I'm gonna have to bow out before this gets rolling. Too much going on in the near future and I see this looks closer to ready than I foresee being anytime soon.
"Good. Then we just need the one test in the event our return trip goes to hell. We blow that, he's probably not coming back anyway. We'll only have that info as a reminder if someone panics too soon rather than as something to remember as we're trying to actually do our job. I suppose this concludes the pre-game pep talk. If there's nothing else to discuss, I'll see you tonight." Eric took up his rifle and started to walk for the exit from Deadpool's apartment.
Finally gonna get some fresh air outside this sulfur pit...
"Great. So, that's settled. You'll trigger the alarm and get out of there. From what I hear about you, you'd be better at escaping whoever comes looking that than I would be. Hopefully, it doesn't spook Mr. Franco too bad he changes our variables too much. If they don't see either of us, they shouldn't be so scared of a phantom threat. Shouldn't be. I have no idea how paranoid these people are and I would rather not look into the depths of their depravity."
"Excellent. I think this would be a good time to make final arrangements before we go and install our bug. There may just be one more thing to consider, and it could affect our timing. Do you have any information on what happens when they trigger a panic alarm? It may be prudent to test the panic response reaction if we don't know. Stir up a fake emergency we can slip out of or just trip the alarm from a safe spot. We might want to bring something along where we can hit the panic button from a safe location. Though, then they would have the thing we used and could trace it...maybe we just hit the button on the way out once we get our plant in and have a safe, quick escape route."
Granted. You're dealing with a rules lawyer genie who makes each major component of a combination wish its own wish. Therefore, in his view, your first wish is for a second wish, which is granted. Your second wish is that the second wish cannot be crushed, which is granted only because it is self-contained. The third wish is that the second wish not incite a subsequent wish by someone else. That one has to be crushed because the thread must continue. You're just gonna have to be happy with two out of three.
I wish I had a ticket to attend an Arsenal FC match. I live State-side, so there's a rather large barrier to seeing them live.
Given it some thought and a look through the current lore materials and I'll give it some interest and some fleshing out of a character. Here he is.
Name: Reginald Walton Alias: Gunner Chap Age: 28 Gender: Male Nationality/Place of Birth: London, England, United Kingdom Base of Operations: Asheville, North Carolina, United States of America Occupation: Bartender for The Burger Bar, city league soccer player, moonlight "superhero" (defined VERY loosely)
Appearance: Reginald stands at about 6 feet, 2 inches high, has skin white as an Anglo-Saxon can have, a somewhat trim, athletic figure with a bit of noticeable pudge on his midsection, short black hair, blue eyes, a bit of a rounded head, normally wears a plain green t-shirt and jeans with white tennis shoes when he's not in his work uniform (or his "work" uniform) and, when he does wear shorts, the scars on his left knee from an ACL surgery are quite noticeable (see Bio). He also wears glasses for show--it helps so no one pins him as someone having the kind of eyesight his alter ego puts on display.
His alter ego outfit consists of a red shirt with a white cannon emblem on the front, a belt with a "GC" buckle, white gloves, red sweats and white boots. His red mask with a vertical white stripe down the middle fits fully over the top of his head and covers down to just above his upper lip. It still has eye holes for him to see, nose holes to breathe and ear holes to hear. His belt also has two holsters, one for each basic Smith and Wesson pistol he carries.
Personality: Reginald is a reserved person, having grown up a living disappointment to his family legacy and having experienced firsthand his confidence in what he could do well disintegrating before his eyes (along with his left knee *rimshot*). Skills: Semi-skilled soccer player, physical prowess to boot (pun fully intended) Abilities: Bird's eye vision--lets Reginald focus his vision so it is much more clear and can reveal more details. He cannot use it for longer than a minute without getting a headache or longer than two minutes without his eyes burning and forcing him to stop. Bio: Reginald Walton was born of some of the finest super stock the United Kingdom had to offer. His father, Sir Clayton Walton aka Silver Spur, was London's premier defender of justice, of the people and an exemplar of all things British. God save the Queen? Anyone who believed in God would say He sent Silver Spur to do just that and more. With powers of flight, super strength and pinpoint accuracy, none could run from his shadow and escape as they entered. He made for damned sure anyone running amok and causing trouble in the streets would face his fist fast.
God save you if you decided you wanted to commit your crime during tea time. He wouldn't bother with the formalities then--he'd beat the miscreant to a pulp and let the bobbies clean up what was left while he hurried back for tea time. Several other smarter ne'er-do-wells learned of this more gruesome procedure. One of the most sacred times of the day under the Union Jack became the most peaceful. His namesake became much more clear to others once they also started noticing this brutal brand of vigilantism also rained down if the cry for help rang out during a Tottenham Hotspur football match. Spurs ran in his blood and the moniker honored its place in the Walton household. Silver Spur was knighted following the 10-year anniversary of his first deed of duty, a light beating of a speedster purse-snatcher.
