to not need food, or occasionally water or air.
They're often called "stage zero" Imbued. Which is to say "sure, they have powers, but they're not worth assigning a number. The scientists who study Imbued find this incredibly annoying, since it contradicts The Facts.
http://www.superstupor.com/sust12292008.shtml- Can totally happen.
That'll get mentioned at some point in the story. For now, it goes in the worldbuilding page.
Dasstan, over on QQ, was quick (first chapter, no less!) to notice the pattern of visual effects coming with power use. This is correct- most powers come with visual displays. More powerful ones can include sound and even tactile sensations for those around them. I have charts detailing how the powers work. Every aspect of the power display is intentional.
No, I won't be explaining The Rules. It's more fun to show that stuff than tell it. But I'll let you know the most obvious rule:
The more powerful the effect, the brighter/louder/otherwise more notable it tends to be.
========================
Dasstan, again. This time brings up the possibility of Zach living forever, and all the horrors that entails.
There's an app for that. At least one Artifact exists that nullifies regeneration. Kept under lock and key as one of France's national treasures (except for a brief period where it was smuggled to America to keep it out of Nazi hands), where it's occasionally removed (after a petition process) in order to allow one of the various Imbued with longevity to take their own lives.
It's pretty rare. But it's been part of France's legal tradition since before Napoleon... and isn't going anywhere until they change their Constitution. Seeing as their options are either "let the immortal have access to the one weapon he can use to kill himself" or "fight an irate superbeing who can't die to stop him from killing himself."
========================
Insignia33 (also on QQ- c'mon, other people, you're losing the competition) asks about the possibility of imbued with useless powers, like summoning soap bubbles.
The answer is... Yes, if rarely. It's less than about 5% of the total Imbued, who get absurdly minor abilities... like being able to change hair style and color by concentrating in front of a mirror. Or knowing exactly how many people/cameras/etc. are looking at you at any given moment. And a lot get the ability to not need food, or occasionally water or air.
They're often called "stage zero" Imbued. Which is to say "sure, they have powers, but they're not worth assigning a number. The scientists who study Imbued find this incredibly annoying, since it contradicts The Facts.
http://www.superstupor.com/sust12292008.shtml- Can totally happen.
That'll get mentioned at some point in the story. For now, it goes in the worldbuilding page.
Last edited:
TanaNari
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Zach Parker, male, alias Respawn: 16, sandy brown hair. Powers: Regeneration and corrective healing.
Classification: Tank 8, Oracle 1 (remains conscious and semi functional even if brain has been destroyed and has not regenerated), Summoner 1 (regenerative features extends to equipment).
Threat Ranking: 2.
Real Name Unknown, Female, Alias Kitten: ~14 years old. Powers: Regeneration, Combat Instincts, Cryogenesis, Superhuman Physiology, Bioscanning, Low Level Shapeshifting.
Classification: Tank 1, Brawler 3.8, Tracker 3, Transit 1, Stealth 3
Classification: Tank 8, Oracle 1 (remains conscious and semi functional even if brain has been destroyed and has not regenerated), Summoner 1 (regenerative features extends to equipment).
Threat Ranking: 2.
Real Name Unknown, Female, Alias Kitten: ~14 years old. Powers: Regeneration, Combat Instincts, Cryogenesis, Superhuman Physiology, Bioscanning, Low Level Shapeshifting.
Classification: Tank 1, Brawler 3.8, Tracker 3, Transit 1, Stealth 3
Laura Anne Parker, female. 19 years old. Hair dresser and tattoo artist.
Los Fieles: "The Faithful". Major Hispanic gang, controlled by Vertigo.
Lightbringer: Major white power organization.
Los Fieles: "The Faithful". Major Hispanic gang, controlled by Vertigo.
Lightbringer: Major white power organization.
Mrs. Schmidt, female, Teacher at Adams Central High.
Ferne Sinclair, female, 16, student at Adams.
Alexander (Alex) Bennett, male, 16, student at Adams.
Coach Murray, male, Teacher at Adams
Miss Harmon, female, teacher
Erica Cooper, female, 19, Deceased
Cassie, Female, 16
Eddie, Male, 17
Amber, female, 16
Ferne Sinclair, female, 16, student at Adams.
Alexander (Alex) Bennett, male, 16, student at Adams.
Coach Murray, male, Teacher at Adams
Miss Harmon, female, teacher
Erica Cooper, female, 19, Deceased
Cassie, Female, 16
Eddie, Male, 17
Amber, female, 16
Last edited:
TanaNari
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Claiming for future general information for possible fanfics of my story and what have you. I actually want to encourage fics, and be the kind of author that gets to read their stuff. Legal yadda yadda about "if you write something and it gives me ideas and I use them, I don't owe you money" will be in here somewhere.
Price, Chapter One
TanaNari
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Chapter 1
I took a slow, deep breath. Okay, this is it. Time to go out there and be a hero. I didn't know why I was so nervous, my power made me unstoppable. I looked out the windshield, psyching myself up.
We'd stopped in the parking lot between a bowling alley and a bar. The former was closed, the latter would be soon. Some woman took a drag of what was probably a cigarette, while watching us suspiciously. That she was wearing a miniskirt and high heels in the middle of October left little question as to her career path.
I glanced over at Laura and gave her my best smile. "This is where I get out and you drive off."
She scowled at me through her metallic blue bangs, pointedly ignoring the audience. "No. This is Erica we're talking about. You owe me this."
I carefully kept my face neutral. She was right, she helped me a lot already, but this was just too dangerous for her. "My powers won't let me protect you. A stray bullet is all it would take for me to be avenging two deaths instead of one. I can't lose you." I hesitated, almost adding the word 'too' to the end of that. I need to cover that up.
"Please," I whispered, desperate for her to actually listen to me for once in either of our lives.
We sat there for a minute as she studied my face. I did my best to project confidence, but there was no one who could read me better than she could. Still, there was no way in hell I could risk her getting hurt out there. I didn't need to sleep anymore, so if nothing else she'd be forced to cave before I did. She must have realized the same thing, because her determined look gave way to regret and acceptance.
"Hurt them extra for me."
I wasn't really sure how it was possible to hurt them more than I was planning, already, but it was an easy promise to make. "I'll torture them extra while waiting for the police to show up." A lie, I had no intentions of letting the police get involved. The already failed their chance. I reached over and pushed the button on her CD player. "Making them listen to this should just about cover it."
She slapped my hand away. "Leave my music alone, asshole!"
"Yeah, you're right. That's probably a violation of the Geneva Convention or something." Honestly, I had no idea what the CD even was. Knowing her tastes, it was probably something tribal or techno. Not that bad, honestly, but I wouldn't be caught dead telling her that.
She pushed the disk back in the player. It automatically started, and I was treated to some combination of synthetic stuff with a sort of Indian sound. "Touch my music again and I'll break your fingers. Again." Not much of a threat, given my powers. I made sure to pretend to be appropriately terrified. After a minute, she spoke up. "So, how long will this take you? Should I wait nearby?"
I shook my head. "No. If this gets messy, the police might get called in." I patted the hilt of the sword hidden under my coat. She got my meaning, this wasn't exactly the legal way to go about things. "Better for them to think I came alone." Or at least that I won't turn over my accomplice. "They'll go easy on me since I'm a minor, and a superhero." If my online research was right, then that was probably true. Either way, I didn't need it to be true, I just needed her to believe it was. And now to distract her so she wouldn't point out how stupid everything I just said was. I gestured at the literal and figurative streetwalker who was still watching us. "She seems nice, you could probably kill a bit of time."
"Just get out of my car."
I'd already pulled the handle and was moving to escape, and then her foot hit me square in my lower back. I stumbled forward into the gravel while Laura's car sped off and turned onto the street. The prostitute's eyes narrowed as she looked at me. Then I realized that there was shimmer of light coming from under my trench coat, indicating that my power had activated. Fuck. Funny thing about pain, the bad injuries don't hurt, at least not until the adrenaline wore off or something. And for me that wasn't a problem anymore.
I fumbled in through the coat, pulling the edge of the sword out of my lower thigh and finding my cell phone. I turned it on before pulling it out and took it to my ear immediately, hoping the glow of the screen was enough to fool her. "Hey, yeah, I was just about to call you." I tried to make my voice sound deeper. Please work, please work. "Sorry, we're not gonna be able to make it to the party. Car problems. Yeah, fuckin' sucks. See ya Monday." I closed the phone and put it away.
My power had done its job a while ago, so I stood up and started walking. The path took me pretty close to the prostitute. "Sorry babe, I tried." I had no idea why I felt the need to acknowledge her, but after she'd watched all that, saying nothing to her felt weird.
"Better luck next time, lover."
With that she lost all interest in me, taking another drag as I walked away. It took me all of another five minutes to find the building whose address I had spent all day memorizing and staring at on the maps. It didn't look like anything special, simply an abandoned auto repair building in a set of neighborhoods that really had no interest in keeping things nice. There weren't any obvious guards, but that didn't mean much in the age of cell phones. Oh well, I don't need to set up or be cautious. My power's too good for that. I pulled down the cheap ski mask and stepped out of the alleyway. This is the moment.
Not even bothering to check to see if the door was locked, I withdrew my cavalry saber and slashed the door handle. The clang of it more smashing the handle than cutting it eliminated all possibility of stealth. I kicked the door and walked in, dragging the tip across the concrete behind me. The blue, white and yellow sparks of my power shimmered along the blade mending the damage it took. Damn my power is badass
My vision was replaced by darkness before I had a chance to say something cool. The sound of a gunshot rang through the building even as my vision returned, awash with light as my power put me back together. Turning the various bits of my body to glowing dust and reassembling even as more bullets tore into me. I just kept walking forward as my injuries mended themselves. Pain wasn't really a thing, and they were using small handguns that didn't have much impact force.
Then I stumbled and dropped to the ground. I may have shouted something, but in the sounds echoing of the gunfire, no one could hear anything. The fuck?
I looked at where a crossbow bolt was sticking out of my shin. It shimmered and then was forced out of the wound even as more shots came in. I finally took the time to really look at my surroundings. Four men, and only three of them had guns. The last one was busy reloading an honest to god crossbow. I rolled the next time he fired. Bullets were nothing, but that weapon actually had an effect on me.
