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3 yrs ago
Current Auld Lang Syne, everybody. roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
4 yrs ago
Vote in my new quest, Mirage, a RP quest set in the far, far future roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
5 yrs ago
Kink-Shaming. Kink-Shaming Never Changes.
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5 yrs ago
roleplayerguild.com/posts/5… Vote for Dead in Depression. The mechanics of the quest have now been posted!
5 yrs ago
Voting is open until the end of the week! Please come and vote! - roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
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Bio




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Low Prices in The Apocalypse


Genre: Post Apocalypse, Satire, Science Fiction, Futuristic

Type:Linear Narrative

Source Material and Inspiration: Walmart Apocalypse, Fallout, Mad Max



$$$



ENTRANCE


Praise be upon Smiley, son of Great Sam

Always Low Prices, Always Faithful

For he is his eternal messenger and we his servants

Always Low Prices, Always Faithful

For our smiles are our faith and the Wal his temple

Always Low Prices, Always Faithful
The Cult of the Smiling One - The Fifth Canticle - Smiles Be Upon Sam


" Welcome to Wal-World Sector 14-A-Delta! We hope that you enjoy your stay here! Please go to the Customer Service desk if you have any questions. For inquiries about Wal-Coupon deals...." It's a wonder that the PA is still working. You're sprinting down an aisle, the only sound you can hear are your thumping heartbeats and heaving breathes. The loud thumps make you realise that it's coming closer. Scrambling yourself up onto a shelving unit, you hide behind the boxes. You've heard rumors about Sekyuritee drones. No one ever manages to describe how they look like because no one ever manages to live and tell the tale. A metal behemoth ponderously creaks down the hallway, metal joints buckling and bending to support its gargantuan weight.

You close your eyes, hoping that the Great Sam is watching over you right now. Grasping the handles of your plunger with your sweaty hands, red light runs down the cracks of the shelves, intruding into the safe harbor of the shadow, Sekyuritee bearing down upon you,





The Wal is everywhere. The Wall is everything. The Wal is eternal. The Wal is all.

In the distant future, monolithic superstores the size of small countries lay unblemished on the ruined and blasted landscape of the Old World after the collapse of civilization. Within these colossal wrecks lie the last bastions of human society. For a period of time, these pockets of humanity were scattered, eking out a harsh and weary existence within the confines of the Wal, scavenging from its shelves. Eventually, enclaves of human survivors known as Departments began to form within the confines of the Wal, each with their own unique culture, their own methods of surviving, of living. However, in spite of these miracles, there are still threats to contend with inside the Wal. The lunatic Cult of the Smiling One, dedicated to purging all non-believers and heretics to the Great Sam. Malfunctioning automatons who persist in carrying out their duties in the absence of customers. Horrific, mutated monstrosities from within the deepest depths and outside of the Wal. Violent, mindless Brand Gangs who terrorize, raid and kill innocent Shoppers.

Walmageddon: Shopping Spree is an roleplay that is based upon /tg/'s homebrew setting Walmart Apocalypse, which was further derived from a now sadly defunct Wizards of the Coast forum thread spanning hundred of pages long. Taking the concept of a supermarket arcologies to its most logical conclusion and dialing it up beyond safety regulations, the roleplay is set in a satirical mass-consumerist post-apocalyptic future where Walmart rose in prominence in both socio-economic and political power during the 21st century, spreading and outsourcing its facilities in every part of the globe. The corporation eventually became a sovereign power that was a virtual nation unto itself, with superstores around the globe that acted as miniature cities which could house millions of people. After a catastrophic war between the few federal third-world governments that were left standing and Wal-World, humanity was forever sealed within the giant stores that over generations, they would learn to call home.

You are a Lifter, a catch all term for scavenger for hire in the Wal. For whatever reason, you, along with a crew of several other Lifters, have been tasked with delivering a mysterious high value product from the Bargain Bin to an unknown department far away on the other side of the Wal. The risks are high but the payout is even higher. Will you make a story of your own amongst the thousands in the Wal or will you meet your end? The choice is yours.


$$$



TERMS AND CONDITIONS


Before you begin shopping at Walmageddon, please take a moment to consult our Terms and Conditions.

No rule-breaking behavior whatsoever that is in disregard of the rules of the Guild. Usual roleplaying standards also apply which means no god-modding, meta-gaming, twinking, cheesing, powerplaying or retconning. Doing these without the consent of the Wal-Master will most likely result in permanent expulsion of the player from the mart, depending on the circumstances.

There is no strict post length requirement in this RP other than "Don't give me a post where I can count the number of sentences with my two hands easily". A post of about three decently sized paragraphs is enough to satisfy me, though. If you can make a post in the format of a haiku, a poem or a rap work, then, do it. However, I am expecting posts that both move the narrative along as well as being detailed. My overall rule is that quality beats quantity but when they both go hand in hand, it's even better.

Likewise, there is no strict restriction for posting frequency. I am fully aware of my own hypocrisy when it comes to advocating weekly posts, and of the issues people face in IRL that may prevent them from posting. Therefore, when you are unable to post for a duration of time that may been seen as long, please inform me beforehand.

Character sheets can and will be rejected, depending on how well they compare with other applications. Remember that your character must be able to

Wheaton's law is in full effect, so, be friendly with one another and try to cultivate an atmosphere of shitposts and fun times in the OOC. If any drama occurs between members of this RP, keep it away from the OOC and take it to the PMs if you dearly want to win an internet forum battle.

Be aware of the 3 C's: Communication, Criticism and Cooperation. Discussing with each other, giving suggestions and offering criticism is the best way to ensure that no future problems pop up in this RP. If you have any problems with the way the Wal-Master handles things or have any questions about how to create your character, please PM me about it, or if you think it's serious enough, post it in the OOC.

If by some off chance you want to kill off your character and make a new one, go ahead. However, you can't make more than one character. Only the Wal-Master (me) is allowed to play a multitude of characters.

18+ content is allowed within this RP, as long as it serves its purpose and doesn't break the rules of the RP. Touching upon controversial themes carelessly could potentially result in the shopper's permanent expulsion from the RP which again depends on the circumstances.

