A World of Heroes

Sandy stopped midstep in the intersection, his expression suddenly unfocused, before a pedestrian nearly bumped into him. Instinctively he sidestepped out of the way, muttered a hasty apology; it was enough for him to have regained his composure. The entire sequence had taken no more than a second or two.

"That's a good question," he admitted. "I'm not even sure...I think I had some vague ideas about power and oversight and someone else to handle all the logistics, but..."

But what? The super who cut his way into the building, even though it could have wrecked the entire assault plan...why did you go to the trouble to deny any knowledge of his involvement? What rule applies to you that doesn't apply to anybody else?

Sandy simply shrugged as he trailed off.

Dax had no idea what Sandy meant logistics? In Dax's mind one became an enforcer of law when one had a sacred duty to the people or one's family legacy or in Dax's case both. Just when Dax thought he might like this man of the past he proved to have completely different morals but then Dax thought to himself The real way to know a person was in a state of pressure He'd have to wait for a fight to make his final opinion.

"Hmm Okay?'" Dax said and shut his mouth.

edited 16th May '11 4:52:21 PM by zam

"So whats up with those two following us?", he said. He had seen the beanie guy but there was also a second with him. "Do you know them...or is this a setup?", he loosen his gloves and prepared to remove his coat since he felt restricted in it whenever he fought.

Adamant generally tried to keep a low profile, but when your whole body is made of metal you tend to stand out. He readied himself in case he had to fight, slowing down his breathing and his body becoming tense in case of a surprise attack.

Fogata wasn't overly surprised by the glint of metal coming from his exposed skin. It had been the main possibility she had thought of, so being proved right was nice.

"Not sure," Fogata said, "I met the one in the beanie earlier. He was...less than friendly then."

She would have said more, but the two were closing in on the parking deck. Fogata braced herself for action, readying herself for anything that might happen.

Nate left his apartment. "Nathan Ryder!" a voice shouted from behind him. Nate shook his head "another cleaner, how old are you son. "23" the man replied. "go home kid you don't want to die today." Nate said sliding out a epi pen filled with Etrophine (also known as M99). The man pulled a bretta M9 out but before he could fire Nate had his arm in a lock. He spun the man around, popped the cap off the epi pen and injected the M99 into the man neck. Before he passed out nate said "give you handler a message "LEAVE ME THE F*CK ALONE!". The man went limp and Nate layed him on a park bench and walked away.

Malachi sat at his desk pouring over the files in front of him: a possible murder-suicide, and what may be interpretted as a hate-crime. Admitetdly this was a rather busy day for him - living in a city of supers meant that most criminals were caught before they could escape. Still, after the excitement with the bank robbery, profiling was something of a slow-down.

Leaning back and putting his feet on teh desk, he contemplated the psychological history of one of the "murder" victims.

Hannah slowly drove her car forwards, looking for a parking spot. The prison's parking was always full- the Council really needed to build the staff a parking lot of their own.

She located one, conveniently close to the entrance. Parking her car in the place, she opened the door and stood. Leaning back in, she reached into her glovebox and pulled out her standard-issued weaponry. Her tactical baton was tucked into her waistband; her ceramic tranq gun was tucked into its' holster; and her tazer went into her other holster.

Turning, she walked briskly to the door. She was met by an orderly.

"Sorry, ma'am," the orderly apologized. "The prison is on lockdown today-"

"I'm a detective," Hannah interrupted him. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her badge. "I was called in by Warden Johnson?"

"Johnson," the orderly muttered. "Right. I'll be right back."

Hannah nodded in acknowledgement, walking over to lean against a wall. She scanned the foyer.

The prison was a nice one, by any standard. As a holding pen for Supers, it rather had to be; they wanted to give the Supers as little reason to riot as humanly possible. As such, the cells were quite nice- they were held up to the standards of any three-and-a-half-star hotel.

Several minutes later, the orderly came out, followed by a rather large man with greying hair.

"Detective Emmin, I presume?" he asked. "Very well. Come wih me." He turned and began walking away without even waiting for her acknowledgement.

Jogging to catch up to him, Hannah frowned. "Why have I been called here?" she asked.

"You'll see in just a second," Johnson said. "Hold your horses."

They walked up several flights of stairs before eventually reaching their destination- Floor 5, Room B4.

She took note of the rooms next to them. Both of the Supers in there were stretched out on their bunkers, eyes closed. They had blankets drawn over their bodies, despite the heat.

She could see the vomit in B3's toilet, where he apparently hadn't bothered to flush.

"Go ahead," the Warden said grimly. "Go in. Be prepared- it ain't pretty."