Maybe it was some kind of gadget weapon?
I was up on my feet and running toward him after he missed the second shot. He dodged out of the way of my swing, and my sword cut into a cheap table. Cards and money scattered to the ground and a certain part of me hoped crossbow dude was winning that game. My backswing was better, catching his weapon and knocking it out of his hand. Hopefully it was expensive.
The other men stopped firing, either because they didn't want to hit their buddy, or because they'd just figured out bullets were useless. He backed up against the wall as I took a couple steps closer, my sword pointed at him. The man was probably twice my age, a few inches taller and a lot broader than I was. Kinda looked like my algebra teacher, which was pretty funny to imagine him staring at me in fear.
"Now, there's only two ways for this to go down. Tell me where to find Flux, or we'll test to see if your immortality is as good as mine." I wasn't even breathing hard, another fun side effect of my power. I didn't need to eat, never got tired, and I was pretty sure I didn't need air.
His eyes never left the tip of the blade only a few inches away from his chest. "Uh. He's in the other room, with Kitten."
"Wh-" My question was interrupted with a sudden crunching sound, and my view had changed. Where before I was looking at a man, now I found my head had been twisted around backward, and I got a look at the slender young blonde. A few years younger than me, easily. I immediately knew she was imbued, from the indigo light radiating from her eyes.
"You interrupted my nap," she growled at me. Not a figure of speech, the sound her voice made didn't belong to a human being.
A man's voice spoke up. "You really should not have done that."
I twisted and swung my sword. She had powers, and that made it okay for me to hit her even if she was a little girl. Also, she just broke my neck. I needn't have worried, since she ducked under the blade anyway. I heard a crackling noise as her dark energy aura swirled along her arm and around her hand, condensing into blades as she clawed upward across my jaw and face. Once again I was blinded, but this time I didn't have time to react before something hit me hard in the gut. If it was a punch, she had super strength. If it was a kick, then she probably still had super strength. I slammed hard into the concrete wall of the building.
"So, you're a new face," she said cheerfully as my body restored itself. "High level regeneration, extending to your clothes. That's kinda neat." My vision cleared, and I got a really good look at her. Almost a foot shorter than me, she wearing a tight tank top and cotton shorts that made it pretty clear she had only barely reached puberty. Her short cropped hair only added to the androgyny. "Got a name, newbie?"
I didn't bother answering, simply taking another swing at her. She jumped back, landing feet first on the cheap metal chair. Somehow, she managed to stay balanced, and spring boarded off it and onto my head. Her knee cracked into my face and I found myself on my back. She landed with both feet, toes first, in my stomach. That move actually hurt, and I coughed in surprise.
"Okay, fine, be that way." She turned her head. "Hey, Flux? My powers don't know how to kill this guy."
"Think he has some kind of power that nulls your senses?" I got my first look at Flux. The fucker I was here to kill. I already recognized his costume from pictures I'd found online. Black, with a thin yellow lines in a sort of circuitry pattern across it.
"Nope, they work just fine." She was just standing there, having a conversation, on top of me! I slowly snuck my hand under my trench coat. "I can kick his ass, but there's nothing I can do to kill him."
She wasn't even looking at me. I squeezed the trigger on the little nine mil I'd kept in an inside pocket. Shimmers of blue and white followed the gunshots, mending my coat from where the bullets punched through. Kitten simply flipped backward off of me, doing a handstand as her long skinny legs extended fully above her. Somehow, she avoided every shot.
"See, not a threat at all." She was still standing on her hands. I gripped my sword and took another attempt at hitting her while she was hopefully vulnerable. Again I missed as she casually avoided the attack. I sprang to my feet while she flipped back onto hers. A moment later, she kicked forward and I found myself blinded again, this time for longer. I reached up to my face, feeling around the damaged area. A piece of metal was sticking out of my face. A crossbow bolt? Fu- and then my hand crunched into my skull, and my elbow shattered. She'd kicked my arm hard enough to sink my hand into my skull.
I fell back onto the ground, my power struggling to undo the damage even while she was gripping me. I couldn't see, or hear, through the damage she'd done to me, but my sense of touch told me that I was being grabbed by legs and dragged. Later, I'd wonder what it said about me and my power that I was literally able to function without a brain, but that was lost on me right then.
By the time I'd managed to pull my hand and the crossbow bolt out of my own face, we were out back of the building, and I was laying in the gravel. Kitten was hanging by her legs from the top of the same door I'd broken in through.
"You really kinda suck at this, y'know."
I rose to my feet, glancing and noting the thugs who helped pull me outside had retreated back in. At least they were still afraid of me. "I don't have to be good. You'll get tired eventually. I can keep going until you die of old age if that's what it takes."
"There's a thought." She put a finger up to her face, tilted her head, and made a good imitation of thinking about a problem. Even tilting her head up. Or, well, her perspective of up at least. "Of course, if you become too much of a problem I'm sure I could just bury you alive. Or do you have a power to stop that." Fuck, I didn't think about that. "Oh, you don't? Man, and people think I'm insane."
She dropped off the door, somehow rolling in mid air to land on her feet, and rushing at me. She easily sidestepped my attack, and kicked my leg backward. "Seriously, that's such an obvious weakness!" I turned to block her next attack, and the shimmering dark blue claw of her hand sliced open my wrist. "How is that not the first thing you thought of?"
She sidestepped and her foot came up into my stomach, sending me rolling back again. I wheezed as my body forced my lungs back into their proper place. "Don't worry, I promise not to do that to you. You're fun to fight, in a sad sort of way. Besides, it's not like you're a threat."
I almost screamed as the roughly fourteen year old girl casually evaded another swipe of my sword. She giggled and hopped back. Her smile wasn't malicious at all, almost like she was playing with her pet dog. "Speaking of which, where did you learn to fight? You move like all your combat skills came from watching Saturday morning cartoons. It's boring. I thought Tanks were supposed to have some kind of backup trick? Like super strength or flying or claws? All you've got is super fast regeneration. It's not good enough. You have to be stronger than this!"
I rushed forward, and she evaded me with a backflip. I felt the lightest pressure as the sword's tip briefly caught the inside of her skirt, slashing the cloth. Considering what she was wearing, I couldn't have been more than an inch from hitting flesh. That is always my problem. If I were only a little stronger, a little faster, I could win. But I wasn't, and my powers didn't change that at all.
"Ru~ude!" Her voice was singsong. "I liked these shorts. She looked down at the tear along her inner thigh. "Well, I guess they're still good, battle damage adds character, right?"
I didn't answer, charging forward for another slash. She ducked under, punched the sword aside, and caught me in a judo throw. I ended up face first in the grass, the light shimmers of my power regenerating the various scrapes while I climbed to my feet.
"Kinda neat that you regenerate your clothes, though. Never met anyone who could do that before." Kitten's voice came from behind me, almost speculative. "Think it'll work on more complex stuff? Ooh! Maybe you should think about strapping a bomb to yourself! Then you can go boom whenever you need to! Even I would have trouble fighting that kind of tactic, no matter how garbage you are in a fight. You could call yourself the Kamikaze Kid. Or Captain Jihad!"
Climbing to my feet again, I turned to face her. A growl my only response. I wasn't ready to admit that she was right. I knew nothing about combat past what I'd seen on television and in movies. I didn't think I needed to know what I was doing, my power made me literally unkillable and mostly unstoppable. Turns out, that wasn't enough to win a fight. I put the blade between us, maybe with a bit of luck, I could hit her when she attacked me.
A feigned cough nearby interrupted her taunting. "Come on, Kitten. That's just offensive. Besides, he's clearly new to his power. Maybe he just hasn't figured out what his other abilities are. Not everyone's as lucky as you were to get super combat instincts built in."
"Super ninja instincts!" She pouted and stomped her foot in the gravel.
As if it isn't bad enough that I'm getting my ass handed to me by a little girl. Does she really have to act so childish?
Flux continued speaking. "So, Mister Nameless Vigilante, do you have any limits on your powers that we should know about? Like amount of healing you can do per day? I know she said she can't kill you, but her power can be wrong about these things. If you start feeling like you're at your limit, you really should let us know."
Kitten took her eyes off me. "Flu~ux," she whined. "Stop taking the fun out of it!"
She went to say something more, but I didn't give her the chance. I lunged forward, and she stepped to the side, easily avoiding my attack. Her own deep blue power shimmer formed, right before her claw sliced into my upper arm. Ice crystals spread across my trenchcoat, and my limb went numb. Well, that's a new trick.
She hadn't even bothered to look at me. "And you stop being rude!"
I was immediately awash in light as the damage to my arm, including the cold, was regenerated along with the trench coat. At least I knew I wouldn't have to dedicate a fuckton of money to repair my costume when it took damage.
Her foot came up between my legs, and I almost threw up from the pain of flesh and bone being shredded. Apparently, being able to ignore pain didn't mean that kind of pain. I gritted my teeth, trying desperately to not think about the feeling of suction as she pulled her foot out of... inside me. Tears soaked through my mask, either from the pain or sheer frustration, I couldn't decide at that moment.
"Oh, grody! Now you ruined my shoes!" She lifted her blood soaked foot, and the sandal she was wearing drooped down, heavy with stuff that should have been inside me.
I coughed as my body started restoring itself. Shimmers formed across her foot as the blood and viscera converted into whatever it was my power turned it into, and it rushed back to me, replacing the damage with healthy flesh yet again. Back to full strength, and still not strong enough to matter.
Kitten clapped her hands and laughed with all the glee of a child who got exactly what she wanted for Christmas. "Oh, wow, that's so cool! Look, Flux, he's self cleaning! This is so much fun!"
"I can see that, sweetie." His voice was amused, doting even. "Try not to be too rough on him. After all, if you break him you can't play with him anymore."
She again stopped paying attention in order to argue with her teammate. "Awww, but he's not even tired!"
"Is that so? Because that looked like it hurt. A lot."
"I'm fine!" I rose to my feet, my breathing having returned to normal. I readied myself for her attack.
