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3 yrs ago
Current A Perpetual Motion Engine of Anxiety and Self-Loathing

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So there I am, in Sri Lanka, formerly Ceylon, at about 3 o'clock in the morning, looking for one thousand brown M&Ms to fill a brandy glass, or Ozzy wouldn't go on stage that night. So, Jeff Beck pops his head 'round the door, and mentions there's a little sweets shop on the edge of town. So - we go. And - it's closed. So there's me, and Keith Moon, and David Crosby, breaking into that little sweets shop, eh. Well, instead of a guard dog, they've got this bloody great big Bengal tiger. I managed to take out the tiger with a can of mace, but the shopowner and his son... that's a different story altogether. I had to beat them to death with their own shoes. Nasty business, really. But, sure enough, I got the M&Ms, and Ozzy went on stage and did a great show.

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Finally... I've had some internet issues myself.

(Still do, in truth, just knocked that one out at work on a slow day)


Dennis looked away from his grizzled grandfather. He had this way of making him feel smaller and lesser than anybody else on this earth.

Especially when he referenced his brother, Sean.

He looked back and once again was trapped in the old man’s gaze. “OK! But turn that damn thing off. It’s scaring the hell out of me!”

Dennis looked at his shoes. “You sent me out to fight demons and THAT thing scares me. Good God… Can’t just let me take on a bunch of nutcase terrorists. Have to find the biggest, darkest monster in the yard and say ‘Hey! Dennis! You’re still learning the ropes! Why don’t you go piss in this big terrifying monster’s cereal? That’s a wonderful idea! I’m sure you can take him. Or at least maybe he won’t chew up the Golden Rod too bad that I can’t give it to somebody else!’”

Then a warm thought crossed his mind. “Hey, who knows. Maybe we won’t even be able to find the god foresaken thing anyway…”

Dennis raised his head. “Ugh. I thought I told you to turn it off.” He winced as he saw the beast slam a half dozen innocent people into a building where they lay in a pulpy, crumpled heap.

“I did. Does that look like the Fieldhouse to you?”

Dennis’ face took on a dreadful pallor. “Oh God! That’s the—“

“Macys. The one 5 blocks from here.” The old man lobbed Dennis the Golden Rod. “You’re up.”

Dennis caught the amazing device and donned his leather jacket and flight goggles whilst still in a state of shock.

“Don’t let it kill you. Don’t let it kill anybody else. And take it down. In that order.” His grampa commanded as Dennis ran out the door.

As if that was a simple request. ‘Dennis, go down the corner store and picks up some milk, eggs and a newspaper.’ ‘Dennis, go fight the monster that obliterated Lost Haven Central PD and nobody else has been able to stop, don’t die, don’t let anyone else die, oh… and beat it.’

‘This is why Old Folks Homes exist.’ Dennis thought to himself as he took to the sky. As if anybody could ever get the ornery old bastard into one.

* * * * *


Fortunately the short flight from his Lost Haven home to the scene of the massacre-in-progress didn’t give him much time for panic. There was no mistaking the scene. Bloody, battered bodies strewn across the pavement, 4 beasts of varying degrees of humanity and ghoul and fortunately the authorities were starting to move on in.

Not the police either. Not for something like this. They wouldn’t be nearly enough. The distinctive uniforms of a government peace-keeping force called STRIKE that his grandfather had told him about.

And floating down onto the scene was a familiar figure that Dennis had seen before on the television. The prodigious Iron Knight, making his own ostentatious entry. He was much like Dennis in his own way as well. Not a metahuman. Just the wielder of a magnificent weapon.

Sure, Iron Knight was the inventor of his own weapon; a billionaire genius who knew his tool perfectly… but who wants to split hairs?

“Good evening. As the unofficially designated representative of this city of Lost Haven, I order you to cease all superhuman activities and crawl back into whatever hellhole that spawned you or anyone that is most convenient for you.”

“Ah good. Someone who actually knows what he’s doing. I’ll let him take point and just help out in the background where I can.” Dennis thought to himself as he drifted down to a soft landing on the roof of a parked car.

Then the roof of the sedan buckled under his own weight.

Ka-Thump


The monster he would later know to be called the Cannibal King turned to the obnoxious sound of the unwelcome intruder and roared. Drawing the attention of some of the others.

“Ah. Crap.”
@DearTrickster @Fallenreaper

I think I'll get a post in either today or tomorrow. Also, I'm signing my lease and moving into my new apartment on Thursday-Saturday, so my availability during those days might be a little sporadic.


