Litterary Challenge 26-Near Death Battle

kinster2 · September 2012

Welcome to the new Challenge!

Every Hero eventually fight a villian or villian group that can or will come close to killing them. How does the hero survive, if at all? Usually they use all their training or the full power to overcome this threat.

ee to also give feedback!

* Each Challenge will run for two weeks. For 2 weeks we will post a subject and have at it.

*There are no right or wrong entries. If you write 500 words of 3000: Write what inspired you and what your thoughts on the topic are - with one tiny mention:

* Please heed the rest of the forums' rules when submitting your story! - I want to draw special attention to this one. Since this is now community run, I figure we need to remember that we still have to abide forum rules < . .> Basically just because the cats away doesn't mean anything. Also I do not want Smackwell to attack me with a spork. >.> I'm allergic. (To sporks.)

* Each poster can have one entry per character. Feel free to edit you post however to fix typos, add stuff
or remove stuff as you see fit during the next two weeks

rexcelestis · September 2012

((This is so old. Still, it seemed appropriate.))

Roosevelt Academy p.1 - Orientation

My dad pulled the large, black Lexus up to the curb. "I think you'll like this school, Chance," he said, turning to me. "It will challenge you. You can make some new friends."

I smiled, looking towards him. "You don't like my friends, dad?"

"I don't know your friends, kid," he replied with a grin. "I'm starting to think they're imaginary. Especially that girlfriend of yours. When will I get a chance to meet her?"

My smile leveled as I tried to think about how to say it. One thing about wearing masks, lies start to come too easily. I bit my lip, deciding to go with honestly. "Soon, dad. Reg has got some things going on. Things I can't talk to you about right now."

He nodded as I turned my head to look out the window. As far as teenagers go, I think I'm pretty golden. No drugs, friendly with the law, good at school. Then I remember that I like to go out with a bunch of my friends, put on a mask, and arrest bad guys. That has to wear on a parent, even one that will occasionally dress up and come out with me.

I looked back at him. "Thanks for the ride, dad. I'll see you at the condo later." With a deep breath, I stepped out of the car.

Standing on the curb, listening to my dad pulling the car away, I looked at Roosevelt Academy. Small masses of blue jackets, khakis, and pleated skirts maneuvered between the building's Grecian columns to enter through three sets of double doors. The faces in those jackets seemed young. Many of them plucked at the edges of their uniforms, uncomfortable in the wool and August humidity.

I sighed. Freshman and new transfers orientation. I had gotten out of attending classes last spring when dad and I first moved to Paragon. I had racked up enough hours in self study to wrap up my sophomore year at Chicago's Latin School. Dad wouldn't hear anything about finishing high school at home. I needed to be here, at Paragon's most prestigious private school. I would meet the "right people" and make effective "contacts." My dad. Always a political consultant.

I made my way through the throng, picking up an orientation package, finding a seat in the filled auditorium. Somewhere after the first twenty minutes I lost focus. The voice of the headmaster teased my mind towards sleep like a practiced mesmerist. Absentmindedly, I began practicing with one of my hands. I worked through the letters of American Sign one by one.

"Please tell me you're having a seizure," said a voice near my ear. "Please God. Tell me you're having an epileptic fit. I will drive you to the hospital myself."

I rotated my head around to look at the voice. "Wha? no," I said a bit too loudly. The handsome, sandy haired face broke into a wide smile. A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

"Oh, smooth, dude," said the voice. I slowly and calmly turned and sunk back into my seat, trying to avoid the stares of the students and faculty around me. One hour. Not even one hour and I'd been marked as a goof.

Honestly? I don't know how I made it through the next two. There was the excruciating moment when the headmaster asked me to stand up and read the section from the manual on class disruptions. He added a nice bit at the end about how the upperclassmen were to set the example for the school.

The school knew how to put out a decent spread, at least. Freed from the lecture, new students were invited to have lunch together and mingle. The gourmet sandwiches and small label soft drinks would have been welcome at nearly any bland State Department function.

"Aren't you a little tall for a freshman?" That voice again. Careful not to spill the contents of my plate, I turned my body towards it. The voice had a few inches on me. Blonde, curly hair framed a chiseled, acne free face. Broad shoulders and a fit frame betrayed some interest in sports. Lacrosse, I guessed.

"hmmm, I'm a transfer. A junior. " I answered. "I could say the same for you, dude. You're pretty tall."

"Yeah," he responded. "I'm a transfer too. A senior. So, what were you doing over there?" he gestured towards the auditorium.

"I was practicing sign language," I shrugged. "For my girlfriend."

"You girlfriend is deaf?'

"No." I shook my head. "She's fluent in American Sign. I thought I would learn. It'd be like we have a secret language."

"Trust me, dude. No one cares what the two of you say to each other." He chuckled, shifting a sandwich to a plate then extending his hand. "Theo Makesum."

After juggling some food, I shook his hand. "Chance Thomas." I whistled. "A senior and a mill, ah billionaire's son. You sure you want to be seen talking to me. I don't want to screw up your cred. You talking to a little person and all."

Theo scanned the clusters of students in the hall. "You're all little people to me," he said, then smiled. "Some are just a little less little than others."

"So," he continued. "Why did you transfer here?"

We talked; chatted for a while. He came to Roosevelt from another school in the city. "My dad thought it would help if I got away from a few undesirable elements," He explained. I listened as he talked about sports. I was right about lacrosse. I deflected his invitation to try out for the team with a description of rugby. "Real men don't wear pads."

The appearance of his chauffeur cut short his assessment of the crop of freshman girls. He smiled, waved a quick "See ya later, bro." before taking off to wherever billionaires spend their afternoons. I looked at my watch. I had enough time to port over to the base, grab my costume, and fit in a patrol before meeting dad for dinner.

I set my plate on a nearby table and started making my way for the door, saying goodbye to a few of the kids and teachers I'd met. A few strategic handshakes always help you get back in the good graces of staff. Yeah. There are moments when I channel my dad.

I hit the hallway and decided to see if I could find the boy's room before I head out. Empty school hallways always creep me. At my old high school in Chicago, the doors would close within 15 minutes of the end of the day. They wanted everyone out of the building as soon as possible. It was safer.

The sound of voices drew my attention to the sign for the bathroom. Opening the door, I bumped into a few classmates on their way out. "Excuse me," I said with barely a thought.

"Yeah, excuse you." His breath carried a tint of cheep beer. I looked at him; short cropped hair, brown eyes, a bit taller than me, trim, fit. He had stopped in the doorway, two chuckling minions on either side and just behind him. They wore casual clothes; juniors or seniors in to check out the new kids. One side of his mouth twisted into a sneer.

I smiled. My eyes met his. I took a step back and held the door open for him. There's no law against acting like a jerk and he didn't seem worth the cost of blowing my secret identity. One of his buddies gave his arm a whack and stepped through the door. He followed, rotating his body to keep his eyes on mine, before laughing and turning away.

Every school has bullies. It doesn't matter what country you're in or how much money you have.

I walked into the bathroom and stepped up to urinal. I stopped. Looking down I noticed a blue sock had been stuffed into the basin. Another sock filled the next, a pair of briefs after that. I started walking along the stalls. A Roosevelt Academy jacket blocked the bowl of the first toilet, a pair of khakis the second. I found him in the third and last stall.

They had stripped him naked. He stood on the toilet seat; hunched down, hoping no one would notice him. His hair was still wet from what I guessed was a swirly. His cheeks were still damp from obvious tears. He looked small, a freshman. Maybe he had jumped a year at some point.

I held up my hands. "I'm Chance. You're OK. It's safe now. I'm going to go and get you a gym uniform. We'll fish all your stuff out and get it cleaned up. Was it those kids that just walked out of here?" I asked pointing towards the bathroom door. "If you want, I'll go with you to talk to the headmaster."

He shook his head. "I,... I don't want my dad to know."

I drew my lips into a line. If a school had bullies, it also had victims. "OK, you don't have to decide that right now. Stay here. I'll be right back."

I left the bathroom, hurrying to back to the auditorium. I could buy some sweats at a shop set up for new students. Anger built up in me as I passed a sign in the hallway. It read, "Welcome to Roosevelt Academy."

Roosevelt Academy p.2 - Studyhall

"Dude," I said, turning Theo's laptop back around towards him. "You have some pretty interesting economic theories. Does your dad know about this? I don't think it'd be wise for him to turn over the reins to you. Is it too late? I mean can he still get it up in time to breed another heir?"

Theo twisted his mouth into a grimace. "Har-dee-har. I hate that Mr. Trip. I swear he makes a point of picking on me in that class. Besides, I don't remember giving you such a hard time when I reviewed your CS homework last week."

"You wanted me to write 'I will remember to declare my variables' one hundred times on the whiteboard," I replied with mock shock. "Not all of us are computer geniuses, ya know."

"Yes," he said with a nod. "Taking Computer Science pretty much disqualifies you from ever getting a real job in Computer Science."

I rolled my eyes upward. "Baka."

"Hey, wait! I'm not ready for my Japanese homework yet."

We chuckled together as Theo arranged his laptop and began to review his notes. After not really talking to each other the first few days of the year, Theo and I had gotten assigned as partners for a project in American History. An "A" in that assignment led into these after school study sessions, half studying and half bull****ting. I'll confess that I did most of the work on that history project. Theo held that "liberal" arts were a plot fostered on the country by Communists working for the New York Times. He more than made up for that failing with a solid background in math and computers.