"See! He's absolutely perfect!" She dove forward and was past my guard before I even had a chance to register that she moved. Her hands planted into the ground and both her heels connecting firmly with my jaw. My teeth slammed together, severing the tip of my tongue. Plus I'm pretty sure a whole bunch of bones got broken. By the time I hit the ground, I was partially blinded by the glow of my own power regenerating me, not that being able to see was doing me any favors. Story of my fucking life. I'm supposed to be strong now. That's what I was promised.
"But you really should wrap this up. We gotta go shopping for a new home. Or at the very least a new door."
She's way too fast for me, and what did Flux say she had? Combat instincts? I turned my head toward him. He was the one I really wanted to kill. Maybe I should just try to get around her and go aft- Everything went black and I could smell the dust through my cheap mask. I couldn't even scream as my own sword found its way through my chest from behind, pinning me into the ground.
"Naughty, naughty," Kitten whispered in my ear. "Don't you know it's rude to ditch a lady at a dance?"
She twisted the blade as she pushed it deeper into the ground. "Honestly, where did you learn your manners? He's right, though. We really should wrap this up. My power's telling me it should take you at least ten minutes to pull yourself out of this." Another twist, and the only thing that kept me from screaming was that the blade was blocking the air. "Face it, you're just not strong enough."
The pain wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was knowing Kitten was right. I was weak. Useless. I couldn't save Erica when she was alive. I couldn't tell her how I felt about her. I couldn't even avenge her death. I'm not strong enough.
I felt the familiar tug in the back of my mind. It was there, the promise that I could have power I needed. It was within reach, if only I accepted it. I reached out, and then hesitated. I didn't know how I could know, but if I did this, something terrible would happen. There had to be another way. Like waiting to go after Flux later, when Kitten wasn't there to protect him. Or even doing what Kitten said and trying the suicide bomber approach. I could feel the power slipping away again. I didn't really need it, and I knew I didn't want it. I could accept defeat now, because the price of victory was too high.
==================
A/N- Kitten may or may not be partially inspired by a certain Cowboy Bebop character.
And somehow I just know that the default fan OTP pairing is gonna be Zach and Kitten. Because that's how these things work.
Also, due to phone company problems, I won't be back on tonight and probably not tomorrow, either.
I took a slow, deep breath. Okay, this is it. Time to go out there and be a hero. I didn't know why I was so nervous, my power made me unstoppable. I looked out the windshield, psyching myself up.
We'd stopped in the parking lot between a bowling alley and a bar. The former was closed, the latter would be soon. Some woman took a drag of what was probably a cigarette, while watching us suspiciously. That she was wearing a miniskirt and high heels in the middle of October left little question as to her career path.
I glanced over at Laura and gave her my best smile. "This is where I get out and you drive off."
She scowled at me through her metallic blue bangs, pointedly ignoring the audience. "No. This is Erica we're talking about. You owe me this."
I carefully kept my face neutral. She was right, she helped me a lot already, but this was just too dangerous for her. "My powers won't let me protect you. A stray bullet is all it would take for me to be avenging two deaths instead of one. I can't lose you." I hesitated, almost adding the word 'too' to the end of that. I need to cover that up.
"Please," I whispered, desperate for her to actually listen to me for once in either of our lives.
We sat there for a minute as she studied my face. I did my best to project confidence, but there was no one who could read me better than she could. Still, there was no way in hell I could risk her getting hurt out there. I didn't need to sleep anymore, so if nothing else she'd be forced to cave before I did. She must have realized the same thing, because her determined look gave way to regret and acceptance.
"Hurt them extra for me."
I wasn't really sure how it was possible to hurt them more than I was planning, already, but it was an easy promise to make. "I'll torture them extra while waiting for the police to show up." A lie, I had no intentions of letting the police get involved. The already failed their chance. I reached over and pushed the button on her CD player. "Making them listen to this should just about cover it."
She slapped my hand away. "Leave my music alone, asshole!"
"Yeah, you're right. That's probably a violation of the Geneva Convention or something." Honestly, I had no idea what the CD even was. Knowing her tastes, it was probably something tribal or techno. Not that bad, honestly, but I wouldn't be caught dead telling her that.
She pushed the disk back in the player. It automatically started, and I was treated to some combination of synthetic stuff with a sort of Indian sound. "Touch my music again and I'll break your fingers. Again." Not much of a threat, given my powers. I made sure to pretend to be appropriately terrified. After a minute, she spoke up. "So, how long will this take you? Should I wait nearby?"
I shook my head. "No. If this gets messy, the police might get called in." I patted the hilt of the sword hidden under my coat. She got my meaning, this wasn't exactly the legal way to go about things. "Better for them to think I came alone." Or at least that I won't turn over my accomplice. "They'll go easy on me since I'm a minor, and a superhero." If my online research was right, then that was probably true. Either way, I didn't need it to be true, I just needed her to believe it was. And now to distract her so she wouldn't point out how stupid everything I just said was. I gestured at the literal and figurative streetwalker who was still watching us. "She seems nice, you could probably kill a bit of time."
"Just get out of my car."
I'd already pulled the handle and was moving to escape, and then her foot hit me square in my lower back. I stumbled forward into the gravel while Laura's car sped off and turned onto the street. The prostitute's eyes narrowed as she looked at me. Then I realized that there was shimmer of light coming from under my trench coat, indicating that my power had activated. Fuck. Funny thing about pain, the bad injuries don't hurt, at least not until the adrenaline wore off or something. And for me that wasn't a problem anymore.
I fumbled in through the coat, pulling the edge of the sword out of my lower thigh and finding my cell phone. I turned it on before pulling it out and took it to my ear immediately, hoping the glow of the screen was enough to fool her. "Hey, yeah, I was just about to call you." I tried to make my voice sound deeper. Please work, please work. "Sorry, we're not gonna be able to make it to the party. Car problems. Yeah, fuckin' sucks. See ya Monday." I closed the phone and put it away.
My power had done its job a while ago, so I stood up and started walking. The path took me pretty close to the prostitute. "Sorry babe, I tried." I had no idea why I felt the need to acknowledge her, but after she'd watched all that, saying nothing to her felt weird.
"Better luck next time, lover."
With that she lost all interest in me, taking another drag as I walked away. It took me all of another five minutes to find the building whose address I had spent all day memorizing and staring at on the maps. It didn't look like anything special, simply an abandoned auto repair building in a set of neighborhoods that really had no interest in keeping things nice. There weren't any obvious guards, but that didn't mean much in the age of cell phones. Oh well, I don't need to set up or be cautious. My power's too good for that. I pulled down the cheap ski mask and stepped out of the alleyway. This is the moment.
Not even bothering to check to see if the door was locked, I withdrew my cavalry saber and slashed the door handle. The clang of it more smashing the handle than cutting it eliminated all possibility of stealth. I kicked the door and walked in, dragging the tip across the concrete behind me. The blue, white and yellow sparks of my power shimmered along the blade mending the damage it took. Damn my power is badass
My vision was replaced by darkness before I had a chance to say something cool. The sound of a gunshot rang through the building even as my vision returned, awash with light as my power put me back together. Turning the various bits of my body to glowing dust and reassembling even as more bullets tore into me. I just kept walking forward as my injuries mended themselves. Pain wasn't really a thing, and they were using small handguns that didn't have much impact force.
Then I stumbled and dropped to the ground. I may have shouted something, but in the sounds echoing of the gunfire, no one could hear anything. The fuck?
I looked at where a crossbow bolt was sticking out of my shin. It shimmered and then was forced out of the wound even as more shots came in. I finally took the time to really look at my surroundings. Four men, and only three of them had guns. The last one was busy reloading an honest to god crossbow. I rolled the next time he fired. Bullets were nothing, but that weapon actually had an effect on me.
Maybe it was some kind of gadget weapon?
I was up on my feet and running toward him after he missed the second shot. He dodged out of the way of my swing, and my sword cut into a cheap table. Cards and money scattered to the ground and a certain part of me hoped crossbow dude was winning that game. My backswing was better, catching his weapon and knocking it out of his hand. Hopefully it was expensive.
The other men stopped firing, either because they didn't want to hit their buddy, or because they'd just figured out bullets were useless. He backed up against the wall as I took a couple steps closer, my sword pointed at him. The man was probably twice my age, a few inches taller and a lot broader than I was. Kinda looked like my algebra teacher, which was pretty funny to imagine him staring at me in fear.
"Now, there's only two ways for this to go down. Tell me where to find Flux, or we'll test to see if your immortality is as good as mine." I wasn't even breathing hard, another fun side effect of my power. I didn't need to eat, never got tired, and I was pretty sure I didn't need air.
His eyes never left the tip of the blade only a few inches away from his chest. "Uh. He's in the other room, with Kitten."
"Wh-" My question was interrupted with a sudden crunching sound, and my view had changed. Where before I was looking at a man, now I found my head had been twisted around backward, and I got a look at the slender young blonde. A few years younger than me, easily. I immediately knew she was imbued, from the indigo light radiating from her eyes.
"You interrupted my nap," she growled at me. Not a figure of speech, the sound her voice made didn't belong to a human being.
A man's voice spoke up. "You really should not have done that."
I twisted and swung my sword. She had powers, and that made it okay for me to hit her even if she was a little girl. Also, she just broke my neck. I needn't have worried, since she ducked under the blade anyway. I heard a crackling noise as her dark energy aura swirled along her arm and around her hand, condensing into blades as she clawed upward across my jaw and face. Once again I was blinded, but this time I didn't have time to react before something hit me hard in the gut. If it was a punch, she had super strength. If it was a kick, then she probably still had super strength. I slammed hard into the concrete wall of the building.
"So, you're a new face," she said cheerfully as my body restored itself. "High level regeneration, extending to your clothes. That's kinda neat." My vision cleared, and I got a really good look at her. Almost a foot shorter than me, she wearing a tight tank top and cotton shorts that made it pretty clear she had only barely reached puberty. Her short cropped hair only added to the androgyny. "Got a name, newbie?"
