Captain Uni

Comic Book Discussion Thread (Old, New, Manga)

One of my favorite comics I've read in the last year was Richard Stark's Parker: The Hunter by Darwyn Cooke, amazing crime noir comic adapting a classic novel in the genre. Great art, every line of dialogue is pulled from the book, and a chapter dedicated to a flashback has excerpts of the novel to read to go along with the visuals. Really great stuff.

On the superhero end of things, I read through all of the (good) modern Moon Knight runs last year and recently caught up on the current run by Jed MacKay (which is on its fourth title now), really ignited my love for a character that I had only really a passing interest in before I read through some of the backlog.

Vanguard: Calder City

Question for the class. If you could initiate a crossover between two characters who haven't met yet, what would you pick? Bonus points if neither character is yours.

For my money, I might like to see Archie and Eve. In particular I'd like to see how Eve's power interacts with Archie's book/phone and mag'ik that brushes against her. Also I'd love to see how Archie's awkward ass handles Eve's rather forward personality.

@DocTachyon

Assuming our boy Maxx is still with us, would love to see Solomon and Dusk cross paths on an investigation.

Vanguard: Calder City

A C E O F B L A D E S
A C E O F B L A D E S

---

^{SCOTT'S APARTMENT.
NOW.}

I open the blinds of my window, letting what little light remains of the day bounce from the adjacent building into my apartment. I turn back to my desk and take a seat, staring at my laptop’s screen left open on an unfinished beat. I don’t know if I even have the energy to try to hunt for samples or what synth preset I want to use, but this is the first time I’ve been able to actually sit down and work on something in weeks at this point.

I click through the dozens of sample packs trying to find a decent sound selection for the drums, but every poorly chopped snare and way too bass boosted kick makes my head pound when I hear it. My ears start to ring the longer I cycle through sounds, my mind wandering. The Gray I couldn’t save at the warehouse, the girl that went missing at The Haunt. I can’t do anything to help anyone. Can’t even find a good hi hat.

I hear a knock and wonder for a moment if I was looking through the percussion folder instead of the hi hats folder. Then it sounds off again, louder, and I realize it’s coming from the window. Panic surges through me and I jump out of the chair, summoning my sword. The tension releases when I see Rock perched on the fire escape outside, only to quickly be replaced by confusion. After a moment, I dispel the sword and step over to the window, lifting it open.

“Rock? What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Just checking in. I realized I left you in a pretty bad way,” Rock says.

“You couldn’t have called?”

“International sim card. Didn’t want to pay the fees.”

I blink in astonishment before shrugging. So he’d rather climb up my fire escape? “... Fair.” I look behind me, then back to Rock. “You coming in?”

He nods and ducks inside. I see he has something tucked under his arm. He grabs it and holds it up, a nice bottle of a vintage wine. “Saw and your mom used to drink this after the hard nights. He’d have a glass every year on the anniversary.” He puts it on my creaky ass desk and looks around. “Figured we could crack into it and talk shop,” he says, “you got a corkscrew?”

“Uh, no. Don’t exactly drink much wine,” I say, picking up the bottle and looking it over. “... I got an idea.” I move over to the coffee table, clearing off some clutter, and set the bottle down. I step back, summon my sword and mentally hone its edge, then swing at the top of the bottle. The neck is sliced through cleanly, and the top drops. I realize it will shatter against the hardwood, but Rock snatches it out of the air.

“Clean cut. You’re getting better with that thing already.” He runs his thumb over the smooth glass.

I stiffen at the words and for a moment I’m standing over the two dead men behind the warehouse, soaked in blood. I clench my eyes shut but the image remains. “Yeah... I guess.” I dispel the sword and take a seat on the couch, sinking into the worn out leather.

Rock’s brow furrows at me, but he doesn’t say anything about it. “Glasses?” he asks. I point him to the right cabinet and he selects a pair of coffee mugs, one reading ‘Sandra’s: Calder’s Gourmet Coffee’ and the other depicting the logo of UMBC’s music program. He pours and sits next to me, wine between our mugs.

“Scott.” He takes a sip and his face scrunches up. He pushes past the taste and swallows. “You look like shit.”

I take a sip from my wine as well. It's awful but I swallow as well out of respect for Saw… Even if he had bad taste in wine. “... Yeah. I uh, had another run in the other day.”

“You don’t look any more banged up than when I left you. Did you win?”

The blade slid right between his ribs and punctured his lung. The other guy’s head rolled right off of his shoulders. They were dead before they hit the floor.

I take in a shuddering breath. “... I had to. It was them or it was me.”

“Like that, huh?” Rock struggles through another gulp of wine. “First time?”

I close my eyes and nod. “Yeah. There were five of them trying to kidnap this guy. I knocked two of them out before they got the upper hand, had me on the ground beating me half to death. I was only able to get back up because the guy they were after was a Gray. Then another guy showed up, knocked out the Gray, and got away with him. I managed to knock out a third guy before the last one told the other two to kill me.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose as I clench my eyes tighter. I open my eyes and take in a breath, looking at Rock. “Like I said. It was them or me.”