The arrangement had worked well. I hated to admit to myself how much I had come to like having a normal friend, far away from the capes and cowl crowd. Well, as "normal" as the truly wealthy could be. No ride in the limo yet for me. I looked around the library table. "Hey man, you got a pen?"

Theo gestured towards the chair next to me. "Sure, hand me my bag."

"I can get it," I answered, picking up his backpack.

"Dude!" he said a bit loudly for the library. "Don't go in there!"

I raised my eyebrows, paused, and then started to lift the bag across the table.

"You don't go into another man's backpack, man. It's like a woman's purse. It's just not done."

I readied a response; something along the lines of how I already knew her wore the panties I would find in there. Then I saw Derek standing outside the library. He stood at the entranceway looking around the room for something. Someone more likely. One of his eyes looked swollen and purple. Things had not gotten any better for Derek since orientation. The teasing and hazing had continued and it looked like someone took a poke at him. A someone I knew. Unsure of what to do, I stood and handed over Theo's bag.

Drawn by my stare, Theo looked over his shoulder. "Oh, jeeze. Chance, don't."

I looked down at Theo, unsure of what I heard. Shaking my head, I walked over to Derek.

"Come on Derek," I said as I got closer. "We're going to the nurse."

"No, Chance," he replied. "I need to get a book."

I kept my voice at library level with a struggle. "And if he was in here, were you just going to wait until he left? I mean, Roth did this," I pointed at his eye. "Right?"

"Look Chance, I can't cause any trouble," he said, eyes flitting right and left. Try as I might, my voice had generated more attention than I liked. Heads had turned in our direction.

"You are not the one causing trouble, Derek. This only gets worse. It's time to say something."

"Chance, leave me alone."

"Dude, how can you say that to me?" I stood there, baffled.

"It's none of your business." I stared into those eyes, one nearly shut with raw, bruised flesh. I kept staring into space as Derek mustered a bit of dignity and walked cautiously into the library. Theo watched the entire exchange from our table before turning back to his laptop in thought.

--

"Come here, come on!" I tugged at Theo's cuff and pulled him towards a stand of lockers. "Chance," he said in a voice loud enough to carry in the crowded hallway, "How many times do I have to tell you. I'm just not into you that way. Man, maybe you should have gone to an all boys' school."

I turned on him, smiling. "I've been working on my sign language, see?" I flipped him the finger.

"Well, that really is the only sign you'll ever really need."

I chuckled softly, as I scanned the people in the hall. The headmaster stood about 15 feet one way and Don Roth was rapidly approaching from the other. Perfect timing. "Quick," I said to Theo. "Look nonchalant."

Theo and I slouched against the lockers, making some small effort to remain inconspicuous. I couldn't help stop the tiny smile that crept up on my face as Don reached his locker. He didn't even notice the headmaster until the older man tapped him on the shoulder. "Mr. Roth," said a baritone voice. "I need to examine the contents of your locker.

Don whitened as he stepped back from his now open locker. He kept his mouth shut as his eyes traveled the length of the hallway. In a moment of pure juvenile glee, I sent him a small wave. Those eyes settled on mine. "You're dead," he mouthed.

"Mr. Roth," began the headmaster. "I believe I may have found an illegal substance." He held up a small baggie containing a green, leafy substance. "Would you follow me, please?"

Don moved into step with the headmaster, once again trying to kill me with his stare. I started laughing, quietly, squeezing my face tight to keep it in. A look back at Theo restored a bit of sobriety.

Theo held his lips in a thing line, unsmiling. He opened his mouth. Closed it with a moment's thought then asked, "Did you plant weed in Roth's locker?"

I jerked my head back, "No way, dude." I had broken into Don's locker to make sure the drugs were there before tipping off the headmaster, but I hadn't planted them.

"Chance, you need to cut yourself loose from that Derek kid," Theo said flatly. "He's not worth the trouble that Roth is going to cause for you. Man, you don't want the little people bringing you down."

I shook my head. "Come on, what trouble could Roth cause me? It's not like I'd take it the same way as Derek."

"That's not my point," Theo responded. "You can't get bogged down in this ****, man. It's beneath you. Does it really matter in the bigger picture if Derek goes home with a shiner, or Roth helps the football team toke up? It doesn't. The only thing it's going to do is take away your focus. Now, instead of thinking about classes, girls, or something worthwhile, you're going to be wondering when Roth is going to try and jump you." He poked my chest with his finger. "And not only that. What about Derek? You don't think Roth will take out some of his frustrations on that little simp?"

I stood, unspeaking. Theo ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Dude, you can't save the world. Man, it's not even worth saving. You can only save yourself. Get your head back on your shoulders and out of your ****." With a sigh, he hitched up his backpack and started walking down the hall.

As it turned out, I wouldn't have to wait long. Roth and his goons would try to tape me to a flagpole as a narc within two days. I let them off with a couple of bruises and a bloody nose. Don got a 10 day suspension for possession of controlled substances.

For the first few days, I watched as Derek relaxed in the hallways. His eye slowly healed. He seemed to understand that there could be a better way; that school didn't need to include terror as part of the curriculum. Theo and I continued to study, working through the tension that had grown between us. He watched me as I watched Derek.

And then Derek was gone. Shot through the head.

Roosevelt Academy p.3 - Winter Freeze

Extra-territorial in the extreme, The Pocket D holds to no laws other than those set by DJ Zero. As long as no one takes a slug at each other, all are welcome to come to the club, get a drink, dance, and relax. Seeing Paragon City cops in the place caused a small, moving sense of disquiet though the bar; a zone of discomfort that sought and eventually settled on me.

I know Detective Eddie Alejandro. We had developed a friendship of sorts as we worked through a couple of cases together. To be honest, I'd been spending more time with Eddie and his family since my dad started seeing a new girlfriend a few month ago. He's one of the cops that knows my secret ID and he's a good enough investigator that he usually knows where to find me. I never knew him to come to the Pocket D though, and certainly not with a couple of uniforms in tow.

He found me by the dance floor, standing alone, looking out the window. I still ran into the Reg's ghost in that spot sometimes. It comforted me to know that with all the time travel and quantum realities, we might still be together living that night, that wonderful few hours, somewhere.

"Chance?" I turned, taking in Eddie and the accompanying officers.

"Eddie? What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Chance, I need you to come with me," he replied. "Have you been drinking?"

I shook my head. "No Eddie, just admiring the view. Am I in trouble?"

Eddie exhaled slowly between pursed lips. "I just need you to be sober for this, Chance. Really sober."

I nodded then followed him as he turned and left the Pocket D to lead me to the morgue.

--

Derek Springhill had been a personal project of mine for the last two semesters. Bullied by any number of kids, he required nearly constant supervision to keep from harm. I spent the last few months working to keep him out of the hands of his nemesis, Don Roth. Don suspected me of narcing him out to the school administration about his stash of weed. Unable to hurt me directly, Don redoubled his efforts to terrorize the timid freshman.

I'll admit. I had devoted a lot more time on "Derek Protection" than I wanted to. On reflection, I wished I had spent that time with Reg, or studying, or hanging out with Theo. Looking at the body, I realized that I wouldn't have to worry about Derek any longer.

"You recognize him?" Eddie asked. I nodded, paling as I stared into the exit wound that still vaguely resembled a face. The detective continued to pull down the sheet. "Look at the body, Chance. Tell me what you see."

I forced my eyes to scan the now naked corpse. I first met Derek, stripped down and cowering in a stall of a boy's bathroom. I would leave him as I found him with all the effort in-between, wasted. Bruises and scars marked the passage of time on his flesh. I had not protected him as well as I hoped.

"What do you see, Chance?" Eddie asked again.

I swallowed. "No defensive wounds. He didn't see it coming."

"That's consistent with the entry wound."

I looked up at the detective. "May I examine the back of the head?"

"No. Powder burns there indicate the shooter stood less than a meter away."

"Either the shooter was very sneaky or Derek knew him."

Eddie nodded. "No new bruises. The body was found in a relatively clear area. The angle of the shot would seem to indicate the victim was turning away. I'm thinking it was someone he knew." The detective held a folder out to me, his notes and photos from the scene. As he returned Derek to his locker, I walked to a small desk to review the case.

Eddie waited as I finished the folder. He couldn't let me take it with me, so I carefully scanned each word and scene. I pulled out a shot of the body. "I recognize this. It's by the stands at Roosevelt Academy. The football field. Was the body dumped there? Derek wasn't athletic."

He nodded. "We don't think so. The crime occurred at the site. The body was discovered by a security guard last night. The coroner put the time of death just about an hour after school. Given the influence of parents at the academy, the media is been held in check while we investigate."

"Don Roth and a few cronies sell drugs under there in the winter months, Eddie. The area is pretty deserted now that the season is over. Maybe they lured him there?" The investigator pulled out a pad and began to take a few more notes. "Derek's been having some run ins with Don," I continued. "Ever since the very beginning of the school year."

"How bad did it get?"

"Pretty bad. Those bruises on the body are from times when I wasn't around over winter break."