I didn't bother answering, simply taking another swing at her. She jumped back, landing feet first on the cheap metal chair. Somehow, she managed to stay balanced, and spring boarded off it and onto my head. Her knee cracked into my face and I found myself on my back. She landed with both feet, toes first, in my stomach. That move actually hurt, and I coughed in surprise.
"Okay, fine, be that way." She turned her head. "Hey, Flux? My powers don't know how to kill this guy."
"Think he has some kind of power that nulls your senses?" I got my first look at Flux. The fucker I was here to kill. I already recognized his costume from pictures I'd found online. Black, with a thin yellow lines in a sort of circuitry pattern across it.
"Nope, they work just fine." She was just standing there, having a conversation, on top of me! I slowly snuck my hand under my trench coat. "I can kick his ass, but there's nothing I can do to kill him."
She wasn't even looking at me. I squeezed the trigger on the little nine mil I'd kept in an inside pocket. Shimmers of blue and white followed the gunshots, mending my coat from where the bullets punched through. Kitten simply flipped backward off of me, doing a handstand as her long skinny legs extended fully above her. Somehow, she avoided every shot.
"See, not a threat at all." She was still standing on her hands. I gripped my sword and took another attempt at hitting her while she was hopefully vulnerable. Again I missed as she casually avoided the attack. I sprang to my feet while she flipped back onto hers. A moment later, she kicked forward and I found myself blinded again, this time for longer. I reached up to my face, feeling around the damaged area. A piece of metal was sticking out of my face. A crossbow bolt? Fu- and then my hand crunched into my skull, and my elbow shattered. She'd kicked my arm hard enough to sink my hand into my skull.
I fell back onto the ground, my power struggling to undo the damage even while she was gripping me. I couldn't see, or hear, through the damage she'd done to me, but my sense of touch told me that I was being grabbed by legs and dragged. Later, I'd wonder what it said about me and my power that I was literally able to function without a brain, but that was lost on me right then.
By the time I'd managed to pull my hand and the crossbow bolt out of my own face, we were out back of the building, and I was laying in the gravel. Kitten was hanging by her legs from the top of the same door I'd broken in through.
"You really kinda suck at this, y'know."
I rose to my feet, glancing and noting the thugs who helped pull me outside had retreated back in. At least they were still afraid of me. "I don't have to be good. You'll get tired eventually. I can keep going until you die of old age if that's what it takes."
"There's a thought." She put a finger up to her face, tilted her head, and made a good imitation of thinking about a problem. Even tilting her head up. Or, well, her perspective of up at least. "Of course, if you become too much of a problem I'm sure I could just bury you alive. Or do you have a power to stop that." Fuck, I didn't think about that. "Oh, you don't? Man, and people think I'm insane."
She dropped off the door, somehow rolling in mid air to land on her feet, and rushing at me. She easily sidestepped my attack, and kicked my leg backward. "Seriously, that's such an obvious weakness!" I turned to block her next attack, and the shimmering dark blue claw of her hand sliced open my wrist. "How is that not the first thing you thought of?"
She sidestepped and her foot came up into my stomach, sending me rolling back again. I wheezed as my body forced my lungs back into their proper place. "Don't worry, I promise not to do that to you. You're fun to fight, in a sad sort of way. Besides, it's not like you're a threat."
I almost screamed as the roughly fourteen year old girl casually evaded another swipe of my sword. She giggled and hopped back. Her smile wasn't malicious at all, almost like she was playing with her pet dog. "Speaking of which, where did you learn to fight? You move like all your combat skills came from watching Saturday morning cartoons. It's boring. I thought Tanks were supposed to have some kind of backup trick? Like super strength or flying or claws? All you've got is super fast regeneration. It's not good enough. You have to be stronger than this!"
I rushed forward, and she evaded me with a backflip. I felt the lightest pressure as the sword's tip briefly caught the inside of her skirt, slashing the cloth. Considering what she was wearing, I couldn't have been more than an inch from hitting flesh. That is always my problem. If I were only a little stronger, a little faster, I could win. But I wasn't, and my powers didn't change that at all.
"Ru~ude!" Her voice was singsong. "I liked these shorts. She looked down at the tear along her inner thigh. "Well, I guess they're still good, battle damage adds character, right?"
I didn't answer, charging forward for another slash. She ducked under, punched the sword aside, and caught me in a judo throw. I ended up face first in the grass, the light shimmers of my power regenerating the various scrapes while I climbed to my feet.
"Kinda neat that you regenerate your clothes, though. Never met anyone who could do that before." Kitten's voice came from behind me, almost speculative. "Think it'll work on more complex stuff? Ooh! Maybe you should think about strapping a bomb to yourself! Then you can go boom whenever you need to! Even I would have trouble fighting that kind of tactic, no matter how garbage you are in a fight. You could call yourself the Kamikaze Kid. Or Captain Jihad!"
Climbing to my feet again, I turned to face her. A growl my only response. I wasn't ready to admit that she was right. I knew nothing about combat past what I'd seen on television and in movies. I didn't think I needed to know what I was doing, my power made me literally unkillable and mostly unstoppable. Turns out, that wasn't enough to win a fight. I put the blade between us, maybe with a bit of luck, I could hit her when she attacked me.
A feigned cough nearby interrupted her taunting. "Come on, Kitten. That's just offensive. Besides, he's clearly new to his power. Maybe he just hasn't figured out what his other abilities are. Not everyone's as lucky as you were to get super combat instincts built in."
"Super ninja instincts!" She pouted and stomped her foot in the gravel.
As if it isn't bad enough that I'm getting my ass handed to me by a little girl. Does she really have to act so childish?
Flux continued speaking. "So, Mister Nameless Vigilante, do you have any limits on your powers that we should know about? Like amount of healing you can do per day? I know she said she can't kill you, but her power can be wrong about these things. If you start feeling like you're at your limit, you really should let us know."
Kitten took her eyes off me. "Flu~ux," she whined. "Stop taking the fun out of it!"
She went to say something more, but I didn't give her the chance. I lunged forward, and she stepped to the side, easily avoiding my attack. Her own deep blue power shimmer formed, right before her claw sliced into my upper arm. Ice crystals spread across my trenchcoat, and my limb went numb. Well, that's a new trick.
She hadn't even bothered to look at me. "And you stop being rude!"
I was immediately awash in light as the damage to my arm, including the cold, was regenerated along with the trench coat. At least I knew I wouldn't have to dedicate a fuckton of money to repair my costume when it took damage.
Her foot came up between my legs, and I almost threw up from the pain of flesh and bone being shredded. Apparently, being able to ignore pain didn't mean that kind of pain. I gritted my teeth, trying desperately to not think about the feeling of suction as she pulled her foot out of... inside me. Tears soaked through my mask, either from the pain or sheer frustration, I couldn't decide at that moment.
"Oh, grody! Now you ruined my shoes!" She lifted her blood soaked foot, and the sandal she was wearing drooped down, heavy with stuff that should have been inside me.
I coughed as my body started restoring itself. Shimmers formed across her foot as the blood and viscera converted into whatever it was my power turned it into, and it rushed back to me, replacing the damage with healthy flesh yet again. Back to full strength, and still not strong enough to matter.
Kitten clapped her hands and laughed with all the glee of a child who got exactly what she wanted for Christmas. "Oh, wow, that's so cool! Look, Flux, he's self cleaning! This is so much fun!"
"I can see that, sweetie." His voice was amused, doting even. "Try not to be too rough on him. After all, if you break him you can't play with him anymore."
She again stopped paying attention in order to argue with her teammate. "Awww, but he's not even tired!"
"Is that so? Because that looked like it hurt. A lot."
"I'm fine!" I rose to my feet, my breathing having returned to normal. I readied myself for her attack.
"See! He's absolutely perfect!" She dove forward and was past my guard before I even had a chance to register that she moved. Her hands planted into the ground and both her heels connecting firmly with my jaw. My teeth slammed together, severing the tip of my tongue. Plus I'm pretty sure a whole bunch of bones got broken. By the time I hit the ground, I was partially blinded by the glow of my own power regenerating me, not that being able to see was doing me any favors. Story of my fucking life. I'm supposed to be strong now. That's what I was promised.
"But you really should wrap this up. We gotta go shopping for a new home. Or at the very least a new door."
She's way too fast for me, and what did Flux say she had? Combat instincts? I turned my head toward him. He was the one I really wanted to kill. Maybe I should just try to get around her and go aft- Everything went black and I could smell the dust through my cheap mask. I couldn't even scream as my own sword found its way through my chest from behind, pinning me into the ground.
"Naughty, naughty," Kitten whispered in my ear. "Don't you know it's rude to ditch a lady at a dance?"
She twisted the blade as she pushed it deeper into the ground. "Honestly, where did you learn your manners? He's right, though. We really should wrap this up. My power's telling me it should take you at least ten minutes to pull yourself out of this." Another twist, and the only thing that kept me from screaming was that the blade was blocking the air. "Face it, you're just not strong enough."
The pain wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was knowing Kitten was right. I was weak. Useless. I couldn't save Erica when she was alive. I couldn't tell her how I felt about her. I couldn't even avenge her death. I'm not strong enough.
I felt the familiar tug in the back of my mind. It was there, the promise that I could have power I needed. It was within reach, if only I accepted it. I reached out, and then hesitated. I didn't know how I could know, but if I did this, something terrible would happen. There had to be another way. Like waiting to go after Flux later, when Kitten wasn't there to protect him. Or even doing what Kitten said and trying the suicide bomber approach. I could feel the power slipping away again. I didn't really need it, and I knew I didn't want it. I could accept defeat now, because the price of victory was too high.
==================
A/N- Kitten may or may not be partially inspired by a certain Cowboy Bebop character.
And somehow I just know that the default fan OTP pairing is gonna be Zach and Kitten. Because that's how these things work.
Also, due to phone company problems, I won't be back on tonight and probably not tomorrow, either.
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Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
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A nice start.
Straight into the action, and Zach gets his ass (and various other body parts) handed to him by Kitten.
Kind of getting a Madcap/Battery vibe there, but more damage being handed out.
Also, typos:
Straight into the action, and Zach gets his ass (and various other body parts) handed to him by Kitten.