Rock reaches out like he’s going to pat me on the back, but he changes his mind and puts the hand over the top of his mug. “Been like that for me before. But I can’t say it ever bothered me. I’ve killed on accident before. Someone’s not as tough as I think, something hits too hard. It’s usually easier when it’s on purpose.” I see him turning over old memories.

I wonder for a moment if any of those times were when he was working with Saw. Everything I know about the man tells me he wouldn’t have allowed that. I consider asking before deciding it’s not my place. “... It didn’t feel easy,” I say. “I keep turning it over in my mind wondering if I could have gotten away without having to kill them. But at the time it just felt like that was the only way I’d survive.”

Rock nods and sips again. He grimaces, but looks like he’s getting better at handling it. He sits the mug down and meets my eyes. “When I fight someone, or someone fights me, I go all out. It’s how I respect them. That they’re worth it, worth the effort. To me, nothing hurts worse than when I can tell someone isn’t giving their all.” He squeezes his fist. “Especially if I lose. Saw hated it.”

“... Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I ask.

“I’m trying to say that he taught me that restraint is the better path. Tried to teach me, anyway. He had Eagle Eye talk to me about it. You remember him?”

“A little bit,” I say. Eagle Eye floated around my Mom’s ‘clique’, if you could call it that, but according to her stories he was a lot closer to Shield than her. Like, a lot. Mom thought the two of them would have tied the knot eventually if she hadn’t lost Shield. After that he’d come by occasionally, talk to her in hushed tones about what happened and cry about it when they thought I had gone to sleep.

“You know he’s the first to become a Crow War Chief since World War II? Bunch of requirements for it, ones that don’t usually come up. Lead a war party, steal an enemy’s horse, take a bad guy’s weapon. But the one he was most proud of, the one he was trying to impress on me, was to touch a living enemy without killing them. Fight, preserve your own life, not take your opponent’s, and still win.”

I nod. “That seems like something that a lot of heroes value. Your dad, my mom, Eagle Eye, Shield, Anvil… Even if your powers are something where it’s easier to kill with, you’re supposed to find another way.” I look down at my hands. “Mom never killed anyone.”

“Knowing how to kill someone is the first step to not killing someone,” Rock says. ”When we fought, you barely knew how to swing your sword. Now you know how to use it properly, how to cut. Most of Queen’s escapades were before my time, but I know she wasn’t just swinging her swords around like bats. She’d cut precisely, decisively. You just need to learn how to cut better. You’ve already proved you’re learning fast.”

I mull over what he says for a moment before sighing. “I don’t even know how she could do it, how she learned to do it. I don’t have anyone to show me how to be better. She could have, but…” I trail off, raising the mug of wine to my lips and taking a sip. Still really bad.

“They’re always gone too soon.” Rock slams the rest of his mug and shudders as he chokes down the last of it. “I thought I learned everything worth knowing from Saw. By the time I find out there’s more, he’s already gone. For instance, how he stomached this fucking wine.”

I snort, almost choking on my laughter. “... Yeah, this is fucking terrible.” I stand, walk over to the kitchenette, and dump the mug into the sink. “Y’know what’s funny?” I say, watching the last of my cup circle the drain. “I don’t think my mom even liked wine. She was a liquor girl.”

“No kidding? It was Saw’s favorite. He swore she loved it. That old dog.”

“My mom was the most stubborn woman I’ve ever known but she always had a soft spot for him. I know she hated every time she had to drink it, but I guess his company made it bearable.” I look back to Rock. “We’re never drinking that again, by the way.”

“Not like we can recork it,” he says. He holds up the sliced top of the bottle and tosses it in the trash before pouring the rest of the bottle down the drain. We watch it swirl in the sink. “Apparently my old man was a hell of a drinking buddy, if you could get over his taste. He couldn’t get drunk either, so he was always good to drive.”

“Yeah, apparently back in the day when they had to get somewhere as a group, mom would fly, Anvil would use her jetpack, Eagle Eye had his helicopter… And Saw and Shield would drive in Saw’s car.”

“He loved that thing. Wouldn’t put a cent into it, said the money went better to charity or to the soup kitchens, but he cared for it like it was one of us kids. Every time Techtronic or Anvil offered to upgrade it, it was like Christmas.”

“Mom was the same way with her PDA. It was a gift to Shield from Techtronic so he could keep in touch with both of them during missions. After Shield died, she redesigned her outfit to mount it on her wrist. It was like having a piece of him, I guess.”

“I remember that old thing. Saw told me Techtronic made it back in ‘99. Queen, Shield, Eagle Eye, and Saw were looking into a string of kidnappings and needed to stay in touch with home base. There were a bunch of missing Grays, they thought it was all connected. They made some arrests and it all quieted down, but they could never find a ringleader.”

That makes me pause. “... Missing Grays?”

“Yeah, tough times back then.” He looks over to the fridge and gestures to it. “You got any Calder Cola here? Need to get the taste of this wine out of my mouth.”

