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1 yr 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.

Most Recent Posts

[/sadcryinggifwithinevitablybrokencode]

Certainly disappointed to not get to see @Master Bruce get to do what he has historically done best - incredibly deep immersive character prose that truly nails setting and atmosphere

That said... might be an interesting opportunity to see what a hands-on GM pulling NPC strings and driving collaborative stories would be like in one of these games, without the time consumed by also carrying a major character.

The potential for seeing @Master Bruce set atmosphere and tone in isolated "event" and set-up situations without ties to a singular character are tantalising as well.


T H E ‘ E M B A S S Y ‘

Four Months Ago | Manhattan, New York

“So, I’m Blue Beetle. This is Booster Gold. We called you in to clear up some gaps in your résumé. Now it says here that your power set—”

“Strong Guy.”

“Uh huh. That’s what it says here. Seems pretty apparent too. Big unit.” Booster Gold said, pointing at the paperwork and flexing his bicep. “Must be hitting that creatine pretty hard, huh? I’ve been thinking about getting into some kind of program myself. Heard good things about this new gym program thing around here called ‘Dianetics’, there seems to be a bunch of them open in the area…”

"Dia--?" Ted turned and shot Booster a look of disbelief, before he rolled his eyes and shook his head, returning to the task at hand.

“Yeah. As we said there’s a lot of gaps in your résumé here. Also it seems to say your name is—”

“Strong Guy.”

The pair looked at each other and then at the new potential hire.



"..."

"..."

“Well, we have your paperwork on file if anything new opens up…”




I N T R A N S I T

Three Months Ago | Manhattan, New York

The team rode quickly in the Bug. It was fairly open plan and over the years Ted had added more seats for group comfort despite how many of his teammates could fly themselves. He'd even sectioned off a mobile "laboratory" for Hank on board since he'd generally either stay with the Bug or communicate via comm-link from the Embassy.

Ted sat in the driver's seat and casually flicked between visual screens whilst maintaing steady control of the vehicle with a DJ's precision. Keeping focus on the main screen using one of the ship's Doodlebug drones, whilst flying to their Wall Street destination. Janet Van Dyne watched him for a few moments, and seeing that he had control of the situation, used a lever to swing her seat up towards the front of the airship to sit alongside of him.

"So, how's things?"

Ted shot her a curious glance. "Fine. Why? Shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

"Everything alright with Tora?" Jan probed.

"Ah." Ted responded, realising what the concern was about. "She's fine. She's back celebrating her birthday with her family. They have a festival back in her home town.. village..? Let's stick with 'home town'. Whole big thing. We're fine."

"Aha..." Janet replied, as if she was understanding the situation. "And the parents don't get on with their little girl's choice of men?"

"What--? No. We get on fine. I just can't go because work gets crazy this time of year. At K.O.R.D we have our own festival. It's called 'End of Financial Year'. At hers there's folk dancing, the strange fermentation of regional fish and traditional dress. At K.O.R.D we have the annual balance sheet, Profit/Loss and the annual cash flow forecast... which in my experience has so tenuous a bearing on reality that whoever's worked on it has probably consumed numerous bottles of something well fermented beforehand. And the only dancing I do is at the Annual Shareholder meeting." He shot her a clownish grin.

"Proud of that one, huh?" She smirked.

"Little bit." His grin widened.

"So everything's fine?"

"Well, at the risk of jinxing everything - always a concern in our line of business - yeah, everything's fine. We're good. Thanks for your concern though. Anyway, we're here. He's down there. Delta formation. Hank, over to your console! Go! Go! GO!"




Five Minutes Later





Ted and Booster are pinned down behind a parked car. There's flame and the charred smell of bio-electricty in the air.

"How's he doing this? This is crazy, he's one guy!"

"In fairness we've done most of this to ourselves. I don't know about you, but I took a full shot of Wasp's stingers before and she stalled and fell out of the sky for the effort, and if it weren't for the Nomex in the suit Fire would have flash-fried me as well. I had no idea we were so out of form. We're going to have to train more."

Wasp called out from behind another car. "Are you alright, BB? I don't know what happened there, I could have sworn I had kept these set on 35%. That never should have happened!"