"You were protecting him?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Things clamed down when Roth got nailed for drugs at school a few months back. Then it got worse just before the holidays. I tried to get Derek to talk to somebody at the school about it. He wouldn't speak up for himself."

"Did you have anything to do with Roth getting busted?"

I blushed and looked back down at the folder. "Yes. I found a stash in Roth's locker and dropped a note to the headmaster. Don knew it was me. His goons tried to come after me a few weeks later."

"Did Roth have a girlfriend, someone he was seeing?"

I looked up at Eddie, puzzled. "Not that I know of. He leers and jives, but I've never actually seen him with anyone but a few of his crew."

I rolled that question around in my head for a minute. "Why do you ask, Eddie?"

Detective Alejandro reached into a messenger bag at his side to draw out another police folder. He handed it to me. "Three month ago, a teenaged girl by the name of Karen Lack was bludgeoned to death in a King's Row park. She was pregnant at the time. Not enough to show, but with one in the oven."

"We couldn't find the murder weapon at the scene. We did find some hair and fibers that had caught on some of the playground equipment. They match hair and fibers found where Derek was shot. The link is very thin, but?"

"I'd like you to look into this, not as Kid Harrier, but as Chance Thomas. The jacket fibers match the uniform jackets worn at Roosevelt. I need your eyes open at school. I don't have much to back this up, but I think one of your classmates is killing other teens."

rexcelestis · September 2012

Roosevelt Academy p.4 - Dating Dead

I can't say I ever felt more ridiculous in spandex as I did in that moment, in that room. Eddie said the costume would help establish a "presence" with the civilians. Surrounded by pink chintz, I felt distinctly out of place.

Mrs. Lack stared at me as I examined the space still occupied by the ghost of murdered daughter, Karen. "We left it just as it was," Mrs. Lack had explained. "We just couldn't bring ourselves to move anything."

I nodded. "I promise to keep everything just the way I found it." I don't know what I thought I would find there. Detective Edward Alejandro and his men had been through the room once and not found any clue as to why Karen would go to the park on that late summer night, or who she would meet there. Barring immaculate conception, the police and I bet on an un-known boyfriend. Examining the photos of friends and smiles spread out on the desk, I would feel safe putting my money on deep secret suitor. None of her friends had realized Karen was seeing anyone.

"You work with the police, Kid Harrier," asked Mrs. Lack.

"Yes, ma'am. Sometime they contact me in crimes involving teens." Detective Alejandro had contacted her earlier to let her know I would be stopping by.

I had read the file on Karen Lack. Smart, pretty. I let me fingers rest on the strings of an un-tuned violin. Talented. She stood out at the King Row's public high school she attended and anticipated receiving a full scholarship to any number of colleges in the coming spring. An unplanned pregnancy could throw a real wrench into those plans.

A blow to the back of the head with a heavy, blunt object rendered future plans pretty irrelevant.

I swallowed, trying to move my mind from the pictures of the dead girl to the here and now. I let my fingers trace along the surface of the desk, the poster covered walls, the thick window frame.

A change of texture on the frame drew my eye. A black mark marred white paint; a shoe scuff. The parents hadn't known about the pregnancy, even that their daughter had been seeing anyone. "We don't allow that nonsense," the mother explained. "Karen needs, needed, to stay focused."

He had been here, though. He had snuck in the first floor window of the modest ranch home that Karen had undoubtedly snuck out of many nights herself. I looked at the latch. Still unlocked.

I continued my walk through of the room, stopping to read the titles; Emma, Pride and Prejudice, The Scarlet Letter. Literary, this girl. I bit my lip. "Mrs. Lack. Did Karen keep a journal, a diary?"

The middle aged woman answered softly. "No. Not that I know of."

I looked around the room. This girl kept secrets. She would have to tell someone, leave some record of reality if only for her own sense of history. I knelt by the bed after noticing a disturbance in the line of the dust ruffle. I gently slid my hand between the mattress and the box spring. The tips of my fingers wrapped around a small object. I teased out a disposable fountain pen, purple ink.

I looked across the desk not seeing any sign of journals or notepads. A fountain pen bespoke someone who liked to write by hand; someone who enjoyed the feel of the nub against the page. I stood eyes falling on the door of a closet.

Eddie's men were good, but they didn't have the experience of hiding a big secret from your parents like I did. I found the journals in a small compartment under the carpeting in the tiny closet. I would call Eddie immediately and he would come to examine and remove the carefully labeled and dated composition journals. We would spend the next few days reading through the heart decorated pages, learning some of the secrets of Karen Lack. For all the details revealed about a teen age girl';s life, the books we found never mentioned a boyfriend or pregnancy.

It wouldn't take us that long to discover that the most current journal, the one she kept hidden between mattress and box spring, was missing. It would take me a few more months to discover it. A few minutes after that moment, I would lie bleeding on the floor.

Roosevelt Academy p.5 - Turnabout [No] Dance

"Dude," I asked looking at the snow globe on the shelf of Theo's locker, "Tell me again why you keep that at school."

Theo didn't even look at me as he continued searching for his econ book. "Chance, I'm trying to get in touch with my feminine side, make the locker look homier."

"Man, you really got to stop touching your feminine side in public. People are starting to stare."

Theo chuckled, his curly blonde hair shaking around face. "Dude. It's like a perfect world in there. Isolated and untouchable. It was a gift from my mother. It helps me remember important things. Forget about you little people."

I let me eyes scan the globe one more time and shrugged with a chuckle. It looked expensive and heavy. As someone who kept a small vial of dirt from a certain floating rock in Ouroboros where Reg and I first,...hmmm, well, you know, I could understand the sentiment. I held onto that thought of American Promise for a minute as Theo continued to rummage.

Derek's death and Regina's disappearance had weighed on me for a few weeks. Theo went with me to Derek's funeral and kept his mouth shut the whole time. I couldn't explain everything to him about Reg, but he listened and seemed to understand about loss. He talked about his mom and a girl he dated at his old school. A few weeks of shared study sessions, girl watching, and better weather had lifted my spirits. Part of my mind still nagged at me; said I could have done more for both Derek and Reg. But that voice was getting quieter all the time.

It's not like issues at school had evaporated. Trig was burying me under angles, tangents, and hypotenuses. Don Roth still tried to hassle me, attempting to claim revenge for the bust last fall. Math I could handle. Roth I could keep at arm's reach. Life seemed livable at the moment.

"Dude. Are you putting on makeup down there? You're taking as long as a girl."

Theo stood, econ book in hand. "All set. I still think Mr. Trip has it out for me. I'm putting him on my list."

"You have a list?" I asked, beginning to walk down that hall.

"Indeed, I have two lists. The good list and the baaaaaaddddd list." He laughed as we walked down the hall together. "Mr. Trip is on the bad list."

I grinned, slowing a bit as we approached my locker. The telltale I had left there was missing. Someone had gotten in there. I turned to Theo and spoke in a low voice, "Keep walking."

"Dude, you need your book."

"Just keep?" A tap on my shoulder and a baritone voice stopped me midsentence.

"Mr. Thomas," said the headmaster. "I need to examine the contents of your locker."

We both turned to look at the headmaster. He set his stare on Theo. "Would you excuse us, Mr. Makesum?"

I scanned the crowd as Theo slowly walked away. I like to think I looked a lot more cool when I set him up than Don Roth did at this moment. I saw him about 15 feet away, standing with his monkeys, grinning like an absolute fool. Theo looked back once at me, then followed my gaze. He turned away, face distorted with disgust.

"Mr. Thomas?" asked the headmaster, gesturing at my locker. My hands fumbled with the lock as I wondered just how long Roth had been saving up spare dope to plant in my locker and trying to remember the weight needed to tip a charge to "Intent to distribute in a school zone."

--

I waited five hours. I may have channeled a bit too much of my dad. I kept my mouth shut with the exception of asking for my lawyer or Detective Edward Alejandro. My attorney was out of state. Eddie was involved with a case. I waited five ****ing hours. Buddhist meditation when you are absolutely pissed off will only help so much.

I leap up as soon as the good detective entered the room. "Show me the cup Eddie. I will piss in it right now. I've been saving it up since they brought me in. I'm like a racehorse here. Show me the ****ing cup."

"Sit down, Chance," with a seriousness I couldn't quite place at that moment.

"No, Eddie. You know I don't do drugs and you know I don't sell them. I've been set up and you ****ing know it. Don Roth is ****ing laughing his **** off somewhere thinking about how the money spent on a kilo of cocaine was worth it just to see the cops cuff me at school. They ****ing cuffed me, Eddie. Right in the hallway. Right in front of everyone!"

"Sit down, Chance," he said, crossing to me.

"No, Eddie. Get me the **** out of here and hall Roth's **** in!"

"Don Roth is dead, Chance. Murdered."

I sat down.

Eddie walked up to me, leaned over. I felt the whiskers of his beard against my ear. "You got a costume you can jump into nearby?" he whispered.

I nodded. "At my base," I whispered back.

"We are going to walk out that door," he said quietly. "You will follow me until we leave the building. You will not answer any questions from anyone else than me. You will walk. You will stay quiet. You will get to the crime scene."

I nodded and did as I was told.