“Rock, that guy at the warehouse. He was a Gray too, the guys were dressed in all black with batons and tranq guns and then hauled him off in a van. And there’s been other cases all over the city of Grays going missing.”

“Shit. Maybe I need something harder than Calder Cola.” He opens the fridge to find my half carton of eggs and rotten pint of milk. He reaches for the only other thing inside, the twelve pack of Calder Cola, and realizes the whole sleeve of cans are empty. He slams the fridge door.

“I’m trying to get out of this superhero stuff but it's like quicksand. I put one toe in wondering about Saw and now I’m waist deep. Truth is, I came over here to…” He chokes on his next word, “apologize for hurting you, and it seems like my shitty wine isn’t cutting it. I’ll help you out with this Gray stuff, but then we’re square.”

For a moment I wonder if this whole conversation was purely transactional for Rock, but I hope that it isn’t. “... Deal. I’ve got a guy we can call, he said to contact him if I found out anything about this case.” I pull out my phone and the business card I was offered at Sandra’s earlier this week.

“You ever heard of Dominic Dusk?”

Author’s Notes

Uni: Scott uses a cracked copy of FL Studio. I, personally, use a paid copy of Ableton. Because I’m stupid.

Doc: We realized that Eagle Eye and Shield almost getting married implies that in the Vanguard Universe, gay marriage was legal in the 90s. Happy (Belated) Pride!

Doc: Shout outs to my pals on Discord for letting me sound out the stuff about Eagle Eye. I was worried it would maybe be culturally insensitive but I thought I might as well swing for it. He has pretty limited screentime here but I tried to give him at least the outline of a broader character, and take the opportunity to mention how cool Joseph Medicine Crow was, if only indirectly.

Uni's Character Depository And Post Workshop

Disclaimer: this was Doc's idea

W O L V E R I N E
W O L V E R I N E

^{"I'm the best there is at what I do..."}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ I ain't really gonna use this image dawg _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ James "Logan" Howlett _________________________________________________________ 158 | Single _________________________________________________________ The X-Men | Canadian A L L I E S & A N T A G O N I S T S A L L I E S & A N T A G O N I S T S _________________________________________________________ [+] A L L I E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name - Note A N T A G O N I S T ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Name - Note - P O S T C A T A L O G U E P O S T C A T A L O G U E _________________________________________________________ XX - Post Name -

T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... ___________________________________________________________________________________ A brief synopsis of your character's life, experiences and training before the RP begins. This is where you outline your vision for the character including any notable changes or differences from the regularly accepted canon. This should be a short summary that provides insight into where the character is in terms of their overall progress and development. You could also include any notable differences from the standard canon you've added to your character. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) __________________________________________________________________________________ Why do you want to play this character, what is the driving motivation behind both this desire and the character themselves. What do you hope to accomplish and where do you want the character's story/stories to go? For a driving character, there should be enough of an outline present to interest other players along with specifications towards how many players you're looking to involve or available roles. For supporting characters, this should indicate either a plot you've arranged to be part of or the type of plot you're looking to be involved in. Roaming characters have the privilege of doing either or simply stating a roadmap for the character to exemplify how you'd ideally like them to move between plots.

_{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

^{"... And what I do isn't very nice."}

Vanguard: Calder City

A C E O F B L A D E S
A C E O F B L A D E S

---

^{A FEW BLOCKS FROM SCOTT'S APARTMENT.
NOW.}

I step out of the convenience store, digging through the brown paper bag, brushing aside a few packs of ramen and pulling out the stick of beef jerky I bought. With one hand still holding the bag, I use the other to hold the stick while opening the wrapper with my teeth, then take a bite and start the walk home. Only a few more blocks past some old warehouses. The conversation with my dad at Haven was still weighing on my mind no matter how hard I tried not to think about it. "Just because you think you have to be a hero doesn't mean you have to stop being a person." His words echo in my mind, bouncing off the walls inside my skull so I can't ignore it.

He's wrong. Mom had two lives before her identity was uncovered, and when they became one it just made it easier for Omega to track her down and kill her. I can't do the same thing. I can't risk ruining someone else's life because I died. I don't want to leave a child behind the way she - I reel back from the thought as soon as it enters my mind, feeling disgusted with myself that I would even imply mom's death was her own fault, like she abandoned me instead of giving her life defending me and dad.

I sigh. "Goddammit..." I shake my head in an attempt to get rid of all the negative thoughts, walking past a row of dilapidated warehouses that were shut down long before I was even born. A voice sounds off as I'm about to take another bite of beef jerky, faint but still loud enough to be heard clearly.

"Just you stop right there. Freak."

I stop in my tracks, casting a glance in the direction of the voice only to find no one looking at me. Guess I wasn't the person that was aimed towards. For a second I wonder if I'm starting to lose it when I hear another voice, quieter than the other and quivering in fear: "I-uh-I-I'm sorry, I didn't know this uh, building was still in o-operation... W-w-wait, what are y-UGH!"

Shit.