Any player who joins this RP should be and willing to be open to the process of worldbuilding.


$$$



CUSTOMER IDENTITY TUTORIAL


Lastly, all shoppers should proceed towards Customer Service and begin the process of creating their very own custom Wal-World Customer Identity Card! Please be noted that the initial charge for purchasing your identity card is 50.50 Wal-Credits. Please exchange all foreign currency at your nearest Wal-Bank kiosk...




$$$



Cast List


The Bork Lazer - WalMaster
Moskau Spieluhr - Z-Grip the Penja
AmpharosBoy - Blothmerche Assiosales, Dorf Warrior of Fort Pathfunder
>://THE INTEREST CHECK HAS BEEN RESTOCKED WITH CHARACTER SHEETS. PLEASE MOVE ON, HAPPY CUSTOMER.

$$$









Always Low Prices In the Apocalypse


Genre: Post-Apocalyptic, Satire, Science Fiction, Cyberpunk, Supernatural



$$$



PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT


Check Out. Who hasn't heard of the fabled land, where we are no longer haunted by the drones of Sekyuritee, the mutated pests that roam the aisles, the tyrannical horror of the Smilers or other nightmares that haunt us daily in the Wal. Some say it is an illusion made up by the Employees to give us false hope, whilst others claim they have seen the pearly doors of Sliding, opening to reveal glimpses of the Unknown Lots. The line to Check Out is soiled with the blood of trippers, lifters and shoppers that have attempted to seek haven and escape the confines of the Mart.

Yet, every shopper eventually learns of the eternal truth about this quest, this unquenched desire, the dream which may come but never will.

The Wal is all.
Excerpt from Brochure of Wal-History, Chapter 10 - Written by Ken Dal, Head Archivist of the BOOKS Department


Think of an average Walmart. Picture it in your mind. Think of every shelf, every sample stand, every product, every waiting line you've been in.

Now, think of a Walmart the size of a city, where banks are Wal-Banks and restaurants serve Walmart branded products. Your apartments are shelving units and you drive a cart to work.

Go even bigger. Think of a Walmart the size of a nation. A Wal-nation. You pay your taxes to the Walmart. Your citizenship is instead a Walmart customer account. No matter what job you take, you are always an employee of Walmart. Your national anthem are Walmart advertising jingle. Your housing complex is located on the 2nd row of a shelf and your neighbor is located across the aisle.

Then, we've reached the logical conclusion. There is no mart anymore. Aisles the size of highways, shelves stories tall, rows upon rows of fridges to populate a city, food courts the size of beaches, signs that have replaced skies and forests of grocery sections. The world has become Wal-World.

The future is the Wal.

Walmageddon: Shopping Spree is an roleplay that is based upon /tg/'s homebrew setting Walmart Apocalypse, which was further derived from a now sadly defunct Wizards of the Coast forum thread spanning hundred of pages long. Taking the concept of a supermarket arcologies to its most logical conclusion and dialing it up beyond safety regulations, Walmageddon is set in a satirical mass-consumerist post-apocalyptic future where Walmart rose in prominence in both socio-economic and political power during the 21st century, spreading and outsourcing its facilities in every part of the globe. The corporation eventually became a sovereign power that was a virtual nation unto itself, with superstores around the globe that acted as miniature cities that could house millions of people inside its confines. After a catastrophic war between the few federal third-world governments that were left and Walmart, humanity was forever sealed within the giant stores that over generations, they would learn to call home.

Pockets of human civilization, known as Departments, live on within the aisles of these humongous supermarkets, whilst the shelves are continually refilled by the deadly Stocker bots who will kill with extreme prejudice if they catch those who try to 'shop-lift'. Those who survive must contend with the myriad of various dangers that inhabit the Wal such as malfunctioning automated artificial intelligences, hostile religious groups such as the Cult of the Smiling One, mutated animals, lobotomised Greeters and worse. Furthermore, rivaling factions and mysterious forces work to claim control of the Wal and ultimately, the future of humanity itself.

You are a Lifter, a catch all term for scavenger for hire in the Wal. You, along with a crew of several other Lifters, have been tasked with delivering a mysterious high value product from the Bargain Bin to an unknown department far away on the other side of the Wal. The risks are high but the payout is even higher. What seemed like a simple package delivery has taken a turn for the worst....


$$$



Customer ID


Disclaimer: You don't have to strictly follow this format. You are allowed to make your own additions or your own alterations if you want to do so.





$$$



I am currently looking for 5-6 people to join with me on this magical shopping trip to Walmart. This is currently a heavy WIP, so, I'm just tossing it out into the ocean to see how the fishes respond. I'm planning for this to be an RP with lots of silly but serious worldbuilding and shit loads of fun. Please ask any questions if you are confused, curious or both.

$$$









Always Low Prices In the Apocalypse


Genre: Post-Apocalyptic, Satire, Science Fiction, Cyberpunk, Supernatural



$$$



PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT


Check Out. Who hasn't heard of the fabled land, where we are no longer haunted by the drones of Sekyuritee, the mutated pests that roam the aisles, the tyrannical horror of the Smilers or other nightmares that haunt us daily in the Wal. Some say it is an illusion made up by the Employees to give us false hope, whilst others claim they have seen the pearly doors of Sliding, opening to reveal glimpses of the Unknown Lots. The line to Check Out is soiled with the blood of trippers, lifters and shoppers that have attempted to seek haven and escape the confines of the Mart.

Yet, every shopper eventually learns of the eternal truth about this quest, this unquenched desire, the dream which may come but never will.

The Wal is all.
Excerpt from Brochure of Wal-History, Chapter 10 - Written by Ken Dal, Head Archivist of the BOOKS Department


Think of an average Walmart. Picture it in your mind. Think of every shelf, every sample stand, every product, every waiting line you've been in.

Now, think of a Walmart the size of a city, where banks are Wal-Banks and restaurants serve Walmart branded products. You live inside a Walmart manufactured home cube.

Go even bigger. Think of a Walmart the size of a nation. A Wal-nation. You pay your taxes to the Walmart. Your citizenship is instead a Walmart customer account. No matter what job you take, you are always an employee of Walmart. Your national anthem is Walmart advertising jingle. Your housing complex is located on the 2nd row of a shelf and your neighbor is located across the aisle.

Then, we've reached the logical conclusion. There is no mart anymore. Aisles the size of highways, shelves stories tall, rows upon rows of fridges to populate a city, food courts the size of beaches, signs that have replaced skies and forests of grocery sections. The world has become Wal-World.

The future is the Wal.