"Skeetz, are you picking up anything 'hinky' about this guy?" Booster asked his floating mechanical companion.

"'Hinky', sir?"

"Yeah, any kind of auras, or have you got any kind of future file on this guy?"

"Scanning now, sir... Skeetz began to play elevator music.

Fire continued to lay down covering fire from behind another car, only for the fire to roll onwards beyond their foe and hit another car, where it's gas tank spontaneously combusted and flipped the car back in her direction. She cried out in fear and quickly flew behind Wasp's car.

"Good call, Booster. I take it you saw that too?"

"Uh-huh..." Booster Gold answered in the affirmative.

The music stopped and they would have their answer. "An EXCELLENT theorem, sir! He appears to be surrounded by non-repeating, periodically expanding waves of Nega-Quantum affected energies.

"You get that? Booster asked Ted.

"I think I got the gist. The true nature of quantum mechanics is thus far unknowable, but it can be used to determine outcome via probabilities. I think he's saying the guy puts out a field that somehow expands upon and further generates negative outcomes."

"He's feeding on chaos?" Wasp clarified.

"Huh... With this team we're lucky he didn't destroy the whole city the second we touched down." Fire sneered.

"Non-repeating waves. That means he's doing it deliberately, right? He's controlling it actively, it's not a machine. It's him."

"Got it! Booster declared, seeming to have come up with a plan. "You two lay down covering fire, Beetle and I will take him out! I've been saving something special for just this kind of situation!"

His three teammates gave him looks of extreme skepticism.

"I'm serious! We've got this! Just cover us!

"Beetle..?"

The hundreds of times Booster had let him down in the past flickered before Ted's eyes.

"BB..? C'mon, man. I've really got this." Booster earnestly pleaded.

Janet shot Ted a final sympathetic look.

"Alright, go. Apparently we've got this." He gave Booster a look that suggested he was less than completely certain. Booster flashed back his well-rehearsed smile. And that was when the fear came flooding back.

Wasp and Fire briefly discussed their plan to storm Major Disaster.

"So what've you got? Secret Legion of Superheroes weapon? Pocket Captain America's Shield? What are we talking here?"

Excited, Booster started to fiddle with his suit. "Better. We're gonna wait until the girls make their frontal assault, and then we're gonna jump back minutes before anyone was here and take him out before he starts his plan!"

"Wait, your plan is to screw around with time travel to take out a guy who uses chaos as a weapon? That's less than no plan. That's taking a problem that affects a few city blocks and potentially turning it into something that could tear the universe asunder! That's crazy!"

"I call it 'Blitzing the blindside'." Booster said, barely paying attention whilst he fiddled with his suit's chronocircuitry.

"Wait, we can't do this! This is nuts!"

"Hup... there go the girls! Booster said as Fire and Wasp executed their perfectly choreographed charge from cover.

"Shit!"

"C'mon, it'll be fine. Trust me! You've just gotta stay within about a metre and a half of me while we're doing this! It'll work!

Ted was out of alternatives now. His teammates were already exposed and laying down covering fire. Faithfully depending on their attack.

"C'mon! To the end of the line, buddy! Booster held his fist out.

Ted held for a second, but then dapped him up. A light flashed within the suit. A burst of fire ricocheted and lapped against a building. Stone fell.

The pair flickered as the chronocircuitry activated. Stone knocked Ted forward. Time seemed to freeze all around them as the Blue Beetle stumbled. In reality time travelled in multiple directions, between numerous simultaneuous points. Ted reached out for a saviour. He clutched at Skeetz.

And then he was gone.

"Ted!?"

Everyone turned and faced where Booster had dropped to his knees, and the space where their friend once was.

"TED!?!"


"Codenames, Booster!"

Major Disaster started laughing. A harsh cackle that stood in stark contrast to the seemingly omnipresent laughter of their lost friend.

Now distracted, Janet walked behind him and stung him into unconsciousness whilst his guard was down.

But the damage was done.

"TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED?!"


The Blue Beetle was gone. Lost forever in the infinite of spacetime. Who could know what horrors awaited him?