I break into a sprint towards the sound of the voices, ducking through an alleyway between the buildings. Damn, don't have my costume, gotta hide my identity somehow... I stop, look at the big paper bag I have in my hand, then dump the contents in the alley before sliding it over my head. I poke holes through it where my eyes are and find that I can see pretty clearly, even if the edges of my vision are obscured. It'll work... Even if I look ridiculous.

The sounds of a beating get clearer as I get further down the alley, only to see what's unfolding as I turn a corner: three guys dressed in all black with kevlar vests, using batons to beat on some poor guy in coveralls as he's curled up on the ground. I don't bother coming up with a witty quip. I just summon my sword, keep it blunt, and fling it at one of the men. It strikes him right in the head, sending him reeling backwards as his black shades fly off his face in the opposite direction. He lands on the ground with a thud, knocked out cold.

The sword is about to hit the ground when I act fast, yanking my arm back and recalling it to my hand. It flies true and I wrap my fingers around the grip, getting into a fighting stance. Almost like I was practicing that. The other men have noticed me now, probably would have been hard not to after that, shouting out colorful streams of curses as they abandon their victim to focus on me. I see two more men climb out of a black SUV maybe fifty feet away, holding similar batons. They start sprinting forward as the two men ahead of them rush to meet me.

Four guys. I don't think I've ever taken on more than two people at once before. Time to see if I can hold my own.

One of the men runs in with a wild swing and I duck out of the way, swinging my sword into his chest. It connects and he wheezes as the air is knocked out of him, clutching at his ribs with one hand while the other struggles to keep a grip on the baton. I pull my blade back and lift it high, bringing it down hard on his head. His entire body lurches forward, his face slamming into the cement. He's out.

I look up from the unconscious man only to see a baton slam right into my nose. I stumble back, dazed, recovering just in time to take a fist to the gut that makes me keel over. Another baton slams into my jaw, sending me to the floor, my sword slipping out of my grasp and clattering to the ground. My vision is blurry, vomit rises in the back of my throat, every muscle in my body feels like it's on fire. A boot comes down hard on my chest, pressing my chest into the asphalt. I groan in pain.

"Heh. Two Grays for the price of one," the man standing over me says. "Good deal. Get him in the van with the rat freak."

No.

No no no no no.

Get up.

Get the fuck up.

Don't let it end like this.

I throw my hands up to wrap them around the man's ankle but he just kicks them away, sending his boot into my chin and making my head snap back. It bounces off the concrete and I realize that I can't do anything. They're going to take me who the hell knows where and do who the fuck knows what.

Rock was right. I'm not cut out for this. I should have stopped while I had the chance.

I close my eyes.

And then I can't hear anything except an ear-piercing screech.

It's even more painful than the beating I just took, pounding against my eardrums and frying my brain. After a few seconds I realize that the boot is off of me now. Fighting through the pain, I try to pull myself up and stand using whatever strength I have left. I've managed to prop myself up on my elbows when suddenly the sound stops, my ears still ringing but my head clearer than it was. I look over to see the guy in coveralls unconscious with a tranquilizer dart in his neck, his mouth wide open as if he had been screaming.

The other three men that were ganging up on me are on the ground with the two that I knocked out, hands pressed over their ears as they try to pick themselves back up. A sixth man with a tranquilizer gun in his hand stands over the Gray they were all trying to kidnap. I pull myself to my feet just as the other men do. The man with the dart gun raises it and levels it at me, pulling the slide back to load another dart. Panic bursts through me but I keep it together and grab the nearest man, holding him in front of me just as the dart is fired. It pierces him in the chest and he goes limp in my arms.

I toss him to the side, seeing that the other two men have recovered now, picking up their batons. The one with the tranq gun lifts the man in coveralls over his shoulder, shouting to the other two: "I got the rat, just fucking kill the one with the sword!" The men look to each other, grin, then come at me with their batons.

I can barely stand. They're going to beat my head to fucking mush. I can't just let them do that. I recall my sword, left forgotten on the ground after they all got their hands on me, and as soon as it hits my hand I pour everything I have into making it as sharp as possible. I stumble backwards as one swings at me, thrusting my sword towards his chest and closing my eyes. I feel the blade slide deep into his ribs with little effort, hear his death rattle as he goes limp.

I open my eyes. The other man is hesitating, stunned to see his friend impaled against my sword. A scream of rage rips out of my throat as I yank my sword out of the man's chest, sending the corpse to the floor, and swing with all my might at the second man. I look right into his eyes and see fear before the blade connects, slicing through his neck. His head rolls off of his shoulders and hits the ground with a dull splat, his body standing still for a second before it hits the ground too.

I fall to my hands and knees, rip off the paper bag, and vomit violently. I can hear the tires of the SUV squealing as it tears out of the parking lot. Bile continues to flow out of my mouth, and after a while I don't even have anything left in my stomach but acid, which keeps coming out anyway. Eventually it comes to a stop and I pull myself up, trying not to look at the two dead men.

Everything hurts. I take in deep breaths to steady my racing heart. It doesn't help. My breath hitches as I choke back a sob, clenching my eyes shut so I don't accidentally look at the men I just killed. I stumble forward, pressing a hand against the wall of the warehouse, and limp away into the night.