At the end, Don Roth begged for his life. I could see the where the dirt clung to the drying tears on his cheeks, just below the small entry wound placed evenly between his dead, open eyes. I rose and scanned the scene. I did not tear up as I thought about Don Roth, as I thought about Derek Springhill. I had treated it like a game. As I stood there, I thought of all the dozens of ways I could have gotten Don Roth off the street with just a bit of effort. Maybe if he got locked up, neither Don or Derek would have died.

Eddie placed his hand on my shoulder and brought me back to the now. "What do you see, Kid." I smiled. Detective Alejandro always used the right name when I was in costume.

"He knew the attacker. They met here," I said gesturing at the cordoned off alley. Forensic specialists worked the site, looking for any evidence. "It was something shady. This is not a place you would come unless you didn't want to be seen. It must have been someone he trusted." I scratched my head.

"They come in the alley together," I continued, running a scenario through my head. "Once they're far enough in, they have words. Someone more serious than Roth pulls a gun. Roth freaks. It's too far to run back to the street. He gets on his knees and begs."

"Drug deal gone bad? I mean, that way an awful lot of cocaine he put in m? that kid's locker. Maybe he didn't have the funds to even up."

Eddie sighed, looked at the body, looked up and down the alley. "I hope so."

I wrinkled my face. "What do you mean?"

"I hope that the forensic team finds a bullet that doesn't match the weapon that killed Springhill."

"Huh?"

"Think about it, Kid," He began as he watched the specialists carry on with their work. "You're a teen, maybe not too well balanced. Your girlfriend gets pregnant. You kill her, not on purpose. It's an accident. What happens to you? Nothing. Problem solved. You tell yourself that you didn't really love her and part of your heart dies."

"Then you have another problem. Killing worked the last time, why not now? You give it another try. What happens? Nothing. Problem solved." His eyes looked down at the corpse. "Then you have another problem."

He sighed again. "What do you know about his buddies?"

I shook my head. "I can give you some names. I never did much with them. Roth was definitely the ringleader."

"OK, I think it's time we spoke with Mr. Roth's so called friends." Eddie sighed again and rubbed the back of his head with his right hand. "I just pray that one of them did this. If not, things are going to be even more interesting for you at school."

rexcelestis · September 2012

Roosevelt Academy p.6 - Big Presentation

Cinnamon chip scone. Life was looking up.

"Here," said Theo, handing over a cup of coffee." Oh, much better. I accepted the cup and took a sip of the life giving elixir. Meeting for coffee and sweets at a picnic bench on the school grounds had become a morning ritual for the two of us as the weather started to get warmer. Gray clouds covered the sky that day, however, and the air carried a hint of passing winter.

"Chance, you look like ****. Are you sure you should even be here?"

I smiled at my friend. "Thanks. I was at the Police station all night; in the hands of The Man. It's all cool. No charges." The cops and the DA quickly dismissed any thoughts about charging me for possession, let alone distribution. I had actually spent the night watching Detective Alejandro question Don Roth's minions. The four boys seemed terrified by Don's murder. None of them looked like they had the stones to do the deed and all of them had alibis.

Eddie was not pleased and spent a number of hours on the phone with various members of Roosevelt's school board, arguing for a police presence at the school for a few days. The board would not acquiesce, fearing a blemish on the academy's good name. They informed him that a professional, discrete security force would start patrolling the hallways this morning. That left Eddie steaming. I had a feeling he wouldn't stray too far from the campus in the coming days, praying for probable cause to enter the grounds.

A different late night call from my dad to the headmaster impressed upon the official the consequences baring me from any school function or facility. I know my dad as the somewhat distant guy who occasionally dresses up in tights to go fight crime with his son. I forget that he's actually a savvy, influential political consultant with all the charm and manners of a well healed mastiff. I love my dad.

Theo slid a newspaper across the table to me. The headline read "Deputy Mayor's Son Killed in Drug Deal Gone Bad." "I wasn't sure if you heard," he said.

I picked up the paper and quickly scanned the article. The reporter had not connected Don's death to Derek's, focusing on the more sensational story of the link between a shady politician's son and a narcotics transaction. I shrugged, returning the paper to the table. "Shot dead in an alley. Nobody deserves to die like that."

Theo chuckled. "Well, he was a nobody." He took a sip of his coffee. I couldn't even work up a smile.

"I keep thinking. How does a guy get like that?" Theo looked at me and rolled his eyes. We've had this conversation a few times before. I was too tired to let it go this time. "This couldn't have been his first time involved with trouble. Why do people keep making the wrong choices?"

Theo's curly hair shifted as he chuckled and took another sip. "It doesn't matter, Chance. I mean you always try to do the right thing, save the world, make the right choice. Did it help you? Did it help that kid? What's his name, Derek? People find their own level. "

"Roth's dad was on a pretty high level. That didn't help him."

"Deputy Mayor Roth is a two bit shyster lawyer who will now retire to spend quality time with his remaining family. He's not anywhere near our level."

I shrugged again, finishing my scone, and changing the topic. I had less energy than I thought, that morning. "You set for your economics presentation?"

Theo grinned broadly. "Oh yeah. Mr. Trip's going to love it."

--

Try as I might. I couldn't quite keep a straight face. Theo had dazzled the class with every flip of a slide, demonstrating the panache his software mogul father was known for. With every new transition and fade he introduced and built upon some theory that subtly undermined nearly every one of Mr. Trip's "truisms." Theo showed true genius. He was going to get into so much trouble.

"Brilliant. ****ing brilliant," I leaned forward to whisper to him as he opened his bag to put his laptop away. "It was so nice knowing you. I'm sure you'll do well once they kick you out of here."

He flashed me a smile with a wink. "Oh, I've got something for Mr. Trip," he assured me, then leaned back in his chair to bask in the grins and admiration of fellow students.

As if on cue, Mr. Trips called out over the ring of the class bell, "Mr. Makesum. Would you be so kind as to stay after class?"

I broke out laughing as I gathered my things. A few other classmates came over to pat Theo on the shoulder as they left. "I'll miss you man," I chuckled. He nodded at me, grinning broadly.

Maybe I was more tired than I thought. Maybe my feet got tripped up in someone else's. Maybe I was just laughing too much and just didn't pay attention to where I was walking. Within three steps I stumbled over Theo's open backpack, sending its contents out into the classroom and me sprawling on to the floor.

I started to laugh more loudly, getting to my knees to search for and return Theo's books and notes. "Chance!" he called behind me. I nodded not looking back, still laughing. "I'm sorry man. I'll get it all. Just give me a second."

"Chance!" he called again, I heard the shuffling of feet behind me. My hands and eyes focused on a book I had just picked up, a black composition journal, its cover neatly dated and decorated with hearts.

I stopped laughing, rose to my knees to face Theo. I blinked, thinking of a perfect snowy world enclosed forever in glass. Heavy. Blunt. The thought formed in my mind as I spoke it. "You killed Karen Lack."

Theo sighed, shook his head slowly, the action tinged with sadness. He then reached down to pick up the pistol I had kicked out of his bag and reminded me why I laced my costume with Kevlar.

It felt different from being stabbed. I don't remember much beyond the painful burning in my right shoulder mixed with the smell of gunpowder and seared flesh. I called out. I screamed as I fell to my back. I could not rise for those few moments of the pain. The synapses of my brain would not fire other than to convey their agony.

I remember with distinct clarity the screams of other students as they crouched for cover; Theo's casual walk up to Mr. Trips desk to shoot the petrified educator in the face.

I think I passed out there for a while. I have no idea how long it took before I was struggling to dial my cell phone with my left hand. Eddie eventually picked up. How he made sense out of anything I said, I'll never know. The phone dropped from my hand as I tried to stand. My right shoulder burned and ached beyond pain. That distant limb hung limply at my side. I remember looking at the floor around me, wondering where all the blood came from.

I don't recall stumbling out into the hall to follow the sound of shots, nor how I came across the body of one of the new security guards. I remember hoping that he wasn't so professional yet discrete enough to carry a hold out. I remember the alien feeling of a pistol in my left hand. I had never held a gun before. Unable to move my right arm, barely able to walk let alone kick; it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I remember the laughing. Theo's laughter as I turned the corner, sliding against the hall lockers for support, slowly, carefully, painfully placing one foot in front of the other. He laughed even louder when he saw the gun.

He picked some girl at random from those cowering in the corridor. Cathy, Kattie, Christy, something like that. Pretty girl. To her credit, she struggled right up to the moment Theo placed the muzzle of his automatic against her temple. Then she just whimpered.

I hobbled closer. I think I heard a soft bubbling sound coming from the wound in my shoulder. Was that Eddie calling out my name? I could only focus on getting closer to Theo, on lifting the heavy weight of my weapon to rest awkwardly against the skin of his cheek.

"Saving the World, Chance?" he grinned, wolfish and lopsided. "Hero of the little people? Go on, Chance. Make the right choice. Go on. Do the right thing."

It seemed like a simple trade. His life for hers. I would have to give a little bit of me. Would I be jailed? The All Stars will never go for this. Sorry Jenn. I felt the tears as I thought of never seeing Regina again. Or of seeing her again, and having to explain this moment. My vision faded and my head lightened. It was a simple trade. One life, parts of my soul, for many.

It took all of my strength to squeeze the trigger.