S O M E W H E R E

Sometime | Sure as Hell Not Manhattan, New York

Ted stumbled forward into being. He checked on Skeetz, who was now recalibrating after the shock of time travel. People passed him in the street and stared. Clearly his Blue Beetle costume stood out as strange here. Ted thought about what that likely meant in terms of the timeline of self-proclaimed superheroes. Anything to narrow things down and give him a sense of when and where he could be. Skeetz chimed merrily, having rebooted.

"Skeetz? When and where are we?"

"I am now back online, but it will take time to re-align database and determine chronal position."

"No..." The Blue Beetle had already got a sense of his position. He'd seen a sign on a local movie theatre that said "The Adventures of Pluto Nash".

Ted dropped to his knees and vomited all down the kurb.

"Please be wary, Mr Beetle. The effects of time travel without possessing your own chrono suit can be quite nasty and result in purging stomach conten--"

"Chrono suit be damned, Skeetz!" Ted cried out. "No need to rush with the database. It's 2002 and we're stuck in the Devil's Armpit."

"Sir..?

Ted grabbed the floating robot and turned it around to show what he saw. The sign hanging in a park that declared the township to be:

"Raven's Perch, New Jersey".
This most recent post brought to you by the committee of Reed Richards haters. Worst spouse/partner in Marvel comics.


Expect a pretty heavy outpouring from me starting next week for about a month. The brother-in-law's getting married and he and his wife-to-be live in one of the Eastern states (New South Wales). With Covid-19 being more prevalent there, and my work's requirement to make leave applications early, I've booked in 2 extra weeks of leave on the back end in case I need to quarantine...

TL;DR version... starting next week I've got about 3 weeks of free time on my hands to unleash alien havoc on poor unsuspecting PC'S...


T H E ‘ E M B A S S Y ‘

Four Months Ago | Manhattan, New York

The man stood in their living quarters sweating in his armour, whilst Booster and Ted gave furtive glances between each other.

“See, the thing is-- We’re not really looking for a ‘sword guy’…” Ted said, trying to break it to the man gently.

Booster looked back down at the résumé the man had brought in, “Curriculum Vitae” was written large across the top, with the ‘C’ in a truly elaborate exhibition of calligraphy.

“Well, Thor is a 'hammer guy'. And he’s very much ‘In’ at the moment.” Dane Whitman offered in rebuttal.

“That is true.” Ted accepted, holding out a finger. “He IS a hammer guy. But he can also spin his hammer around and fly off with it. If you wave that thing about can you fly with your sword?”

“Like a helicopter?” Dane looked down at the Ebony Blade.

“Sure—” Ted perked up, trying to get Booster on board with some level of interest. “—if that helps. Like a helicopter.”

“Well, no.” Dane said glumly. “It’s a sword.”

“OK. I’ve heard he can spin his hammer around and open up portals. Can you do that with your—what did you call it? Ebony Blade?”

“No.” He once again admitted.

“So, it’s pretty much just good for. Slashing and stabbing, I suppose?” Ted asked.

“Well, AND I can hit things with the flat part too…”

“Well, that’s even sadder.” Booster broke his silence. “Because it’s not even a sword then. You’re basically just holding a metal stick if you’re just going to hit things with the flat.”

“In some ways that’s better anyway…”

“Maybe you could come back in a few weeks and cut the girls’ birthday cake…” Booster offered. Trying to find a way to make the visitor feel useful.

“I keep telling you. They’re not twins. They have different accents for crying out loud. Ice is from Norway, Fire is from Brazil. They’re not related. I don’t know how to make this any clearer for you. I don’t know why you keep tripping up over this!” Ted turned and yelled at Booster. It was seemingly not the first time he'd had to have this argument.

“…after all, the curse on it will just push it to make me kill more if I use it to spill blood…” Dane continued.

“So you mean that sex kitten thing they have where they dress ali—”

“Dude! That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about there! And they don’t dress alike!”

“Well, not alike, alike. But you know. They dress similarly… simpatico. I don’t know. They kind of match.”

“They don’t match at all, what are you even talking about?!”