^{Written with creative input from @Sep.}

Uni's Character Depository And Post Workshop

A C E O F B L A D E S
A C E O F B L A D E S

---

^{A FEW BLOCKS FROM SCOTT'S APARTMENT.
NOW.}

I step out of the convenience store, digging through the brown paper bag, brushing aside a few packs of ramen and pulling out the stick of beef jerky I bought. With one hand still holding the bag, I use the other to hold the stick while opening the wrapper with my teeth, then take a bite and start the walk home. Only a few more blocks past some old warehouses. The conversation with my dad at Haven was still weighing on my mind no matter how hard I tried not to think about it. "Just because you think you have to be a hero doesn't mean you have to stop being a person." His words echo in my mind, bouncing off the walls inside my skull so I can't ignore it.

He's wrong. Mom had two lives before her identity was uncovered, and when they became one it just made it easier for Omega to track her down and kill her. I can't do the same thing. I can't risk ruining someone else's life because I died. I don't want to leave a child behind the way she - I reel back from the thought as soon as it enters my mind, feeling disgusted with myself that I would even imply mom's death was her own fault, like she abandoned me instead of giving her life defending me and dad.

I sigh. "Goddammit..." I shake my head in an attempt to get rid of all the negative thoughts, walking past a row of dilapidated warehouses that were shut down long before I was even born. A voice sounds off as I'm about to take another bite of beef jerky, faint but still loud enough to be heard clearly.

"Just you stop right there. Freak."

I stop in my tracks, casting a glance in the direction of the voice only to find no one looking at me. Guess I wasn't the person that was aimed towards. For a second I wonder if I'm starting to lose it when I hear another voice, quieter than the other and quivering in fear: "I-uh-I-I'm sorry, I didn't know this uh, building was still in o-operation... W-w-wait, what are y-UGH!"

Shit.

I break into a sprint towards the sound of the voices, ducking through an alleyway between the buildings. Damn, don't have my costume, gotta hide my identity somehow... I stop, look at the big paper bag I have in my hand, then dump the contents in the alley before sliding it over my head. I poke holes through it where my eyes are and find that I can see pretty clearly, even if the edges of my vision are obscured. It'll work... Even if I look ridiculous.

The sounds of a beating get clearer as I get further down the alley, only to see what's unfolding as I turn a corner: three guys dressed in all black with kevlar vests, using batons to beat on some poor guy in coveralls as he's curled up on the ground. I don't bother coming up with a witty quip. I just summon my sword, keep it blunt, and fling it at one of the men. It strikes him right in the head, sending him reeling backwards as his black shades fly off his face in the opposite direction. He lands on the ground with a thud, knocked out cold.

The sword is about to hit the ground when I act fast, yanking my arm back and recalling it to my hand. It flies true and I wrap my fingers around the grip, getting into a fighting stance. Almost like I was practicing that. The other men have noticed me now, probably would have been hard not to after that, shouting out colorful streams of curses as they abandon their victim to focus on me. I see two more men climb out of a black SUV maybe fifty feet away, holding similar batons. They start sprinting forward as the two men ahead of them rush to meet me.

Four guys. I don't think I've ever taken on more than two people at once before. Time to see if I can hold my own.

One of the men runs in with a wild swing and I duck out of the way, swinging my sword into his chest. It connects and he wheezes as the air is knocked out of him, clutching at his ribs with one hand while the other struggles to keep a grip on the baton. I pull my blade back and lift it high, bringing it down hard on his head. His entire body lurches forward, his face slamming into the cement. He's out.

I look up from the unconscious man only to see a baton slam right into my nose. I stumble back, dazed, recovering just in time to take a fist to the gut that makes me keel over. Another baton slams into my jaw, sending me to the floor, my sword slipping out of my grasp and clattering to the ground. My vision is blurry, vomit rises in the back of my throat, every muscle in my body feels like it's on fire. A boot comes down hard on my chest, pressing my chest into the asphalt. I groan in pain.

"Heh. Two Grays for the price of one," the man standing over me says. "Good deal. Get him in the van with the rat freak."

No.

No no no no no.

Get up.

Get the fuck up.

Don't let it end like this.

I throw my hands up to wrap them around the man's ankle but he just kicks them away, sending his boot into my chin and making my head snap back. It bounces off the concrete and I realize that I can't do anything. They're going to take me who the hell knows where and do who the fuck knows what.

Rock was right. I'm not cut out for this. I should have stopped while I had the chance.

I close my eyes.

And then I can't hear anything except an ear-piercing screech.

It's even more painful than the beating I just took, pounding against my eardrums and frying my brain. After a few seconds I realize that the boot is off of me now. Fighting through the pain, I try to pull myself up and stand using whatever strength I have left. I've managed to prop myself up on my elbows when suddenly the sound stops, my ears still ringing but my head clearer than it was. I look over to see the guy in coveralls unconscious with a tranquilizer dart in his neck, his mouth wide open as if he had been screaming.