Kind of getting a Madcap/Battery vibe there, but more damage being handed out.
Also, typos:
Pretty sure that should be "foreword".
go easy on me?
my body
misplaced space
I'm not?
dasstan
:)
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And so begins Tana's latest plot to farm likes. I spent all night playing videogames, and I'm about to pass out, so I'll read and review later. I just wanted to say that I'm greatly pleased to see another story by you, and look forward to seeing what you've learned from writing Amelia.
gatewaewanderer
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I'm not really sure what I can say about it yet. What's here is good, but I need to see more to really get a (more) solid idea / opinion of Price.
dasstan
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Okay, as promised.
It's a nice, in-media-res start, but I feel like it's relying on the familiarity and fondness that I have from Amelia to make me connect with Zach. Divorced from that, we don't really learn all that much about this iteration of that character. He's impulsive, reckless, doesn't think things through, and has a grudge because an Imbued killed someone close to him. If I were coming at this cold, I'd like it because it's well written, technically speaking, but I wouldn't feel a connection to the main character. Now, this could be because this is literally the first chapter of the story, and I'm sure that once we get a little history on him, that emotional connection will grow. There's also, like... no descriptors as to what he looks like. Maybe a bit where he looks into one of the car's mirrors to psyche himself up/judge his appearance would be a good way to include those descriptors without feeling like it was shoe horned in for the sake of being there?
On a different note, I'm getting shades of BeingTaylor Zach is Suffering. Not sure I like it. Hopefully every encounter won't be a study in asskicking.
On a different, different note. So far, the two superhuman powers that have been displayed have some sort of light/aura effect. Is this a common theme with all Imbued?
And lastly... Nope. Don't feel any chemistry with Kitten. Right now she reads like the least likeable parts of Bonesaw and Glory Girl.
It's a nice, in-media-res start, but I feel like it's relying on the familiarity and fondness that I have from Amelia to make me connect with Zach. Divorced from that, we don't really learn all that much about this iteration of that character. He's impulsive, reckless, doesn't think things through, and has a grudge because an Imbued killed someone close to him. If I were coming at this cold, I'd like it because it's well written, technically speaking, but I wouldn't feel a connection to the main character. Now, this could be because this is literally the first chapter of the story, and I'm sure that once we get a little history on him, that emotional connection will grow. There's also, like... no descriptors as to what he looks like. Maybe a bit where he looks into one of the car's mirrors to psyche himself up/judge his appearance would be a good way to include those descriptors without feeling like it was shoe horned in for the sake of being there?
On a different note, I'm getting shades of Being
On a different, different note. So far, the two superhuman powers that have been displayed have some sort of light/aura effect. Is this a common theme with all Imbued?
And lastly... Nope. Don't feel any chemistry with Kitten. Right now she reads like the least likeable parts of Bonesaw and Glory Girl.
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Prince Charon
Just zis guy, you know?
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I forgot that the viewpoint character was supposed to be Zach until someone commented, and so, well, see dasstan's reply.
I'm still interested, but less so than I was before reading the first chapter if the fic.
I'm still interested, but less so than I was before reading the first chapter if the fic.
TanaNari
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Eh, he's not the kind of character you're supposed to connect to right away. You may have forgotten, but it took some time for people to come around to him in Amelia as well. I admit, it's a risky decision to make him the main. He's so very obviously a support/comic relief character archetype. He's like Sokka or Seamus Harper... and of those two, much closer to Sokka.
Hopefully history will remember this decision as "bold and refreshing" instead of "what was he thinking?" Time will tell.
But I remind you that Stan Lee was told that using a geeky kid as the main character was going to guarantee his story failed. You make the geeky kid the sidekick, not the main character. I, at least, am glad he didn't listen. Granted, his was a much bolder decision than mine... much more at stake, and in an era when 'different' was treated like a dirty word. I have the benefits of a culture were trying new things is, mostly, encouraged.
Establish motivation, personality, and hopefully the feel of the story as a whole in the first chapter. Then worry about exposition after. Also:
Some guy on SV who I'm pretty sure hadn't read Amelia said:
So there's more in there to see if you're looking.
Fair. He's not the sort to check himself out, which made that difficult, unfortunately.
Besides, what you know about his look right now is that he's wearing a trench coat and a ski mask. So if this were a movie, he'd look like he was about to rob a 7/11. With a sword.
Most encounters won't have fighting at all. Much like Amelia, this is going to be character and decision centric, not fight sequences.
I was going for Radical Edward mixed with Nui Harime. Cheerful, energetic, sadistic and the arrogance that only a child can possess. I was actually listening to Nui's theme when writing her. So... yes, absolutely the same ballpark...
Also, don't think I didn't notice that you are now viewing my interpretation of Victoria Dallon as "Glory Girl".
Light, and for the really powerful stuff, sound and even tactical sensations for those around them. The nature of which varies from power to power. I actually have a chart explaining what the colors and sounds mean, to look at before describing any effects of powers in use. It's all in code.
Some powers tend to break the rules a bit... stealth abilities are meant to, y'know, stealth, so they tend not to have obvious effects. And some people have powers that directly manipulate light or sound... their secondary power displays tend to be more subtle as well.
I'll give you the most obvious secret to the code: the more power the effect, the brighter the lights.
His name was said in the chapter? Also: different iteration of the character, of course the personality's not going to quite be the same. This one has a bigger chip on his shoulder and no one magically came in to fix his life for him accidentally as was the case in Amelia. There will be as many differences as similarities.
It's a different work of fiction, judge it for itself.
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dasstan
:)
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Really? I liked him pretty much right away.
Disagree. He's amusing and his powers don't lend themselves to easily being the solution to every problem. If the idea is to have it a more personal story, he's a pretty good bet for a protagonist.
Admittedly, I originally had it written as Victoria, because of the obvious parallels between their combat senses, but changed it afterwards because of reasons that escape me right now.
and so begins the quest to figure out what the code means... *makes his own chart*
TanaNari
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You seem to be in the minority. Phrases like "obvious self insert" and "too OP" were uttered by others. Even Materia Blade said he didn't like Zach at first- but came around to him later (and expressed sadness at not being able to see him hang out with Alex and Aisha). And that's a writer whose opinion I respect.
Technically, Vicky's powerset was based upon Kitten's, not the other way around. But yes. Although I changed a few things when putting Vicky together.
Hehe. Zach has displayed yellow and blue. Kitten has displayed (dark) blue and indigo.
Flux is almost pure yellow with motes of red and orange. But you don't know his powerset yet, so that won't help much.
TanaNari
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This is actually why I chose this chapter to be first and not second, because it's closer to what the tone of the story is going to be overall. Price is darker than Amelia was, overall. Also more street level, because no "ohgodwhy?!" power levels or any threats that could individually end a city.
I mean, sure, with the right kind of powers, the right type of Imbued might get hold of the right type of nuclear device and then it can happen... but this is a setting without answers to even the most basic human problems. There are no legitimately world altering powers here.
Plus, well, there's a reason the most commonly held belief as to the source of powers is "Satan".
Last edited:
Price, Chapter Two
TanaNari
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Chapter 2
Why did I ever sign up for home ec? Seriously, what is the point of this class? I glanced around at all the girls in the class wearing surprisingly revealing clothes for late fall. Ah, right, now I remember. What a glorious time to be a teenage boy.
I could have won one of them over if I was given some time to work my charms. Unfortunately, I wound up stuck with Ferne. The girl was every definition of plain, with medium brown hair, eyes, and skin. Probably some kind of Asian mix, if only from her figure. I had more curves. Still, her face was pretty cute, and it's not like I'd have a lot of competition. Hmm, could be worth a shot.
She caught me looking at her from across the table, so I had to make a comment. "Can you explain why we have to do this? I doubt that anyone on the face of the planet has ever uttered 'my life is wonderful and it's all because I learned how to make gingerbread houses'."
Her slight smile never wavered. "Not a clue. I'm just here for the easy 'A'."
And she never laughs at anything I say. Oh well, if my genius is going to be unappreciated anyway, I may as well amuse myself by lobbing one over her head. "Yeah, easy A's are the shared dream of all-" I was cut off mid sentence by a tightening in my chest. Fuck, not now.
"Are you okay?"
I took a slow breath, forcing myself to control my breathing as best I could. Years of practice made it easy enough to lie. "Yeah, just gotta go to the bathroom."
"Gross." Even saying that, her neutral voice and smile were constant.
I tried to focus on that, instead of the hot spiced air of this damn home ec room. Of course this shit school wouldn't have considered ventilation when designing a kitchen. That'd make far too much sense. I glanced at the clock, it was only ten minutes between classes and I couldn't wait for that. Mrs. Schmidt wouldn't accept the bathroom excuse. That fossil hadn't experienced a reason to go to the bathroom since the mid fifties. I needed a better excuse.
I grabbed the tube of icing and squeezed hard, squirting a fair amount of the stuff on my face. A couple of the girls noticed almost immediately and snickered, prompting others to look. Oh, good, I was afraid I'd actually have to make a scene.
The Cryptkeeper in drag that was our Home Ec teacher frowned at the laughter. "Mister Parker, are you aware that you're disrupting class?"
I offered my best smile, and a bit of frosting dropped into my lap. "Sorry, got a little too enthusiastic and it went off early. These things come with a hair trigger." Most of the class was trying very hard not to laugh now. Except for Ferne. "I should probably wash up."
"Please do."
I got up and rushed out the door before she had a chance to tell me to use the classroom sink. Once in the hallway I fumbled for my inhaler, taking one last glance to make sure no one saw before blasting my lungs with the god awful concoction that kept me alive. The pain in my chest quickly eased itself, and I spared one more glance to make sure no one saw me before slipping the inhaler back into my pocket.
Time to clean up from my little stunt. The bathroom wasn't that far away, but I made sure to walk slow. If at all possible, I'd be back in class a minute before the bell rang to let us out. Enough time to grab my books and help Ferne clean up our table, but enough to avoid having to sit back down. I opened the door and walked into the bathroom. It looked and smelled about the same as all other men's rooms in Arlington. Which is to say, like shit. The glow of fluorescent light didn't do the room any favors, and the janitor still hadn't replaced the one that had died before we got out for summer.