“…like that time I fought the wicked Mordred and gave him a debilitating blow, before learning the full extent of the cost in using the Black Blade. Ever since then it’s bloodlust has been ebbing away at the edges of my mind…”

Max Lord walked in the room and grabbed an apple off the kitchen counter whilst the pair of Blue and Gold heroes argument was in full swing.

“You know. Style. Not colour, I mean obviously they dress in different colours. But they kind of always just seem to wear something that just ‘goes’ with what the other one wears. Not that you would notice aesthetic…”

“Hey! I notice everything!”

“…sometimes I wonder if I should just cut myself, just to see if that could quell the blade’s dark pull…”

The pair turned and stared at the third man still in the room.

“…wait, did you just say your sword tells you to kill people?”

“…And that you’re constantly considering self harm..?”

“No way our insurance covers that…” Max said, crunching through the apple.
“…and he’ll drive our medical premiums through the roof with the psych bills alone. *Mmm-mm* Cut him loose.”




T H E ‘ E M B A S S Y ‘

Three Months Ago | Manhattan, New York

"--And you will not touch it. Again, because my uncle gave me that." Ted demanded, inserting the 9 ounce disc.

"Again with that? Your uncle gave you everything! You can't claim sentimentalism over everything!" Booster complained from the lounge in front of the television set.

"Five things. Ted corrected. "He gave me five things," counting them off on one hand as he started the Laserdisk player. "The hat; which I've already lost, the Scarab; which L-Ron lost, the model toy car replica of the Scarab he drove on the classic 'Blue Beetle Power Hour' tv show; which I still have... which NONE OF YOU WILL TOUCH - L-Ron, I am particularly looking at you," He pointed at the team's robotic member. "The Criterion Edition version of 'Karl LaFrey and The Plunderers of the Ark of the Covenant' on LaserDisk… and the LaserDisk player he bought for me to watch it on, when he had to go meet with the Producers somewhere around here in New York and they announced there would be a sequel."

Booster opened his mouth to reply, but Ted cut him off.

"Five things. Three of which remain. You will not use the LaserDisk player, and you will not touch the disk. I've seen you try and use the waffle iron."

"...well who can figure out that thing anyway. It doesn't even have an autocook function."

"Literally children... Replied Bea, impatiently waiting for the movie.

"Exactly. Thank you." Ted said, flamboyantly gesturing to Fire as evidence in his argument.

"No. The pair of you. You're literally children."

"Oh"

"Metaphorically." Corrected Hank, not looking up from his laptop.

Bea's right hand burst into emerald flame as she scowled at Hank Pym, who continued working obliviously.

"C'mon Ted! Start the movie!" Janet called out, ending the fight before the combustible situation could grow further.

A brief jingle played from the wall console's intercom system, causing everyone in attendance to groan. The Superbuddies marketing jingle appealed to nobody, and proved an exception to the negotiating rule that 'if nobody leaves happy, then you've probably made a good deal'. Suddenly Max Lord's face appeared on the display, as he had apparently started talking before the receiver had picked up.

"...so you all need to be there before Emergency services can respond, because as we all know..."

Ted clicked the intercom call button on and off a few times until it blasted a long chirp.

"Ahh! What was--?"

"I told you before, you have to wait until the screen flicks over and the bar at the bottom says it's 'OK to talk'. We didn't get any of that."

"Unbelievable. We have two or three supergeniuses on the team and we can't get a comms system that works properly.

"The comms system works fine when used correctly. Hank defended his own work.

"He's right, Max. The problem with designing idiot proof products, I find, is that nature just keeps designing better idiots. Whether they're people who can't program the clock on their own video player, or set up their own printer... Or sometimes nature will even send to the future to bring back strains of superidiots who can't even use a waffle iron properly..."

"Hey! You can't hit me with the same line twice in less than two minutes! That's not fair!" Booster protested.

"What is it, Max? Where's the call?" Janet asked, putting everyone back on task.

"Thank you. A number of our clients in the financial community have called through to inform us of some nutcase marching down Wall Street making demands."

