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DC Animated Universe: The RPG (Skyrim!Gamer SI/DCAU Crossover - Haremfic)
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Chapter 1 - My Life Story
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
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The following is a fan-based work of fiction. Justice League and Justice League Unlimited are all owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros. Animation. Please support the official release.
---
My name is Jacob Richard Graves.
Let me give you the cliff notes of my life story.
Twenty-one years ago, I fell off of a roof, hit my head and came face to face with the Grim Reaper. He was a tall man, with skin as gray as a tombstone and hair so dark it hurt to look at. He took a monocle out of his eye, wiped it with a bone-white washcloth and said I had qualified for a rare opportunity.
Apparently, some paperwork had gotten crossed and I wasn't actually supposed to die yet. As compensation for the blunder, I was offered another life. Of course, I said yes, and he introduced me to a hot goth girl, with skin as gray as tombstone and hair so dark it hurt to look at.
She was also Death, and she was grinning from ear to ear. Apparently, she didn't get to do this very often. Or was this the first time?
Either way, she asked if I wanted super powers. The answer yes. Still haven't figured out why she felt the need to ask, probably a formality.
Of course, I went with 'The Gamer'. One of the most fun and powerful super powers I've heard about. But then my grim reaper stepped in and said I hadn't qualified for 'the closest thing to godhood since kryptonian genetics'. I was crushed, but the girl pointed out that I could still pick an RPG system.
I picked Skyrim. My Grim Reaper pointed out that it would need adjustment since the sun of the DC universe doesn't act as a gateway to all magical power and my only reaction was to be stunned that I was going to be sharing a world with Superman, my favorite superhero.
The girl agreed and presented me with a sheet of all my skills.
DC Universe: The RPG – Skills
At first I was sad at the lack of magical skills until I remembered that the DC Universe was primarily a science-fiction setting, so maxing out those fields of scientific understanding was going to be just as good, if not better.
It also meant that what magic there was isn't bound to a skill, which means if I can pick up some magic, I was good to go, regardless of my level.
While reading what I presume was the game manual, Death the Endless told me that my Health, Stamina and Energy levels would scale with my level.
I asked, "What about super strength and stuff? Does Athletics let me do that?"
"No," my grim reaper had replied. "If you want superhuman athleticism, you'll have to figure it out yourself."
My internal monologue filled itself with profanity that moment. What a killjoy!
My last question was about needing sleep and food. The goth girl snapped her fingers and thanked me for reminding her, and she switched Survival Mode on for me, meaning I had to eat, drink and sleep like everyone else. I still haven't figured out how to turn it off.
But with that, I was all set to go. The two reapers wished me luck in my new life and I was off to the races!
Childhood was...rough. I barely knew what was going on around me most of the time. Had zero strength or say so in how I handled my life. Because I was an infant, then a toddler, etcetera.
My second parents, bless them, had a hard time with me. I was not easy to raise and I do regret that. William Harold and Reilly Jacobson Graves. Had a beautiful baby boy that didn't scream very much, until he got hungry. Not sure why, but I was always hungry; the hunger bar in my vision did not last very long. I did my best not to scream when the frustration set in that I was a helpless infant, but I usually failed at that.
Speaking of 'the hunger bar', my Heads Up Display was like a cross between Skyrim's HUD and Subnautica's HUD, if that makes sense. I had my three bars that would disappear unless the resource in question was being taxed and above the Energy (Magicka) bar were the circular meters for hunger, thirst and sleep. The center of the circle was some kind of icon and when I ate or drank something, that icon was replaced with a picture of what I had just eaten so I could remember what bonus I had active. When the bar hit about half-way, it went from green to yellow and the picture of my last meal or drank or the last bed I slept in was replaced with a standard icon featuring a loaf of bread or a drop of water or an ascending trail of Z's.
Things changed when I learned to walk and talk. Dad was a day trader, and a successful one at that, so we had a home in New Athens, a suburb of the City of Metropolis. It had a decent back yard, so I ran laps. I ran a lot of laps. I dug in the sand box as deep as I could. I found milk jugs in the garbage and filled them with sand to lift. Because my Athletics skill wasn't going to train itself.
Dad was thrilled, of course, and took to chasing me around the yard which worked fine for me. Made it more fun, oddly. But I never stopped running laps. The most frustrating day of my life was when Mom took my to preschool because then I couldn't run my laps and train my athletics. But then I wound up training my speech skill talking to the preschoolers, so it worked out.
Due to the amount of laps I ran, I maxed out my Athletics skill before I reached kindergarten. Sprinting doesn't affect my stamina meter anymore and it doesn't accelerate my hunger, thirst and sleep meter's decay anymore, either. In kindergarten, talked to everyone. No matter who they were or what kind of stranger they were and I made deals. Mom would send me with lunch and I'd trade stuff out. She sent me with a PBJ, so I'd trade for an egg salad and so on. I want your soder cola, you want my fruit juice? I maxed Speech in Kindergarten.
If my parents had thought my trouble-making days were over, I'm afraid I had to disappoint them again. Midway through Kindergarten, I starting training Lockpicking. I'd open the back door, lock it and try to pick the lock with a bobby pin. It was really rough until I got a point or two and I figured out what it was that I was actually supposed to do. That Christmas, Mom and dad got me a lock picking set, but I had already maxed out the skill. Still use the set, though.
At that point, I started training Sneak. That's when the trouble began, because I started hiding from my parents. Constantly. I was down in the basement creeping and crawling around. You see, unlike the video games, I didn't engage 'stealth mode' by crouching down slightly. Being unseen was about actually trying to hide and actually trying to move silently. I got caught a lot. But eventually I got good enough that I was confident I could sneak around at night. I would sneak outside, then sneak back in a different way. The real difficulty was in making sure I didn't leave any foot prints.
Unfortunately, Mom and Dad heard me at one point and sneaking back to my room with my Dad looking for intruders, pistol in hand was the most nerve wracking thing I had to do in my entire time in the DC Universe. But it didn't happen again, and I maxed the skill out a few weeks later.
I do regret scaring them like that, though.
Next Christmas, we got ourselves a trampoline! Yeah, I trained Acrobatics to a hundred, training myself to do back flips, side flips, corkscrews, everything, Took me from age seven to age thirteen to do, though.
...what else? Oh, right. The quadfecta of Striking, Grappling, Defense, and Light Armor. So when I got into first grade, I basically demanded to be put in martial arts, so they put me in Tae Kwon Do. Fun little detail is that even though that martial arts primarily focused on kicks, it increased by Striking skill, so I got just as good at punching alongside kicking.
But the fun part was in maxing out the Defense skill. When I hit a hundred Defense in the 6th grade, I...for lack of a better turn, I got a Danger-Sense. Yeah, that's right. I could sense attacks coming for me before they arrived and, thanks to being so great at defense, either dodge or block as appropriate. In martial arts, that's game breaking.
Add my sparring gear counting as Light Armor and I was invincible as far as commercial martial arts were concerned.
Of course I took those two maxed skills to a Tae Kwon Do national tournament and won first place. Judges said I was the greatest Tae Kwon Do practitioner they'd ever seen.
Was an awkward conversation with my parents when I said I was dropping Tae Kwon Do so I could join Metropolis Middle School's wrestling team. They were flabbergasted, but I explained to them that I got everything out of the martial art that I could. I wanted more.
So, I joined the wrestling team.
I sucked.
Like...really badly. It was just...my skill started at 0 and a 0 is what I was. The team made fun of me. But it didn't bother me; I had sucked before and I would stop sucking before long.
Specifically, in the 8th grade, when I maxed out Grappling and could not be beaten by anyone, taking my ridiculousness to the state finals and winning. Because I'm a gamer, and winning is what we do.
Well, when we're not baby-raging, anyway.
Marksmanship got started when I got a Nerf gun for Christmas in the second grade and it grew to be one of my favorite games. Would play with the kids in my class all the time. Didn't max it until high school, though, because martial arts and wrestling took up all of middle school. I got into airsoft and it was like I had found my calling. Guns are cool, I like shooting them and I pretty much always hit my targets.
Let's see...that's Athletics, Speech, Lockpicking, Sneak, Acrobatics, Striking, Grappling, Defense, Light Armor and Marksmanship. What am I forgetting?
Right! The scientific skills.
I maxed them out. All of them. My first time in school, in my first life, I was a terrible student. Absolutely horrible. Not this time. Time time, I cherished and relished the opportunity and neural plasticity of my brain to take advantage of the opportunity.
All of those skills were maxed after my first year of middle school and I took High School classes for my second and third year classes. Then I took extra classes in High School and wound up graduating in my Sophomore year. The petition took longer than I wanted to go through, but they let me out.
Aside from that? Heavy Armor is at 0 because I've never worn a suit of heavy armor in my life, Disguise is at, what, 32? I had some fun on my Halloween but aside from that, nothing. Pick Pocket was too dangerous to level up, because I didn't feel like going to juvenile hall when I got caught. And I would be caught. Smithing is also 0, because I didn't have the time or equipment to train the skill and this is one I really wish I had grinded.
My level as of today is 66. 66 levels of grinding and not a single noteworthy adventure worthy of a comic book, hence the cliff notes.
Speaking of Sophomore year, that's when Superman showed up.
Do you have any idea how cool it is to watch footage of a man ripping the head off of a life-sized robot T-Rex is? I was about to pass out from awesomeness overload!
...of course we were there when Superman...got brainwashed by Darkseid and invaded earth. That...that was not awesome. Thankfully, we made it out. Shaken, but unscathed. I know a lot of kids from Metropolis High whose families weren't nearly as lucky.
Public opinion on Superman was negative for a very long time after that. I remember there were protests. A lot of protests. One such protest, a plane nearly crashed on top of them, but Superman saved them all the same. Even when they were throwing rocks at him.
I think Superman finally earned the forgiveness of humanity when he prevented a terrorist group called 'The Dark Earth Society' from bombing the UN. Personally, I never doubted him; this is comic-book land and brainwashing happens all the time.
Right. Anyway.
Since I graduated two years early, Dad took me under his wing to learn day trading. "Never hold a stock for longer than a day," he'd tell me. "The market is most volatile when it opens in the morning and that's where most of your opportunity lies. Buy low, sell high, make sure the companies you trade around are on an upswing when you buy and then sell before the downswing."
He set me up with a simulator and I got pretty good by the time my eighteenth rolled around. That's when I started trying to use real money. Specifically, the prize money I earned from that martial arts tournament back in middle school. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough.
...I had some pretty bad losses when I first started out. Trading real money and simulated money was different and I struggled with the adjustment, but when I figured it out, it was fine. I made back my losses earned enough money to move out on my own, got an apartment and continued to trade.
My money situation was fine, I was living on my own and now I just needed to figure out what to do with my life.
I mean, it's obvious, right?
Time to become a super hero!