The other three men that were ganging up on me are on the ground with the two that I knocked out, hands pressed over their ears as they try to pick themselves back up. A sixth man with a tranquilizer gun in his hand stands over the Gray they were all trying to kidnap. I pull myself to my feet just as the other men do. The man with the dart gun raises it and levels it at me, pulling the slide back to load another dart. Panic bursts through me but I keep it together and grab the nearest man, holding him in front of me just as the dart is fired. It pierces him in the chest and he goes limp in my arms.

I toss him to the side, seeing that the other two men have recovered now, picking up their batons. The one with the tranq gun lifts the man in coveralls over his shoulder, shouting to the other two: "I got the rat, just fucking kill the one with the sword!" The men look to each other, grin, then come at me with their batons.

I can barely stand. They're going to beat my head to fucking mush. I can't just let them do that. I recall my sword, left forgotten on the ground after they all got their hands on me, and as soon as it hits my hand I pour everything I have into making it as sharp as possible. I stumble backwards as one swings at me, thrusting my sword towards his chest and closing my eyes. I feel the blade slide deep into his ribs with little effort, hear his death rattle as he goes limp.

I open my eyes. The other man is hesitating, stunned to see his friend impaled against my sword. A scream of rage rips out of my throat as I yank my sword out of the man's chest, sending the corpse to the floor, and swing with all my might at the second man. I look right into his eyes and see fear before the blade connects, slicing through his neck. His head rolls off of his shoulders and hits the ground with a dull splat, his body standing still for a second before it hits the ground too.

I fall to my hands and knees, rip off the paper bag, and vomit violently. I can hear the tires of the SUV squealing as it tears out of the parking lot. Bile continues to flow out of my mouth, and after a while I don't even have anything left in my stomach but acid, which keeps coming out anyway. Eventually it comes to a stop and I pull myself up, trying not to look at the two dead men.

Everything hurts. I take in deep breaths to steady my racing heart. It doesn't help. My breath hitches as I choke back a sob, clenching my eyes shut so I don't accidentally look at the men I just killed. I stumble forward, pressing a hand against the wall of the warehouse, and limp away into the night.

^{Written with creative input from @Sep.}

Vanguard: Calder City

I am going to bow out of Vanguard for now. I will read along because there's great work happening in here and I love to see it, but the IC has gotten very far away from me and we're at a point where delivering a follow-up to something that's now 32 posts old would be frankly embarrassing, and that's assuming I even have a plan for Lance or know what to do with him. I fear the pace is simply too fast for me to keep up with - the proverbial monkey's paw.

I may simmer away in the background on potential concepts for something to return with, but for now I will lurk.

@Roman

Vanguard: Calder City

A C E O F B L A D E S
A C E O F B L A D E S

---

^{HAVEN BAR AND GRILL IN MIDTOWN.
NOW.}

I step through the front door of Haven, immediately basking in the atmosphere: the dinner crowd filling every seat in the house, the sound of scattered conversations drowning out the live games on the TVs, the smell of every dish on offer being cooked up in the kitchen. A smile makes its way onto my face as I remember the weekends spent as a kid, sitting at a table with a stack of comics and dad's iPod while he tended the bar and mom was flying around the city. She'd drop in sometimes on dad's breaks if nothing was going on and we'd have lunch together as a family. There's a tinge of pain in the memories, thinking about the times after she died when I'd be at Haven, sulking in a quiet corner and trying to pretend for a moment that I didn't exist.

I shudder a bit, shaking off the memories before walking up to the bar. Dad's not tending it right now, but I recognize the woman who is, and I smile at her as I take a seat. "Hey Char."

Charlotte has been working at the bar since I was in my last year of high school and she was in her second year of college. I got to know her a bit the summer before I left Calder to attend UMBC, then figured I'd never see her again. Lo and behold, she also ended up dropping out, and she was still working at Haven when I got back. It's always nice to see her.

Charlotte's head perks up when she hears my voice and she looks over to me with a grin, setting a mug of beer down in front of a patron before moving over to where I'm sitting. "Scott, it's so good to-" She cuts herself off, looking concerned now, and raises a hand to point at the bandage on my cheek. "What the hell happened?"

I let a finger rest on the bandage for a moment. After last night's encounter in the diner where Dusk pointed out my terrible lying skills, I decided to work on a cover story, and I only falter slightly before delivering it: "Oh, this guy at the Haunt threw a bottle at me. Managed to duck out of the way but a shard hit me in the cheek after it bounced off the wall."

Charlotte frowns deeply when she hears that. "Jesus Scott, you gotta quit working at that shithole. You know they run drugs through there, right?"

I shrug. "Hey, the Haunt pays pretty decent." I don't add that as a server, I can eavesdrop on conversations throughout the place and see if anything catches my interest. Not much has yet, but hey, hopefully something will pop up.

"Why don't you just come work here?"

"The Haunt is way closer to where I live, it's a twenty minute bus ride there versus almost an hour to here. Plus if dad hired me, everyone would be crying nepotism."

She rolls her eyes. "That's bullshit, Scott. Everyone here loves you."

"They might not love me so much when they have to spend forty hours a week with me."