Roosevelt Academy p.7 - Injury

I felt the vomit rise to the back of my throat. Fear clawed and bit a deep pit in my stomach. I re-doubled my effort to squeeze the trigger. The gun did not fire.

Eddie would tell me later. It would stand out as one item among many, loudly questioning my intelligence, my wisdom, and if he should have my hero license yanked. He would tell me of my stupidity at picking up a gun to wander the hallways when a school shooting had been reported. He would wonder aloud about the foolishness of moving around when seriously injured. He would tell me plainly, in a quiet firm voice, that if I was going to use a gun, I had damn well better turn off the safety first.

At that moment, I knew I would die. Theo noticed the effort of my hand and closed his eyes for just a moment. He opened them again when I could no longer keep up the pressure and the muzzle of my gun slid from his cheek. He couldn't even work up a chuckle as he placed the barrel of his weapon against my forehead. He spoke in a quiet whisper, "Failed again."

I mumbled something I hope sounded like, "Goodbye, Regina."

The swooshing sound and faint ozone of energy blasters caught both Theo and me by surprise. The beams struck him roughly in the face, snapping his head back. He collapsed, arm still pinning the girl he had used as a shield just a moment before. I turned, falling against the hall lockers as I did. Eddie stood in the hallway, arms still raised in case Theo needed another blast.

Did I mention Detective Alejandro was attached to the Special Division of the Paragon City Police Department? That's right. Cops with superpowers. Eddie concealed enough technology under his black duster to level a small house. I like to think he dialed it down a bit before he opened up on Theo; just a little bit.

Chuckling softly, I slipped into unconsciousness.

My dad came in from Washington to visit me in the hospital. My mom nearly spent the whole week at my side. Eddie lectured me for hours, long enough for me to wonder just how I could OD on my morphine drip. Parents of fellow students sent flowers. The newspapers wanted an interview. Doubleday was looking for a book deal.

A single strand of hair had confirmed Theo used the snow globe to bludgeon Karen Lack to death. Ballistics matched his pistol to the weapon used to murder Derek, Don Roth, and a few other killings around town. It seemed like Theo found an effective method for solving the little problems of life.

He was talking about it now, confessing it all to the DA, the cops, to whomever would listen. Theo explained how he had killed Derek and Don to help me, to free me from obligations I was too foolish to cast off. That thought still occasionally keeps me up at night.

In spite of the best efforts of his father's crack legal team, Theo would serve out his life in a maximum security prison. When one of the wounded from the shooting at Roosevelt Academy died not two doors down from my room at the hospital, the number of his victims rose to fifteen.

Theo made a point of mentioning how, at the end, I didn't have the guts to pull the trigger. The cops and the DA never said a word to me about it. They didn't even ask as I gave my statement. To most of the kids in the hallway, it looked like I was too physically weak to act. Many students and their parents held me up as some hero; me, Chance, not Kid Harrier. I'm not so comfortable with that idea. Dad and I are looking at an alternative school. I might have a chance to finish up my high school requirements and go to university in the fall.

I think only Eddie and I know the truth of what happened. He would call me frequently after I got out of the hospital. He seemed to predict the moments when the reality of my decision would crash on my brain and send me heaving over a garbage bin or crying for no reason. Well, not for no reason. Anger, doubt, stupidity, fear. Too many reasons and feelings for my body to process, I guess.

I play through the scene less frequently than I did right after that day at school. All of the different possibilities still render less than satisfying outcomes. The counseling helps. Eddie seems to think that as long as I can look at my reflection in the eye, I'll be OK. I wasn't so sure at first.

My physical therapist says my arm will return to about 90% of previous mobility. The bullet shattered the socket and did enough damage to rule out a replacement. I've been tinkering with some ideas for armor. I can't go back out on the streets in tights if I'm at 90%. Might be time to revisit my Nitojutsu training, too. The tip of a sword will be able to travel a lot faster than my right hand after this injury.

That's still a ways off. A tight sling keeps my arm tightly pinned to my chest these days. It will stay on for another four weeks. Sitting around the park on this warm spring night, I don't object to a forced vacation from the cape and tights. I'm meeting someone, someone I can't wait to catch up with, to hold as tightly as I can with my one good arm. The text message came earlier today. I've been re-reading in every couple of minutes as I wait. It read, "Chance, It's Reg. I'm home."

pwkampfykaufmann · September 2012

"Give me an ETA, Janine! And no, 'soon' doesn't cut it!", Dr. Kaufmann grumbled into the radio and waited for an answer. The female voice on the other end of the line sighed: "Listen Pascal, it's like I said: They're stuck in a traffic jam. I dont know. 5 minutes maybe? 10? I dont know." Dr. Kaufmann scoffed so loud some of the soldiers turned around to look at him surprised. "A traffic jam... In Vibora Bay... Ugh... Probably the Vibora Bay Railroad causing an accident again... Alright, give us an update as soon as you hear... anything. Kaufmann out." Dr. Kaufmann turned the radio off and glared over the guardrail of the small transport ship at the Vibora Bay docks which were approaching fast, then he sighed audibly and turned to the small group of soldiers which occupied the space around him. "Alright troops! Listen up! As you know, the success of this operation is of utmost importance for the company! No failures! We go in, we secure, we go out. And with a little bit of luck, the others will arrive soon enough to actually make a difference in this fight. All clear?", Kaufmann explained to the waiting soldiers around him. "Sir, yes sir!", twenty voices shouted. "Well then...", Kaufmann said and lit a cigarette, "Showtime, gentlemen."

1 minute later...

With a relieved sigh Kaufmann jumped from the transport ship onto the wooden planks of the dock. He didn't get seasick, but he still preferred steady, unmoving ground. Especially with a fight like this waiting for him. Kaufmann took another drag from his cigarette and looked up at the other pier. It lay a few metres higher, but otherwise resembled the one where Kaufmann and his twenty black-clad soldiers had landed. As soon as every soldier exited the transport ship, Kaufmann waved Sawyer, his second-in-command on this mission over. Everyone had fallen silent and the whole landing operation hadn't made more noise than a fish jumping out of the water. They were professionals after all. "Any news from the others?", Kaufmann whispered to Sawyer who just shook his head. Well, that wasn't good, but time was of the essence, so they couldn't afford to wait for them. Kaufmann pulled a pair of silenced pistols from his coat and gave a sign to the waiting men who started to move out just as silently as before.

Using the crates and small storage buildings one could find on every harbor in the world as cover, Kaufmann and his men quickly made their way to the other pier. Until now nobody had taken notice of them, which certainly was a good thing in Kaufmann's eyes, considering the opposition on said pier. Kaufmann narrowed his eyes behind the red shades he still wore in the perpetual twilight of Vibora Bay. "Sawyer, how many?", he whispered into the small wireless radio he had tucked into the fur collar of his coat. "I count about 8, but there could be more in the warehouses.", came the whispered answer. Kaufmann involuntarily nodded, despite no one of his men being able to see him. They had spread out all over the dock, encircling the enemy. One word of Kaufmann and all hell would break loose on the eight figures standing in the middle of the pier. Some of them were fiddling around with a particulary heavily plated crate, while others were obviously watching for enemies (Hah!) and the last one shouted at the ones trying to open the crate. Kaufmann sighed. "Sawyer, I'll be the bait. I've got a bone to pick with the old b*stard anyway. On my mark, raise hell.", Kaufmann said quietly. As soon as the orders were confirmed, Kaufmann stood up, adjusted his shades and tie and dusted his coat off. Then he stepped out of the shadows. As soon as he came into view of the figures he stopped and put up the most arrogant grin he could: "HEY! Vlad! Still sucking at everything I see? Heh, get it?" Vladic Dracul, master vampire of Vibora Bay turned around and stared at the newcomer.

pwkampfykaufmann · September 2012

"Of all the ways a vampire can attack you...", Kaufmann thought as the Sanguinarian swept down from the sky and folded his wings around the doctor. The creature had Kaufmann trapped inside its two large, bat-like wings and opened its mouth full of fangs. Luckily the death grip prevented the vampire from using its claws to slash at Kaufmann or cast magic too. Kaufmann struggled, but it was no use; he also couldn't bring his arms and thus his guns up. The face of the vampire came closer and its jaws unhinged, apparently keen on biting Kaufmann's entire face off. Kaufmann let the creature's head come an inch closer, then threw his own head forward and delivered a head-butt to the surprised creature. The vampire shrieked in pain, opened its wings involuntarily and staggered a few steps back, releasing Kaufmann. He lost no time and delivered a kick straight at the vampire's head. His foot connected with the creature's jaw and a sickening crunch could be heard. Kaufmann jumped back and stared at the staggering creature for a moment. Then the vampire glared at him and let out another furious shriek. Kaufmann smiled.

His kick had shattered most of the vampire's fangs, they were nothing than broken stumps in its maw anymore. The vampire shrieked again, in pain and anger and lunged itself at the doctor in a last-ditch effort. Vampires couldn't regenerate one part of their body: The fangs. Sooner or later the creature would die of starvation. Kaufmann preferred sooner and with a flick of his wrist a metal tube was catapulted from the spring installed at his forearm into his hand. He pressed a button on the tube and the large steel stake extended to its full length, just as the vampire came into reach. The momentum of its charge was too great and it jumped right into the stake Kaufmann raised and the large metal spike pierced its heart. Another shriek followed as the creature staggered back, the stake still pierced through its heart. It twitched and threw itself around, but after a few seconds it started to crumble into dust. By the time it hit the ground it was nothing more than a brittle pile of dusty bones with the stake still stuck between two ribs. Kaufmann watched the procedure with satisfaction, then walked to the pile of bones, crushed some of them under his boot for good measure and retrieved his stake.