---
Author's Note: Hey, I'm back. I'm really sorry for the long info-dump. I promise the rest of the story isn't like this. This story is the result of a brain child, asking 'what if a gamer started the game on his literal day of birth and then just lived his life'? So here we are.
Jacob Graves has lived a full-ish life and accomplished some things prior to becoming a super hero. Its just part of the gig. I didn't want to bore you guys trying autistically record every single detail of his life when you're all here to see him team up with the Justice League. But I also didn't want to leave you guys hanging without any details since a complete unknown tends bother some, hence the cliff notes.
I've taken a long, long break and I've had to figure some things out. I enjoy writing and I'm going to be taking this story very easy. I let the stress get to me and I realized that in trying to make everyone happy, I made no one happy and myself miserable. So I'm trying to write what makes me happy. I'm really enjoying the DCAU right now, especially Batman: The Animated series. I think it took a few episodes to find its footing but now I understand why its a classic, but what I have planned for his character doesn't really fit Gotham City or Batman, but it would fit the Justice League.
Also - yes. Harem. It's a haremfic. Part of the whole 'writing what makes me happy' is experimentation and I want to see what I can do with the concept. You may voice your approval and aggravation in the comments below, I'm interested in hearing what you have to say.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
---
My name is Jacob Richard Graves.
Let me give you the cliff notes of my life story.
Twenty-one years ago, I fell off of a roof, hit my head and came face to face with the Grim Reaper. He was a tall man, with skin as gray as a tombstone and hair so dark it hurt to look at. He took a monocle out of his eye, wiped it with a bone-white washcloth and said I had qualified for a rare opportunity.
Apparently, some paperwork had gotten crossed and I wasn't actually supposed to die yet. As compensation for the blunder, I was offered another life. Of course, I said yes, and he introduced me to a hot goth girl, with skin as gray as tombstone and hair so dark it hurt to look at.
She was also Death, and she was grinning from ear to ear. Apparently, she didn't get to do this very often. Or was this the first time?
Either way, she asked if I wanted super powers. The answer yes. Still haven't figured out why she felt the need to ask, probably a formality.
Of course, I went with 'The Gamer'. One of the most fun and powerful super powers I've heard about. But then my grim reaper stepped in and said I hadn't qualified for 'the closest thing to godhood since kryptonian genetics'. I was crushed, but the girl pointed out that I could still pick an RPG system.
I picked Skyrim. My Grim Reaper pointed out that it would need adjustment since the sun of the DC universe doesn't act as a gateway to all magical power and my only reaction was to be stunned that I was going to be sharing a world with Superman, my favorite superhero.
The girl agreed and presented me with a sheet of all my skills.
DC Universe: The RPG – Skills
Combat | Stealth | Knowledge |
| | |
Marksmanship | Sneak | Physics |
Defense | Light Armor | Chemistry |
Heavy Armor | Lockpicking | Mathematics |
Striking | Pick Pocket | History |
Smithing | Disguise | Biology |
Athletics | Speech | Economics |
Grappling | Acrobatics | Computer Science |
At first I was sad at the lack of magical skills until I remembered that the DC Universe was primarily a science-fiction setting, so maxing out those fields of scientific understanding was going to be just as good, if not better.
It also meant that what magic there was isn't bound to a skill, which means if I can pick up some magic, I was good to go, regardless of my level.
While reading what I presume was the game manual, Death the Endless told me that my Health, Stamina and Energy levels would scale with my level.
I asked, "What about super strength and stuff? Does Athletics let me do that?"
"No," my grim reaper had replied. "If you want superhuman athleticism, you'll have to figure it out yourself."
My internal monologue filled itself with profanity that moment. What a killjoy!
My last question was about needing sleep and food. The goth girl snapped her fingers and thanked me for reminding her, and she switched Survival Mode on for me, meaning I had to eat, drink and sleep like everyone else. I still haven't figured out how to turn it off.
But with that, I was all set to go. The two reapers wished me luck in my new life and I was off to the races!
Childhood was...rough. I barely knew what was going on around me most of the time. Had zero strength or say so in how I handled my life. Because I was an infant, then a toddler, etcetera.
My second parents, bless them, had a hard time with me. I was not easy to raise and I do regret that. William Harold and Reilly Jacobson Graves. Had a beautiful baby boy that didn't scream very much, until he got hungry. Not sure why, but I was always hungry; the hunger bar in my vision did not last very long. I did my best not to scream when the frustration set in that I was a helpless infant, but I usually failed at that.
Speaking of 'the hunger bar', my Heads Up Display was like a cross between Skyrim's HUD and Subnautica's HUD, if that makes sense. I had my three bars that would disappear unless the resource in question was being taxed and above the Energy (Magicka) bar were the circular meters for hunger, thirst and sleep. The center of the circle was some kind of icon and when I ate or drank something, that icon was replaced with a picture of what I had just eaten so I could remember what bonus I had active. When the bar hit about half-way, it went from green to yellow and the picture of my last meal or drank or the last bed I slept in was replaced with a standard icon featuring a loaf of bread or a drop of water or an ascending trail of Z's.
Things changed when I learned to walk and talk. Dad was a day trader, and a successful one at that, so we had a home in New Athens, a suburb of the City of Metropolis. It had a decent back yard, so I ran laps. I ran a lot of laps. I dug in the sand box as deep as I could. I found milk jugs in the garbage and filled them with sand to lift. Because my Athletics skill wasn't going to train itself.
Dad was thrilled, of course, and took to chasing me around the yard which worked fine for me. Made it more fun, oddly. But I never stopped running laps. The most frustrating day of my life was when Mom took my to preschool because then I couldn't run my laps and train my athletics. But then I wound up training my speech skill talking to the preschoolers, so it worked out.
Due to the amount of laps I ran, I maxed out my Athletics skill before I reached kindergarten. Sprinting doesn't affect my stamina meter anymore and it doesn't accelerate my hunger, thirst and sleep meter's decay anymore, either. In kindergarten, talked to everyone. No matter who they were or what kind of stranger they were and I made deals. Mom would send me with lunch and I'd trade stuff out. She sent me with a PBJ, so I'd trade for an egg salad and so on. I want your soder cola, you want my fruit juice? I maxed Speech in Kindergarten.
If my parents had thought my trouble-making days were over, I'm afraid I had to disappoint them again. Midway through Kindergarten, I starting training Lockpicking. I'd open the back door, lock it and try to pick the lock with a bobby pin. It was really rough until I got a point or two and I figured out what it was that I was actually supposed to do. That Christmas, Mom and dad got me a lock picking set, but I had already maxed out the skill. Still use the set, though.
At that point, I started training Sneak. That's when the trouble began, because I started hiding from my parents. Constantly. I was down in the basement creeping and crawling around. You see, unlike the video games, I didn't engage 'stealth mode' by crouching down slightly. Being unseen was about actually trying to hide and actually trying to move silently. I got caught a lot. But eventually I got good enough that I was confident I could sneak around at night. I would sneak outside, then sneak back in a different way. The real difficulty was in making sure I didn't leave any foot prints.
Unfortunately, Mom and Dad heard me at one point and sneaking back to my room with my Dad looking for intruders, pistol in hand was the most nerve wracking thing I had to do in my entire time in the DC Universe. But it didn't happen again, and I maxed the skill out a few weeks later.
I do regret scaring them like that, though.
Next Christmas, we got ourselves a trampoline! Yeah, I trained Acrobatics to a hundred, training myself to do back flips, side flips, corkscrews, everything, Took me from age seven to age thirteen to do, though.
...what else? Oh, right. The quadfecta of Striking, Grappling, Defense, and Light Armor. So when I got into first grade, I basically demanded to be put in martial arts, so they put me in Tae Kwon Do. Fun little detail is that even though that martial arts primarily focused on kicks, it increased by Striking skill, so I got just as good at punching alongside kicking.
But the fun part was in maxing out the Defense skill. When I hit a hundred Defense in the 6th grade, I...for lack of a better turn, I got a Danger-Sense. Yeah, that's right. I could sense attacks coming for me before they arrived and, thanks to being so great at defense, either dodge or block as appropriate. In martial arts, that's game breaking.
Add my sparring gear counting as Light Armor and I was invincible as far as commercial martial arts were concerned.
Of course I took those two maxed skills to a Tae Kwon Do national tournament and won first place. Judges said I was the greatest Tae Kwon Do practitioner they'd ever seen.
Was an awkward conversation with my parents when I said I was dropping Tae Kwon Do so I could join Metropolis Middle School's wrestling team. They were flabbergasted, but I explained to them that I got everything out of the martial art that I could. I wanted more.
So, I joined the wrestling team.
I sucked.
Like...really badly. It was just...my skill started at 0 and a 0 is what I was. The team made fun of me. But it didn't bother me; I had sucked before and I would stop sucking before long.
Specifically, in the 8th grade, when I maxed out Grappling and could not be beaten by anyone, taking my ridiculousness to the state finals and winning. Because I'm a gamer, and winning is what we do.
Well, when we're not baby-raging, anyway.
Marksmanship got started when I got a Nerf gun for Christmas in the second grade and it grew to be one of my favorite games. Would play with the kids in my class all the time. Didn't max it until high school, though, because martial arts and wrestling took up all of middle school. I got into airsoft and it was like I had found my calling. Guns are cool, I like shooting them and I pretty much always hit my targets.
Let's see...that's Athletics, Speech, Lockpicking, Sneak, Acrobatics, Striking, Grappling, Defense, Light Armor and Marksmanship. What am I forgetting?
Right! The scientific skills.
I maxed them out. All of them. My first time in school, in my first life, I was a terrible student. Absolutely horrible. Not this time. Time time, I cherished and relished the opportunity and neural plasticity of my brain to take advantage of the opportunity.
All of those skills were maxed after my first year of middle school and I took High School classes for my second and third year classes. Then I took extra classes in High School and wound up graduating in my Sophomore year. The petition took longer than I wanted to go through, but they let me out.
Aside from that? Heavy Armor is at 0 because I've never worn a suit of heavy armor in my life, Disguise is at, what, 32? I had some fun on my Halloween but aside from that, nothing. Pick Pocket was too dangerous to level up, because I didn't feel like going to juvenile hall when I got caught. And I would be caught. Smithing is also 0, because I didn't have the time or equipment to train the skill and this is one I really wish I had grinded.
My level as of today is 66. 66 levels of grinding and not a single noteworthy adventure worthy of a comic book, hence the cliff notes.
Speaking of Sophomore year, that's when Superman showed up.
Do you have any idea how cool it is to watch footage of a man ripping the head off of a life-sized robot T-Rex is? I was about to pass out from awesomeness overload!
...of course we were there when Superman...got brainwashed by Darkseid and invaded earth. That...that was not awesome. Thankfully, we made it out. Shaken, but unscathed. I know a lot of kids from Metropolis High whose families weren't nearly as lucky.
Public opinion on Superman was negative for a very long time after that. I remember there were protests. A lot of protests. One such protest, a plane nearly crashed on top of them, but Superman saved them all the same. Even when they were throwing rocks at him.