Walmageddon: Shopping Spree is an roleplay that is based upon /tg/'s homebrew setting, Walmart Apocalypse, which was further derived from a now sadly defunct Wizards of the Coast forum thread spanning hundred of pages long. Taking the concept of a supermarket arcologies to its most logical conclusion and dialing it up beyond safety regulations, Walmageddon is set in a satirical mass-consumerist post-apocalyptic future where Walmart rose in prominence in both socio-economic and political power during the 21st century, spreading and outsourcing its facilities in every part of the globe. The corporation eventually became a sovereign power that was a virtual nation unto itself, with superstores around the globe that acted as miniature cities that could house millions of people inside its confines. After a catastrophic war between the few federal third-world governments that were left and Walmart, humanity was forever sealed within the giant stores that over generations, they would learn to call home.

Pockets of human civilization, known as Departments, live on within the aisles of these humongous supermarkets, whilst the shelves are continually refilled by the deadly Stocker bots who will kill with extreme prejudice if they catch those who try to 'shop-lift'. Those who survive must contend with the myriad of various dangers that inhabit the Wal such as malfunctioning automated artificial intelligences, hostile religious groups such as the Cult of the Smiling One, mutated animals, lobotomised Greeters and worse. Furthermore, rivaling factions and mysterious forces work to claim control of the Wal and ultimately, the future of humanity itself.

You are a Lifter, a catch all term for scavenger for hire in the Wal. You, along with a crew of several other Lifters, have been tasked with delivering a mysterious high value product from the Bargain Bin to an unknown department far away on the other side of the Wal. The risks are high but the payout is even higher. What seemed like a simple package delivery has taken a turn for the worst....


$$$



SHOPPING LIST


1. Don't engage in any behaviour that disturbs the other customers of this roleplay such as harassment, godmodding, metagaming, flame wars in OOC, posting inappropriate content without the GM's permission and etc. If you've been caught engaging in any behavior that's not consistent with the rules of this site or any roleplaying standard that hasn't been consulted with the GM prior, then, you'll be banned from shopping at Walmageddon forever.

2. Quality over quantity is best, but when quality is matched with quantity, it's even better. For the purposes of this RP, I am encouraging you to write whatever length you desire, whether it's short, pithy posts or long, detailed posts. There is no post length requirement but be reasonable in whatever choices you make. If you want to know, my minimum requirement for a post is at a paragraph at the minimum. Don't go and make a post which the number of sentences can be counted with my fingers.

3. I don't have any posting activity requirements, given that I'm a frequent hypocrite in both the frequency of posts I write in roleplays that I have done previously. All that I ask is that you are active in both the OOC and the IC. If you wanna hang out in the OOC and lay back and relax, that's fine by me (As long as you don't start acting inappropriately)

4. Have fun. No, seriously, have fun. This is a ridiculous concept with ridiculous ideas that takes pot shots at corporate capitalism and 21st century consumer culture. If you have any worldbuilding ideas or suggestions you'd like to post, you are heavily encouraged to do so. As most of the lore for Walmart Apocalypse is heavily vague, incomplete and scattered, your imagination and creativity is required to fill in the gaps. Worldbuilding in this RP will be mainly contributed by the roleplayers, funneled through me. Bending lore for our own benefit is going to happen a lot on a case by case basis.


$$$



Customer ID


Disclaimer: You don't have to strictly follow this format. You are allowed to make your own additions or your own alterations if you want to do so.






Arc 2: + Power Outage +



STATIC SHOCK



Episode 1.2: - Circuit Failure -


“ Yo, yo, yo, what’s hanging, Dakota CITY?! Welcome back to Dakota Midnight Central live. It’s your boy, DJ Rubberband, keeping you wonderful people company with the freshest tracks and beats. Today, we’ve got a very special guest folks. You may have become acquainted with his magnetic personality over the last few months. He’s the defender of Dakota City, the Kilowatt Kid, Lightning Junior. May I introduce STATIC! What’s up, my man?”

“ Rocking a new costume, I see. What happened to the good old white, black and blue?”

“ Well, yellow’s the new lightning in town, you see. One thing’s for sure. It makes laundry easier.”

“ I bet. Now, we heard about your scuffle on the street with the leader of the Wild Pack yesterday. Down near Washington Avenue? ”

“ Yeah. I've been trying to help Dakota PD stop the feud that's been happening between the Wild Pack and the Blood Syndicate. Let's just say both gangs got really peeved 'bout me intereferin' with their right to kill one another.”

" You didn't get hurt too bad, did you?"

" Hurt? Please, Rubber. Nothing can touch me."





Why was it always the windows?

Dark spots danced in Virgil’s eyes, brushing shards of glass off his jacket. Several oranges rolled aimlessly on the ground beside him, some relatively unharmed by his landing whilst others were squashed underneath his weight. Standing up with a grumble, he ignored the faint scent of sweet. Ending up in a greengrocer’s wouldn’t have been his first choice but at least the fruit made the landing softer. The crash had scrambled his mind, jumbled it up until he could no longer tell what day it was anymore. He readjusted his googles and stared through the open broken window.

What was he doing here in the first place anyway? The answer soon came to him in the form of a tip jar jiterring relentlessly before toppling off the side of a counter. Then, the ceiling above him began to shift. He first confused the rumbling for an earthquake and then, corrected himself. Dakota City hadn't seen an earthquake in over fifty years. The entire world was shaking up and down that he couldn't make sense of where was up and where was down.

BOOM.


Oh, right.

BOOM.


Him.

BOOM


The source of the shaking arrived around the corner, leaving cratered footprints in the concrete with every step they made. It sounded as if a Tyranosaurus Rex with diabetes was taking a tour of the city. He wasn’t sure if there was a word in the dictionary to describe how big the man’s feet were. Huge? Ginormous? Colossal? His knees were slightly bent, as if he was preparing to take flight at any moment. It would have been comical, if it wasn’t for the fact that there were remnants of dried blood stuck on his heels. His corn-rowed hair was hidden underneath a red cloth bandanna. Underneath the man’s shades, a thick cigar was stuck in his mouth as he stared at Virgil as if he was nothing more than a bug to be crushed.

“ Ya must be a crazy interferin’ with ma businezz, Kilowatt boy." Kangor drawled his words lazily in a thick Jamaican accent. “ Washington Avenue is ma territory and everyone knows what happens if you get in an animal’s territory.”

“ Some business you’re running, Tim!” Virgil flicked off several squashed fruit peels off his shoulder and winced at the bruises beginning to form on his backside. He raised his hands in front of him in a placating manner. " Look, we don't have to fight. We can settle this like civilised -"

Kangor leapt towards him mid-speech, one leg raised outwards to kick him. You didn’t expect a man with such abnormally sized feet to be so nimble. Virgil rolled out of the way just in time to avoid becoming a human pancake.

" Da name is Kangor." The Bang Baby criminal wrenched his foot free from the ruined shelf. “ Now, step out before you get stepped on.”

