[b][color=#87ceeb]G I Z A[/color][/b]
[sub][b][color=#87ceeb]|[/color][/b] The Great Pyramid | [b]April 9, 2012[/b][/sub]

[indent][color=silver][color=#ffd700][i]Dudley Do-Right was what we call in the business... a wanna be.[/i]

[i]All right, so that wasn’t actually his name. That was Dudley H. motherf*cking Batson. And, yes, that was absolutely how it was pronounced. Emphasis on the motherf*cker.[/i]

[i]Born in the 1950s, this son of a bitch grew up reading comics and adventures of the heroes of the Second World War and it inspired him to go off to war to do his part for king and country when the U.S. decided to stick its nose (and the middle finger) to a South Asia country named Vietnam.[/i]

[i]...well, Americans don’t have a king, that’s kind of their whole schtick, but whatever. [/i]

[indent][sub][i]What do Americans fight for anyway? For Constitution and country?[/i][/sub][/indent]
[i]Anyway, this jackass got himself blown up by something and wound up getting actual superpowers of a sort.  I mean, he’s a two-out-of-five [b]at best,[/b] but he can leap tall buildings in a single bound, that kind of shit. So what does he do? Well, being the original, inventive, and thoughtful chap that he is, he decides [b]to take my name.[/b] And my look. Red suit, gold lightning bolt, white cape, the whole nine yards. [/i]

[i]I really should have trademarked that shit.[/i][/color]

[color=#ffffff]“Little [b][i]help[/i][/b] here?”[/color]

[color=#ffd700][i]Oh, and if I hadn’t mentioned it yet, Captain Motherf*cker was also getting his ass handed to him at present.[/i]

[i]That was actually the [b]second highlight [/b]of today.[/i][/color]

Sitting cross-legged in mid-air, the young boy hovered over the battle unfolding below. It was a little too cliche for his taste – alien warlord descending from the mysteries of the cosmos, declares himself humanity’s new god, and proceeds to build his temple. 

Which, in this case, apparently involved taking the Great Pyramid of Giza apart, brick by brick.

The simplicity of it all made the boy wonder why he’d never thought to do this.

The Egyptian military was clearly outclassed. They were just throwing money up into the air and letting it burn with the artillery they were firing at this point.

Then there was the [b]name-dropper[/b]. Getting bounced around like a pinball, then flopping around the desert floor like a fish pulled from the Nile.

Shifting the sandwich he was cradling, the boy licked the sauce from his fingers. Which, by the way, little falafel cart outside of Cairo. F*cking [i]amazing[/i].  [color=#ffd700]“What are you doing?”[/color] the youth asked callously, speaking down at the haggard, aged figure of yesterday’s hero. [color=#ffd700]“Because you’re not doing it very well.”[/color]

Breathing heavy, the blue-eyed man pushed himself up from the ground. He’d been knocked down time and time again for the past four decades. Now, aging into his sixties, Dudley Batson wasn’t as [i]marvelous[/i] as he’d been in his prime. But he still managed to get back to his feet.

[color=#ffffff]“You’re one of the Titan kids, right?” [/color]the man managed, between ragged gulps for breath. His age was showing, even with his abilities. Dudley Batson might have been able to outrun a locomotive, but he wasn’t outrunning the passage of time. Sweat ran down his face, as he spared a glance back up at the boy. [color=#ffffff]“At least I’m doing [b]something[/b].”[/color]

Bits of fried chickpea mash flew from the boy’s lips, as the bloated old goat drew a genuine laugh from the impish figure. 

Was the old man glaring at him?