I think Superman finally earned the forgiveness of humanity when he prevented a terrorist group called 'The Dark Earth Society' from bombing the UN. Personally, I never doubted him; this is comic-book land and brainwashing happens all the time.
Right. Anyway.
Since I graduated two years early, Dad took me under his wing to learn day trading. "Never hold a stock for longer than a day," he'd tell me. "The market is most volatile when it opens in the morning and that's where most of your opportunity lies. Buy low, sell high, make sure the companies you trade around are on an upswing when you buy and then sell before the downswing."
He set me up with a simulator and I got pretty good by the time my eighteenth rolled around. That's when I started trying to use real money. Specifically, the prize money I earned from that martial arts tournament back in middle school. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough.
...I had some pretty bad losses when I first started out. Trading real money and simulated money was different and I struggled with the adjustment, but when I figured it out, it was fine. I made back my losses earned enough money to move out on my own, got an apartment and continued to trade.
My money situation was fine, I was living on my own and now I just needed to figure out what to do with my life.
I mean, it's obvious, right?
Time to become a super hero!
Quest Added: I need a hero!
Establish a Superhero Identity (Incomplete).
Establish a Superhero Identity (Incomplete).
---
Author's Note: Hey, I'm back. I'm really sorry for the long info-dump. I promise the rest of the story isn't like this. This story is the result of a brain child, asking 'what if a gamer started the game on his literal day of birth and then just lived his life'? So here we are.
Jacob Graves has lived a full-ish life and accomplished some things prior to becoming a super hero. Its just part of the gig. I didn't want to bore you guys trying autistically record every single detail of his life when you're all here to see him team up with the Justice League. But I also didn't want to leave you guys hanging without any details since a complete unknown tends bother some, hence the cliff notes.
I've taken a long, long break and I've had to figure some things out. I enjoy writing and I'm going to be taking this story very easy. I let the stress get to me and I realized that in trying to make everyone happy, I made no one happy and myself miserable. So I'm trying to write what makes me happy. I'm really enjoying the DCAU right now, especially Batman: The Animated series. I think it took a few episodes to find its footing but now I understand why its a classic, but what I have planned for his character doesn't really fit Gotham City or Batman, but it would fit the Justice League.
Also - yes. Harem. It's a haremfic. Part of the whole 'writing what makes me happy' is experimentation and I want to see what I can do with the concept. You may voice your approval and aggravation in the comments below, I'm interested in hearing what you have to say.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
Last edited:
Chapter 2 - A day in my life.
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
- Joined
- May 1, 2019
- Messages
- 643
- Likes received
- 8,641
The following is a fan-based work of fiction. Justice League and Justice League Unlimited are all owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros. Animation. Please support the official release.
---
I walked in my apartment door and kicked it shut behind me. The boxes I was carrying barely fit through. Safely inside, I placed them down on the floor and… hang on, where's the remote?
Oh, there it is.
With the click of a button, the TV turned on to the news. After a few moments, I figured out it was a UN summit. I bent back over and picked up the boxes to take them over to my apartment's balcony.
"My people believe a lasting peace can only be achieved by eliminating them!" The TV shouted at me.
Who are we talking about? Please tell me this isn't one of those 'anti-cape' discussions that comes up every now and again.
"Nonsense!" The TV debated with itself in a different voice. "Those weapons are our only defense against aggression!"
Oh, WMD's. Eh.
Very carefully balancing the boxes against the wall with one hand, I used the other slide the balcony door open and then carried the boxes out, placing them gently on the wood. Wasn't going to be a permanent home, of course, but it was the best place for them at the moment.
"Is this your official position?" The TV's first personality asked.
"No, General Wells does not speak for our government." Hey, I recognized that voice!
I stood and turned to watch the TV as Senator J. Allen Carter took the stand. Sandy brown hair, black suit, a stately looking man by all accounts.
Honestly, I was really disappointed when the Astronaut, the first man to set foot on Mars, came back and immediately got into politics, with politics that are the complete opposite of mine. Most people who demand they stay apolitical are people who don't want you lobbying against their interests but you're not supposed to say that out loud.
"But Senator Carter, only a fool would-" the only sane man in the room, General Wells according to the TV, began before being rudely cut off.
"General, when I was an astronaut on Mars, I survived an experience that profoundly changed my life." Senator Carter, a man who I wasn't sure could even see Earth at that time on mars, paused to look around the room and meet the eyes of his audience. "I saw, for the first time, how small and fragile our planet is."
Which is the paradox of Mutually Assured Destruction. We have enough weapons and explosives to detonate the planet, which makes those whose primary concern is self-preservation skittish to try anything; everyone knows the demon of envy, whose most well known quote is 'if I can't have it, neither can you'.
Ironically, if we got rid of our WMD's, we'd be making it safer for the world's super powers to wage war.
"It's fate is in our hands," Senator Carter continued. "Ladies and gentlemen, that is a responsibility we must not take lightly."
Then again, there's a few military dictatorships I'd really like to see toppled so maybe I can be flexible here.
"Therefore, today I propose a bold new solution for peace." Senator Carter closed his eyes, took a breath and spoke with a smile. "One that would use a force more powerful than any before, a force dedicated to the good of all mankind. A force known to all…"
The camera panned to the entrance, which opened to reveal – wait you've got to be kidding me!
"As Superman!"
Superman, the big blue boy scout, walked into the UN and down the stairs to the stage. When he got to the stage, he shook Senator Carter's hand, the two men smiling at each other like close friends.
Oh, come on, Clark! You're not a god, this isn't something you can just handle like it's one of Luthor's myriad schemes. This is going to backfire! Horrifically! You have to...oh, he's still trying to make up for the whole 'brainwashing' thing. Yeah, that makes sense.
Frustrating, though.
"With all due respect, Senator," General Wells began. "We can't entrust the security of the entire world to one man!"
The good General is correct. I'm glad we have a voice of reason here at this conference.
That's when Superman took to the pulpit. "I understand your feelings, General, and when Senator Carter first approached me, I was reluctant to get involved."
Uh huh.
"But after meeting with him and his advisors, I became convinced that I could make a difference," Superman said, surveying the room. "I have fought hard over the years to earn your trust, and I solemnly swear to all of you that I will continue to uphold the ideals of truth and justice, not just for America but for all the world."
The room full of dictatorships that make a mockery of human rights applauded.
Senator Carter took back the pulpit. "Thank you, Superman."
I turned off the TV.
Right. Well, that was an unpleasant hiccup in my day! Nothing for it but to start on the next step on...wait what's the name of that quest, again?
I dug around in my back pocket for the small black book that functioned as my game manual and journal and paged through it.
There it is. I need a hero! With the only goal being to 'establish a Superhero Identity'.
First goal, max Smithing. Next, make the tools to make the tools that make the tools. Then, get to work on that Super Power Serum and apply it to me to obtain the super strength I've been wanting since forever. Then, armor, jet pack, etcetera.
I'd love to give myself all of the super powers, but there's something that I like to call 'genetic load'. A living organism can only take so much change at once before they start to fall apart or their cells become cancerous. You want to watch someone grow to ten times their size with spikes sticking out of their skin? That's how you do that. So I could give myself more powers in like a decade or two, but until then, I'm stuck with my initial, limited set.
Flight alone is a huge ask due to the sheer amount of factors that complicated power has going for it. Surfing on graviton waves without crumpling like a piece of paper in the hands of anyone frustrated by life is, well, it hurts my brain.
My very large, densely wrinkled brain.
Then, my cellphone rang. Caller ID said 'Regina Stone', who is one of the girls that I'm dating.
I answered. "Hey, Regina."
"Hey you!" She said, sounding cheerful and perky. "Are we still on for tonight? I've been thinking about you."
Regina was...okay. Kind of a pain. Pretty, but that's par for the course for my dating life. Some might say it's greedy to want a pretty girl with a great personality, and they'd be right. But if I'm going to be the package of a handsome, hardworking provider that will put anyone who threatens me and mine six feet under, I'm going to be greedy.
...I'm breaking up with her. "Yeah, we're on. Got something important to talk about with you tonight, actually."
"Really?" She sounded excited.
"Don't get excited," I told her. "Just something that needs to be handled in person is all."
I don't do breakups over the phone or text. If I can't break bad news to someone I don't really care about, I won't be able to do it with anyone I really care about. You can't enforce boundaries without a spine.
"Oh." Suddenly she sounded nervous. "Can you tell me what its about?"
"I don't want to," I replied. "See you tonight."
Her farewell sounded annoyed. "Okay, see you."
I hung up and my hunger bar just turned yellow. Used to be that physical activity of any kind would make the bar degrade even faster, but maxing Athletics eliminated that problem, so I hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours. Typically, I don't eat until the stat bar reaches the red anyway, since that's when the penalties start to hit.
Should be fine until dinner.
I got on my desktop and booted up Leif, the internet browser on my computer. Named for the esteemed Leif Erikson if I wasn't mistaken. I was looking for a new place to live! Somewhere outside of Metropolis. As much as being a hero inside Metropolis, alongside Superman, was appealing, I didn't want to become another Steel.
You know, someone who only does hero-work when Superman is busy somewhere else?
Nah, no thanks.
Let's see… Jump City already has the Titans. Space City, cool name, has someone named Dynamo Girl...Sky Peak?
The City of Sky Peak.
Capital of the state of Red Mountain, situated on the east side of the Pikes Peak mountain range. No current superhero...oh wow, it hasn't had a costumed hero for eleven years.
I did a bit more digging. Sometimes on the internet people postulate that perhaps our cities would be better without super heroes and their destructive conflicts. Lets see if there's anything to it?
The pictures that came up, once I got past the tourist publications...weren't good. With a population of a hundred-thousand and falling, some skyscrapers had been straight up abandoned. The streets looked empty and what people in the picture looked worried and haggard.
...Sky Peak it is!
Yes, Game. Very good, I do need to move. I'm glad it's official.
Let's see, who were the previous heroes here? Maybe I can find out more about this city.
There was Mountain Man, a ten foot tall giant who wore flannel and a thick, lumberjack's beard and an axe. He disappeared a month after his first appearance. Huh.
The second one was a heroine named Cybergirl. Technopath in a white lab coat and a high-tech visor. Disappeared after two months. No explanation.
Solar Forge was the last one. Wild gadgeteer. Like a discount Green Lantern with a hand made out of pure energy. That is so cool, how have I never heard of this guy?
Well, he disappeared after two weeks.
...this looks less like the city never had a hero and more like there's something that's killing them off.
Then I guess people stopped trying and Sky Peak started to decay as the productive members of society fled and all that were left were the dregs who couldn't afford to leave. That's a shame for them.
Well, I guess we know what happens when a city doesn't have a super hero – it dies a slow, painful death. So, I'm moving over there and changing that. Can't ignore a challenge like that, can I? No, of course not.
