[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/wKZoxNV.jpg?2[/img][/center] [color=blue][indent]Arc 2: + [i]Power Outage[/i] + [/indent][/color][color=yellow] [hr] [center][h2][color=blue]STATIC[/color] [color=yellow]SHOCK[/color][/h2][/center] [hr] [indent][right]Episode 2.1: - [i]AC.DC[/i] -[/right][/indent][/color] [hr] [center] [b][h3]BANG BLOOM CRISIS WREAKS HAVOC ON DAKOTA CITY[/h3] [/b] [i]By Christine Everhart, WHIH News [/i] [i]“ It’s chaos out here.” Delmar Rodrigo says while looking at the damaged remains of his sandwich shop. “ One moment, these kids came into my deli at 12. Next thing you know, heart attack and after that, spikes start comin’ outta his back.” The humble owner of Delmar’s is just one of the many citizens of Dakota City who have been impacted by the Bang Bloom phenomena, a nickname given to the spontaneous and explosive development of metahuman powers in individuals not present at Paris Island, the site of the original disaster. Most locals believe that Bang Bloomers are a result of physical contact with Bang Babies. However, scientists at GenomaTech, a subsidiary institute linked with S.T.A.R Labs, have stated that they believe it to be the result of the mysterious mutagen responsible for metahuman resurgence in Dakota City contaminating objects that were present at Paris Island. Professor Donald Todd, head of the Dakota Metahuman Research Initiative, spoke on the matter during a conference at Malta. “ Regarding Dakota City, the public should understand that we are working on a cure. However, at this stage, our progress….” [/i] [READ MORE] [/center] [hr] 34894570. He checked the order again, even though he'd burned the number in his head over the last few days. Correct. He pressed CALL and waited. " ....You have reached the office of...." He beat the numbers again in a tattoo, pressed CALL again and waited. " ....Please hold while we play this...." Again. " ...We are sorry to inform you that..." Waiting. “..... Please leave a message and remember, a vote for Hawkins is a vote for tomorrow-“ The line clicked shut as someone snatched the phone away from Virgil’s hand. He’d been busily working out a proof to a nasty piece of algebra. Of course it had to be his annoying sister. Sharon played keep-away with his phone, placing one hand on his head, as he clawed in the air to reach for it. He had enough charge within him to fry a power grid yet all of that Bang Baby nonsense was useless against the godly strength of an older sibling. Eventually, he surrendered after a few more minutes of tussling, with a vulpine grin on Sharon's face and a grumpy look on his. Eventually, her grin faded away into a concerned frown. “ That’s the sixth time you’ve tried calling his office today, Virgil.” “ C’mon, sis. You gotta admit it feels a bit more emptier than usual." He began to speak slower. " Especially with….” He felt a hand on his shoulder. “ We all supported him when he began this journey.” Sharon said. “ Yeah, I know. I know…..” VIrgil stared at her blearily. " But, couldn't he just spare a little more time for us?" He heard a sign, tired and defeated. “ Look, I know I wasn’t around when…..Paris Island happened but I understand that life’s difficult for you right now. It’s only a couple of months until you graduate high-school. Then comes college and your uni applications….” “ Open as a book, huh?” Virgil groused. Sharon's pointed glare somehow made him quick to forget any complaints he had in his mind. “ Whatever you’re worried about, Dad was always here to support you and I. Now, it’s our turn to support him.” “ Sometimes, the supporting seems more difficult than it should.” She chuckled. “ Well, no one said that becoming mayor was easy.” Sharon’s hand pushed a scrawled piece of noted paper towards him. “ What’s this?” “ Groceries. You did say you were going to see a movie with Richie, right?” Sharon lifted an questioning eyebrow, waiting for Virgil to answer her question. “ R-right.” Virgil hastily nodded. “ Remember to be back before 10 or I’ll whoop your ass.” The door locked shut, leaving him alone with his homework. Well, that was reassuring. He rocked back on his wheeled chair, head leaning back to peek outside the open window. He needed something to take his mind off. Something familiar. Something to settle back into. A habit. The cupboard doors yawned open as he pulled out a cardboard box tucked underneath the rack of jeans and drab shirts. The inside of the jacket pulsed intermittently as he pulled it onto his shoulders. The fight with Kangor last week had done serious damage to the suit. The collars were beginning to fray and there were tears running along the fabric. A caveat was that the suit was at least machine washable. Once he snapped on the orange goggles, Virgil took a look at the list. Eggs, pickles and toilet paper. Got it. He folded it into a creased wad before pocketing it. The window was open and Dakota City, draped in night, lived before him in a scillintating grid of dancing current. The traffic lights shone to the tune of trumpets, the lamps flickered to the rhythm of bar pianos and every flourescent light in every apartment was a drummer rapidly bashing his kit into detritus. People saw dead concrete and decay where as he saw something waiting to be given a shock to its system. Virgil took one breath, glanced back towards his homework with a sign before leaping out in a trail of lightning as Static.