Hannah nodded. She walked to B4's door, which was noticably thinner than the other two, and tried to open the door. It didn't budge, not even when she shifted all her weight against it and strained.

"You can't force the door open," the Warden told her. "That's... Gretchen, give her your key."

The orderly nodded, and passed her key to the detective. Hannah looked at it for a second, then pressed it against the door.

"Swipe it against the handle," the Warden told her quietly. He took a step back.

Nodding, Hannah turned towards the door again. She looked at the handle- surely enough, there was a long slit in it. She slid the card through it, and heard a small beep.

Hanna pushed the door. This time, it swung open easily. Looking back, she saw the Warden standing there. He nodded encouragingly at her.

Hannah took a step forwards into the room. She brushed her feet over the welcome mat, then stepped fowards again. As her foot landed on the carpet, there was a wet squelch, and she felt her foot grow wet through her sneakers.

Looking down, she lifted her foot and froze. Her foot was now covered in a scarlet liquid, running easily over her foot. There was a faint smell of metal in the room- copper, and iron, or perhaps iron oxide.

Blood. The carpet was drenched in blood, enough to rise from the floor as she put pressure on the ground.

Steeling herself, she walked over to the bed. She swallowed when she saw something laying on there, flat and pale, over the blanket.

"Is that..." She had to swallow down the bile as it rose in her throat. "That's... skin."

There was a soft chuckle behind her. Hannah spun, just in time to see the door close behind her. The room appeared to be completely empty, but for her, still.

Haaannaaahhh..

A soft voice rang throughout the room.

Haaaannaaaaahhh... Stand still like a good girl, won't you?

She bit down on a sharp cry as pain erupted in her feet. Looking down, she saw a seething grey mass cover her feet. Blood began to bubble out from them, no longer able to drip in the thoroughly soaked floor.

She screamed, the pain obvious in her hoarse tone.

"Open the door!"

She heard a scuffle on the other side of the door. Hannah started running towards it, biting down cries of agony as the... thing, around her feet continued to devour her alive. She felt it moving around inside her foot, doing good knows what, as it slowly slid more of itself inside of her.

The door swung open just as Hannah reached it. She stumbled on the welcome mat, tripping over and landing painfully on her knees.

As soon as she cleared the threshold, the grey mass detached itself from her foot, rearing back with a harsh, digitalized cry. It threw itself back into the room, melting into a near-invisible puddle again.

Her hands shook as she peered at her foot. The skin on the outside of it was still mostly intact. Trembling, she poked it.

The Warden had to step back to avoid a stream of vomit as she puked when she felt the empty space inside her foot, where her muscles,veins and bones used to be. Her ankle now ended in a sack of flesh. Indeed- as she poked it, her finger went inside the empty space in her foot, as her skin folded under her touch.

"Was that..."

The Warden nodded. "That was the Jackal in there. Or rather, what was left of him. Not much, really. Just an empty sack of skin."

Hannah nodded faintly.

"Okay. I'm going to pass out now."

And, true to her word, she fell over backwards as her vision turned black.

edited 18th May '11 12:45:55 AM by CyganAngel

Back at the police station, Captain Bryce sighed. Officer Emmin was in hospital, where it looked like she would need to have a bionic foot implanted in place of the sack of skin currently masquerading for a foot.

What would do that to a person?

He sighed, double-clicking on the database in front of him.

Incubus

Real Name: *

Phone Number: *

He sighed, and typed in his password. Reaching over, he dialed the number and pressed Call.

A lazy ringing sound broke the silence of Malachi's office, startling him so that he fell from his precariously perched chair.

Swearing, a hand scrambled across the table to his phone.

"Malachi Wolf here, what may I do for you?" Mal answered.

"Hello, Malachi?" Bryce responded, closing the database and opening the case file. "This is Officer Bryce, calling to refer to the Jackal incident. I was hoping you would have some time to spare?"

"I have the time." Malachi nodded as he pulled himself off teh floor and pushed aside his files, "Though I'm wondering why you'd need me for the Jackal incident - I thought that was closed and you do have my report."

Sighing to himself, he was hoping for something a little more exciting than closed cases.

"The case is closed," Bryce confirmed. "However, it appears that a new investigation into the Jackal is being launched, due to his death earlier this morning."

The words took a few seconds to sink in, as the Jackal's fears for his life rang in his ears again.

"Dead?" Malachi kept his voice neutral despite how much that news unnerved him, "If I recall, he was in a top security prison. How did it happen?"