“ Step out?” His fists glowed with lightning “ We’ve only just begun this dance, Kangor.”

Kangor skipped out of the way to avoid getting drenched in a gout of electricity. It was almost infuriating how deceptively quick the Jamaican was, dancing around him in a slow yet efficient manner. The din of his stomps filled his ear, not enough to distract him from dodging a elephant-sized foot. The back wall of the small store was pulverized into smithereens, courtesy of Kangor's twenty-inch long boots.

“ Dance? I doubt a little boy like you can handle my style.”

“ Style?” Virgil gave a wild grin as he backed himself against a rack of ripening bananas. “You’ve got as much style as your choice in footwear.” He pointed towards Kangor's steel-tipped loafers that looked like it'd been cobbled together from scrap metal from a junkyard. He was honestly surprised that the guy's toes weren't bursting out of them. Virgil ducked underneath a wide kick, fist loaded with lightning. There! He caught Kangor in the gut, delivering a stinging payload of electricity that seized his muscles up. The Bang Baby’s face contorted in pain for a moment, teeth gritted in annoyance before shoving Virgil back with his left foot. Virgil wheezed, his back slamming into a shelf of homemade jam jars that rattled upon impact. He’d just hit him with enough volts to knock out a man. It looked like the Bang Gas changed him on the inside as well as on the outside. Kangor's confident gait had been broken now, stopping every once in a while to catch his breath as he eyed Virgil with a scowl. He'd made him angry now, instead of irritated. Kangor wouldn't be pulling his kicks anymore. Furthermore, he was awfully tired of playing cockroach. They'd been roughing it with one another for over fifteen minutes and Kangor wasn't showing any sign of slowing down.

He had to finish this quick and fast, before Kangor made the decision to finish it for him.

Think, Virgil, think. He's tougher than you, bigger than you and moves like a rabbit. You'd have to soak up enough energy to power a football stadium to bring him down and even then, you'd most likely fry his heart. What do you know about him, Virgil? He needs solid ground to stand on to kick off, unless he can suddenly break the laws of physics."

Kangor continued to sail forth in the air, swearing as he landed inside a crate of peaches.

That's it. He can't control his momentum. All of his mass is centered on the bottom of his feet. All you have to do is find the perfect target for him to stomp on....

Where to lure him to? The harbor? Too far away, and he didn't want to be in charge of making sure Kangor didn't drown from asphyxiation. He needed Kangor to land in something that could trap him; like taffy or bubblegum or -

A small brush was all that was needed to slam Virgil into the concrete floor. Concrete. There was a block of new construction projects along Washington Avenue, gentrification project if the papers had it correct. Kangor would have nearly crushed his head like a grape if he hadn't aim a bolt directly into his eyes. As Kangor reared back in pain, Virgil struck back with a kick that made Kangor stumble backwards. He leaned his back against the shelf, steadying himself as Kangor charged towards him. At the last minute, his right arm snapped out, radiating electrical energy, and a volley of jam jars flung itself into the Bang Baby's face. Kangor yelled out in surprise and spat jam out of his mouth, Virgil taking advantage of the situation to summon a nearby man-hole towards him. Virgil grabbed onto both sides of the manhole, legs squirming in the air as he pulled himself up onto the levitating cast-iron disc.

“ That all you got, Kangor?" He taunted from on top his surfboard. " You know, if you aren't interested in the supervillain gangster career, I heard they're looking for a Bigfoot impersonator on National Geographic!"

Kangor jam-smeared glare looked upwards towards Virgil without saying anything. One thing he hadn't considered was how exactly he was going to make Kangor keep up with him. Besides, how fast he could run with those overgrown feet? Kangor remained silent, taking off his charred shades and dropping them to the ground. Then, he jumped.

" HOLY - " Virgil didn't have to time to finish his words as a man-sized blur sent him spinning uncontrollably in the air. Did Kangor just fly towards him? He regained control of his board, breathing in shock, as Kangor fell back down, landing on top of a semi track and compacting the front of the hood. No, he friggin jumped. Virgil sucked in a breath as Kangor bent his knees, coiling up like a spring. He wisely took it as his call to book it, burning ozone towards the construction site faster than he ever surfed in his entire career.

By the time they'd made it to the construction area, Virgil's heart was still pumping. Every leap that Kangor made was punctuated by the rushing of wind behind him followed by a brief graze of his hair, his pants, his jacket. Hell, he nearly got close to Kangor touching his hand if he wasn't making a left turn. The workers wisely began to flee the scene, dropping whatever they had on hand, and ran away from the ongoing brawl between the two super-powered youngsters. Virgil halted the motion of his surfboard and looked around for a nearby concrete mixer. A scream alerted him to the sight of a worker jumping out of a concrete mixer and tossing his hard hat away. The rotating drum poured down a river of wet concrete down into a hollow shaft.

" I've a had it with your games, KILOWATT KID!" A kick to the back knocked him off his surfboard, sending him rolling near the edge of the rapidly filling shaft. He reached out his hands to pull the manhole back to him, only for Kangor to stomp it dead in its tracks with his foot. " Nice place. Ya saved me da convenience of finding a grave for you."

" Look, forget Bigfoot. Maybe, you should try out for my high school's athletics team?"

Kangor growled and then, leaped in the air in a flying kick towards him.“ You ain’t gonna be saying no more words when I squash you into da ground -”

Virgil then side-stepped at the last moment, Kangor's attack only hitting empty space where we once stood. Unable to change his trajectory mid-fall, Kangor fell with a splat into the pool of wet cement. Virgil crouched down, resting his elbows onto his knees. The cool and confident gangster was wading about in the muck like a toddler learning for the first time how to swim, screaming for him to help.

“ I've got this sinking feeling that you'll be more willing to cooperate now..."




So, how’s the life of being a teenage superhero?”

“ Well, it’s probably one of the worst jobs ever. No pay, you can’t use it for your CV and no insurance either. ”

“ There’s gotta be ups as well as downs, man. Something tells me you ain’t no Mother Teresa.”

“ Well, some of the shops down in Upper Hemingway do give personal discounts to me while I’m on the scene.”

“ I’d bet. You got any special person in your life yet, Static? With a magnetic personality like yours and all the fame you’ve been cumulating.…..”

“ I know what you’re trying to do, Rubber. Stop teasin’ me like that. It ain’t gonna work.”

“ “ Chillax, bro. I was just playing with ya. So, one of our listeners asked this question that I think has been on everyone mind for quite a while.”

“ Shoot.”