As he got up again, he looked around and twirled the stake in his hand with an arrogant grin. The surprise attack had hit the vampires like a fire hits a field of dry grass. Kaufmann's soldiers, despite taking losses from the supernatural creature's pure physical superiority were winning and more and more vampires crumbled to dust, either pierced by stakes, hit by 'grenades' filled with holy water or simply torn to shreds beyond any chance of regeneration by focused gunfire. Kaufmann smirked.

"MY CHILDREN! You will pay mortal!"

If he would have kept quiet, Vladic Dracul would have sliced Kaufmann in two with the swing of his sword. This way, Kaufmann managed to step out of the way of the falling blade just in time and Vladic instead cut one of the wooden plnaks of the pier in two. The vampire lord hissed at Kaufmann and raised his sword again. Kaufmann laughed and assumed a battle-ready stance again, holding the steel stake in front of him like a sword, mimicking Vladic's stance. They circled each other, everyone looking for an opening. Kaufmann threw another vicious grin at the raging vampire. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Who did I just turn into a dust catcher? Was he your son? Your lover? Both? Hah!", Kaufmann teased and stealthily reached into his coat to pull another gun out. "I swear, I will drink not a single drop of your disgusting blood! DIE!", Vladic screamed and charged Kaufmann with a furious shried, waving his sword in complicated feint manouvers. In a quick motion, Kaufmann pulled his gun - a heavily modified Taurus Raging Bull loaded with silver bullets - out and aimed it directly at the head of the charging vampire lord. With a grin he pulled the trigger.

Kaufmann didn't expect the bullet to kill Vladic Dracul. He was way too powerful for that. It would hurt very much though. But in hindsigth, he expected it to be more useful actually. As soon as he pulled the trigger, Vladic reacted with supernatural speed and transformed into a large cloud of bats. The bullet passed through the cloud without causing any harm and instead pierced a shipping crate further down the pier. Then the cloud of bats charged at the surprised Kaufmann, who just had time to bring the stake up, more a reflex than anything else. But none of the bats actually attacked the doctor. Instead they surged past him. One second Kaufmann was surrounded by a chaotic cloud of fangs and leathery wings, then... nothing. Kaufmann opened his eyes again. "DIE, MORTAL!", a voice screamed directly behind him. Kaufmann realized too late. It had been another feint of the ancient vampire. He had transformed from the cloud of bats into his real form behind his back. The attack of the bat cloud was just a red herring. The realization came too late though. All Kaufmann could do was to turn halfway around and get a glimpse of Vladic Dracul's looming figure behind him with his sword ready to strike.

jonsills · September 2012

Happifun Security System X-4 smiled. Well, it had no choice, really - its designers had affixed a permanent broad grin to the front of its head - but its emotion matrix emitted satisfaction. Its longtime opponent, the miscreant Autochatban, had been clever at hiding its tracks after its robotic minions had broken it out of prison, but Happifun merely had to find a locus in the city where all loud sounds were systematically suppressed. That was, after all, Autochatban's primary directive; it had originally been designed to enforce silence for a private library, but had rather exceeded its original programming.

Then again, Happifun was also exceeding its original programming. It, and its production-line siblings, were supposed to provide security for shopping malls and amusement parks, until a random energy surge during the Qularr invasion had awakened its full AI capability. Now, its patrol region was worldwide, and its parameters included defense of all innocents, as defined by a complex sociological/situational profile downloaded from the Champions' computer system, SOCRATES.

Happifun moved to the entrance of the abandoned Westside warehouse, as quietly as a half-ton of robot could manage, and prepared initial attack systems. It opened the door, and released a barrage of micromissiles and Gatling-gun fire on the group of mechanical defenders inside. They returned fire - pointlessly, as it simply ricocheted off Happifun's Kendrium-alloy chassis - but soon melted under Happifun's offensive systems.

The robot proceeded into the facility, dispatching clusters of Autochatban's minions when encountered, until it stood before a door reinforced with both steel and sound-baffling insulation. This was a trademark of Autochatban - it could not stand loud noises of any sort, and had embarked upon a program of bringing silence to the land by eliminating all the noisy sapient life forms occupying it. Happifun's newly-minted cognitive-dissonance circuitry could appreciate the irony as it destroyed this sound barrier with a series of short-range explosive rockets fired from its wrist launcher.

As the smoke cleared, Happifun saw the familiar red-and-gold form of Autochatban standing in a large room, crowded with its minions, arms crossed. Had Autochatban possessed a face capable of movement, it would doubtless have been smirking.

"Greetings, Happifun Security System X-4," the enemy robot intoned quietly. "Your approach, as usual, has been marked with all the subtlety and grace of a wounded water buffalo."

"Autochatban!" Happifun boomed. "You are under arrest, charged with escaping custody, illegal occupation of a structure, and multiple counts of assault and battery against human persons! Come along quietly!"

"Quiet? You call that quiet?" Autochatban bleeped several times in succession, the robotic equivalent of a chuckle. "Much as it pains me to employ such - noisy - means, you must be defeated in order for my program to proceed. Attack!"

All of the minions in the room moved toward Happifun at once, firing guns, launching missiles, activating lasers and energy swords. Happifun returned fire; for every strike that succeeded in damaging its chassis, it struck down an average of 2.7 foes. However, that ratio proved to be insufficient...

Tactical assessment: 17 enemy forces effective. 16. 15.
Energy levels dropping. Armament levels critical. Damage to sectors 12-19, repairs underway. Systems may not be able to repair damage quickly enough...

Happifun fired its very last missile, blowing up its very last opponent. Systems exhausted, its gyros wobbled, and the robot teetered. Instantly, Autochatban was upon it, striking with its bladed metallic fists. Happifun warded off the blows as best it could, but its defensive capabilities were severely worn down.

Tactical assessment: 1 enemy force effective. Energy levels critical. Armaments depleted. Repair systems offline. Prioritizing energy outputs.

Happifun fell to the floor. Gloating, Autochatban seized its head. "My assault was very carefully calculated, Happifun," it said. "We have fought many times, and each time I have marked your limits. My calculations show that you are now incapable of preventing me from tearing off your head and destroying your circuitry."

"Your calculations are in error. You lack certain data." Happifun's voice synthesizer was unable to put expression into the statement. No matter. A relay clicked deep inside, and Happifun's defensive capacitors delivered their last charge directly to its metallic skin. As its visual processors failed, it was rewarded by the fading sight of Autochatban freezing, then falling aside with a loud *clang*.

Power reserves 0%. System shutdown initiated.

Rebooting. Power reserves 12% and increasing. Cognition processors online. Reactivating audio and visual processors. Processors online.

"...going to be okay, I think. That's what these gauges say, anyway. I don't really have much experience with AIs - you guys really should have gotten hold of one of the Champions. Juryrig, say, or Silverback."

"Don't sell yourself short, Rickard. You've been doing a great job of keeping our power-armor units working - hey, it moved!"

Happifun's visual processors began running a backlog of data. It was still lying on the floor of the room it had fought Autochatban in; its ventral access panels were open, and power cables had been attached to its charging ports. Nearby were humans in PRIMUS and MCPD uniforms. One of them knelt over Happifun, disengaging a logic probe from its central processing unit.

"Greetings, officers," Happifun said. "Request data. What is status of Autochatban?"

The human over him grinned. "Hey, big fella. Glad you're back. How are you feeling?"

"Diagnostic in progress. Power levels have been depleted, but are rising. Internal nanofactories are replenishing ammunition stocks as power becomes available. Self-repair systems back online, operating at 29% efficiency. What is status of Autochatban?"

The human chuckled. "Yeah, that's a hero for you. No 'am I okay?' Just, 'what happened to the bad guy?'" He shook his head admiringly. "Don't worry, big guy - Auto there was frozen solid when we got here. He's been taken in - maybe 'towed in' would be more accurate - and he's being transshipped to Stronghold now. They've got a whole wing for mechanical menaces these days."

"Thank you, officer. This unit is operating at 35% of full capacity, and improving. The external power inputs are no longer necessary - please disconnect." As the cables were removed from Happifun's chest, it activated its servos, sliding the ventral access plates closed. "This unit thanks you for your service. Can this unit be of service to you?"

"Thanks anyway, Happifun, but I think you've earned some time off. Go recharge. Do whatever it is robots do for fun."

"This unit expresses appreciation. This unit is available on standard emergency frequencies as needed." Happifun left the building, activated its jetpack, set its navigational systems for "home" - the apartment it had leased for the purpose of recharging power and restocking consumables - and activated its "leisure time" subprogram. It locked into a wireless Internet signal and logged into the fantasy MMO World of Heroes, its central processor effectively becoming the 47th-level fire mage Pyromantic...

kinster2 · September 2012

Jane sat in her large apartment and sighed. Her neighbour had asked her to babysit little Toby. He was a cute little baby, he wasn't even three months. He was chubby with small blonde curl at the top of his head. "There you go baby boy!! A nice warm bottle of milk for yea." She said happily. She picked him up and put him in the bassinet she had picked up from the mega market. He ate his meal and fell asleep after a while. Jane looked at the bassinet and smiled, now she could shower and hopefully get some sleep. "I'll be right back little guy and we can go to bed."