Ooo, exciting times though!
And some Ancient Greek just for Ded...


Hours Earlier…


The old man sat in a worn fraying chair as the television blared the 24-hour news coverage, mainly discussing the same few facts and theories regarding the domes that crossed America and the terrorist group behind their formation.

“Ngggggg! Fifty-three!” yelled Dennis, before collapsing and just laying prostrate on the carpeted floor of the training room.

“I don’t get it.” He puffed. “The Golden Rod can lift, what, 7 or 8 tons? Why the hell have you got me doing all these push-ups?”

The original Aquilifer turned his head away from the television, “Ten tons,” he corrected. “At least back when I used it. And why?” He turned away, trying his best to not butcher an Ancient Greek quote.

“Πᾷ βῶ, καὶ χαριστίωνι τὰν γᾶν κινήσω πᾶσαν”

“’Kay.” Dennis replied, somewhat slackjawed.

“It’s about Archimedes. ‘Give me a lever and a place to stand and I will move the earth’… to paraphrase. Kineso or kinaso… it’s been a while since I last used the Ancient Greek.”

“You say ‘kineso’, I say ‘kinaso’…” Dennis sang in jest.

“REGARDLESS…” the old man continued firmly, “The Golden Rod is a hell of a lever. But ultimately, YOU’RE the fulcrum. The place to stand. And you’ll be able to do more with it, the more you look after yourself.”

“Fair enough.”

“And you’re not fooling anyone with that ‘fifty three’ nonsense. You’re on thirty four.” He returned to the television. Dennis groaned loudly. The old man smiled.

Rolling over to go back to his push-ups. He’d been lifting car husks with the Rod earlier, and working on aim for blasts and other versatile uses, but the old man always insisted on starting and ending training sessions focusing on his own general physical fitness.

“Speaking about doing more with it… What exactly are we working out for right now? What’s next on the agenda? Helping those heroes bring down the domes? This Pax Metahumana-rama thing that’s going on right now?”

“Hmm. I don’t think so.” Alan started. “Lot of people working on that as is. But you know what’s been getting almost completely ignored..?”

The old man hit a button on the remote, which played some recorded footage. The television flicked over to something that Dennis had seen plastered all over the news. Something that terrified him on the day that it happened.

It was amateur footage of an in-house college football game at LHU. A game that would never be concluded and one of the darkest moments of school history.

Dennis had faced Demons with the Golden Rod before… but could he be prepared for THIS level of monster?

“Your brother was an alumni. Still had a lot of friends there. Particularly since ground zero hit the football team.”

Dennis was an alum as well. But, as always, an afterthought. These weren’t ‘his people’. But the message still resonated.

“This is exactly the kind of thing Sean would deal with. If he were still with us. And who’s there to defend them?”

Darkness literally devoured masses of people on the television.

“This Nightmare has gone on too long. You’ve been looking for a message, a coming out party?”

He paused the tv as the footage showed the beasts at the centre of the disaster.

“It’s time to wake people up. End this Nightmare garbage.”
I'd add Trent/War-Pulse to that list as well. I like to think even unpowered he could hold his own for a while.

Although he might be a bit wary of magic users at the moment... if he weren't on the run.
I also recommend reading through the rules


"I dont read the rules. The rules read me."

I suspect our fearless leader is making changes to what the apps/leading page will look like in season 2 and was looking for a handy place to keep it whilst he's doing it.
<Snipped quote by Hound55>

I know that Law & Order is only a television show, but I remember a show where a witness answered a few questions and then pled the 5th. Then the judge told the jury to disregard his whole testimony, even the parts he did not pled the 5th.


If in the process he'd also perjured himself (and in some other occasions - such as self-incrimination of a crime they've already been charged with) then yes.

Because then it would be prejudicial.

If it's something that a lawyer can draw a string to which they haven't yet been charged with, it's not that stout.

Th 5th covers self incrimination, but not equally in cases where charges are yet to be laid as when they aren't, I believe.
<Snipped quote by Dedonus>

Couldn't the fact, in cases as they have made enemies or I assume, arise that outing their indenties puts them at high risk? Not sure but I think there's ways around that which allows witnesses to be anyonmous.


Could be an agreement to leave identities out of it made prior to trial and deal with the issue in another subtle way...

To take things back to the 5th...

"Now, sir, are you now, or have you ever been known as the masked vigilante... uhh... Vigilante?"
*In full costume* "I choose to invoke my 5th amendment rights."

That would work nicely, to kind of read-between-the-lines for everyone in the court room and would make for a kind of cool moment.
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