“ Is Black Lightning your Dad?”

"...."

" Yo, Stat-man. I'm kinda getting mixed signals here, judging by the lack of words. You gonna answer it or -"

" No."

" Right. Now, was that so hard - "

" Speaking of which, I've got a event to attend at Freeman's right now. Sorry, Rubber. Can't keep me away from playing basketball with the folks."

" Come on, man. You don't have to - Mike, turn off the goddamn mic. Wait! Come back here, man! I was just - "




Arc 2: + Power Outage +


STATIC SHOCK



Episode 1.2: - Circuit Failure -


“ Yo, yo, yo, what’s hanging, Dakota CITY?! Welcome back to Dakota Midnight Central live. It’s your boy, DJ Rubberband, keeping you wonderful people company with the freshest tracks and beats. Today, we’ve got a very special guest folks. You may have become acquainted with his magnetic personality over the last few months. He’s the defender of Dakota City, the Kilowatt Kid, Lightning Junior. May I introduce STATIC! What’s up, my man?”

“ Rocking a new costume, I see. What happened to the good old white, black and blue?”

“ Well, yellow’s the new lightning in town, you see. One thing’s for sure. It makes laundry easier.”

“ I bet. Now, we heard about your scuffle on the street with the leader of the Wild Pack yesterday. Down near Washington Avenue? ”

“ Yeah. I've been trying to help Dakota PD stop the feud that's been happening between the Wild Pack and the Blood Syndicate. Let's just say both gangs got really peeved 'bout me intereferin' with their right to kill one another.”

" You didn't get hurt too bad, did you?"

" Hurt? Please, Rubber. Nothing can touch me."





Why was it always the windows?

Dark spots danced in Virgil’s eyes, brushing shards of glass off his jacket. Several oranges rolled aimlessly on the ground beside him, some relatively unharmed by his landing whilst others were squashed underneath his weight. Standing up with a grumble, he ignored the faint scent of sweet. Ending up in a greengrocer’s wouldn’t have been his first choice but at least the fruit made the landing softer. The crash had scrambled his mind, jumbled it up until he could no longer tell what day it was anymore. He readjusted his googles and stared through the open broken window.

What was he doing here in the first place anyway? The answer soon came to him in the form of a tip jar jiterring relentlessly before toppling off the side of a counter. Then, the ceiling above him began to shift. He first confused the rumbling for an earthquake and then, corrected himself. Dakota City hadn't seen an earthquake in over fifty years. The entire world was shaking up and down that he couldn't make sense of where was up and where was down.

BOOM.


Oh, right.

BOOM.


Him.

BOOM


The source of the shaking arrived around the corner, leaving cratered footprints in the concrete with every step they made. It sounded as if a Tyranosaurus Rex with diabetes was taking a tour of the city. He wasn’t sure if there was a word in the dictionary to describe how big the man’s feet were. Huge? Ginormous? Colossal? His knees were slightly bent, as if he was preparing to take flight at any moment. It would have been comical, if it wasn’t for the fact that there were remnants of dried blood stuck on his heels. His corn-rowed hair was hidden underneath a red cloth bandanna. Underneath the man’s shades, a thick cigar was stuck in his mouth as he stared at Virgil as if he was nothing more than a bug to be crushed.

“ Ya must be a crazy interferin’ with ma businezz, Kilowatt boy." Kangor drawled his words lazily in a thick Jamaican accent. “ Washington Avenue is ma territory and everyone knows what happens if you get in an animal’s territory.”

“ Some business you’re running, Tim!” Virgil flicked off several squashed fruit peels off his shoulder and winced at the bruises beginning to form on his backside. He raised his hands in front of him in a placating manner. " Look, we don't have to fight. We can settle this like civilised -"

Kangor leapt towards him mid-speech, one leg raised outwards to kick him. You didn’t expect a man with such abnormally sized feet to be so nimble. Virgil rolled out of the way just in time to avoid becoming a human pancake.

" Da name is Kangor." The Bang Baby criminal wrenched his foot free from the ruined shelf. “ Now, step out before you get stepped on.”

“ Step out?” His fists glowed with lightning “ We’ve only just begun this dance, Kangor.”

Kangor skipped out of the way to avoid getting drenched in a gout of electricity. It was almost infuriating how deceptively quick the Jamaican was, dancing around him in a slow yet efficient manner. The din of his stomps filled his ear, not enough to distract him from dodging a elephant-sized foot. The back wall of the small store was pulverized into smithereens by Kangor's twenty-inch long boots.

“ Dance? I doubt a little boy like you can handle my style.”

“ Style?” Virgil gave a wild grin as he backed himself against a rack of ripening bananas. “You’ve got as much style as your choice in footwear.”

There! Static ducked underneath a wide kick before delivering a stinging payload of electricity into Kangor’s opengut. The Bang Baby’s face contorted in pain for a moment, teeth gritted in annoyance before shoving Virgil back with his left foot. Virgil wheezed, his back slamming into a shelf of homemade jam jars that rattled upon impact. He’d just hit him with enough volts to knock out a man. It looked like the Bang Gas changed him on the inside as well as on the outside. Kangor's confident gait had been broken now, stopping every once in a while to catch his breath as he eyed Virgil with a conviction to kill.

Playing cockroach was only going to get him so far. A construction site half a block down. If he made his bets right. Virgil leaned against the store shelf behind him, steadying himself as Kangor charged towards him. At the last minute, his right arm snapped out, radiating electrical energy, and a volley of jam jars flung itself into the Bang Baby's face. Kangor yelled out in surprise and spat jam out of his mouth, Static taking advantage of the distraction to summon a nearby man-hole towards him. Virgil grabbed onto both sides of the manhole, legs squirming in the air as he pulled himself up onto the levitating cast-iron disc.

“ That all you got, Kangor?" He taunted from on top his surfboard. " I hear they’re looking for an Easter Bunny mascot in Utopia!”

Kangor growled, wiping apricot jam off his face, and began to chase after Virgil.

The construction workers wisely began to flee the scene, dropping whatever they had on hand, and ran away from the ongoing brawl between the two super-powered youngsters.

" I hear they're looking for

“ You ain’t gonna be saying no more words when I squash you into da ground -”

Unable to change his trajectory mid-fall, Kangor fell with a splat into the pool of wet cement.

“ I've got this sinking feeling that you'll be more willing to cooperate now..."

" You! Gemme outta dis mess!"

" Sure, you just hang tight." " In the meantime, there's a great coffee shop down the next bend. I'm aching for an macchiato after all that trouble you put me through. Is there anything you want?"