[color=#ffd700]“Oh. [i]Oh[/i], you’re serious,” [/color]the boy realized aloud. As he leaned in to take another bite, he paused a moment to add, [color=#ffd700]“I’m just here to [b]watch[/b], Old Man.”[/color]

The boy bit into the sandwich, chewing as he watched the so-called [i]Captain Marvel[/i] make another futile attempt at flailing about, before he made a successful faceplant into failure. Giving a shrug, the boy just savored his food as he inclined his head toward their new alien overlord [i]du jour[/i]. [color=#ffd700]“Might offer [i]him [/i]a hand, in fact.”[/color]

As the sandwich disappeared, the boy balled up the wrapper it had been sold in as he mused aloud. [color=#ffd700]“Is it a him, you think? Gender in the context of extraterrestrial life can be difficult to...”[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“These monuments are priceless to all mankind!”[/color]

The irritation he felt was seen in the twitch in his left eye. A loud crack of thunder cracked overhead, even though no clouds were present.  [color=#ffd700]“Don’t speak to [b]me[/b] of the pyramids. I was here when they were [i]built[/i],”[/color] the boy snapped. As the wrapper crumpled in his fist, a tendril of smoke and the crackle of electricity rose from the child’s hand as ashes and dust trailed into the wind. [color=#ffd700]“Do you have any idea how many slaves [b]died[/b] so that you can take [i]selfies[/i] and [i]marvel[/i] at the wonder of [i]Egyptian engineering?[/i]”[/color]

Dudley managed to get back to his feet, yet again. 

Except this time, he stumbled. Sinking down onto one knee, the old man labored for breath and felt the strength starting to leave him. And the pain start to catch up to him.

Finally, the old man turned his head up to the boy, then looked over at the pyramid. [color=#ffffff]“...while these pyramids stand, the stories of those slaves can still be told,” [/color]the old man stated, peering back up at the boy seated in the air. [color=#ffffff]“When they’re gone, who will speak for them then?”[/color]

The child’s jaw tensed, his teeth grinding as the old man’s words [i]really [/i][b]pissed him off.[/b]

The large, alien figure brought its fist down to crush the red-garbed hero once and for all.

Dudley just bowed his head and waited for the blow to come.

When it seemed to take longer than he’d expected, the old man just blinked as he opened his eyes and looked up.

The boy was standing there, one hand raised overhead as he stopped the giant’s attack. A well-worn, blue t-shirt rippled in the breeze along the lanky frame. A faded S-shield still visible on the front even after having been washed to within an inch of its fabric life.

No, he wasn’t [b]a fan[/b]. It had been on sale at Goodwill for two bucks. 

At first startled, the alien’s reaction was instead one of amusement. [color=#b6d7a8]“Oh, what is this?” [/color]the Goliath-esque being uttered, withdrawing its arm as it sized up the petite form that now stood in defiance of the glorious rule of...

...of whatever the alien had said its name was. 

Yes, there had been a whole thing about this. The usual speeches, villain monologues. Teth had gone to get his sandwich during most of it and hadn’t been listening to any of it even when he’d come back.

[color=#b6d7a8] “You brought your [b]sidekick[/b]?”[/color]

A roll of thunder cracked overhead, as the boy’s visceral reaction was immediate. His lips curled back as his eyes glared up at the figure who was trying to intimidate by making himself larger than life. 

In Teth’s experience, those who tried to cast the tallest of shadows were often the smallest of men.

[color=#b6d7a8]“What are you? [b]Twelve[/b]?” [/color]Alien-of-the-Week boomed, before making a dismissive gesture. [color=#b6d7a8]“Go home little b...”[/color]

There had been no warning. Lightning came before the thunder. Only after the deafening clap had split the air had anyone realized what had happened. Whether it had come from the ground, the sky, or the boy himself – or a combination of all three – the force of the blast had been enough to lift the giant off his feet, throwing him back in the air.

When the smoke had cleared, the boy had been replaced by a much larger figure.[/color][/indent]

[center][img]https://media.tenor.com/UfcTak6mv64AAAAC/black-adam-dwayne-johnson.gif[/img][/center]
[indent][color=silver]Arms outstretched, the black-garbed figure seemed to be waiting for the stunned alien to say something.