The only thing of real note in the city is the Sky Peak International Airport, which is more like an army base with how secure it is, and I know its secure because the list of complaints of people who've had to move through it to get across the country doesn't actually stop, no matter how long I scroll.
No, wait. Never mind, there's the bottom. A thousand negative reviews, all to do with their absurd security measures.
Hey, there's one by Lois Lane!
The slowest layover flight I've ever been on, it read. Their Airport Security double checks everything, so the lines reached outside of the airport itself. It's absurd. Pick any other layover destination, even if it means two extra flights! Never go through Sky Peak!
Yikes, that's nasty.
I wonder if she's tried to do a story on it? Eh, if it doesn't concern Metropolis, probably not. Might not be the real Lois Lane, now that I think about it.
Apartments for rent?
A search and a few clicks, I was faced with some really cheap apartments. Even the 'luxury' items were half my Metropolis rent. So, I picked the one that looked best to me and made a phone call.
---
Trojan Garden, an italian restaurant which wasn't the best, but fit my price range, was only a ten minute walk from my current residence. I got sat at the table and handed a menu. I got the same thing every time; Chicken and Shrimp Carbonara.
For a drink, I asked for water. Not that I didn't like Soder, or Soda as it used to be in my old world, but pound for pound it was the most efficient way to fill up my now red thirst-bar. Throat was dry, my visions was starting to get a little blurry, that sort of thing. When the cup arrived, I chugged it and brought the bar back to the half-way point where it was barely yellow.
I looked at the waitress with newly cleared vision, seeing her tan brunette with great legs, whose name tag read Joyce, instead of a blur. "May I get a refill, please?"
"Of course!" She said with a chuckle, taking the cup and walking off.
The restaurant was packed, as was typical for a Friday, people wanting cheap Italian to help wind down after a stressful work week. I liked to think I understood, even though I retired about a month ago. Day Trading was ten hours a week to make or lose a fortune in the blink of an eye. Even if you made money the first four days of the week, you could lose it all on Friday because you got careless. If you were uneducated about the market worked, you would probably lose all of your money and never be able to make it back.
Unless you got lucky.
And I got lucky a couple times.
A few million invested in the right long-term stocks and the dividends can pay your living expenses.
My date, Regina, showed up. Her long, chestnut colored hair was curled and styled to perfection, and she was wearing a green dress with a low cleavage and high skirt. Pink lips curled into a smile when she saw me. "Hey, Jacob."
She leaned in and kissed me on the lips before sitting opposite me.
Dating is a lot like day trading. You had to be smart about who you chose to spend your time with or you could lose everything on a bad trade. Pull out early on a loss and let your winners keep winning.
Regina was a loss.
"Hey, Regina," I returned with a smirk. "How's your day been?"
"It's," she began, pouting her lips lightly. "It's been alright. Been okay. Yours?"
"It's been alright," I answered. "So, you probably guessed that we're breaking up."
Regina froze, closed her eyes and smacked her lips before she opened her eyes and responded. "Why? What did I do?"
"Nothing to do with you," I said, arching an eyebrow and wondering if she did, in fact, do something that I maybe needed to know about. "I just realized I'm not really feeling a connection between us and I don't know where I'm going to be in three weeks, so I didn't want to lead you on."
All of that is true! I don't know if I'll get that apartment within the next few weeks or not.
"Oh," she was frowning and were those tears? Yeah, they were. "I just really thought we had something. I feel something between us."
"I don't. And I am sorry for that," I said with a frown. She might've been a little annoying, but she wasn't a bad girl, as far as I knew. "But I felt I needed to tell you so you could start looking for someone that does feel that connection. You deserve that."
She was staring at her lap. "Thanks."
"I wish you all the best," I said as the waitress returned with my refill of water. I raised the glass to her. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," she replied, smiling and turning to my date. "What would you like to drink?"
"Oh, uh, I'm actually not staying," Regina said, standing up. "Thank you. I'll see you later, Jacob."
"Drive safe," I told her as she walked off.
"Thanks," she replied over her shoulder.
Maybe I could've offered to treat her? Nah. Again, didn't want to lead her on with good intentions, that'd be mean.
Honestly, though, scenarios like this are why I'm glad I'm celibate until marriage. If we had shared a bed at some point, that breakup would've been a lot worse.
Actually, since I'm going to be moving soon, I'm going to have to start breaking things off with the other girls I'm dating. Oh, that's going to be just fun, isn't it?
That's a little dramatic, don't you think, Game?
Also, I didn't realize I was seeing that many girls. Huh. Well, that's neat. Maxing Speech proving its worth for the millionth time.
"Sir, can I get you anything?" The waitress asked, seeming a little impatient. Guess she'd just been standing there for a bit.
"Oh, sure. Chicken and Shrimp Carbonara," I said. "And can I get a glass of Root Beer?"
"Okay, sure," she said, taking the unopened menu from my table. "I'll be right out with it."
Now that that's taken care of, what do I need? Trying to become a super hero, so what do I need to do that I haven't already done?
Perhaps some situational awareness training? I'm pretty sure there's some really high quality classes available here in Metropolis and I've got some time before the move. I mean, you can find anything in Metropolis.
Okay then. What else is there? You know, I probably should train up my disguise skill if only to make it easier to maintain my secret identity in costume, even if I plan on it being a full body costume. Don't want to slip by saying something my heroic identity wouldn't know to say, you know? An acting class should be fine for that.
Alright, sounds like a plan. What else can I- No, no, no! I've had enough quest added to my poor journal for tonight! We are sticking with what we've got, thank you!
---
Author's Note: So, here's the first proper chapter of the story. One of the things I've noticed about Harem stories from what I've read is that most harem protagonists are, in fact, emotionally weak. They get a harem not because they want one, but because they're too nice to say no. I wrote Jacob as a way to rebel against the concept, who has decided he wants a harem but isn't quite sure how to go about it. One thing he does know is that he needs to find the right women and that he hasn't.
Another thing I noticed is that this fic is a little odd in that it starts with a majority of the skills being maxed out during the prologue. There's been some comments saying that this isn't really a gamer fic because of that. While the traditional gamer fic is about starting from level 1 and going to the stars, I wanted to see what I could do with the concept of creating an epic level character for an epic level campaign.
Make no mistake, Justice League is an epic level campaign. It features alien invasions that shrug off conventional military solutions, Hades himself walking the earth, the Legion of Doom, and so on. No character is walking into that at first level, that's absurd. But its very rare for fics to actually reach that far along in the timeline, much like its very rare for Tabletop RPG's to get that far due to scheduling conflicts and other tragedies, so Jacob is epic level.
Let me know what you think!
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
---
I walked in my apartment door and kicked it shut behind me. The boxes I was carrying barely fit through. Safely inside, I placed them down on the floor and… hang on, where's the remote?
Oh, there it is.
With the click of a button, the TV turned on to the news. After a few moments, I figured out it was a UN summit. I bent back over and picked up the boxes to take them over to my apartment's balcony.
"My people believe a lasting peace can only be achieved by eliminating them!" The TV shouted at me.
Who are we talking about? Please tell me this isn't one of those 'anti-cape' discussions that comes up every now and again.
"Nonsense!" The TV debated with itself in a different voice. "Those weapons are our only defense against aggression!"
Oh, WMD's. Eh.
Very carefully balancing the boxes against the wall with one hand, I used the other slide the balcony door open and then carried the boxes out, placing them gently on the wood. Wasn't going to be a permanent home, of course, but it was the best place for them at the moment.
"Is this your official position?" The TV's first personality asked.
"No, General Wells does not speak for our government." Hey, I recognized that voice!
I stood and turned to watch the TV as Senator J. Allen Carter took the stand. Sandy brown hair, black suit, a stately looking man by all accounts.
Honestly, I was really disappointed when the Astronaut, the first man to set foot on Mars, came back and immediately got into politics, with politics that are the complete opposite of mine. Most people who demand they stay apolitical are people who don't want you lobbying against their interests but you're not supposed to say that out loud.
"But Senator Carter, only a fool would-" the only sane man in the room, General Wells according to the TV, began before being rudely cut off.
"General, when I was an astronaut on Mars, I survived an experience that profoundly changed my life." Senator Carter, a man who I wasn't sure could even see Earth at that time on mars, paused to look around the room and meet the eyes of his audience. "I saw, for the first time, how small and fragile our planet is."
Which is the paradox of Mutually Assured Destruction. We have enough weapons and explosives to detonate the planet, which makes those whose primary concern is self-preservation skittish to try anything; everyone knows the demon of envy, whose most well known quote is 'if I can't have it, neither can you'.
Ironically, if we got rid of our WMD's, we'd be making it safer for the world's super powers to wage war.
"It's fate is in our hands," Senator Carter continued. "Ladies and gentlemen, that is a responsibility we must not take lightly."
Then again, there's a few military dictatorships I'd really like to see toppled so maybe I can be flexible here.
"Therefore, today I propose a bold new solution for peace." Senator Carter closed his eyes, took a breath and spoke with a smile. "One that would use a force more powerful than any before, a force dedicated to the good of all mankind. A force known to all…"
The camera panned to the entrance, which opened to reveal – wait you've got to be kidding me!
"As Superman!"
Superman, the big blue boy scout, walked into the UN and down the stairs to the stage. When he got to the stage, he shook Senator Carter's hand, the two men smiling at each other like close friends.
Oh, come on, Clark! You're not a god, this isn't something you can just handle like it's one of Luthor's myriad schemes. This is going to backfire! Horrifically! You have to...oh, he's still trying to make up for the whole 'brainwashing' thing. Yeah, that makes sense.
Frustrating, though.
"With all due respect, Senator," General Wells began. "We can't entrust the security of the entire world to one man!"
The good General is correct. I'm glad we have a voice of reason here at this conference.
That's when Superman took to the pulpit. "I understand your feelings, General, and when Senator Carter first approached me, I was reluctant to get involved."
Uh huh.
"But after meeting with him and his advisors, I became convinced that I could make a difference," Superman said, surveying the room. "I have fought hard over the years to earn your trust, and I solemnly swear to all of you that I will continue to uphold the ideals of truth and justice, not just for America but for all the world."
The room full of dictatorships that make a mockery of human rights applauded.
Senator Carter took back the pulpit. "Thank you, Superman."
I turned off the TV.
Right. Well, that was an unpleasant hiccup in my day! Nothing for it but to start on the next step on...wait what's the name of that quest, again?
I dug around in my back pocket for the small black book that functioned as my game manual and journal and paged through it.
There it is. I need a hero! With the only goal being to 'establish a Superhero Identity'.
First goal, max Smithing. Next, make the tools to make the tools that make the tools. Then, get to work on that Super Power Serum and apply it to me to obtain the super strength I've been wanting since forever. Then, armor, jet pack, etcetera.