"Some nutcase in a suit? In Manhattan? Can't Spidey just go deal with it? We're about to watch--"

"'Spidey' isn't being paid by our clients to deal with this kind of situation--." Max Lord scowled. "--and neither will we, if we continue that attitude. Now the guy's calling himself Major Disaster. 'He says he'll bring the whole thing crashing down if the banks don't pay him ten million dollars to walk away'. I don't know if he means the stock market, or the buildings, or what he's referring to, but if we don't make a presence before Emergency Services make the scene it will not look good. Max got more exasperated as he went on, yelling at the monitor by the conversation's end, before pounding on his desk with a fist, quickly ending the call.

"Alright, movie's on hold, I'm bringing the Bug around now... This should take us no time at all." Ted said, fiddling with his wrist controls.

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
THE BLUE BEETLE
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:


T E D K O R D E N G I N E E R / V I G I L A N T E / H E R O / C . E . O / B L O C K B U S T E R M O V I E M E M B E R
B O S T O N , K . O . R . D E A S T D I V I S I O N / “ T H E E M B A S S Y “ , M A N H A T T A N , N E W Y O R K
K O R D O M N I V E R S A L R E S E A R C H & D E V E L O P M E N T / S U P E R B U D D I E S


C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:


“My greatest strength is an unfocused mind. This is because while you are all thinking of one idea, I’m thinking of five different ideas. My greatest weakness however is an unfocused mind. This is because while I’m supposed to be thinking about one thing, I’m actually thinking of five other things.”



Ted Kord is the pre-eminent astronomical engineer on Earth. He's also one of the most brilliant engineers in general. Unfortunately, he has been forced to swap his labcoat with a suit in order to take over the Chief Executive Officer role at the Research and Development company his father built, due to his rapidly declining health.

Gifted with an eidetic memory, more money than sense and that engineering brilliance he was inspired by a growing number of superheroes to try his hand at going down the same path.

After being publicly put in the spotlight, saving numerous lives during a crisis of some kind, Ted Kord chose to ride his wave of popularity to form his own privately funded Superhero team, called "The Superbuddies" which would combine human and metahuman/mutant heroes to show that collaboration across such lines was possible. Headquartering in New York, at a facility he designed called "The Embassy", the Superbuddies have become something of a joke in a Justice League/Avengers world.

Still, that won't stop Ted from throwing his weight around to do good. "Hey! That was another fat joke, wasn't it?" I don't know what you're talking about. "Alright, but I'm watching you."


C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:



Ted's foremost motivation is to help. Almost to the point of naivete. He loves the idea, the notion of being a hero, which he got from watching his uncle Dan Garrett's Saturday morning superhero show "The Blue Beetle Power Hour" which has had the greatest influence on his life.

His goals are to make his private superhero group the Super Buddies a success, keep his father's legacy Kord Omniversal Research and Development - of which he is the CEO - growing strong, and maintain his relationships with his friends and loved ones. He's a good, yet brilliant, simple man leading a complicated life.


C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:








S A M P L E P O S T:




P O S T C A T A L O G:


Now you've done it...
“—and as you can see, Michael, the devastation here in Paris is immense. Great shards of rock have battered buildings, destroyed infrastructure and caused fires in scattered regions of the City of Light. But it’s hard not to feel some level of relief, as less than 20 kilometres away, the city of Versailles, birthplace of so many landmark treaties in the world’s history and a beacon of peace, lies in total ruin at the hands of thus far unknown invaders—”

“—even from here in Hong Kong, we can see the billowing plumes of smoke rising from the horizon, where once stood China’s “Silicon Valley”, Shenzhen, once a monument to both China’s technological ingenuity and also, perhaps, their finest beacon to their ability to undertake rapid economic growth now lies in ruin. What was once the home to more skyscrapers over 200 metres tall than any other city on Earth, now rests in a crater less than 30 kilometres away. Attempts to get a comment from Chinese officials—”


“—the East coast of Terraria overcome by flooding as a meteoroid which struck the Pacific, led to a tsunami wave that battered the capital of Georgetown. Prime Minister David Byrne shared condolences for the lost, swore to rebuild, and pledged his Nation’s support to a growing global collaborative effort against the invading—”

“—Okinawa has been lost. First cratered, before it fell, reclaimed by surf, much like the ancient mythical Atlantis. But unlike in myth, the loss of life is palpable. The Governor of the Okinawa Prefecture, away from Naha on Government business, so far still unavailable for com—”