I pushed that handle on the dispenser and left some of the brown paper dangling for later. No fucking way was I touching that handle after I was clean. I didn't waste my time checking the soap dispensers. They hadn't worked last year, I didn't expect them to work now. I scrubbed the cream off of my face, gritting my teeth at the itchy sensation of sticky drying sugar on my skin. Resolving internally that the next time I had an attack in class, I'd just walk out of the room. Detentions were less of a pain in the ass.
Near as I could tell, no one bothered to wash the mirrors since spring, either. Past the streaks of dirt and other stuff I hoped was spit, I got a look at myself. What was I thinking? None of the girls in class would give me the time of day. Even Ferne thought she could do better. She was probably right, too. I was short, skinny, and my hair color occupied the least interesting position between blond and brown. Speaking of hair, that gunk just wasn't coming out. I was beginning to suspect the school tried to save a few bucks by using actual glue instead of frosting. Making it back to class before the bell wasn't going to happen. I'd be lucky to avoid being tardy to the next class.
"Hey man, what happened to you?"
I looked up from my position leaning over the sink. Alex was standing by the door. Part of me really wished I could hate the guy. Tall, that kind of good looking that usually belonged in the movies, and star of both the football team and half the school's dreams. He even had rich parents. I was exactly none of those things. "Well, I was gonna take a piss, but then a few guys mistook me for your mother. On the plus side, made twenty bucks."
He chuckled and shook his head. "Fuck you, Zach."
"That costs extra."
He waited a couple seconds, then the smile faded. "But seriously, are you okay? If there's anyone giving you or anyone else trouble, I'll make sure they stop."
I turned back to the mirror and sink, my futile attempts to get this shit out of my hair were used as an equally futile attempt avoid this conversation. I looked at him through the mirror as I kept working on the problem.
It was true, if there was a problem he'd be the person to go to first around here. The teachers in this place didn't really give a fuck about most of us, but Alex got the Raptors to State last year as a Sophomore, and they were talking Championships this time. If he asked the right way, Coach Murray would probably hire a guy from the mob to disappear someone. But my problems weren't that easy to fix.
I offered a lopside smile. "Dude, I don't know what the rumor mill puked up this week, but I promise you I'm only gay for pay. But I am flattered."
"Well, that saves me a trip to the office for one of those outreach pamphlets."
And to top it off, he had a sense of humor. Did I mention how much I wished I could hate this guy? "Pick some up, anyway. They're better toilet paper than the actual toilet paper around here. Think you can fix that?"
"Sorry, some things are just impossible. Not unless you have powers or something. Of course, if you asked me what superpower I would like to have, I think I could do better than 'summon toilet paper'. Notice that when they make movies about people becoming heroes despite having stupid powers, that one's never on the list." He turned and left, apparently content that I was okay.
Yeah, powers. That'd be something. I could think of a few I'd like. Hell, even some of the silly sounding ones could be fun. Anima could summon cartoon monsters and swords and armor that worked. I never could understand why she wasted all that power on making props for children's plays. I could probably even work with summoning toilet paper. Because, hey, when you need it, you really need it.
At least I finally got that shit out of my hair. And then the class bell rang. God damn it. I walked, quickly, back to the home ec room. I could muddle through some classes without needing the textbook. History was not one of those classes. I found myself waiting at the doorway as the other kids filed out. There was no way I was going to push through that mess, so I'd have to wait until they were gone, and then hope I could snag my stuff before the inbound rush cut me off again and made me late for history.
I almost didn't even see Ferne as she stepped out. "Oh, good, you're here." She extended her arms, and I noticed that my books were sitting on top of hers.
I accepted them, while formulating the proper excuse. "Sorry, I figured we only had a few minutes left and I could use the vacation. Thanks for having my back."
She shrugged and started walking. "Even the easiest 'A' requires showing up."
Did... did she just make a joke? Was that her idea of flirting? Or was she just calling me irresponsible? I honestly had no idea. By the time I came up with a quip to throw back at her, it was too late to use it. Something I'd have to wait until Tuesday to sort out. Right now, I would spend my time looking forward to the three day weekened. Columbus may have been an asshole, but thanks to him I got to sleep in on a Monday once a year, so he had my seal of approval.
I managed to get to class well before the bell rang, and had my book open. History was one of the few subjects I ever enjoyed, and Miss Harmon was part of the reason. She was hot, fresh out of college, and had a voice I would listen to read the phone book. Which was good, because this was still history class. Unfortunately, it also meant she was still passionate about the whole teaching and learning thing. So she was all about group projects and finding ways to make us think about history on the theory that it would make us remember the details better. And it worked, too.
Miss Harmon's usual exuberance was missing when I got into the classroom. She looked like she was about to cry, but waited for us to all sit down before speaking. "Well, I was going to have us do a project on the significance of the Lewis and Clarke expedition and colonization of the American West, but something more immediate has come up. She reached up to the TV hanging from the ceiling on... whatever they called that thing they used to hang TVs from ceilings.
It was obviously a recording of a news program, probably one that Miss Harmon made herself. Clearly an amateur recording job, didn't even catch the newscaster at the beginning of the report. Some older lady, I didn't recognize her.
"- preliminary forensic investigation, but the death of the hundred and thirty three year old war hero appears to have been from natural causes."
I recognized the emblem in the little box they used to show pictures next to the people speaking. A red shield with a stylized flower on front. It was one of the most recognizable symbols in the United States that wasn't stars or an eagle. The sigil of the Rose Knight.
Oh. Fuck. Judging by the gasps and murmurs, others were coming to the same conclusion. The last Pope's death wasn't this big. Then again, the Pope didn't have twelve movies based on his life, the earliest three barely even having sound, or a national holiday in his honor. The newscaster carried on, telling us all the things we already knew.
"Solomon Brown, also known as the Rose Knight, retired from the public view five years ago, citing that his growing health concerns were outpacing his powers."
"Rose Knight was one of the last remaining of what are now known as the 'first modern superheroes', those Imbued humans who started the tradition of masked samaritanism that has become synonymous with superheroes over the last century. He served the United States during both World Wars before retiring from the military to fight a different sort of battle. That for racial equality in the United States, and the world at large."
"Awarded the Medal of Freedom in 1953-"
Meanwhile, the screen had gone through several iterations of the hero's image. His early costumes were full body concealing steel. According to legend, he built his first out of the scraps of a demolished tank. By the time the World War Two had rolled around, his armor was on a whole other level, with technology that allowed him to, at least to some degree, manipulate energy. The telltale red glow of the energy fields that gave him his name and made him the force to be feared during the war. They switched to his last suit, timed for when the woman talked about race rights. This final suit showed parts of his face and hands. Despite being terribly scarred from burns that he received in the first world war, he was quite clearly a black man. A detail not lost on the last series of movies dedicated to his life story.
Miss Harmon turned off the TV and hit the stop button on the player underneath, then looked back toward us. "I want you to get into teams of four, and remember you can't work with any of the same people as you worked with for your last two projects. I would like us to honor Mister Brown's legacy by examining the World Wars and the civil rights movement, and how different modern history would be without Imbued involvement. Once you have your group, please select two decades from the twentieth century that you'd like to make a report on and place them on my desk before you leave. Other than that, consider this a free period."
The shuffle for partners was a pain in the ass, but this was a class with a nice convenient thirty two people in it, so one way or another we'd all end up somewhere. Eventually I managed to get Eddie, Cassie and Amber. Didn't know Amber enough to have an opinion, but she was kinda cute as far as black girls go. Eddie was the brains of this pool, no doubt. And Cassie... was eye candy and she knew it. The blonde looked more like twenty than sixteen, and her clothes were as flaunting as possible without being trashy. By high school standards, which meant she was still pretty trashy. She'd be trading pouts and glances at cleavage in exchange for us doing her work for her.
We spent most of the hour talking about which periods we wanted. Amber went the obvious route, advocating the fifties and the civil rights movement. Eddie opted for Prohibition, and I had to admit it had my vote. Back in the era when people still believed mad science was actually science, and the villains practiced bizarre codes of honor and class alongside their brutality. Cassie seemed to have exactly no opinion, so we agreed on presenting those two decades. I didn't have the heart to tell Amber that almost everyone was going to take the fifties and sixties, so the odds were we'd have the twenties.
The bus trip home was as uneventful as a yellow tube full of loud children could hope to be. I ignored the stink of pot from the back and the stink of freshmen from the front as best I could. Followed by the stink of exhaust after I got off my stop. From there, it was a walk in the brisk autumn air to my house. I noticed the dark blue car in the driveway. That was strange, she almost never came over.
I opened the door to find her sitting on the couch. Her makeup was a mess, and it was obvious she was crying despite her metallic blue dyed bangs covering her face. She hadn't even noticed me coming in the door, instead clutching a ratty newspaper.
Dread spread out from my stomach. "Laura? What's wrong?" I was hoping against hope that I was wrong, but I already knew.
"I-it's Erica," she managed to sob, holding the paper out to me. "They found her b-body."
The pain in my stomach climbed up to my chest. I was reading the newspaper before I even realized I was holding it. I can't quite remember what it said, and Laura's abuse of the paper made some parts impossible to read. But the words 'nude', 'sexual assault' and 'mutilated' were enough to let me know more than I ever wanted to know. I clenched my eyes shut and tried not to let those words mar my memories of her. Her laugh, her smile, the feelings I never dared tell her I had.
Everything was so fucking unfair.
Then I realized that the pain in my chest was sharpening. I couldn't breathe. As if I didn't have enough to worry about. And then, I didn't. The pain subsided, if only for a moment; a sample of the things that could be mine. I couldn't explain how I knew, but I understood I could have that, if I wanted it. I didn't doubt. I accepted the power that offered itself to me.
Energy coursed through me, and I could feel everything it was doing. Repairing the damage to my lungs almost immediately. Clearing the inflammation, clearing the allergens that caused that inflammation, removing the causes of those allergies. Removing, replacing, changing, fixing. Laura stared at me, and I could see the glow of my skin reflected through her green eyes. My power was even cleaning the acne off of my face.