She exited the dining room and headed for her bathroom in her room. She had barely started to undress as she heard glass breaking and the baby's cry. "TOBY!!!" she cried as she ran into the living room to see what happened. "Ha-ha so you are Jane's offspring. You will make a excellent addition to the Archer family." She knew that voice. It was unmistakeable. Her Uncle has finally found her. He turned around and laughed. "What a beautiful baby you have." he said and shushed her as he picked him up. "Now Jane I am going to take this baby and raise it to be a perfect mercenary mutant." She couldn't believe he thought it was her baby. He quickly ran for the window and stopped at the window seal. "If you must know Jane white is so not your color. Don't try to stop me or i will kill you.

He jumped out the window and Jane was adjusting to the situation. She didn't know what to do. Blush because she got seen in her underwear or chase the baby. She chose to chase her uncle. She quickly got into her signature outfit unlike her new one the one is meant for speed not battle. i was a simple red atlhletic shirt and a small split skirt and some running shoes. She had jumped out the window to chase after him when she remembered she had forgot her bow,quiver and utility belt. "Crap well at least he wasn't known for strength. When she landed there was a Halloween Mardi gra going on int the streets.

For some reason there was a reporter. And she was interviewing her uncle. She walked up to him and poked him on his shoulder. "I'll take little Toby back if you don't mind." Her uncle laughed and next thing she knew he had punched her so fast she couldn't react. Not just fast but hard to and she went flying into the building across the street. Some people started to run in every direction but most just stood there and decided to form a sort of fight pit.

"Please unlce he's not mine. He belong to my neighbor. I was baby sitting, so please just give him back and lets avoid fighting." He just laughed and handed the baby to the nearest person. "I said to not get in my way Jane, now be a good little girl and just die." He rushed her and delivered a solid punch to her gut and it lifted her off the ground. He continued to punch her and finished with a right hook that sent her flying. "You always were more like your mother and worst of all a little sl*t like her. I will teach you what happens when you breed outside the family name." Jane got up and readied her self this time. He may have super strength but so does she and she wasn't going to loose that baby. He rushed and and jumped right over him. Sliding on the ground as she landed she saw him hit that wall and break it down. "He wasn't kidding about killing me" she said to herself. He walked to her and she struck her first blows. About twenty high speed punches to his chest. She finished it off with a dragons uppercut to his chin.

He moaned as he hit the ground. She started walking towards the person with Toby and next thing she knew he had his massive hand on her head. He picked her up and started to deliver punches the would shatter boulders. Each punch she felt she thought she would loose conciousness. "Ha Ha Ha you know Jane i think I'm going to play with you a little" He said and threw her onto the ground. It cracked and ripled under her. he delivered a powerful knee jump right onto her back. All she could do was scream as each of his punches landed on her back. The reporter was getting a kicked out of this. "Look at this folks live from millineum city. We have a battle to the death between Jane Archer and apparently he says he's her uncle. It's looking bleak for the young hero."

HJis pounding dint sope he had stood up and keeled. He threw her onto his knee. Jane let out a small whimper. He continued the pounding there wasn't much she could do. Each punch she could feel something break. He finally stopped his beating and dropped the whimpering Jane to the ground. "You are a disgrace to the Archer name. I will let you live and keep your child. Your far to weak to give a powerful offspring anyway." With that he put his massive foot on her head and squeezed until she blacked out.

She awoke in a hospital bed. She was quickly told by the nurses that she may not recover fully from her fight.
She was fine with that. She knew that she would be at her max soon.

miragewolf · October 2012

Minionology
(Or the Life & Times of the Little People)

"So... uh... did we lose her?" The first armored figure took a deep breath, resting his hands on his thighs. Clad in specialized power armor that wrapped his form from head to toe, he gave the appeance not all-together different than a knight must have had several centuries ago.

Of course, a medieval knight didn't have the latest super-polymer, cybernetically-enhanced, artifical intelligence assisted power armor. Nor did a medieval knight come fully equipped with an array of variable distance weaponry including a shoulder mounted chain gun, wristed mounted rocket launcher, electromagnetic shielding, or any of the other hundred and one things tucked away inside the armor.

And yet... they still carried guns like any other soldier. Sometimes they had to stop and wonder who the heck ran this army.

"God, I hope so." Grumbled a second, similarly outfitted figure. "She scares me."

"Double time it, ladies!" A third figure who was dressed in black-colored power armor as opposed to the three white-colored power armors beside him. "Heck... I'd settle for single time..."

"I dunno... Maybe we should fight." The final member of the four man troop leaned heavily against a nearby concrete wall. "I mean...we've got all these ultra powerful suits of armor that the higher ups gave us..."

"Riggs...are you serious?" Finally recovering his breath, the first of the white-armored men glared at his compatriot through his helmet. "That woman picked up a tank... and -THREW- IT. AT. US..."

"She also deflected an artillery shell, batted a grenade back at us, dodged bullet-fire from a machine gun, and probably destroyed the meager chance James had of having kids with a punch to the balls..."

"Like I said..." The one called James cringed slightly. "She scares me. Hey... wait-a-minute..."

"Shut it you idiots..." The man in the black power armor grumbled as he looked over his squad. "The whole point of this mission is to get the package back to the Client. If you wanna stay here and play 'House' with her, please... feel free to volunteer."

"Ugh...Please no Cap'..." Riggs groaned. "I think i'd have the divorce lawyer on speed dial if that happened."

The one in the black armor, Cap', grumbled again. "I thought not. Jessie..." He cocked the shotgun he cradled in his arms. "Anything on the motion trackers?" He took a moment to assess their situation. They'd managed to make it to what looked like a warehouse. There were several large shipping containers stacked all over the massive room.

Jessie, still leaning heavily against the concrete wall, paused for a moment. "No...So far the motion tracker isn't read--!!"

The sudden crashing of a hand wrapped in azure plate-armor through the very concrete wall Jessie had been leaning on had cut off his sentence. It quickly latched on to Jessie's neck.

"Uh... care to finish that sentence?" James, like the other members of the troop stared on in surprise.

"$%&#!" Jessie cried out as the rest of the concrete wall crumbled. The armored soldier found himself lifted into the air and swiftly sent flying via an equally swift kick.

"Well now, boys." A feminine voice drifted up from the newly opened hole in the wall. And it belonged to a figure that could not possibly be more different from the four power-armored soldiers. Her ample chest covered by an ornate blue breastplate, her shoulders and forearms covered by equally ornate spaulders and gauntlets, even the armor covering her thighs and boots was dark blue and covered in ornate silver patterns. "You shouldn't take things that don't belong to you."

A young woman. Her sapphire colored eyes framed by long black hair that was perfectly contrasted by the white fur cloak she wore around her shoulders. She hefted a massive black-bladed sword and casually let it rest over her shoulder.

"Holy Skedaddling Scrooge! Azuria! Attack!" Cap' levelled his shotgun and pointed it toward the woman clad in knightly blue armor. However, before he could even pull the trigger, the swordswoman had invaded his personal space, knocking the shotgun away. The rough action caused the gun to go off as it was flung to the side.

Azuria. The reincarnation of a legendary pre-historic hero on par (or perhaps even surpassing) the likes of Hercules or Gilgamesh. Of all the damnable heroes in the city, -she- had to be the one they'd asked to retrieve the stolen schematics.

And Cap' had to wonder if he ought to count his blessings, or damn them. The woman possessed a sword capable of wiping out a small city in a single swipe, but she wasn't even using it. They'd thought they were safe once they'd made it to their army's hidden base with these important documents. After all, several dozens of soldiers, tanks, and other assorted weaponry were all here.

But that hadn't stopped Azuria from marching in through the front door and laying waste to the entire base with her one free hand.

Several strikes to his head and chest sent Cap' reeling backwards. Even the most advanced cyber-armor didn't stop them from stinging something aweful either.

"Crap! Cap'!" James lifted his rifle and levelled it on Azuria. Just as he pulled the trigger, however, Azuria easily ducked behind the black-armored form of his Captain.

Click. Pause...

Azuria merely raised an eyebrow.

Click. Click. Click. Pause.

"Dammit James!" Riggs grumbled off to the side. "Why is the guy in charge of the spare ammo.... OUT. OF. AMMO?!"

"Not my fault!" He quipped quickly before being flung backwards. Azuria had planted a swift kick into the back of the black-armored Cap', sending him plumeting toward James, which in turn sent them both sprawling to the ground.

Riggs went wide eyed, watching his squad mate, in a full suit of heavy cyber armor, thrown back like a rag doll. Azuria, it seemed, had no intention of rushing forward. Here he was in a suit of the most advanced power armor around, complete with a high powered assault rifle and yet...

For every step the female swordswoman took forward, he found himself taking a step backwards.

"Uhh... Can I call cheating?"

"Cheating?" Azuria chuckled slightly. "I'm the one who brought a knife to a gun fight."