“—much of the Western Coast of Mainland U.S.A hammered by waves, and seismic activity related to the actions of these alien invaders. So far there have been no reports as to what they want, but with no efforts made for diplomatic contact it remains hard not to fear the worst—”

“—widespread property damage, and the ensuing panic—”


“—death toll—”


“—flaming debris—”


“—widespread wholesale slaughter—”


“—raining down flaming stone from above—”


“—chaos—”


“—pandemonium—”








A hand slaps at an alarm clock. A man who burns multiple candles at both ends wakes up yawning. He scratches himself and gets out of the bed that he barely staggered into the night before. He swings open the thick curtains, revealing the bright sky of a late afternoon.

That's me. The charming fella with the bedhead who's—— yeah, we'll wait for me to stop scratching myself...

...

...

...

You know what... we can't wait that long. I'm heading for the bathroom there now anyway.

"Aww shit... ahhhhhhh..."

It's not what you think. I'm just looking at the mess that greets me in the morning. And that was just seeing how furry my tongue was. I'm pretty sure I'm less than impressed... I generally am by this part of the morning.

Liquid can be heard pouring into water, a sigh of relief comes from the ensuite bathroom.

And yes... that's exactly what you think is happening now. I'm not doing this to sugarcoat anything. You're still getting the straight, down-the-line truth here. I just want to put some things into proper perspective.

A tap briefly runs, a few seconds later it stops and the man staggers out.

After all... This is when I'm about to find out the world is about to end.

After a haphazard attempt at making the bed he staggers out to the living room.

...Again...

The man walks out to the laundry and picks up a garbage bag. He starts picking up the score of beercans which lay scattered around the recliner in front of the television. He stuffs bread in the toaster and returns to the living room where he picks up the remote. He presses buttons, then slaps the side of the remote in frustration, before pushing one firmer as he aims it directly at the TV's red light.

See, I know we don't talk much. That's not really my way. I'm more a show, rather than tell kind of guy. You know me. The Vigilante. Didn't call myself that. I let others name me, then I just took it and ran. These things spread faster when you let them develop organically, I find. And I want this to spread. I want them to know. I want the people who should be scared of me, to have the time to get good and scared of me.

The red light goes out, signifying that the TV is off of standby and now just 'warming up'. The man walks to the kitchen and gets a plate ready.

But that doesn't need to be our relationship, does it? I mean, we barely have any relationship at all. So let's at least make a token effort at changing that now. It might help make sense of what's to come. So 'Hi. It's me. Izaa-- you know what, you know my name by now, and if you don't I probably don't want to give it to you.'

The television comes on and the footage is playing a BBC reporter covering some European city in utter turmoil. The man pays a few seconds attention, trying to ascertain where exactly he's looking at, and immediately recognizes Brandenburg in Germany from his travels. Several buildings are aflame and bystanders running in scattered directions. The man furrows his brow and opens the utensil drawer in preparation for his food. Flaming debris flowed down the Havel.

Here's something you might not know about me... I don't really believe in God. I was certainly raised to, though. Sorry Mum. Sorry Dad.

The man pops a coffee pod in a machine and places a cup underneath before pulling a lever down to start it. The television starts to capture more of the man's attention.

Well, that might not be the best way of putting it. 'Believe'.

His focus is complete, he starts to recognize that this might be the thing he's been anticipating. The television cuts to another city and a giant column of smoke.

'Believe' kind of suggests I don't think he (or she... or it, I guess...) even exists. But I have seen some crazy shit. Hell, some might even say I AM an example of some crazy shit.

He goes back to the remote and turns the volume on the television up.

I mean, just as the fact that I'm the exception to the rule and am impervious to the effects of magic, kind of in a weird way stands as evidence OF magic. The notion that it occurred BECAUSE I now have no destiny kind of stands in evidence that there is a grand plan. A destiny. God's will.

And there they are. Spaceships descending from the mothership. The man now moves with greater urgency. He runs to the bedroom to get changed — who knows when he'll have access to a clean change of clothes next?

But here’s the thing – once you’ve seen off the threat of a little girl with the power of a god, and sent her to bed without supper or Spongebob… that kind of affects your perspective on these things. So it's less "don't believe" and more "don't care".