I'd love to give myself all of the super powers, but there's something that I like to call 'genetic load'. A living organism can only take so much change at once before they start to fall apart or their cells become cancerous. You want to watch someone grow to ten times their size with spikes sticking out of their skin? That's how you do that. So I could give myself more powers in like a decade or two, but until then, I'm stuck with my initial, limited set.
Flight alone is a huge ask due to the sheer amount of factors that complicated power has going for it. Surfing on graviton waves without crumpling like a piece of paper in the hands of anyone frustrated by life is, well, it hurts my brain.
My very large, densely wrinkled brain.
Then, my cellphone rang. Caller ID said 'Regina Stone', who is one of the girls that I'm dating.
I answered. "Hey, Regina."
"Hey you!" She said, sounding cheerful and perky. "Are we still on for tonight? I've been thinking about you."
Regina was...okay. Kind of a pain. Pretty, but that's par for the course for my dating life. Some might say it's greedy to want a pretty girl with a great personality, and they'd be right. But if I'm going to be the package of a handsome, hardworking provider that will put anyone who threatens me and mine six feet under, I'm going to be greedy.
...I'm breaking up with her. "Yeah, we're on. Got something important to talk about with you tonight, actually."
"Really?" She sounded excited.
"Don't get excited," I told her. "Just something that needs to be handled in person is all."
I don't do breakups over the phone or text. If I can't break bad news to someone I don't really care about, I won't be able to do it with anyone I really care about. You can't enforce boundaries without a spine.
"Oh." Suddenly she sounded nervous. "Can you tell me what its about?"
"I don't want to," I replied. "See you tonight."
Her farewell sounded annoyed. "Okay, see you."
I hung up and my hunger bar just turned yellow. Used to be that physical activity of any kind would make the bar degrade even faster, but maxing Athletics eliminated that problem, so I hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours. Typically, I don't eat until the stat bar reaches the red anyway, since that's when the penalties start to hit.
Should be fine until dinner.
I got on my desktop and booted up Leif, the internet browser on my computer. Named for the esteemed Leif Erikson if I wasn't mistaken. I was looking for a new place to live! Somewhere outside of Metropolis. As much as being a hero inside Metropolis, alongside Superman, was appealing, I didn't want to become another Steel.
You know, someone who only does hero-work when Superman is busy somewhere else?
Nah, no thanks.
Let's see… Jump City already has the Titans. Space City, cool name, has someone named Dynamo Girl...Sky Peak?
The City of Sky Peak.
Capital of the state of Red Mountain, situated on the east side of the Pikes Peak mountain range. No current superhero...oh wow, it hasn't had a costumed hero for eleven years.
I did a bit more digging. Sometimes on the internet people postulate that perhaps our cities would be better without super heroes and their destructive conflicts. Lets see if there's anything to it?
The pictures that came up, once I got past the tourist publications...weren't good. With a population of a hundred-thousand and falling, some skyscrapers had been straight up abandoned. The streets looked empty and what people in the picture looked worried and haggard.
...Sky Peak it is!
Yes, Game. Very good, I do need to move. I'm glad it's official.
Let's see, who were the previous heroes here? Maybe I can find out more about this city.
There was Mountain Man, a ten foot tall giant who wore flannel and a thick, lumberjack's beard and an axe. He disappeared a month after his first appearance. Huh.
The second one was a heroine named Cybergirl. Technopath in a white lab coat and a high-tech visor. Disappeared after two months. No explanation.
Solar Forge was the last one. Wild gadgeteer. Like a discount Green Lantern with a hand made out of pure energy. That is so cool, how have I never heard of this guy?
Well, he disappeared after two weeks.
...this looks less like the city never had a hero and more like there's something that's killing them off.
Then I guess people stopped trying and Sky Peak started to decay as the productive members of society fled and all that were left were the dregs who couldn't afford to leave. That's a shame for them.
Well, I guess we know what happens when a city doesn't have a super hero – it dies a slow, painful death. So, I'm moving over there and changing that. Can't ignore a challenge like that, can I? No, of course not.
The only thing of real note in the city is the Sky Peak International Airport, which is more like an army base with how secure it is, and I know its secure because the list of complaints of people who've had to move through it to get across the country doesn't actually stop, no matter how long I scroll.
No, wait. Never mind, there's the bottom. A thousand negative reviews, all to do with their absurd security measures.
Hey, there's one by Lois Lane!
The slowest layover flight I've ever been on, it read. Their Airport Security double checks everything, so the lines reached outside of the airport itself. It's absurd. Pick any other layover destination, even if it means two extra flights! Never go through Sky Peak!
Yikes, that's nasty.
I wonder if she's tried to do a story on it? Eh, if it doesn't concern Metropolis, probably not. Might not be the real Lois Lane, now that I think about it.
Apartments for rent?
A search and a few clicks, I was faced with some really cheap apartments. Even the 'luxury' items were half my Metropolis rent. So, I picked the one that looked best to me and made a phone call.
---
Trojan Garden, an italian restaurant which wasn't the best, but fit my price range, was only a ten minute walk from my current residence. I got sat at the table and handed a menu. I got the same thing every time; Chicken and Shrimp Carbonara.
For a drink, I asked for water. Not that I didn't like Soder, or Soda as it used to be in my old world, but pound for pound it was the most efficient way to fill up my now red thirst-bar. Throat was dry, my visions was starting to get a little blurry, that sort of thing. When the cup arrived, I chugged it and brought the bar back to the half-way point where it was barely yellow.
I looked at the waitress with newly cleared vision, seeing her tan brunette with great legs, whose name tag read Joyce, instead of a blur. "May I get a refill, please?"
"Of course!" She said with a chuckle, taking the cup and walking off.
The restaurant was packed, as was typical for a Friday, people wanting cheap Italian to help wind down after a stressful work week. I liked to think I understood, even though I retired about a month ago. Day Trading was ten hours a week to make or lose a fortune in the blink of an eye. Even if you made money the first four days of the week, you could lose it all on Friday because you got careless. If you were uneducated about the market worked, you would probably lose all of your money and never be able to make it back.
Unless you got lucky.
And I got lucky a couple times.
A few million invested in the right long-term stocks and the dividends can pay your living expenses.
My date, Regina, showed up. Her long, chestnut colored hair was curled and styled to perfection, and she was wearing a green dress with a low cleavage and high skirt. Pink lips curled into a smile when she saw me. "Hey, Jacob."
She leaned in and kissed me on the lips before sitting opposite me.
Dating is a lot like day trading. You had to be smart about who you chose to spend your time with or you could lose everything on a bad trade. Pull out early on a loss and let your winners keep winning.
Regina was a loss.
"Hey, Regina," I returned with a smirk. "How's your day been?"
"It's," she began, pouting her lips lightly. "It's been alright. Been okay. Yours?"
"It's been alright," I answered. "So, you probably guessed that we're breaking up."
Regina froze, closed her eyes and smacked her lips before she opened her eyes and responded. "Why? What did I do?"
"Nothing to do with you," I said, arching an eyebrow and wondering if she did, in fact, do something that I maybe needed to know about. "I just realized I'm not really feeling a connection between us and I don't know where I'm going to be in three weeks, so I didn't want to lead you on."
All of that is true! I don't know if I'll get that apartment within the next few weeks or not.
"Oh," she was frowning and were those tears? Yeah, they were. "I just really thought we had something. I feel something between us."
"I don't. And I am sorry for that," I said with a frown. She might've been a little annoying, but she wasn't a bad girl, as far as I knew. "But I felt I needed to tell you so you could start looking for someone that does feel that connection. You deserve that."
She was staring at her lap. "Thanks."
"I wish you all the best," I said as the waitress returned with my refill of water. I raised the glass to her. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," she replied, smiling and turning to my date. "What would you like to drink?"
"Oh, uh, I'm actually not staying," Regina said, standing up. "Thank you. I'll see you later, Jacob."
"Drive safe," I told her as she walked off.
"Thanks," she replied over her shoulder.
Maybe I could've offered to treat her? Nah. Again, didn't want to lead her on with good intentions, that'd be mean.
Honestly, though, scenarios like this are why I'm glad I'm celibate until marriage. If we had shared a bed at some point, that breakup would've been a lot worse.
Actually, since I'm going to be moving soon, I'm going to have to start breaking things off with the other girls I'm dating. Oh, that's going to be just fun, isn't it?
That's a little dramatic, don't you think, Game?
Also, I didn't realize I was seeing that many girls. Huh. Well, that's neat. Maxing Speech proving its worth for the millionth time.
"Sir, can I get you anything?" The waitress asked, seeming a little impatient. Guess she'd just been standing there for a bit.
"Oh, sure. Chicken and Shrimp Carbonara," I said. "And can I get a glass of Root Beer?"
"Okay, sure," she said, taking the unopened menu from my table. "I'll be right out with it."
Now that that's taken care of, what do I need? Trying to become a super hero, so what do I need to do that I haven't already done?
Perhaps some situational awareness training? I'm pretty sure there's some really high quality classes available here in Metropolis and I've got some time before the move. I mean, you can find anything in Metropolis.
Okay then. What else is there? You know, I probably should train up my disguise skill if only to make it easier to maintain my secret identity in costume, even if I plan on it being a full body costume. Don't want to slip by saying something my heroic identity wouldn't know to say, you know? An acting class should be fine for that.
Alright, sounds like a plan. What else can I- No, no, no! I've had enough quest added to my poor journal for tonight! We are sticking with what we've got, thank you!
---
Author's Note: So, here's the first proper chapter of the story. One of the things I've noticed about Harem stories from what I've read is that most harem protagonists are, in fact, emotionally weak. They get a harem not because they want one, but because they're too nice to say no. I wrote Jacob as a way to rebel against the concept, who has decided he wants a harem but isn't quite sure how to go about it. One thing he does know is that he needs to find the right women and that he hasn't.
Another thing I noticed is that this fic is a little odd in that it starts with a majority of the skills being maxed out during the prologue. There's been some comments saying that this isn't really a gamer fic because of that. While the traditional gamer fic is about starting from level 1 and going to the stars, I wanted to see what I could do with the concept of creating an epic level character for an epic level campaign.
Make no mistake, Justice League is an epic level campaign. It features alien invasions that shrug off conventional military solutions, Hades himself walking the earth, the Legion of Doom, and so on. No character is walking into that at first level, that's absurd. But its very rare for fics to actually reach that far along in the timeline, much like its very rare for Tabletop RPG's to get that far due to scheduling conflicts and other tragedies, so Jacob is epic level.
Let me know what you think!
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
Last edited:
Chapter 3 - Sky Peak International Airport
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
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The following is a fan-based work of fiction. Justice League and Justice League Unlimited are all owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros. Animation. Please support the official release.
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"Alright, which one of those bitches did it? Tell me! Now!"
"But – but… why? I don't understand."
"Fine. Whatever, I didn't really like you anyway. Thanks for the free food!"
"Why are all men stupid? Not just you, but especially you!"