"Zach! You got powers?"
Yes. I did. "Good ones. Really good." It didn't get much better than unkillable, now did it? "You still talking to Rex?" The dude was a real scum piece of work, but he was a scum piece of work I could use right now.
Her eyes narrowed, possibly confused by the sudden change of topic. Or maybe just defensive that I'd tell her he was scum again. "He comes by the shop sometimes. Why?" She meant the tattoo parlor she worked at. As neutral an answer as she could give.
"Because if anyone knows how to find Erica's killer, it's him."
My sister's vindictive smile mirrored my own.
======================
Lots of A/Ns- There's still the possibility that, on the final edit, this will be Chapter One. If so, a certain small part of Ch 3's beginning will become part of the current Ch1/possible Ch2.
The sheer amount of details in this chapter that are more important than they might immediately seem is staggering. Part of the reason I didn't want it as Chapter 1. Lots of information, little action or plot development.
One I will tell you because I couldn't find a non-sloppy way to convey it in the text and I don't think what I included worked well enough: this world's Civil Rights Era started and ended sooner than ours. All the choice historical landmarks occurred in the 50s or really late 40s, as opposed to the late 50s to mid 60s. It's real hard to tell a legendary war hero (and one of the most powerful superheroes on the planet) that he has to sit on the back of the bus.
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheLawOfConservationOfDetail TvTropes tells me I now need to find a reason why the home ec teacher being described as "the Cryptkeeper in drag" is important to the story. It's not. Probably.
Information has been added to the first post, the character details section and the worldbuilding section. Be sure and thank those nice readers who caused this to be so.
Why did I ever sign up for home ec? Seriously, what is the point of this class? I glanced around at all the girls in the class wearing surprisingly revealing clothes for late fall. Ah, right, now I remember. What a glorious time to be a teenage boy.
I could have won one of them over if I was given some time to work my charms. Unfortunately, I wound up stuck with Ferne. The girl was every definition of plain, with medium brown hair, eyes, and skin. Probably some kind of Asian mix, if only from her figure. I had more curves. Still, her face was pretty cute, and it's not like I'd have a lot of competition. Hmm, could be worth a shot.
She caught me looking at her from across the table, so I had to make a comment. "Can you explain why we have to do this? I doubt that anyone on the face of the planet has ever uttered 'my life is wonderful and it's all because I learned how to make gingerbread houses'."
Her slight smile never wavered. "Not a clue. I'm just here for the easy 'A'."
And she never laughs at anything I say. Oh well, if my genius is going to be unappreciated anyway, I may as well amuse myself by lobbing one over her head. "Yeah, easy A's are the shared dream of all-" I was cut off mid sentence by a tightening in my chest. Fuck, not now.
"Are you okay?"
I took a slow breath, forcing myself to control my breathing as best I could. Years of practice made it easy enough to lie. "Yeah, just gotta go to the bathroom."
"Gross." Even saying that, her neutral voice and smile were constant.
I tried to focus on that, instead of the hot spiced air of this damn home ec room. Of course this shit school wouldn't have considered ventilation when designing a kitchen. That'd make far too much sense. I glanced at the clock, it was only ten minutes between classes and I couldn't wait for that. Mrs. Schmidt wouldn't accept the bathroom excuse. That fossil hadn't experienced a reason to go to the bathroom since the mid fifties. I needed a better excuse.
I grabbed the tube of icing and squeezed hard, squirting a fair amount of the stuff on my face. A couple of the girls noticed almost immediately and snickered, prompting others to look. Oh, good, I was afraid I'd actually have to make a scene.
The Cryptkeeper in drag that was our Home Ec teacher frowned at the laughter. "Mister Parker, are you aware that you're disrupting class?"
I offered my best smile, and a bit of frosting dropped into my lap. "Sorry, got a little too enthusiastic and it went off early. These things come with a hair trigger." Most of the class was trying very hard not to laugh now. Except for Ferne. "I should probably wash up."
"Please do."
I got up and rushed out the door before she had a chance to tell me to use the classroom sink. Once in the hallway I fumbled for my inhaler, taking one last glance to make sure no one saw before blasting my lungs with the god awful concoction that kept me alive. The pain in my chest quickly eased itself, and I spared one more glance to make sure no one saw me before slipping the inhaler back into my pocket.
Time to clean up from my little stunt. The bathroom wasn't that far away, but I made sure to walk slow. If at all possible, I'd be back in class a minute before the bell rang to let us out. Enough time to grab my books and help Ferne clean up our table, but enough to avoid having to sit back down. I opened the door and walked into the bathroom. It looked and smelled about the same as all other men's rooms in Arlington. Which is to say, like shit. The glow of fluorescent light didn't do the room any favors, and the janitor still hadn't replaced the one that had died before we got out for summer.
I pushed that handle on the dispenser and left some of the brown paper dangling for later. No fucking way was I touching that handle after I was clean. I didn't waste my time checking the soap dispensers. They hadn't worked last year, I didn't expect them to work now. I scrubbed the cream off of my face, gritting my teeth at the itchy sensation of sticky drying sugar on my skin. Resolving internally that the next time I had an attack in class, I'd just walk out of the room. Detentions were less of a pain in the ass.
Near as I could tell, no one bothered to wash the mirrors since spring, either. Past the streaks of dirt and other stuff I hoped was spit, I got a look at myself. What was I thinking? None of the girls in class would give me the time of day. Even Ferne thought she could do better. She was probably right, too. I was short, skinny, and my hair color occupied the least interesting position between blond and brown. Speaking of hair, that gunk just wasn't coming out. I was beginning to suspect the school tried to save a few bucks by using actual glue instead of frosting. Making it back to class before the bell wasn't going to happen. I'd be lucky to avoid being tardy to the next class.
"Hey man, what happened to you?"
I looked up from my position leaning over the sink. Alex was standing by the door. Part of me really wished I could hate the guy. Tall, that kind of good looking that usually belonged in the movies, and star of both the football team and half the school's dreams. He even had rich parents. I was exactly none of those things. "Well, I was gonna take a piss, but then a few guys mistook me for your mother. On the plus side, made twenty bucks."
He chuckled and shook his head. "Fuck you, Zach."
"That costs extra."
He waited a couple seconds, then the smile faded. "But seriously, are you okay? If there's anyone giving you or anyone else trouble, I'll make sure they stop."
I turned back to the mirror and sink, my futile attempts to get this shit out of my hair were used as an equally futile attempt avoid this conversation. I looked at him through the mirror as I kept working on the problem.
It was true, if there was a problem he'd be the person to go to first around here. The teachers in this place didn't really give a fuck about most of us, but Alex got the Raptors to State last year as a Sophomore, and they were talking Championships this time. If he asked the right way, Coach Murray would probably hire a guy from the mob to disappear someone. But my problems weren't that easy to fix.
I offered a lopside smile. "Dude, I don't know what the rumor mill puked up this week, but I promise you I'm only gay for pay. But I am flattered."
"Well, that saves me a trip to the office for one of those outreach pamphlets."
And to top it off, he had a sense of humor. Did I mention how much I wished I could hate this guy? "Pick some up, anyway. They're better toilet paper than the actual toilet paper around here. Think you can fix that?"
"Sorry, some things are just impossible. Not unless you have powers or something. Of course, if you asked me what superpower I would like to have, I think I could do better than 'summon toilet paper'. Notice that when they make movies about people becoming heroes despite having stupid powers, that one's never on the list." He turned and left, apparently content that I was okay.
Yeah, powers. That'd be something. I could think of a few I'd like. Hell, even some of the silly sounding ones could be fun. Anima could summon cartoon monsters and swords and armor that worked. I never could understand why she wasted all that power on making props for children's plays. I could probably even work with summoning toilet paper. Because, hey, when you need it, you really need it.
At least I finally got that shit out of my hair. And then the class bell rang. God damn it. I walked, quickly, back to the home ec room. I could muddle through some classes without needing the textbook. History was not one of those classes. I found myself waiting at the doorway as the other kids filed out. There was no way I was going to push through that mess, so I'd have to wait until they were gone, and then hope I could snag my stuff before the inbound rush cut me off again and made me late for history.
I almost didn't even see Ferne as she stepped out. "Oh, good, you're here." She extended her arms, and I noticed that my books were sitting on top of hers.
I accepted them, while formulating the proper excuse. "Sorry, I figured we only had a few minutes left and I could use the vacation. Thanks for having my back."
She shrugged and started walking. "Even the easiest 'A' requires showing up."
Did... did she just make a joke? Was that her idea of flirting? Or was she just calling me irresponsible? I honestly had no idea. By the time I came up with a quip to throw back at her, it was too late to use it. Something I'd have to wait until Tuesday to sort out. Right now, I would spend my time looking forward to the three day weekened. Columbus may have been an asshole, but thanks to him I got to sleep in on a Monday once a year, so he had my seal of approval.
I managed to get to class well before the bell rang, and had my book open. History was one of the few subjects I ever enjoyed, and Miss Harmon was part of the reason. She was hot, fresh out of college, and had a voice I would listen to read the phone book. Which was good, because this was still history class. Unfortunately, it also meant she was still passionate about the whole teaching and learning thing. So she was all about group projects and finding ways to make us think about history on the theory that it would make us remember the details better. And it worked, too.
Miss Harmon's usual exuberance was missing when I got into the classroom. She looked like she was about to cry, but waited for us to all sit down before speaking. "Well, I was going to have us do a project on the significance of the Lewis and Clarke expedition and colonization of the American West, but something more immediate has come up. She reached up to the TV hanging from the ceiling on... whatever they called that thing they used to hang TVs from ceilings.
It was obviously a recording of a news program, probably one that Miss Harmon made herself. Clearly an amateur recording job, didn't even catch the newscaster at the beginning of the report. Some older lady, I didn't recognize her.
"- preliminary forensic investigation, but the death of the hundred and thirty three year old war hero appears to have been from natural causes."
I recognized the emblem in the little box they used to show pictures next to the people speaking. A red shield with a stylized flower on front. It was one of the most recognizable symbols in the United States that wasn't stars or an eagle. The sigil of the Rose Knight.