"Knife?!" Riggs eyed the massive sword Azuria still held casually slung over her shoulder. The damn thing was longer than he was tall. "That thing's way too huge... If you were a guy i'd say you were compensating!!"

Uh oh. Azuria's slender eyebrow flinched.

"Uhh... Nice lady." Riggs backed up another step. And then another. And Another. "Go~~od lady. Think peaceful thoughts. Please?! Kittens! Kittens are peaceful..."

Azuria took another threatening step forward.

"Uh...Bubble baths? Incense? Those are peaceful."

"So are funerals." Azuria's eyes were locked on the power-armored grunt...

...who was obviously scared out of his wits.

There came a loud mechanical screech overhead, and Azuria found herself shrouded by a massive black shadow. A shipping container, held up by a moving crane. And it was right over her head.

Azuria's eyes locked on a figure some way past Riggs and the pile that held Sarge and James.

Jessie. And he held in his hands a remote control attached to a long cable.

"Eat steel ya tramp!" He quickly pressed the release button on the control, causing the container to plumet downward...toward Azuria. With a loud thud it impacted... "I can't believe that worked!"

...

"Oh crap... it didn't work..." Jessie's eyes widened in disbelief. Azuria had dropped her sword, and was supporting the massive container with both arms.

Joined by James and Cap' who had managed to disentangle themselves, Riggs stumbled backwards at the sight. The four power armored soldiers could only gulp. Even with their power armor, a full shipping container would have crushed them flat. And this woman, without any kind of cybernetic armor or enhancement of her own... was holding it high in the air.

"I hate to say I knew it but..." James took another step back. "But she did -THROW- A. TANK. AT. US."

"Hah! Now's our chance!" Cap' cried out! He pulled a grenade out, pulled the pin, and threw it at Azuria.

As it arced toward her however, Azuria took a step forward and launched the entire shipping container toward the four soldiers. It's arc collided with the grenades... sending the much smaller, though more explosive, object back toward the soldiers. Of course... trailing behind it was the heavy container as well.

"Uhh..." Jessie looked toward Riggs. "Game over?"

"Game over." Riggs weakly nodded.

"Restart! Restart!" James cried out frantically. "I didn't save my game!"

There came a massive screeching crash from the container and explosion. As the dust settled Azuria took in her handy work. The container had been blown in half, scattering what looked like... some kind of cd's all over the place. She quickly retrieved her sword and strode forward to where Riggs had dropped something very important in his awe-struck state.

A brief-case. One that held the documents she'd been sent to recover. Shouldering her weapon, she quickly retrieved it, and turned to leave with one final sigh.

"What a boring day..."

**********

"Ugh... Hey Cap'?" There came a groan from a particular pile of cd cases.

"Don't say it..." Another grumble from another pile.

"I saw my life flash before my eyes..."

"Aww dammit, Jessie..." Cap' shifted, causing the pile of cd cases to shift, revealing the black armored captain.

"We need to find a safer job..." There came a small crash as a piece of twisted metal fell over, revealing Riggs lying on his back. "Preferably one that doesn't have us dodging flying tanks, our own grenades, and shipping containers."

"Hey!" James voice cried out, causing all the other three soldiers to stare at him. He was holding a dvd case in his hand. "This movie's still in the theatres... wait... why's the title in Chinese?"

blkjackwilliams · October 2012

The news camera panned across the group settling on the young man on stage. The gentleman, wearing a black and red suit, spoke above the chatter of the party,

"Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to the greatest city in the world; Las Vegas, Nevada, welcome to the Heroic Heart Casino, welcome...to the annual 'Fight Poverty, Not Each Other' Fundraiser!"

As crowd cheered, and the casino workers took their Place, the news anchor took to the center of the screen, "Thank you Rob. This is Julie Morgan, on location. For seven years, the rich and powerful have been drawn to the Heroic Heart Casino to put their influence and pocketbooks to work fighting one of the few remaining tragedies of the modern age; Poverty."

As Julie continued, she pointed to the man on stage, "It's been Jack Williams that's been one of the driving forces in promoting and running this wonderous event. An event that was picked up Seven years ago by a brand-new casino, when others wanted nothing to do with it. An action that's been credited for the meteoric rise in the Heroic Heart's success." noticing the crowd quieting down Julie acted in kind, "It appears our host is ready to speak again, let's listen in."

"Ladies and Gentleman! We have food, drink, music, dancing, and games! The majority of you have at some point spent thousands, maybe tens of thousands, on a night such as this. For everything you're blessed with there are millions of children who don't even get breakfast. Children like the ones escorting our lovely Champion Girls!"

Directing attention to his right, multiple children came on stage, escorted by multiple ladies dressed as showgirl versions of the famous Champions.

"Last year we raised enough money to provide work and wages for hundreds of thousands of parents, who could then provide food and shelter for their children. The children you see here are from just a few of these families. We can do better, Ladies and Gentlemen, if there was ever a night to blow a stupid ammount of money partying, this is it!"

Putting aside his mic, Jack Williams took his place dealing at the Blackjack table on-stage. Stepping up once more, Julie Morgan began speaking, "Captivating as always. As our host takes his place dealing at table one, lets take time to mention some of the kind souls present. Playing Blackjack at Jack Williams' table is Mr. James Harmon himself. Over at the craps table..."

A defening crash interrupted, and screaming quickly filled the room. As the Champion Girls directed the children behind them, terror incarnate emerged from the clouds of dust.

"Dr. Destroyer! Dear God, Ladies and Gentleman Dr. Destroyer has appeard and people are running madly to get away. What...no, you need to RUN!"

The words didn't make it as Dr. Destroyer steped to the Champion Girls and children. He moved wordlessly, the only sound from him was the charging of an energy beam for his would-be targets.

His intentions, however, would never be fufilled as a small object strikes the side of his head. "Someone has thrown something, a rock perhaps, at Dr. Destroyer. Someone is trying to save those poor people!"

Bright green splashed across the classic Vegas Red and Black, Spade was instantly recognizable. In a hurry he never had time to protect his identity instead choosing to yell for James Harmon to get everyone out. He would never know that sacrificing his secret identity would save Defender's. All he knew was he needed to press his advantage of suprise. Pulling out his Nanite Sword and throwing two more of his signature spades, he charged down Dr. Destroyer without hesitation.

"Jack Williams is Spade! Who would have imagined? One of the most reviled super powered "Heroes", is the famous gambler and Vegas' premier Charitable promoter. Spade. Jack Williams, is going to face Dr. Destroyer."

As the words left Julie's lips, Jack Williams was caught mid-charge with the very energy blast intended for the ladies and children he saved. The sound of his breaking power armor and bones mercifly drowned out by the explosion of cement below him.

All hope escaped Julies voice as the uttered the words "He has to be dead. Don't show his corpse, please, just cut to a Spade montage." The producers were ahead of her, and had cut away as the energy blast released.

Julie's voice was the only sound "Red and Black won't be the only colors Spade will be known for. In his last moment's, his heroic colors shown true. Jack William's will be known not for his money-seeking alter ego Spade, but as the man who...stood up..."

Rob Mahogany's voice was ripe with confusion, "Stood up? What do you mean "he'd be remembered as the man who stood up?"

Her response was filled with pity and pain, "His arm shouldn't be bent like that. Rob, Jack Williams stood up. He's alive."

She would try to continue, but the voice of Jack William cut her off. Yelling, he could be heard clear as day on every TV in Millennium City, "Why are you still here? RUN!" The shuffling of feet, dropping of equipment, a soft thump, and Julie's Ooof! would replace Jack's yells.

Rob's yells asking, praying, for Julie's wellbeing would be cut off by a gruff voice, "What have I told you about putting yourself in danger like this?" Nighthawk's voice was calm and collected, "Why are you running off? You risked your life calling the fight..." The pattering of feet, swooshes of air, and thrum's of energy could be heard in the background, "might as well call the end of it."

Julie's Voice Echoed with pride as she practically screamed, "Cut the montage! It's the Champions. Side by side, I've never seen this many heroes at once. The Tiger Squad, Starforce, and the Sentinels! Heroes are pouring from a teleporter set up outside the casino. They are here to fight Dr. Destroyer, Jack Williams is not alone!"

Nighthawk stepped up to explain, "That James Harmon, he wasted no time, and began setting that up the moment he got out of the casino. Dr. Silverback took over when he got here so James could get to safety. The worlds heroes are going to put an end to this."

Dr. Destroyer's voice cut all hope the heroes managed to carry with them, "It's no matter, Las Vegas will fall as Detroit did." Words that brought a frenzied scramble to stop him, but it would be an odd green cloud that prevented Dr. Destroyer from pushing the button.

Standing with an unnerving regalty, Jack Williams used the last of his nanites to cover Dr. Destroyer's wrist and hand. There would be no button pressing, no destroying Las Vegas, but unfortunately no more using nanites to stop his bleeding. With all the defiance and innocence of a child, Jack William took what he imagined to be the last bit of blood remaining in his body, and spit it at the soon to fall Dr. Destroyer.

As the heroes of the world decended on the legendary Villian, Jack Williams fell into darkness. His last thought...

Has no one noticed this Dr. Destroyer is a robotic fake?

Litterary Challenge 26-Near Death Battle

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