"Should've known better than to date a player…"
"I can't believe I wanted to sleep with you!"
Well, that was as fun as I thought it would be. Not fun at all, in case my sarcasm was too subtle. At least now they were free to chase relationships that would actually work out for them. Hopefully they don't wind up doing something they'll regret. Most men are not like me; they're shameless about getting what they want.
Honestly, it was a relief. Maintaining those relationships without, you know, doing what any other man would've done? It was getting stressful. I should stop dating until I've found a solution to my dilemma.
My complex, legal and ethical dilemma.
Anyway!
The apartment called me back after mulling over my application for a week and a half and told me I was accepted. Sadly, that meant breaking my current lease, which meant I forfeit my deposit and was on the hook for rent on the rest of the two-year lease. Only three months, but it still kind of hurt.
Well, it didn't hurt, really, it was just annoying.
Regardless, I didn't have time to enroll into a situational awareness class here in Metropolis. Disappointing, but there's places in Sky Peak. Found a couple that look good to me, at least. I also had to look into rent-able warehouse where I can practice my Smithing skill.
What am I going to be doing, you ask?
Making nails. And screws. Bolts, too. It doesn't really matter what I make so long as I go up in skill points. The point is to get my skill up as fast as possible and then use it to make my costume.
And to make a gas chamber to administer my super soldier formula, because while I may be super humanly skilled, I don't want to be Batman. I am taking what powers I can and will shove them straight up my nose if I have to.
...with proper testing and trials, of course. Didn't feel like outgrowing my own skin.
---Two Weeks Later---
The flight had landed. Finally.
A tone sounded and the seat belt light turned off. I had a window seat, so I had the privilege of waiting as the other two passengers I sat with got up and got their luggage, making their way out to trudge in the slow line of human flesh, reminding me of the poisoned vein running down the back of a shrimp.
When the last person, an old lady, finally walked past me, I stood up and got my carry on out of the compartment above and started walking at a normal pace down the aisle until I got to the back of that same old lady, and walked down the extended bridge into the airport.
The air was cold. It was a different cold than Metropolis, though. The crisp mountain air felt emptier somehow, but I couldn't put my finger on why.
As I exited the bridge from the plane to Sky Peak International Airport, the first thing I noticed were the armed guards. They were stationed at desks, patrolling the walk ways, and especially by all the scanning platform, circular things with antenna that orbit the body as they does their work.
For a moment, I was a little stunned. I thought this was the DC Universe, not Judge Dredd.
When I approached, one of the security personnel, hefting a full on rifle spoke to me in a bored voice. "Please place all your luggage on the conveyor and hand over any keys, change or coins on your person."
I had absolutely no desire to give this man the gift of excitement, so I did as I was told. Keys, wallet and loose quarter went into the dish provided and my carry on went onto the conveyor. Then I stood on the platform, striking a t-pose when instructed so that the antenna could do their job as they circled me and the platform.
When they were done, I was let go, and given back my stuff.
"Sir, just so you know, there's three more scanners you'll need to go through before you exit the airport," the security guard said. "Just continue down the stairs, it'll be straight ahead."
"Why do I need to be scanned twice?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.
"It'll take too long to explain sir, just move along."
"Understood." I turned and made my way down the stairs, a nervous pep in my step fueled by a building anxiety running like an electrical charge through my nerves.
I turned a corner to the left and found myself in front of a massive corridor filled with people going through airport security. There were three rows of six scanners that I would have to go through in sequence.
...suddenly, Ms. Lane's review of the place made complete sense.
The first row looked like it was moving the fastest, so I got in line there. Took a moment to review my quest journal and my survival bars. Sleep was green, hunger was green and thirst was green, so I didn't need to worry about that at all.
But the air, though. The chill seemed to be getting worse, somehow. No...it wasn't the air. There was something hostile in the room. Hostile, and dangerous. I may have been the only one with a danger sense, but I could see the guards grip on their rifles start to tighten as the familiar feeling of unease started to set in my stomach. Felt like a shark was swimming through the air above us.
To take my mind off my nerves, I considered my quest 'Where's the Blacksmith?' and the work that would go into completing it. I wonder if instructional videos counted as training for the purposes of increasing skills? One of the funnier little hacks I've found in maxing my skills is that, when I've gotten around the mid to upper nineties and grinding the points takes forever, I just go read a book explaining the basics to take me over the finish line. Videos on the internet could follow the same principle, right?
I hope so, it'd save me a day of reading.
A cold shiver ran down my spine, stopping my attempts at distracting myself dead in their tracks. There was a threat here, and the only thing I had to defend myself were four priceless limbs that I didn't want broken.
Glacially, the line moved forward and I got on the first platform, with an armed guard repeating the same instructions. I moved through it without incident, but then had to wait for the second platform.
Because there was a middle age women with a bob haircut making trouble for security.
She was whining like a kicked puppy. "I've been through these scanners twice! This is ridiculous, you'd think you'd get whatever you needed the first time!"
The guard she was arguing with was very clearly resisting the impulse to take aim at her empty head with his rifle. "Ma'am, I don't make the rules, this is just the procedure. If you continue to refuse the scanner, we will have no choice but to detain you for more invasive procedures. And we will."
"Don't you dare threaten me!" Her face twisted intensely with anger. "I refuse to take this abuse! If you don't let me through this instant, I will drown this airport in lawsuits!"
I clenched and relaxed my fingers in sequence. Lady, we've got to move. Go be a Karen elsewhere.
"Ma'am, if you don't get on the platform, my boys are going to come in here, tackle you straight to the ground, tase you, then haul you away in cuffs at gunpoint where we will scan you for telepathic interference, alien parasites and who knows what else." The guard's glare made me take a breath, because he was a hairs breath away from placing her in a very messy arrest. "Get on the scanner and spread your arms and legs. Do it now. Final warning."
The threat of violence made the woman clam up and she got on the scanner. As the machine did its work, I could just barely hear her muttering to herself. "I'm going to see my lawyer about this."
"I don't care, ma'am," the guard replied, maintaining and tightening the death grip he had on his on his weapon.
With a disgusted hmph, she collected her things and walked toward the final scanner.
"Alright, you know the drill, anything metal or sensitive goes in the tray," the guard said presenting said tray. "Carry-on luggage goes on the conveyor. Step onto the platform, nice and easy."
Oddly, when I placed my carry-on on the conveyor, the cold feeling seemed to get further away, as if the danger were in my clothes and toiletries, but that's ridiculous. Eager to finally get this over with, I stepped onto the machine. But instead of the machine turning on to scan me, the guy manning the scanner, sitting at a desk protected by bullet proof glass, rapidly stood up and drew his rifle from his back. "We got something!"
Wait, what?
Immediately, klaxons filled the security checkpoint and one of the guards shouted. "Everyone down on the ground! Now!"
I looked at the conveyor which had devoured my luggage, where I could hear the sound of tearing fabric, then tearing steel. At this moment, my sense kicked in and I got down as it exploded, taking my luggage with it.
Shielded my eyes with my arm before I lost one of them to shrapnel.
Oh great! My first taste of combat and I don't even have a weapon! And OW that really hurts!
I looked at my arm and saw that a large chunk of shrapnel had lodged itself in my forearm, and my right hand refused to work properly. Fantastic!
A snarl which sounded pieced together from technological noise brought my attention back to the conveyor's compartment, where something had broken out. I say something because I couldn't make heads or tails of the thing; it had four limbs and seemed to be made out of television static with a single eye-stalk protruding out of the center, holding a neon-blue orb with a black diamond iris cutting through the center.
There was a cold trail leading from the monster to my chest. I pushed off with my working arm to get out of the way of that cold trail right as an azure laser beam appearing where the trail had been. I bolted further down the aisle and slid beneath one of the conveyors, gripping one of its legs and using it to turn on my slide, barely avoiding the prone form of a man trying to hide from the monster. Grabbing the conveyor and pushed to my feet in a hunched position and then hopped back over the conveyor I had just slid under.
Good I lost it.
Destroying the monster may compromise my identity later. Bypassing security is illegal. We're finding a place to hide.
I heard someone shout in the distance. "Open fire!"
The terminal was filled with echoing shouts of automatic gunfire. Up above, I saw that the creature had leaped onto the walls and was climbing up, returning fire, its laser bolts being met with cries of pain.
Over the intercom, a prerecorded voice sounded throughout the room. "Look for the green light. Look for the green light. Evacuate the terminal. Look for the green light…"
Immediately, people started to stand. The green lights were shining on the passages going backward toward where they had come from before getting to security while the doors forward were quickly barred off by descending gates. Then it was a stampede of people, all rushing to the exit.
The fact that my optional objective to bypass security hadn't failed at this point tells me that there was a way to either open those gates or another way out. Still.
Looking around, I saw a door with a glass window in the top half, marked as 'employees only'. If there was a safe place to hide, it'd be through there.
It was then that I saw an old man trip and fall in the ground. Immediately, I ran over, pushing through the rushing crowd. "Here, let me help you out!" I grabbed him by the arm with my good hand and hoisted him up.
His face was bruised and bloody from having been stepped on, his gray hair matted with blood. "Th-thanks!" He bloodily sputtered out before running toward the green-lit staircases.
Thankfully, the man didn't look concussed. As I slunk back under the conveyor. That cold aura had cross the room. Gunfire had ceased, and I could hear people start to speak.
"I lost it! Can anyone see it?"
I did. It was moving forward like some sort of demented crab on the ground beneath conveyors, but it wasn't looking in my direction. Coming out of my hiding place with my bad arm up, I pointed with my good hand. "It's over there! Underneath the conveyor!"
Immediately, the armed guards turned with their rifles to where I had been pointed.
"Contact!" Gunfire resumed a midst the frustrated roars of whatever it was they were shooting at. "Aim for the eye!"
Another one of the guards took cover next to me. "Sir, you need to evacuate immediately! Follow the green lights! We'll get you medical attention when all this is over!"
The green lights that thing was obviously making its way towards?
Actually, I could see it scrambling toward one of those stair cases. If it got up there, they'd never be able to find it in the horde of people and those people would then have to go back through security, starting this whole thing over again.
...well, I'm trying to be a superhero, aren't I? Lets see if I can get it to follow me.
I stood up and waved my good arm. "Hey! Weirdo! Yeah, you! Over here!"
The azure eyeball turned to look at me and immediately, I felt the cold trail connecting me to it. I dodged down as a laser fired at me and I hopped onto the conveyor and then jumped to the next one before reaching the staff entrance, which I closed behind me.
I found myself in a long corridor with twin corridors joining at the center, going in opposite directions. Sprinting for them, I turned left and found myself with a single option; a conference room with a large glass window.
Well, that was no good. I turned around and heard the sound of a laser discharge and the door I had shut being blasted across the floor. Didn't have a choice, I ran to the conference room. Long table, lots of chairs, a whiteboard on the wall, and a wall of steel cabinets, and another wall of shelves, creating a corner. I slid inside, painfully bumping my bad arm but thankfully having enough grit to stifle my whelp. The angle would be perfect to hide from it when it blasted the door open.