When he didn’t, the Champion did. [b][color=#ffd700]“If I looked like this, would it make you feel better about getting your ass kicked?”[/color][/b]

Laid flat on the desert floor, a smoking crater rose from the alien’s rock-like chest. The self-declared dictator of the Earth struggled to even sit up, as the black-garbed figure started walking slowly toward him. [color=#ffd700][b]“I am Theo Ramses Teth-Adam. I have been called the thunder god,”[/b] [/color]the mysterious figure uttered, as the sky boomed overhead with each word.

Cracking the knuckles of either hand, the Champion then cracked his neck from side to side, as the alien was just starting to pick itself back up. [b][color=#ffd700]“Spare the prayers for mercy,”[/color] [/b]the black-garbed figure warned, a wicked smile flashing on his face. [b][color=#ffd700]“The gods will not be watching.”[/color][/b]

Dudley had seen[b] a[/b] [b]lot[/b] of brutal fights in his time, but the raw savagery that was on display in the next moment made the old man sick to his stomach.

He was [i]toying[/i] with the giant. Batting it around like a cat playing with a mouse, letting it run before pouncing. The alien’s blood, vomit, and tears spilled onto the Egyptian army – probably not an accident – as one of giant’s teeth missed Dudley’s head by mere inches.

Brought to its knees, the alien slumped forward. Defeated. Unable to even raise its head.

Raising himself overhead, the black-garbed figure stretched out his hands. Mystic symbols appeared at his fingertips, as he began to draw a rune in the air. [i][color=#ffd700]“To the current of life we succumb, it’s judgment swift and final,” [/color][/i]the Champion intoned, speaking life into the spell as a guillotine blade seemed to form in the air over the giant’s head.[i]  [color=#ffd700]“It’s bite as cold as ste...”[/color][/i]

[b][color=#ffffff]“STOP!”[/color][/b]

A pair of glowing, [i]smoldering[/i] eyes glared down at the red-garbed Marvel.

For a moment, Dudley felt as though he might be [i]next[/i].

Then the guillotine faded back to nothing. The mystic symbols faded, as the figure of the black-garbed man seemed to dissolve in ash that seemed to peel away to reveal the boy underneath. 

Dudley and the boy just stared at one another.

One gripped with terror and the other anger.

It was the boy who looked away. [color=#ffd700]“There. I saved the pyramids,”[/color] he offered coldly, before disappearing from view in another flash of lightning.[/color][/indent]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/sWeTptS.png[/img]
[sub]“And The Rock Cried Out, No Hiding Place, part I”  |  ◄  [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5418966]►[/url]  |   [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J1LaUaZm_nQ]Post Theme[/url][/sub][/center]
[b][color=#87ceeb]S U D S  &  S T U F F   L A U N D R O M A T[/color][/b]
[sub][b][color=#87ceeb]|[/color][/b] Happy Harbor, Rhode Island | [b]Present Day[/b][/sub]

[indent][color=silver][color=#ffffff]“Fifty years I’ve been doing this.”[/color]

The young boy had half a pop-tart hanging out of his mouth, using both hands to pull clothes from dryer and dumping them into a laundry basket. Reaching up to pull the half-eaten, untoasted pastry from his lips, the dark-haired youth looked up as he mockingly asked, [color=gold]“Washing your cape?”[/color]

A heavy sigh escaped the man as he straightened back up. Well, tried to straighten back up anyway. He was starting to have a slump to his posture. [color=#ffffff]“Well, [b]yes[/b], but that’s not what I meant,” [/color]Dudley answered, shooting a glare over at the imp.

[color=#ffd700]“I know what you meant,”[/color] the kid replied evenly, picking up the laundry basket and moving it over to a folding table near the old man. [color=#ffd700]“I just [b]missed[/b] the part where being a hero was a [i]paying job.”[/i][/color]

Holding up the remaining bit of pop-tart, the boy muttered [color=#ffd700]“...in this century, anyway,”[/color] before popping the cheap meal into his mouth. As he chewed, he started pulling clothes from the basket and folding them.