In Silver Spur's line of work, he happened upon one Jennifer Witherington aka Thames Torpedo. The then-young lass, gifted with the ability to run at and withstand up to Mach 3, started seeing more of Silver Spur as their response times to crises and crimes started to coincide more often. After a long romantic interest period, the two engaged and wed on a day surprisingly peaceful for once. Upon the conception of their first child, Jennifer decided the risks would be too great from that moment on, hung up her suit and nailed every component to the wall. Their first child, a boy they named Benjamin, would grow up to inherit his father's strength and his mother's toughness, live up to the family legacy and take on the alter ego Big Ben. Their second, daughter Heather, developed telekinesis and also inherited her mother's resolve and is more famously known as Psychic of Steel.
Their third child, Reginald, turned up a disappointment at every turn in life. Jean-Baptiste Lamarck would renounce his evolution theories on a dime if he could have lived long enough to see Reginald turn out to be weaksauce compared to his family. The power he developed, if one could call it a power at all, was enhanced eyesight, variable focus and excellent recollection. 20/15 baseline vision. He could make it 20/5 at will, though his eyes hurt after using it too long. And he was smart. That was it. Nothing fantastic like the rest of his family. No super speed. No flight. Not even something "cool," like elemental powers or shapeshifting. An all-seeing know-it-all, his father would say. The biggest disappointment, in his father's eyes, was a toss-up between his powers not manifesting in a way he saw as useful or interesting and the day, when Reginald was 7, Reginald told Clayton he liked Arsenal Football Club more. Arsenal. The one club the Walton family hated more than any other. The one their favorite club hated more than any other. Clayton had to restrain himself from saying "You are no son of mine!"
Begrudgingly, since Reginald was never going to be cut out for the family business, Clayton let his youngest take up football. He even let Reginald enter the youth ranks for Arsenal once he was of age and showed some promise as a cerebral defending midfielder with management potential down the line. That promise fell apart in a hurry in his last year before he would be up to sign a contract for the club. He was still with Arsenal as a U23 starter in his final eligible year and rumor had it he would at least feature for the senior club in preseason friendlies before he was shipped off to another club to get senior experience. In his last match, the word "disappointment" understated his management's reaction. In an attempt to clear an opposing chance away and preserve a draw late, his right foot stepped on top of the ball, he slipped on it, flicked it over his head for an own goal and blew out his left ACL. He cost his team the win and suffered catastrophic injury in hilarious fashion. And, of course, no fewer than 10 people caught it on camera to upload to YouTube. His contract was not renewed. The video clip went viral and he dared not show his face to another club. His football fuck-up ranked above Steven Gerrard's slip despite not being on as big a stage.
Disgraced, unable to play for his beloved club, unqualified due to focusing on football and unwilling to show his face to work for any club in any capacity, Reginald Walton cobbled together a costume and gave the family practice a try once his knee healed. He had to make do with MacGyver weaponry since he had no physical powers he could use to subdue anyone and British gun laws were tight. Armed with a makeshift bolt launcher, Gunner Chap (yet another disappointment since it wasn't even alliterative) made his debut on a new field: the field of justice. Unfortunately for him, his half-baked weapon fell apart on first use, the bolt barely even grazed the robber (a miracle it hit at all) and a much more qualified hero (his older brother) had to step in and put an end to the nonsense. After about six months of trying, Reginald conceded he would never match up to his family legacy and would have to find work in a different country to find decent work at all.
Off he left for America, where he found decent work learning how to man the local booze counter in Asheville, North Carolina. After about a year, he stepped up to a better job at one of the local, well-known dive bars, The Burger Bar, a place that didn't sell burgers anymore. His work took off alright there, he at least made enough money to pay his family back for his arrangements to move to America and he hooked up with some other men who played what they called "soccer" State-side on a regular basis. On top of that, getting a well-made, functioning gun was easier than getting a loan. Now, if only his shaky hand would be steady enough to follow his special eyes, Gunner Chap would actually land an incapacitating blow rather than just setting up the assist all the time for one of the more famous heroes to go in for the capture and get all the glory. That lack of marksmanship training and standards has come back to bite him in the ass big-time.
Having been on the verge of being a somebody at one time, Reginald Walton/Gunner Chap deals with living his normal life and his "super" life as a fuckin' nobody.