The man rushes back now fully dressed, complete with black balaklava mask, downs the brewed coffee in a single gulp and snatches up the toast from the toaster as it pops.

If God wishes to take issue with that, there’s been ample opportunities to step forward and make a list of demands… preferably stepping in to save the world at the time so I wouldn’t have had to. That would have been nice. That’s the thing. Just because you create a thing, doesn’t mean you have to care about it. Case in evidence, that tank of sea monkeys I had when I was twelve.

The man carries massive sacks of sugar through the house towards his bedroom. Time and alien invasions wait for no man.

And that’s of course assuming I was created in the first place - an individual sea monkey. Hard to care so much when you don’t have stakes in creating each individual, isn’t it? After all, science would point that rather than being created, I’m the result of about six million years’ worth of evolution, or 4 billion years of it depending where you draw the starting line… microbes which found themselves hurtling through space on a lucky rock, procreating and mutating until we got to the present day.

The man walks through a closet and disappears in a flash. Reappearing on the other side of the world, in a different coloured closet. The man curses as it appears he didn’t wind up exactly where he hoped to be.

The product of random chance, self-evident of prior reproduction purely by its own existence.

The man snatches up a set of keys off the kitchen bench and drives to his preferred destination. Another house he has in Little Ulster, where he has equipment meant for this specific day. He throws the car about on deserted streets with reckless abandon, he swerves around abandoned cars and fallen concrete with little more than a grunt or glare.

But maybe that’s all wrong. Maybe I’m being overly cynical with the scientific take.

He starts to lean on the horn, both to clear space and also to distract. There’s a ground force of invaders spread out in places on the streets. He’d hit them with his car if he thought he could do it without being slowed down. They’re more solid than they look, he remembers. Strong, to a man. He accelerates as he senses he’s getting closer to his destination. He glances in the back seat and checks his grapple gun and a backpack are there, slid under the passenger seat.

For if I’m not merely the product of evolution and just another man, what am I?

He swerves into the driveway with little concern for onlookers. He’s burnt this place, he accepts it as fact, he’ll find another place in the area after resolving this… irritation. He runs inside the house and returns several seconds later with some kind of metallic devices over each hand. And a mat looped over his arm.

He jumps back in the car and throws the devices in the back. He checks the time and throws the car into gear. He just remembers he has another place to be. All of this chaos, and he seems to almost be going through a chore list.

Driving to a main road he pulls up fast, laying down a stretch of black rubber as he tries not to overshoot his destination. He quickly jumps out of the car and pulls his grapple gun out of the back seat. Looking around he finds another abandoned car and throws an elbow through the driver’s side window, before unlocking the car door and swinging it open.


I’ll tell you what I am…

He breathes deeply and waits as a smaller ship soars past overhead, before starting an audible count and aiming his grapple gun to the heavens.

He pulls the trigger and the hook sails. Just like before. A smaller ship gets entangled just as before. The line spools out rapidly.

The Vigilante throws the grapple gun in the abandoned car and slams the car door over the line. Just as before.

Instead of throwing himself clear of the vehicle, he knows just how much time he has on this occasion. He calmly paces back to his car and retrieves the metal gauntlets from the back seat.

The line on the grapple gun has reached its limit and it quickly snaps taut. The solid unexpected weight of the car drags the small single man craft out of the sky as it slams down to the surface of the world. Just as the man has seen happen before.

An alien invader staggers out of the smoking ruin which was once his own craft. He looks around for the culprit, but he seems to have fled his wrath.

Then he sees him. He hadn’t wanted to escape. He sought a more dramatic appearance. The man jumped down from a building top and landed with a heavy fist creating a smouldering crater in the street below.


I am the Vigilante. I am violence given human form.

And as the smoke clears, the alien can see the gleam of white teeth through a black balaklava. The human is SMILING at him. Leering.

And if I WAS created, I was created for this...
<Snipped quote by Hound55>

At this point we're lucky you didn't post a broken image. Let's cut our losses.


Exactly. Be like @Byrd Man. This is where your expectations SHOULD BE[/u]
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