I heard gunfire. Hopefully, it wouldn't immediately turn left and come to this room.
After a few seconds, the sounds of gunfire died down and I heard security officers shouting at each other.
"Spread out! There aren't any exits here, we'll find it."
"If I ever get my hands on whoever let that guy on a plane with those things…"
They can't seriously think I'm responsible for this! Well, I mean, it was my luggage but – but...crap.
"Can it. Also, don't shoot the lunatic that lured it here. Check your fire."
Oh, different guy. At least, it sounds like a different guy.
"You got it, Pedro."
It was then that I saw a ventilation shaft along the left wall, the wall that I was sandwiched between as well as the lockers. A cold feeling in the pit of my stomach arose as I realized that that thing might very well be able to navigate the vents.
That cold sensation externalized itself, coming from the vent and I realized that I needed to leave. Dodging lasers was much harder when the shooter was close and didn't have to worry about spread, which was a problem with weapons-grade lasers – issues with the beam as it emits from the lens and hits atmosphere can and do cause it to go slightly off target.
Except the entire room was now cold and when I peaked, I saw airport barely sneak into view of the window, only to look in the room and signal to his buddy and he backed off.
They saw it.
It was at that moment, the ventilation shaft started to bend and it shot out, slamming into the wall below the window, and it leaped out, landing on the table. It's blue eye was looking around and hadn't found me yet.
This was going to be close. I took a breath...then bellowed. "Here!"
Immediately, the crab's eye turned to look at me, it's eye glowing brighter as it began to charge the blast that would end my life. But the security officers hiding out of view immediately swung into view, aimed and fired.
A bullet ripped through the blue orb, causing it to shatter and explode in a corona of blue light.
I let out a deep breath and slid down against the corner.
I'm glad to know you still reward all the options except the ones I take. Never change, game.
The door to the conference room opened as I was extricating myself from my hiding place.
"You alright, sir?" One of the officers asked, his weapon low.
"I will be, once my arm is figured out," I said, raising it up. "Hurts something awful."
"We'll take care of that. Simmons, if you'd call the infirmary?" he said.
Simmons, the officer behind the first, nodded and got on his walkie-talkie. The rest of the security team, six of them, filed into the room and took positions around the conference table, not taking their eyes off of the crab, which no longer looked like it was made of static, but instead was a robot made of steel with four legs.
"Can I get your name?" The first officer asked, extending his hand. His helmet, the visor down, hid his facial features.
"Jacob Graves." I extended my left hand, as my right was out of commission. Awkwardly, he withdrew his right and offered his left.
"That was a brave thing you did, son." He said, sounding warm. "But please never do it again."
"Yes sir," I said, agreeing. I'll need weapons, armor and powers before I even think of trying something like this again. Still! I consider it a success! I saved lives and I survived the ordeal. "You have me at a disadvantage, officer…?"
"Malcolm. Malcolm Brown," He said. "Sorry this happened, we thought we had gotten them all."
"This has happened before?" I asked.
"It happened about a month ago," Malcolm said, cradling his rifle in his arms like it was an infant. "Some scientist creep came through here from Space City, heading for Gotham. He built those things and apparently, they didn't like being scanned. All hell broke loose and we had the firefight of our lives. Sometimes things like to hide in people's luggage, so we scan them repeatedly."
I offered a look of empathy. "That's rough."
"Yeah. I thought we got the last of the stragglers two weeks ago," Malcolm continued. "I pity the families who lost someone today. Not everyone made it out. Plus, whoever it was who lost their luggage. Hopefully they don't sue."
"Nah, I won't," I said. "It was just clothes and toiletries."
"That was you?" Malcolm asked. Then he looked at my bad arm and made the connection. "Oh, right. Yikes. We've got some great doctors here, they'll fix you up."
"Thanks," I said.
Right on cue, people in white uniforms arrived with a stretcher. The lead, an African-American whose black hair was tied in a bun, spoke. "Whose the patient?"
I raised my bad arm. "That's me."
"Oh, that looks bad," she said, eyes wide. "Get on the stretcher, we'll get that situated immediately."
...well, at least I'm well off or this bill would haunt me for years.
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Author's Note: This chapter is the one where I really felt like I had returned to form. Felt great writing it and I had a lot of fun. Hopefully, you all had just as much fun reading it!
I will note that the reaction to Jacob surprised me. Wasn't bad, the reactions made sense, I just felt bad for not anticipating it. So, let me address them. Very minor spoilers below, just so you know.
1. Jacob dates honestly. He tells them at the beginning that he's not looking for anything exclusive and, because he will be seeing other women, they are free to see other men. Whether or not they took him up on this isn't relevant to the story; I'll let you guys decide.
2. Jacob's celibacy has to do with alleviating negative consequences. Apparently, casual sex can be very bad for a woman's psychological health, according to the studies he and I have read. Not always, but enough that it's a problem. Since Jacob's moral conditioning is quite strong, he couldn't take advantage of their willingness with a clear conscience since he didn't think they were worth truly committing too; that commitment being marriage.
3. Is it a harem fic? I'd say so. This is the spoiler: Polygyny is what Jacob actually wants out of his relationships. The issue that he's run into is that it's completely illegal in all 50 states and at a Federal Level and he wants to be a superhero.
I hope that helps everyone! And please let me know what you think, I do want to read what you have to say.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
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"Alright, which one of those bitches did it? Tell me! Now!"
"But – but… why? I don't understand."
"Fine. Whatever, I didn't really like you anyway. Thanks for the free food!"
"Why are all men stupid? Not just you, but especially you!"
"Should've known better than to date a player…"
"I can't believe I wanted to sleep with you!"
Well, that was as fun as I thought it would be. Not fun at all, in case my sarcasm was too subtle. At least now they were free to chase relationships that would actually work out for them. Hopefully they don't wind up doing something they'll regret. Most men are not like me; they're shameless about getting what they want.
Honestly, it was a relief. Maintaining those relationships without, you know, doing what any other man would've done? It was getting stressful. I should stop dating until I've found a solution to my dilemma.
My complex, legal and ethical dilemma.
Anyway!
The apartment called me back after mulling over my application for a week and a half and told me I was accepted. Sadly, that meant breaking my current lease, which meant I forfeit my deposit and was on the hook for rent on the rest of the two-year lease. Only three months, but it still kind of hurt.
Well, it didn't hurt, really, it was just annoying.
Regardless, I didn't have time to enroll into a situational awareness class here in Metropolis. Disappointing, but there's places in Sky Peak. Found a couple that look good to me, at least. I also had to look into rent-able warehouse where I can practice my Smithing skill.
What am I going to be doing, you ask?
Making nails. And screws. Bolts, too. It doesn't really matter what I make so long as I go up in skill points. The point is to get my skill up as fast as possible and then use it to make my costume.
And to make a gas chamber to administer my super soldier formula, because while I may be super humanly skilled, I don't want to be Batman. I am taking what powers I can and will shove them straight up my nose if I have to.
...with proper testing and trials, of course. Didn't feel like outgrowing my own skin.
---Two Weeks Later---
The flight had landed. Finally.
A tone sounded and the seat belt light turned off. I had a window seat, so I had the privilege of waiting as the other two passengers I sat with got up and got their luggage, making their way out to trudge in the slow line of human flesh, reminding me of the poisoned vein running down the back of a shrimp.
When the last person, an old lady, finally walked past me, I stood up and got my carry on out of the compartment above and started walking at a normal pace down the aisle until I got to the back of that same old lady, and walked down the extended bridge into the airport.
The air was cold. It was a different cold than Metropolis, though. The crisp mountain air felt emptier somehow, but I couldn't put my finger on why.
As I exited the bridge from the plane to Sky Peak International Airport, the first thing I noticed were the armed guards. They were stationed at desks, patrolling the walk ways, and especially by all the scanning platform, circular things with antenna that orbit the body as they does their work.
For a moment, I was a little stunned. I thought this was the DC Universe, not Judge Dredd.
When I approached, one of the security personnel, hefting a full on rifle spoke to me in a bored voice. "Please place all your luggage on the conveyor and hand over any keys, change or coins on your person."
I had absolutely no desire to give this man the gift of excitement, so I did as I was told. Keys, wallet and loose quarter went into the dish provided and my carry on went onto the conveyor. Then I stood on the platform, striking a t-pose when instructed so that the antenna could do their job as they circled me and the platform.
When they were done, I was let go, and given back my stuff.
"Sir, just so you know, there's three more scanners you'll need to go through before you exit the airport," the security guard said. "Just continue down the stairs, it'll be straight ahead."
"Why do I need to be scanned twice?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.
"It'll take too long to explain sir, just move along."
"Understood." I turned and made my way down the stairs, a nervous pep in my step fueled by a building anxiety running like an electrical charge through my nerves.
I turned a corner to the left and found myself in front of a massive corridor filled with people going through airport security. There were three rows of six scanners that I would have to go through in sequence.
...suddenly, Ms. Lane's review of the place made complete sense.
The first row looked like it was moving the fastest, so I got in line there. Took a moment to review my quest journal and my survival bars. Sleep was green, hunger was green and thirst was green, so I didn't need to worry about that at all.
But the air, though. The chill seemed to be getting worse, somehow. No...it wasn't the air. There was something hostile in the room. Hostile, and dangerous. I may have been the only one with a danger sense, but I could see the guards grip on their rifles start to tighten as the familiar feeling of unease started to set in my stomach. Felt like a shark was swimming through the air above us.
To take my mind off my nerves, I considered my quest 'Where's the Blacksmith?' and the work that would go into completing it. I wonder if instructional videos counted as training for the purposes of increasing skills? One of the funnier little hacks I've found in maxing my skills is that, when I've gotten around the mid to upper nineties and grinding the points takes forever, I just go read a book explaining the basics to take me over the finish line. Videos on the internet could follow the same principle, right?
I hope so, it'd save me a day of reading.
A cold shiver ran down my spine, stopping my attempts at distracting myself dead in their tracks. There was a threat here, and the only thing I had to defend myself were four priceless limbs that I didn't want broken.
Glacially, the line moved forward and I got on the first platform, with an armed guard repeating the same instructions. I moved through it without incident, but then had to wait for the second platform.
Because there was a middle age women with a bob haircut making trouble for security.
She was whining like a kicked puppy. "I've been through these scanners twice! This is ridiculous, you'd think you'd get whatever you needed the first time!"
The guard she was arguing with was very clearly resisting the impulse to take aim at her empty head with his rifle. "Ma'am, I don't make the rules, this is just the procedure. If you continue to refuse the scanner, we will have no choice but to detain you for more invasive procedures. And we will."
"Don't you dare threaten me!" Her face twisted intensely with anger. "I refuse to take this abuse! If you don't let me through this instant, I will drown this airport in lawsuits!"