"We're not sure," Bruce replied, scrolling through the case file. "The guard were alerted at approximately 4 A.M. this morning by Mr. Jackal's agonized screaming. However, when they arrived on the scene, all the guards could find was his skin. And his blood. Several litres of his blood, in fact."

He sighed. "I would suggest not blaming the guards, Mr. Wolf. They lost several of their own men while attempting to save him from the... thing."

"Thing? There was a thing in his cell?" Malachi raised an eyebrow, "But... that's impossible - he was in a no-teleporty-whatever-the-hell-it's-called cell! Wasn't he?"

"Indeed there was," Bryce groaned.

"It appears whatever it was was able to squeeze in through the cracks around the door. And yes, this is despite the fact that these cracks are less than a tenth of a millimetre wide."

He shook his head. "But that's not what I called for. Rather, I called to ask about the Jackal himself, and what you know about him from your conversation in the bank."

"Ah, of course." Malachi sat back in his chair, "Well, apart from the bank incident he didn't actually appear to be an unstable person. He was actually relieved when I suggested he let the children go, and... he was fearful for his life. He didn't think the government would help him."

Rubbing his forhead, Mal took in a breath.

"Do you suppose it could have been an inside job of some sort?"

"I don't think it was," Bryce shrugged. "We can track the thing's progress into the building with some difficulty. It is difficult, but thanks to the cameras... But then, it's always. Perhaps you would like to check up on this?"

*

“RE: Superpower Registration for Alyson L. Reynolds.”

“Dear, Ms. Reynolds, Your registration application has been received and processed. Your superpowers are now registered and archived in the Super Database. This location and the documents therein are secure and classified per The Superhero Registration Act.”

“The following information is for Alyson L. Reynolds only. Code Name: Yellow Jacket, Civilian Name: Alyson L. Reynolds, Powers: The ability to summon insects of the Order Hymenoptera and control them at will, Rank: B, Status: Registered, Age: 24 years, Height: 5’7”, Weight: 128 pounds, Hair Color: Brown, Eye Color: Brown, Race: Caucasian. Additional Information: Requires Corrective Lenses.”

“Enclosed is your Superhero Registration Card. Keep it with you at all times. If lost or stolen, a replacement fee will be charged to your bank account.”

Oh, that card. The one that fell out when I opened the envelope. Alyson held the card up and examined it. It seemed to her like an ordinary registration card, except it was bright yellow and the word "Super" was emblazoned on the front in bold, black letters. She tried bending it, just out of curiosity, but found that it didn’t budge. She read the letter again. Wow…Rank B. I wasn’t expecting that. At first she was bitter when her father sent in her registration papers without her consent (or knowledge for that matter), but actually seeing the government’s letter and holding the card in her hand made her feel different, and slightly better about the whole thing. Well, there’s nothing you can do about it now… Just gotta go out there and be “Super!” She sighed and gathered her cell phone and put on her trademark bright, yellow jacket. As she left her home, she wondered, How is the government going to get a hold of me if they need me anyway?

edited 17th May '11 10:37:54 AM by KarlKadaver

Malachi thought he heard doubt in the man's voice... or maybe he felt the doubt. The empathy aspect of his power was somewhat newer than the the telepathy part and he was still figuring out how it worked and it didn't help that he had been naturally good at detecting emotions from tone and body language prior to gaining the power.

"I can come by - see if I can help." Malachi answered, "When would it be convenient?"

"Preferably sometime before four," Bryce grunted. "They shut at six, and you'll likely be there a while."

As Alan considered his schedule for the day, he realized he didn't have anything planned till the evening. That gave him several hours of free time. Not exactly unusual for a Saturday. And with it, he decided that today he would try to have a little fun.

Donning his costume, Houdini decided he would make a prison visit. He had a "friend" he had a mind to catch up with.

Stretch chased right after the two, all the while keeping his distance from the man at the bistro, as he said he would do. After much pursuing though, it seemed that Fogata and the man in the trenchcoat had decided to pick a location to head into; a two-story parking garage. If the man from the Bistro wasn't around, Stretch could possibly reach to the top of the roof and pull himself up, or even stretch like a stream again to the top, providing — in both cases — that he could reach that far. But with that man around, as well as the outfit that Stretch was wearing, there was only one thing for it; he'd have to keep chasing them — all three of them — on foot.

edited 17th May '11 7:54:45 PM by kkhohoho

Casting a glance at the clock, Malachi did a quick calculation on how long it would take him to get to the prison.

"I'll be there today." Malachi stated, "Have my clearance available for my arrival - I'd hate to waste time with red-tape."

"your card should be sufficient to get you in," Bryce informed him. "I'll meet you there just in case, though. Be there in an hour."