A pair of large white boxers with fading hearts on them caught him by surprise, which turned to disgust as he realized the old man’s underwear had gotten mixed in with his clothes. 

Chucking the unmentionables at the white-haired boy scout, the child’s eyes seemed to pulse with an otherworldly glow as he remarked, [color=#ffd700]“If we had [i]actual income[/i], we wouldn’t be [b]squatting[/b] in an old League safehouse.”[/color]

Folding a t-shirt in his hands, the boy turned back to what he was doing.

The god-king of Kahndaq and a man who’d saved countless millions over a fifty-one year career as Captain Marvel. Reduced to Goodwill donations and scraping quarters out of sofa cushions to do laundry.

[sub][color=#ffd700]“Cheap bastards could have [i]at least[/i] put in a washer and dryer.”[/color][/sub]

Stacking the old man’s laundry basket on top of his own, the boy balanced both on the top of his head as the pair stepped out of the laundromat. 

It was an unconscious thing, he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

In Ancient Egypt, males would balance the jars of water they’d drawn on their heads, whereas only [i]girls[/i] sensibly carried them on their shoulders. He supposed it was a bit of a game, to show that you could do it and not have to make multiple trips back because you’d spilled your jar. 

A hipster had recognized Dudley, delaying them for a selfie with the old man, but at least [b]this time[/b] it didn’t descend into Dudley re-telling the time he stopped some ridiculous [i]thing[/i] that called itself Mister Mind from controlling President Reagan. He liked to tell that one. [b]Often[/b]. [i]Too often[/i].

[color=#ffffff]“I’m just saying, there’s gotta be [i]something [/i]we can do to bring in some extra cash,”[/color] the old man was lamenting, as the pair shuffled along the streets of Rhode Island, schlepping back toward the glorified [b]ant hill[/b] that might as well have been called [i]The Rock of Homeless Sons of Bitches[/i].

[color=#ffd700]“You’re on Social Security and your nation has a thing against child labor,”[/color] the boy deadpanned dryly, even as his own words rang hollow in his ears.

A slave at eight years old. Thrown into the lightless reaches of a mine. The only [i]kindness[/i] his masters showed him were [b]the lash[/b] and the words, [i]dig well and live[/i].

[indent][i]O wise king,[/i] [b]god and liberator [/b]of the slaves... Why hadn’t [b][i]he[/i][/b] thought to end child labor?[/indent]
[color=#ffffff]“You could turn into [i]the big guy[/i] if you wanted to,”[/color] Dudley quipped back, drawing the boy from his reverie.

[color=#9fc5e8]“Excuse me.”[/color]

The boy just rolled his eyes, as young and old turned expecting to find another fan wanting a selfie with the great and glorious action hero of the 80s.

It was a middle aged dude in a suit, stepping onto the sidewalk from out of a limousine.

In unison, Teth and Dudley blinked. This was not the usual.

Neither was it for someone stopping them on the street to even notice the Mediterranean-looking boy accompanying Captain Whitebread, but Dude-in-a-Suit seemed solely focused on the boy with the two laundry baskets balanced atop his head.

[color=#9fc5e8]“You’re [b]Teth-Adam[/b], correct?”[/color]

The boy’s eyes narrowed. 

Whether conscious or not, Dudley took a step as if to insert himself between the stranger and the boy.

Unperturbed, the Dude-in-a-Suit just continued. Removing his sunglasses, the man folded those away into a pocket inside his suit coat as he casually asked, [color=#9fc5e8]“Or do you prefer the name Theo Ramses?”[/color]

[color=#ffd700]“I [i]prefer[/i] people get to the point,” [/color]the boy uttered flatly.

[color=#9fc5e8]“My name is Sivana,”[/color] the man stated.

[color=#9fc5e8]“[b]Doctor Thaddeus Sivana[/b].”[/color][/color][/indent]