" Iced latte."




So, how’s the life of being a teenage superhero?”

“ Well, it’s probably one of the worst jobs ever. No pay, you can’t use it for your CV and no insurance either. ”

“ There’s gotta be ups as well as downs, man. Something tells me you ain’t no Mother Teresa.”

“ Well, some of the shops down in Upper Hemingway do give personal discounts to me while I’m on the scene.”

“ I’d bet. You got any special person in your life yet, Static? With a magnetic personality like yours and all the fame you’ve been cumulating.…..”

“ I know what you’re trying to do, Rubber. Stop teasin’ me like that. It ain’t gonna work.”

“ “ Chillax, bro. I was just playing with ya. So, one of our listeners asked this question that I think has been on everyone mind for quite a while.”

“ Shoot.”

“ Is Black Lightning your Dad?”




“ Is that the new principal?”

“ Good morning, everybody."

" Oh, come on. You can do better than that!"

" That's what I like to hear. I am glad to be honoured with this prestigious position and will continue to build upon the legacy that Principle Forrester left behind."

There were several chuckles and hushed whispers followed by the silencing hisses from teachers to keep quiet. From what he heard, Principle Forrester had ‘resigned’ after Shocker had torn up the dorms at Hemingway High.

" I'm not here to teach you about how to maintain your GPA. How to get into Ivy-League universities. How to succeed in your academics. I'm here to teach you how to exercise your responsibility to choose."

" The responsibility to choose a better life for yourself. The responsibility to do good from wrong. The responsibility to recognize when something is wrong. The responsibility to take care of yourself and be the best person you can be for other people and you."

“ When I see Hemingway High, I don't see see potential. All of you, no matter where you come from, who you are or what you did in the past, share that same potential. I believe that we’re not aiming to prepare you for the future at Hemingway. We’re making the future at Hemingway High and that future starts with you."

“ 'Cause in Dakota City, you always have a choice, and it's your job to find out what that choice is."

" That sounds like a lot that I'm asking of all of you, but, I'll be behind you. Every step of the way to support you in your journey."

“ I’m starting to like this guy already.” “ You’re lookin’ a little lost, V? Something on your mind?”

“ No, no. “ “ I just didn’t get enough sleep, last night.”




“ Everything all right there, Static? It’s not too personal a question, is it - “

“ Personal? Nah. Look, for the final time, there ain’t no relationship between Black Lightning and me. End of story. Nada. Zilch. The sooner that everyone abandons that tired, old rumor, the better everyone will be. ”





...try sourcing your tungsten filaments from lightbulbs. They should provide enough resistance to produce enough light.

Your confidant, Herman Schultz


You sensed it, didn’t you?. Virgil shook his head. It’s just an illusion. The lamp bulb behind him flickered like a trapped firefly. Is that what you’re telling yourself? His computer monitor flickered uncontrollably before resuming its soft hum.

“ This is Robert Hawkins. If you’re interested or have questions about Freeman Community Center, please leave a message at the - “

Ever since he’d revealed that he was Static to Dad, it didn’t have the reaction he’d expect him to have.

“ Ahem.”

“ Whaddya want? Can’t you see I’m busy here, Sharon?”

“Apparently.” “Virg, this is the tenth time you’ve called Dad today”

“Can’t he spare some time for me?”

“I remembered you were supportive of him in the beginning.”

“We both were.” “C’mon, sis, don’t you feel that the house is a little more empty now?”

“Look, Dad still cares for the both of us, alright? It’s just that….he loses sight of the smaller picture once in a while.”

“ Besides, we still have each other, you dork.”

“Night, Virgil”

“ Night, Sharon.”

“ Robbery in progress at Dakota City Bank. All units on route…”

“ Seems like these nights get longer and longer…”
" What a right little party this is."

Lazlo twirled around, the sabre-thin point of Peaceful Asymmetry broadening into that of a scimitar that curved like a snake's fang. The orange glow of the man's cigar glinted off the whorled surface of the trinket. He lowered Peaceful Assymetry in embarrassment, slowly realising who it was. The Tower. Lazlo remembered that whenever Hex mentioned the British superhero during the time he spent under his care, it was always nostalgia that he saw on his face followed by regret. The Third Rail's intel filled in the gaps. Apparently, rumors of his death were greatly exaggerated in the underground after his disappearance in the 2030s. He inclined his head downwards, slightly bowing , towards the Tower respectfully. Three heroes, four if they were counting the federale. Not a bad st-

“If either of us thought the feds could actually do anything, I highly doubt we would’ve shown up,” Stardust glanced over his shoulder, her lips on the beginnings of a smile. “Case and point.”

Lazlo was wondering what she was talking about, slowly turning his head behind him. He gawked behind his gas mask. Dios mios! How many supers had Reynolds managed to dig out with that communique of hers? The fabled Biomancer, Hex's rival, glanced at him with....was that contempt? He was lucky that the aerators in his mask managed to hide his swear as a figure popped out of the shadows. Spellbound. Lazlo was lost amidst the apparent bad history between the Biomancer and Spellbound that the black garbed protege of Hex decided to drag up. He couldn’t have cared less about the ominous words Spellbound uttered until Biomancer piped up.

“ - terrorist dressing himself as a hero - “

Peaceful Asymmetry clanged onto the syncrete pavement in the form of an ornate zweihander, metal scraping against it like a growling beast.

" Look, viejo.” Lazlo began to walk towards the experienced veteran. “ I didn't risk coming here just to hear you - "

His mouth clammed up just as Reynolds began speaking towards the entire group. How the hell had the old man managed to get underneath his skin? The trinket blade shifted into an unassuming pen-knife, Lazlo hiding it out of sight. He listened closely to Reynolds every word, eyes narrowing once she revealed that Hex’s death was possibly on purpose. The Reality Bringer. Lazlo rolled it between his tongue, muttering the name softly. The Third Rail’s intel hadn’t picked up on anyone who bore that name. To imagine someone who could kill Hex, the most powerful magician of all time, the only man who had cast him from America's shores....It made him shudder. If an entire city was about to be swallowed, he couldn't just stand there and wait for the permission of the Third Rail to intervene. No, this was bigger than the Third Rail. The corps couldn't dream of bringing ruin to an entire city.

Lazlo stared outwards at the entire group of heroes assembled behind him and only saw embers, including himself. What were they supposed to do against something that killed Hex? Were they embers raging futilely against the darkness? A spark was enough to start a fire but he'd seen kindle that had burnt endlessly without purpose. Perhaps, under Reynolds leadership, it would be different. Or maybe, they had gone to Reynolds in search of purpose, like him.