She shakes her head with a sigh. "You really need to stop putting yourself down so much, Scott. You're a great guy."

"Sure," I say dismissively, giving another look around the bar again and still not seeing dad anywhere. "Anyway, I came here to see dad. Is he around?"

Charlotte looks like she wants to press the issue, but probably figures it would be best to drop it. "... Yeah. He went on his break just before you got here, saw him head back to his office."

"Thanks. Take it easy, Char." I slip out of my seat and pull away from the bar, heading to the back and through the door to the break room and the manager's office. I pass by the break room where a few servers are chatting and step up to the office. A simple plastic placard rests on the door, reading "Benjamin Knight". After a moment, I raise a hand and knock.

"Come in."

I open the door and step inside, making sure to angle my head so that dad won't see the bandage immediately.

My dad sets his eyes on me as soon as I walk in, and his bored expression instantly warms up into a smile. "Scott! You didn't tell me you were coming." He stands up and approaches me with arms wide open. I meet him halfway and we give each other a hug, dad squeezing me tight. After a moment longer than I probably would've liked, he pulls back and looks at me, his grin slowly falling as takes in my face.

His face shifts into a stern mask, his eyes slightly narrowed. "Finally went up against someone out of your league?" he asks, gesturing to his own face where the bandage is on mine.

I sigh. "Yeah. It was uh, it was Rock, actually."

Dad blinks in surprise but quickly recovers. "Saw's son? He's back in town?"

"I guess he is. Thought I saw someone breaking into a store down by the docks, turns out it was where one of the Mountain's gadget stashes was. Rock kicked my ass."

"Makes sense. He was trained for the life." Dad's probably trying to imply something with that.

"Look, I don't really want to talk about it. I'm fine. I just came here to catch up because it's been a minute." I look over to his desk, a neat stack of paperwork sitting next to a keyboard. There's a photo frame on the desk, a picture of the two of us and mom when we visited Hersheypark for my seventh birthday. I look away from it and back at dad.

Dad purses his lips together, looking into my eyes. For a moment I meet his gaze, feeling some kind of pressure weighing down on me, then look down at my feet. He steps back and sits back down at his desk and I follow his lead, taking a seat on the sofa against the wall. "You been getting out much, son? Other than your nightly escapades I mean."

I consider trying to lie for a minute, say something like "yeah, I've been seeing this guy I met at a coffee shop" or "I've been going out with friends from work", but dad can read me like an open book, so I just shake my head.

"Come on, Scott. You live in a city with so much to do and you just stay at home when you're not at work or playing vigilante?"

"I just don't see the point. Yeah, sure, I have to go to work, but that's just something I do to pay the bills. My real life is hitting the streets, saving people. Making a difference."

"That's the only thing you care about?"

"Yeah."

"You should care about a lot more. Some of your friends from high school swing by sometimes to ask about you because they still think about you, they want to reconnect. You can't just throw away the people closest to you because you think it's for the greater good."

My shoulders tense up and I try my best not to look at dad. "That doesn't matter. I can't be a hero and act like I can still live a normal life, too."

"Scott. Look at me," dad says. After a moment of hesitation, I shift my gaze over to him and he leans forward to emphasize what he's about to say. "Just because you think you have to be a hero doesn't mean you have to stop being a person."

I take in a breath. "... It's my life. I'll decide what I have to be." I stand up and walk over to the door, yanking it open and stepping out.

"Scott, please, don't-" I shut the door before dad can finish his sentence and rush back down the hall back into the bar proper, where the atmosphere is the same, everyone oblivious to the family drama that just took place in the back.

Normal people.

I can't ever be one of them.

I have a job to do.

I pull my headphones off my neck and put them on, hitting play on my phone as I walk down to the bus stop.

Uni's Character Depository And Post Workshop

A C E O F B L A D E S
A C E O F B L A D E S

---

^{HAVEN BAR AND GRILL IN MIDTOWN.
THE NEXT DAY.}

I step through the front door of Haven, immediately basking in the atmosphere: the dinner crowd filling every seat in the house, the sound of scattered conversations drowning out the live games on the TVs, the smell of every dish on offer being cooked up in the kitchen. A smile makes its way onto my face as I remember the weekends spent as a kid, sitting at a table with a stack of comics and dad's iPod while he tended the bar and mom was flying around the city. She'd drop in sometimes on dad's breaks if nothing was going on and we'd have lunch together as a family. There's a tinge of pain in the memories, thinking about the times after she died when I'd be at Haven, sulking in a quiet corner and trying to pretend for a moment that I didn't exist.

I shudder a bit, shaking off the memories before walking up to the bar. Dad's not tending it right now, but I recognize the woman who is, and I smile at her as I take a seat. "Hey Char."

Charlotte has been working at the bar since I was in my last year of high school and she was in her second year of college. I got to know her a bit the summer before I left Calder to attend UMBC, then figured I'd never see her again. Lo and behold, she also ended up dropping out, and she was still working at Haven when I got back. It's always nice to see her.