Oh. Fuck. Judging by the gasps and murmurs, others were coming to the same conclusion. The last Pope's death wasn't this big. Then again, the Pope didn't have twelve movies based on his life, the earliest three barely even having sound, or a national holiday in his honor. The newscaster carried on, telling us all the things we already knew.
"Solomon Brown, also known as the Rose Knight, retired from the public view five years ago, citing that his growing health concerns were outpacing his powers."
"Rose Knight was one of the last remaining of what are now known as the 'first modern superheroes', those Imbued humans who started the tradition of masked samaritanism that has become synonymous with superheroes over the last century. He served the United States during both World Wars before retiring from the military to fight a different sort of battle. That for racial equality in the United States, and the world at large."
"Awarded the Medal of Freedom in 1953-"
Meanwhile, the screen had gone through several iterations of the hero's image. His early costumes were full body concealing steel. According to legend, he built his first out of the scraps of a demolished tank. By the time the World War Two had rolled around, his armor was on a whole other level, with technology that allowed him to, at least to some degree, manipulate energy. The telltale red glow of the energy fields that gave him his name and made him the force to be feared during the war. They switched to his last suit, timed for when the woman talked about race rights. This final suit showed parts of his face and hands. Despite being terribly scarred from burns that he received in the first world war, he was quite clearly a black man. A detail not lost on the last series of movies dedicated to his life story.
Miss Harmon turned off the TV and hit the stop button on the player underneath, then looked back toward us. "I want you to get into teams of four, and remember you can't work with any of the same people as you worked with for your last two projects. I would like us to honor Mister Brown's legacy by examining the World Wars and the civil rights movement, and how different modern history would be without Imbued involvement. Once you have your group, please select two decades from the twentieth century that you'd like to make a report on and place them on my desk before you leave. Other than that, consider this a free period."
The shuffle for partners was a pain in the ass, but this was a class with a nice convenient thirty two people in it, so one way or another we'd all end up somewhere. Eventually I managed to get Eddie, Cassie and Amber. Didn't know Amber enough to have an opinion, but she was kinda cute as far as black girls go. Eddie was the brains of this pool, no doubt. And Cassie... was eye candy and she knew it. The blonde looked more like twenty than sixteen, and her clothes were as flaunting as possible without being trashy. By high school standards, which meant she was still pretty trashy. She'd be trading pouts and glances at cleavage in exchange for us doing her work for her.
We spent most of the hour talking about which periods we wanted. Amber went the obvious route, advocating the fifties and the civil rights movement. Eddie opted for Prohibition, and I had to admit it had my vote. Back in the era when people still believed mad science was actually science, and the villains practiced bizarre codes of honor and class alongside their brutality. Cassie seemed to have exactly no opinion, so we agreed on presenting those two decades. I didn't have the heart to tell Amber that almost everyone was going to take the fifties and sixties, so the odds were we'd have the twenties.
The bus trip home was as uneventful as a yellow tube full of loud children could hope to be. I ignored the stink of pot from the back and the stink of freshmen from the front as best I could. Followed by the stink of exhaust after I got off my stop. From there, it was a walk in the brisk autumn air to my house. I noticed the dark blue car in the driveway. That was strange, she almost never came over.
I opened the door to find her sitting on the couch. Her makeup was a mess, and it was obvious she was crying despite her metallic blue dyed bangs covering her face. She hadn't even noticed me coming in the door, instead clutching a ratty newspaper.
Dread spread out from my stomach. "Laura? What's wrong?" I was hoping against hope that I was wrong, but I already knew.
"I-it's Erica," she managed to sob, holding the paper out to me. "They found her b-body."
The pain in my stomach climbed up to my chest. I was reading the newspaper before I even realized I was holding it. I can't quite remember what it said, and Laura's abuse of the paper made some parts impossible to read. But the words 'nude', 'sexual assault' and 'mutilated' were enough to let me know more than I ever wanted to know. I clenched my eyes shut and tried not to let those words mar my memories of her. Her laugh, her smile, the feelings I never dared tell her I had.
Everything was so fucking unfair.
Then I realized that the pain in my chest was sharpening. I couldn't breathe. As if I didn't have enough to worry about. And then, I didn't. The pain subsided, if only for a moment; a sample of the things that could be mine. I couldn't explain how I knew, but I understood I could have that, if I wanted it. I didn't doubt. I accepted the power that offered itself to me.
Energy coursed through me, and I could feel everything it was doing. Repairing the damage to my lungs almost immediately. Clearing the inflammation, clearing the allergens that caused that inflammation, removing the causes of those allergies. Removing, replacing, changing, fixing. Laura stared at me, and I could see the glow of my skin reflected through her green eyes. My power was even cleaning the acne off of my face.
"Zach! You got powers?"
Yes. I did. "Good ones. Really good." It didn't get much better than unkillable, now did it? "You still talking to Rex?" The dude was a real scum piece of work, but he was a scum piece of work I could use right now.
Her eyes narrowed, possibly confused by the sudden change of topic. Or maybe just defensive that I'd tell her he was scum again. "He comes by the shop sometimes. Why?" She meant the tattoo parlor she worked at. As neutral an answer as she could give.
"Because if anyone knows how to find Erica's killer, it's him."
My sister's vindictive smile mirrored my own.
======================
Lots of A/Ns- There's still the possibility that, on the final edit, this will be Chapter One. If so, a certain small part of Ch 3's beginning will become part of the current Ch1/possible Ch2.
The sheer amount of details in this chapter that are more important than they might immediately seem is staggering. Part of the reason I didn't want it as Chapter 1. Lots of information, little action or plot development.
One I will tell you because I couldn't find a non-sloppy way to convey it in the text and I don't think what I included worked well enough: this world's Civil Rights Era started and ended sooner than ours. All the choice historical landmarks occurred in the 50s or really late 40s, as opposed to the late 50s to mid 60s. It's real hard to tell a legendary war hero (and one of the most powerful superheroes on the planet) that he has to sit on the back of the bus.
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheLawOfConservationOfDetail TvTropes tells me I now need to find a reason why the home ec teacher being described as "the Cryptkeeper in drag" is important to the story. It's not. Probably.
Information has been added to the first post, the character details section and the worldbuilding section. Be sure and thank those nice readers who caused this to be so.
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Ack
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Nice. I'm presuming his inhaler is of an unusual make; otherwise, why not just use it and say "Athsmatic."?
Okay then, now for the typos:
Perhaps "Despite it being late fall, there were a disproportionate number of girls in the classroom wearing surprisingly revealing clothing."
Or "Despite it being late fall, a disproportionate number of girls in the classroom were wearing surprisingly revealing clothing."
EDIT: checked on 'number of' being plural or singular, and it's plural.
Okay then, now for the typos:
Okay, there are a few things wrong with this sentence. First off, the missing 'of'. (number of girls). Plus, it's also constructed clumsily (sorry, but it is).
Perhaps "Despite it being late fall, there were a disproportionate number of girls in the classroom wearing surprisingly revealing clothing."
Or "Despite it being late fall, a disproportionate number of girls in the classroom were wearing surprisingly revealing clothing."
EDIT: checked on 'number of' being plural or singular, and it's plural.
No full stop between.
I'm Australian and even I know it was Lewis and Clark
had taken it?
A chunk missing out of the middle of the sentence, it seems. (and I saw)?
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TanaNari
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Nope. Regular inhaler. Regular asthma. I'll let other readers explain the 'why'. Mainly because I'm really hoping this aspect of his personality was recognized by most people.
Yeah, jeebus christ what was I thinking? Replaced with "I glanced around at all the girls in the class wearing surprisingly revealing clothes for late fall."
I switched from "took it" to "was holding it" and failed to edit. It's now "was holding" as originally intended.
Yeah... I got nuttin'.
This one I'm standing by as a bit artsy, but still valid, English.
Ack
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Okay, now I'm curious.
... okay, what does the sentence mean?
dasstan
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I ship it.
Ack
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If it means that, then the second comma should really be a semicolon.
dasstan
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And that's why the most commonly held belief is that powers come from Satan.
"You want powers, kid? Come on, they're pure. Uncut powers, here, try a taste. First one is free."
TanaNari
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Since no one has really bothered to post thus far, I guess I'll just tell you. Zach doesn't want to be pitied or perceived as weak. His personality, everything about it, is about laughing to keep from crying. Look at how he avoided getting his sister involved in the worst of it- knowing full well he was going in there with murder on his mind- he lied to her. Lied to Ferne. Lied to a random prostitute. Deflected Alexander's concerns.
It's kind of a pattern. He's a very private person who acts the clown to avoid showing what's really going on inside. He was the same way in Amelia, but that was a nicer setting than Price.
Snake/Eater
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So Zach is a modern Day super powered Pierrot or a more innocent version of The Comedian.
TanaNari
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That's certainly part of it. The other part is probably a holdover from the fact that in this reality, when they tried to burn witches, some of the witches returned the favor.
Or less flippantly- powers are tied to personality- violent people get violent abilities. And self destructive personality traits tend to lead to greater power overall thanks to how the whole system works. So the real heavy hitters tend to be violent, destructive, borderline legally insane, and incredibly emotionally damaged. Because if they were sane rational healthy human beings... they'd have said 'no'. The heroes and villains are the ones who say 'yes', and then get in trouble and come back for more.
The majority of Imbued use their powers for gainful, usually fully legal, employment. But that's boring and never really shows up in the media. The aforementioned hero and villain types are the ones everyone sees and hears about, because "if it bleeds, it leads". Kinda like our media only seems to mention Muslims when someone's shooting and/or blowing someone else up.
Not even close.
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Ack
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So he'd rather look like an idiot in front of a room full of girls than turn his back and take a hit on an inhaler?
Wow.
Twilight666
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Yeah I remember back in Amelia that he would rather kill himself than cry (when he broke up with Emma).
TanaNari
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Well, there are different types of looking like an idiot. When it happens accidentally? No, that's humiliating and he'd prefer to avoid it. When it's intentional and everyone knows it? Yes, he'd totally prefer that option, because then they're laughing with him instead of at him.
Kid has some serious issues.