As soon as Reynolds mentioned New Mexico, Lazlo's eyebrows quirked upwards. " New Mexico, eh? It'll be nice revisiting the border again. Hopefully, they won't arrest me." He snorted. Arrest him? More like shoot him on sight after what he did in Tijuana. " Again."

Lazlo went forth and gingerly accepted the archaic piece of tech from Reynolds, murmuring a gracias, before shoving it within a pocket. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly before rasping out loud towards Reynolds, small hisses issuing from the aerators in his gas mask. " You've got some cojones, Reynolds. Asking all of us to come here with no reassurance....." Lazlo tilted his head to the side. " I can respect that. Besides, I can't wait to take that Reality Bringer cabron down."

Can I make a chapter that spreads the Emperor’s words through spreading commodified and cheap human cuisine to subvert all xenos to the glory of the Emperor?


Arc 2: + Power Outage +


STATIC SHOCK



Episode 1.1: - Back With a Bang -


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♦ Topic: Mayoral Election in Dakota City - The Future of Bang Babies Uncertain?

In: Boards ► General Affairs ► East-Coast

Peasant_Ghoul - (Meta Groupie)

http://www.whih.org/news/mayoral-showdown-at-dakota-city

" It's all too easy to mistake them as just monsters when in reality, they're kids. Misguided and lost boys and girls from Paris Island. From Utopia. From Hemingway. From Washington Avenue. Who all need a second chance at life."

This was just one of many choice quotes spoken by Robert Hawkins, head manager of Freeman Community Center and current mayoral nominee for Dakota City spoken during last week's campaign rally.

Today, on September 7th, marks two months since the infamous chemical incident that struck the harbors of Dakota City. The Big Bang, as dubbed by the local civilians living in Dakota City, resulted in the largest recorded artificial boom in metahuman populations in America since experimentation by the SSR in WW2. The status of metahumans as having access to human rights has long been a long contentious issue nation-wide.

His opponent, current incumbent Mayor Morris Jefferson is an active supporter of police militarization, advocating for the occupation of the D.M.A and a hostile policy towards meta-humans........
WHIH NEWS - 7th September 2019 - Christine Everhart


Hopefully, the DMA doesn't get their hands on Dakota City. It's surprising that Dakota's been left unscathed by the Stryfe Attack. My relative says that they're planning to break out mandatory checks for metas in every city....

StainedDuCChess
Replied on 13:24:20, 5th September

What's more surprising is that Static's managed to keep a tight noose on all those metas. Someone at least give this man a pat on the back.

Ram Mette
Replied on 13:42:35, 5th September

Hope that the new mayor puts all those dirty fuckin' mongrels in camps. Police should gas them again and make sure it works this time.

STAFF NOTICE: Honestly, Ram Mette, we are sick of your shit. You can get your anti-meta tirade out of here and off to whatever bridge you lurk under.

SpamLetters
Replied on 13:44:42, 5th September

ugh, crowd were friggin' packed when I went there.

Krimson Angel
Replied on 14:12:29, 5th September

Say, anyone still got footage of Static at NYC? I'm planning on using it for a school project.

HarryMan45
Replied on 14:30:01, 5th September

[@Krimson Angel] PM me and we can work something out.




" YO, META-BREED! ARE YA READY TO ROCK?!"

" YEAH"

" I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

" YEAAAAH!"


“ THEEEENNN, LLLLEEETTT’SSS PARTAAAYY!”

Boom pumped his fists in the midst of his jockeying, the crowd jumping up and down in erratic waves, as another track came on. The sub-woofer growing out of his chest reverbated and vibrated sporadically, electronic bass shaking the air. The music was infectious to the point where Ebon began to tap his feet in time with the beat.

It was a shame that he was late to the event.

Paris Island barren wastes were teeming with wild hoots of celebration and the raucous racket of mix music. Ebon watched from a distance, under the wreckage of a gutted fishing trawler, as the feathered figure of Talon dropped a crate of beer to the frenzied crowd of Bang Babies down below. His crew had managed to set up a circular wall of shipping crates stacked upon one another, technicolor rays of light glowing out of the pit, a rainbow in the night.

Suddenly, there was a muffled sound of gagging that he heard but no one else could. His stomach turned and buckled in nausea.

“Quit being shifty." He growled out. " Your time will come soon, Buchinsky. You've already failed me again. Be grateful I'm granting this chance for you to prove yourself. ”

The nausea ceased. Ebon snorted. Was that all it took to silence the Electrocutioner? It was hard to believe that he once believed this washed up old timer could bring down the Kilowatt Kid. However, it was still annoying that he still hadn’t managed to figure out the problem of containing living beings in his shadow dimension. Transporting Buchinsky all the way from Ryker’s to Dakota probably had a factor in how the criminal had managed to figure out how to affect Ebon from another dimension. He made a note for himself to fix it later. Right now, Buchinsky had other uses than being a thorn in his backside.

Ebon moved through the shadows like a serpent, gliding in between the darkness until he was on top of a shipping container, surveying the chaotic scene below him. Racks of meat and sausages were being cooked over campfires. He looked around at the shadows of corroding shipping containers cast by moonlight. The only other illumination available on the island were bonfires and the lightbulbs that his men had managed to scrounge up. It took only a few moments before one person noticed him. Then, the next. Then, the few other dozen. It was a game of Chinese whispers and shoulder nudges that soon had made him the sole attention of the largest population of Bang Babies on the east coast. There was enough firepower here to topple Dakota PD or hell, even the city if he tried. For anyone else, it would have been suicide. But he wasn’t some normie scrub. He was the Master of Shadows and the boss of the Meta Breed. He was on top of the food chain as far as he was concerned and everyone else that he was staring right now got his scraps.

" How's it hanging, y'all?” Ebon shouted down towards the silent crowd. It was disappointing that they only reaction he got were coughs. Boom’s music was still on, though, it’d now had switched to a reggae track.

“C'mon, guys. Just cause they call me the Shadow Man don't mean you all gotta get cold feet.” He spoke exasperatedly. “ Makes me sound like some sort of pedophile, now that I think about it.”

The levity cut through the tension like a needle popping a balloon. There were giggles and sounds of laughter elicited from every Bang Baby. Boom took it as a signal to continue on, inserting a new track of Europop into the mix, to the cheers of the mob that had formed around his station.

“ Now, that’s what I like to hear! C’mon, Talon, gimme your poison of the day.”