Charlotte's head perks up when she hears my voice and she looks over to me with a grin, setting a mug of beer down in front of a patron before moving over to where I'm sitting. "Scott, it's so good to-" She cuts herself off, looking concerned now, and raises a hand to point at the bandage on my cheek. "What the hell happened?"

I let a finger rest on the bandage for a moment. After last night's encounter in the diner where Dusk pointed out my terrible lying skills, I decided to work on a cover story, and I only falter slightly before delivering it: "Oh, this guy at the Haunt threw a bottle at me. Managed to duck out of the way but a shard hit me in the cheek after it bounced off the wall."

Charlotte frowns deeply when she hears that. "Jesus Scott, you gotta quit working at that shithole. You know they run drugs through there, right?"

I shrug. "Hey, the Haunt pays pretty decent." I don't add that as a server, I can eavesdrop on conversations throughout the place and see if anything catches my interest. Not much has yet, but hey, hopefully something will pop up.

"Why don't you just come work here?"

"The Haunt is way closer to where I live, it's a twenty minute bus ride there versus almost an hour to here. Plus if dad hired me, everyone would be crying nepotism."

She rolls her eyes. "That's bullshit, Scott. Everyone here loves you."

"They might not love me so much when they have to spend forty hours a week with me."

She shakes her head with a sigh. "You really need to stop putting yourself down so much, Scott. You're a great guy."

"Sure," I say dismissively, giving another look around the bar again and still not seeing dad anywhere. "Anyway, I came here to see dad. Is he around?"

Charlotte looks like she wants to press the issue, but probably figures it would be best to drop it. "... Yeah. He went on his break just before you got here, saw him head back to his office."

"Thanks. Take it easy, Char." I slip out of my seat and pull away from the bar, heading to the back and through the door to the break room and the manager's office. I pass by the break room where a few servers are chatting and step up to the office. A simple plastic placard rests on the door, reading "Benjamin Knight". After a moment, I raise a hand and knock.

"Come in."

I open the door and step inside, making sure to angle my head so that dad won't see the bandage immediately.

My dad sets his eyes on me as soon as I walk in, and his bored expression instantly warms up into a smile. "Scott! You didn't tell me you were coming." He stands up and approaches me with arms wide open. I meet him halfway and we give each other a hug, dad squeezing me tight. After a moment longer than I probably would've liked, he pulls back and looks at me, his grin slowly falling as takes in my face.

His face shifts into a stern mask, his eyes slightly narrowed. "Finally went up against someone out of your league?" he asks, gesturing to his own face where the bandage is on mine.

I sigh. "Yeah. It was uh, it was Rock, actually."

Dad blinks in surprise but quickly recovers. "Saw's son? He's back in town?"

"I guess he is. Thought I saw someone breaking into a store down by the docks, turns out it was where one of the Mountain's gadget stashes was. Rock kicked my ass."

"Makes sense. He was trained for the life." Dad's probably trying to imply something with that.

"Look, I don't really want to talk about it. I'm fine. I just came here to catch up because it's been a minute." I look over to his desk, a neat stack of paperwork sitting next to a keyboard. There's a photo frame on the desk, a picture of the two of us and mom when we visited Hersheypark for my seventh birthday. I look away from it and back at dad.

Dad purses his lips together, looking into my eyes. For a moment I meet his gaze, feeling some kind of pressure weighing down on me, then look down at my feet. He steps back and sits back down at his desk and I follow his lead, taking a seat on the sofa against the wall. "You been getting out much, son? Other than your nightly escapades I mean."

I consider trying to lie for a minute, say something like "yeah, I've been seeing this guy I met at a coffee shop" or "I've been going out with friends from work", but dad can read me like an open book, so I just shake my head.

"Come on, Scott. You live in a city with so much to do and you just stay at home when you're not at work or playing vigilante?"

"I just don't see the point. Yeah, sure, I have to go to work, but that's just something I do to pay the bills. My real life is hitting the streets, saving people. Making a difference."

"That's the only thing you care about?"

"Yeah."

"You should care about a lot more. Some of your friends from high school swing by sometimes to ask about you because they still think about you, they want to reconnect. You can't just throw away the people closest to you because you think it's for the greater good."

My shoulders tense up and I try my best not to look at dad. "That doesn't matter. I can't be a hero and act like I can still live a normal life, too."

"Scott. Look at me," dad says. After a moment of hesitation, I shift my gaze over to him and he leans forward to emphasize what he's about to say. "Just because you think you have to be a hero doesn't mean you have to stop being a person."

I take in a breath. "... It's my life. I'll decide what I have to be." I stand up and walk over to the door, yanking it open and stepping out.

"Scott, please, don't-" I shut the door before dad can finish his sentence and rush back down the hall back into the bar proper, where the atmosphere is the same, everyone oblivious to the family drama that just took place in the back. Normal people.

I can't ever be one of them.

I have a job to do.

I pull my headphones off my neck and put them on, hitting play on my phone as I walk down to the bus stop.

Vanguard: Calder City

This is an anomaly on my part and I guarantee you it's because three of my four posts were collabs.