Talon soared overhead and tossed him a bottle from her clawed feet which he caught deftly. He uncapped it and began to chug it down. It was all an act, of course. One of the downsides of his powers were that everyday normal sensations for him were dulled right now. Of course, that had upsides. The cheap beer now tasted faintly of apple juice to him instead of the bitter crap that so many swallowed down their throats.

Ebon hopped down from the metallic crate in a dark blur, looking where exactly to plan his little stunt. Funny. Nightinggale was nowhere to be seen, though, given how skittish the Night Breed were -

“ Look who came crawling back out of their cave again….”

He’d recognised that snide accent anywhere. He narrowed his eyes as he saw a lone individual part out from the crowd, ginger haired with yellow streaks dyed throughout. Hotstreak. The man toed the line so many times that Ebon was considering tossing him out of the Meta-Breed. He decided against it. Having a loose cannon on a leash was better than having a loose cannon on the leash pointed against them. Thankfully, Hotstreak’s brains didn’t match his skills for being a firestarter.

Hotstreak’s stabbed his finger into Ebon’s jacket, the tip glowing like a fire poker. Singe marks peppered the expensive leather. He knew it would make him mad. He wouldn’t let this jumped up chump get to him.

“ Fancy seeing you here, Hotstreak.” Annoyance edged into Ebon’s normally suave baritone. He was almost tempted to drop Hotstreak into a portal and out into Hemingway Harbor.

“ Why are you here, Ebon?” Hotstreak stared at him with barely veiled suspicion.“ I thought you were supposed to be out doing your own business?”

" I’m glad you asked, Francis.” The pyrokinetic bang baby looked as if he’d been slapped. “ Cause I hauled myself a fish I think everyone’s itching to get a piece of.”

A black chasm formed above him, dripping shadows. Hotshot’s arms spread out, pointing towards Ebon, burning orange . Funny. He actually thought he could take him in a fight. A moment later, the prisoner tumbled onto the ground. He hit the ground writhing. Someone screamed and for a moment, the bustling, lively atmosphere of the party had been shattered. Hotstreak lowered his arms, cutting off the flames, his cheeks pale white with fear, as he rubbed the back of his head. He gave him a look that said 'Am I off the hook?'

Ebon stared back and then, slowly nodded. We'll see. Hotstreak’s expression returned back to his arrogant demeanour.

Meanwhile, he had everyone’s attention now. Boom had cut his music off and the entire Meta-Breed was staring at who exactly Ebon had brought uninvited to the party. Ebon cleared his throat and lifted his prisoner up by the shoulders for everyone to see.

" Everyone. May I introduce Larry Buchinsky, the Electrocutioner and the ho-mo sapien who tried to ice our good old friend, Static."

Whispers of 'The Kilowatt Kid?' and 'Shocker?' travelled through the crowd of metahumans, several of them moving closer to see the truth of Ebon's claim. Several of them looked at the Electrocutioner with disgust whilst others remained impassive.

" Now, I know that there are plenty of us here who share a certain...history with Static. We know Talon's sob-story about how he nearly sent her falling from five stories up. The truth is...I don't hate the he-ro.” He drawled out the syllables mockingly. “ I just pity the fool.” He paused to let it sink in. “ Think about it for a moment. Here's a brother who's the same blood as us. He's out there bleeding sweat and tears for those filthy normies, fighting their battles instead of ours. He thinks they're the oppressed instead of the rest of us here on Paris Island.”

He turned his gaze towards the crowd, slithering through the small gaps like quicksliver as he spoke into their ears.

‘All of you know what they call us. Freaks of nature.” he said, his eyes searching through the crowd. Murmurs of anger spread through the crowd. " The muties. Monsters."

" So, I say, if they live in fear of us, then, why not embrace it?"

" I’ve told you all before and I’m gonna tell again. I'mma make sure that Dakota belongs to us. The city is our turf. Our territory. Stick with me, my friends, and ain't nobody gonna mess with us ever again. Not the mayor. Not the government. Not the D.M.A. Not Supergirl. Not Wondie. Not Spider Man. Not anyone!"

Not even the Kilowatt Kid.

" We're the beginning of a new century, my friends! And it only begins when we have the guts to do what's right!" Ebon raised his fist upwards and the entire crowd followed him. " When we bring justice to our corrupt city!"

Ebon then turned his head towards the wide-eyed waiting form of Electrocutioner. Ebon wondered what was on his mind right now as his eyes looked to the crowd pleadingly, waiting for someone to rescue him. He wouldn't find any sympathy here. Ebon pointed towards the trembling form of the super-villain. Well, to be former super-villain.

“ Starting with this Bang-Baby murdering homosapien.” There were shouts of agreement as he hauled Buchinsky's hysterical form over on his shoulder. The man was pulling at his rope bonds, cutting blisters into his skin as his screams of protest were muffled by a gag. " Shiv, would you so kindly do the honours for us?"

The crowd parted to reveal a grinning man, pierced lips stuck in a perpetual smile. He sauntered over towards Ebon, hands loosely hanging by his side, radiating confidence. His arm began to glow pink, shimmering light shaping into a bladed mass that resembled the man’s namesake.

" What are we?" he shouted out.

" A NEW BREED!"

" WHAT ARE WE GONNA BE!?"

" A BETTER BREED!"

All of the crowd was into it now. Ebon dropped the Electrocutioner on the ground and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, dragging him through as Bang Babies spat curses and threw empty bottles and trash towards the convict.

" Who are we?"

" THE META BREED!"

He slammed the Electructioner onto the hood of an old forklifter, positioning his neck so it stuck out over the side.

" And our time starts right here! Right now! We’ve all lived in the shadows long enough! It's time this city stands in ours."

“ EBON! EBON! EBON! EBON!”

The chanting loudened and Ebon in that moment felt that the world was his stage. The Electrocutioner began to struggle, tugging on his restraints, and screaming out from behind his rope gag, looking at Ebon with shocked betrayal.

Shiv’s hand swung down at the peak of the crowd’s roar. Flesh boiled and bubbled away in a hissing slash. The Electrocutioner’s head rolled on the ground, blinking, his mouth frozen in a mortified expression of anger and resignation.

Ebon’s boot then slammed down on his head and crushed it into a red puddle. He watched as the crowd cheered for the brutal display, savouring the feeling of Buchinsky's skull snapping like a twig. The Electrocutioner had been more useful to him in death than he'd been alive.

Tonight was going to be a new beginning and Dakota would be his turf one way or another.

When every player on the streets had a shadow, who couldn't he beat?
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