I clenched and relaxed my fingers in sequence. Lady, we've got to move. Go be a Karen elsewhere.
"Ma'am, if you don't get on the platform, my boys are going to come in here, tackle you straight to the ground, tase you, then haul you away in cuffs at gunpoint where we will scan you for telepathic interference, alien parasites and who knows what else." The guard's glare made me take a breath, because he was a hairs breath away from placing her in a very messy arrest. "Get on the scanner and spread your arms and legs. Do it now. Final warning."
The threat of violence made the woman clam up and she got on the scanner. As the machine did its work, I could just barely hear her muttering to herself. "I'm going to see my lawyer about this."
"I don't care, ma'am," the guard replied, maintaining and tightening the death grip he had on his on his weapon.
With a disgusted hmph, she collected her things and walked toward the final scanner.
"Alright, you know the drill, anything metal or sensitive goes in the tray," the guard said presenting said tray. "Carry-on luggage goes on the conveyor. Step onto the platform, nice and easy."
Oddly, when I placed my carry-on on the conveyor, the cold feeling seemed to get further away, as if the danger were in my clothes and toiletries, but that's ridiculous. Eager to finally get this over with, I stepped onto the machine. But instead of the machine turning on to scan me, the guy manning the scanner, sitting at a desk protected by bullet proof glass, rapidly stood up and drew his rifle from his back. "We got something!"
Wait, what?
Immediately, klaxons filled the security checkpoint and one of the guards shouted. "Everyone down on the ground! Now!"
I looked at the conveyor which had devoured my luggage, where I could hear the sound of tearing fabric, then tearing steel. At this moment, my sense kicked in and I got down as it exploded, taking my luggage with it.
Shielded my eyes with my arm before I lost one of them to shrapnel.
Oh great! My first taste of combat and I don't even have a weapon! And OW that really hurts!
I looked at my arm and saw that a large chunk of shrapnel had lodged itself in my forearm, and my right hand refused to work properly. Fantastic!
A snarl which sounded pieced together from technological noise brought my attention back to the conveyor's compartment, where something had broken out. I say something because I couldn't make heads or tails of the thing; it had four limbs and seemed to be made out of television static with a single eye-stalk protruding out of the center, holding a neon-blue orb with a black diamond iris cutting through the center.
There was a cold trail leading from the monster to my chest. I pushed off with my working arm to get out of the way of that cold trail right as an azure laser beam appearing where the trail had been. I bolted further down the aisle and slid beneath one of the conveyors, gripping one of its legs and using it to turn on my slide, barely avoiding the prone form of a man trying to hide from the monster. Grabbing the conveyor and pushed to my feet in a hunched position and then hopped back over the conveyor I had just slid under.
Good I lost it.
Destroying the monster may compromise my identity later. Bypassing security is illegal. We're finding a place to hide.
I heard someone shout in the distance. "Open fire!"
The terminal was filled with echoing shouts of automatic gunfire. Up above, I saw that the creature had leaped onto the walls and was climbing up, returning fire, its laser bolts being met with cries of pain.
Over the intercom, a prerecorded voice sounded throughout the room. "Look for the green light. Look for the green light. Evacuate the terminal. Look for the green light…"
Immediately, people started to stand. The green lights were shining on the passages going backward toward where they had come from before getting to security while the doors forward were quickly barred off by descending gates. Then it was a stampede of people, all rushing to the exit.
The fact that my optional objective to bypass security hadn't failed at this point tells me that there was a way to either open those gates or another way out. Still.
Looking around, I saw a door with a glass window in the top half, marked as 'employees only'. If there was a safe place to hide, it'd be through there.
It was then that I saw an old man trip and fall in the ground. Immediately, I ran over, pushing through the rushing crowd. "Here, let me help you out!" I grabbed him by the arm with my good hand and hoisted him up.
His face was bruised and bloody from having been stepped on, his gray hair matted with blood. "Th-thanks!" He bloodily sputtered out before running toward the green-lit staircases.
Thankfully, the man didn't look concussed. As I slunk back under the conveyor. That cold aura had cross the room. Gunfire had ceased, and I could hear people start to speak.
"I lost it! Can anyone see it?"
I did. It was moving forward like some sort of demented crab on the ground beneath conveyors, but it wasn't looking in my direction. Coming out of my hiding place with my bad arm up, I pointed with my good hand. "It's over there! Underneath the conveyor!"
Immediately, the armed guards turned with their rifles to where I had been pointed.
"Contact!" Gunfire resumed a midst the frustrated roars of whatever it was they were shooting at. "Aim for the eye!"
Another one of the guards took cover next to me. "Sir, you need to evacuate immediately! Follow the green lights! We'll get you medical attention when all this is over!"
The green lights that thing was obviously making its way towards?
Actually, I could see it scrambling toward one of those stair cases. If it got up there, they'd never be able to find it in the horde of people and those people would then have to go back through security, starting this whole thing over again.
...well, I'm trying to be a superhero, aren't I? Lets see if I can get it to follow me.
I stood up and waved my good arm. "Hey! Weirdo! Yeah, you! Over here!"
The azure eyeball turned to look at me and immediately, I felt the cold trail connecting me to it. I dodged down as a laser fired at me and I hopped onto the conveyor and then jumped to the next one before reaching the staff entrance, which I closed behind me.
I found myself in a long corridor with twin corridors joining at the center, going in opposite directions. Sprinting for them, I turned left and found myself with a single option; a conference room with a large glass window.
Well, that was no good. I turned around and heard the sound of a laser discharge and the door I had shut being blasted across the floor. Didn't have a choice, I ran to the conference room. Long table, lots of chairs, a whiteboard on the wall, and a wall of steel cabinets, and another wall of shelves, creating a corner. I slid inside, painfully bumping my bad arm but thankfully having enough grit to stifle my whelp. The angle would be perfect to hide from it when it blasted the door open.
I heard gunfire. Hopefully, it wouldn't immediately turn left and come to this room.
After a few seconds, the sounds of gunfire died down and I heard security officers shouting at each other.
"Spread out! There aren't any exits here, we'll find it."
"If I ever get my hands on whoever let that guy on a plane with those things…"
They can't seriously think I'm responsible for this! Well, I mean, it was my luggage but – but...crap.
"Can it. Also, don't shoot the lunatic that lured it here. Check your fire."
Oh, different guy. At least, it sounds like a different guy.
"You got it, Pedro."
It was then that I saw a ventilation shaft along the left wall, the wall that I was sandwiched between as well as the lockers. A cold feeling in the pit of my stomach arose as I realized that that thing might very well be able to navigate the vents.
That cold sensation externalized itself, coming from the vent and I realized that I needed to leave. Dodging lasers was much harder when the shooter was close and didn't have to worry about spread, which was a problem with weapons-grade lasers – issues with the beam as it emits from the lens and hits atmosphere can and do cause it to go slightly off target.
Except the entire room was now cold and when I peaked, I saw airport barely sneak into view of the window, only to look in the room and signal to his buddy and he backed off.
They saw it.
It was at that moment, the ventilation shaft started to bend and it shot out, slamming into the wall below the window, and it leaped out, landing on the table. It's blue eye was looking around and hadn't found me yet.
This was going to be close. I took a breath...then bellowed. "Here!"
Immediately, the crab's eye turned to look at me, it's eye glowing brighter as it began to charge the blast that would end my life. But the security officers hiding out of view immediately swung into view, aimed and fired.
A bullet ripped through the blue orb, causing it to shatter and explode in a corona of blue light.
I let out a deep breath and slid down against the corner.
I'm glad to know you still reward all the options except the ones I take. Never change, game.
The door to the conference room opened as I was extricating myself from my hiding place.
"You alright, sir?" One of the officers asked, his weapon low.
"I will be, once my arm is figured out," I said, raising it up. "Hurts something awful."
"We'll take care of that. Simmons, if you'd call the infirmary?" he said.
Simmons, the officer behind the first, nodded and got on his walkie-talkie. The rest of the security team, six of them, filed into the room and took positions around the conference table, not taking their eyes off of the crab, which no longer looked like it was made of static, but instead was a robot made of steel with four legs.
"Can I get your name?" The first officer asked, extending his hand. His helmet, the visor down, hid his facial features.
"Jacob Graves." I extended my left hand, as my right was out of commission. Awkwardly, he withdrew his right and offered his left.
"That was a brave thing you did, son." He said, sounding warm. "But please never do it again."
"Yes sir," I said, agreeing. I'll need weapons, armor and powers before I even think of trying something like this again. Still! I consider it a success! I saved lives and I survived the ordeal. "You have me at a disadvantage, officer…?"
"Malcolm. Malcolm Brown," He said. "Sorry this happened, we thought we had gotten them all."
"This has happened before?" I asked.
"It happened about a month ago," Malcolm said, cradling his rifle in his arms like it was an infant. "Some scientist creep came through here from Space City, heading for Gotham. He built those things and apparently, they didn't like being scanned. All hell broke loose and we had the firefight of our lives. Sometimes things like to hide in people's luggage, so we scan them repeatedly."
I offered a look of empathy. "That's rough."
"Yeah. I thought we got the last of the stragglers two weeks ago," Malcolm continued. "I pity the families who lost someone today. Not everyone made it out. Plus, whoever it was who lost their luggage. Hopefully they don't sue."
"Nah, I won't," I said. "It was just clothes and toiletries."
"That was you?" Malcolm asked. Then he looked at my bad arm and made the connection. "Oh, right. Yikes. We've got some great doctors here, they'll fix you up."
"Thanks," I said.
Right on cue, people in white uniforms arrived with a stretcher. The lead, an African-American whose black hair was tied in a bun, spoke. "Whose the patient?"
I raised my bad arm. "That's me."
"Oh, that looks bad," she said, eyes wide. "Get on the stretcher, we'll get that situated immediately."
...well, at least I'm well off or this bill would haunt me for years.
---
Author's Note: This chapter is the one where I really felt like I had returned to form. Felt great writing it and I had a lot of fun. Hopefully, you all had just as much fun reading it!
I will note that the reaction to Jacob surprised me. Wasn't bad, the reactions made sense, I just felt bad for not anticipating it. So, let me address them. Very minor spoilers below, just so you know.
1. Jacob dates honestly. He tells them at the beginning that he's not looking for anything exclusive and, because he will be seeing other women, they are free to see other men. Whether or not they took him up on this isn't relevant to the story; I'll let you guys decide.
2. Jacob's celibacy has to do with alleviating negative consequences. Apparently, casual sex can be very bad for a woman's psychological health, according to the studies he and I have read. Not always, but enough that it's a problem. Since Jacob's moral conditioning is quite strong, he couldn't take advantage of their willingness with a clear conscience since he didn't think they were worth truly committing too; that commitment being marriage.
3. Is it a harem fic? I'd say so. This is the spoiler: Polygyny is what Jacob actually wants out of his relationships. The issue that he's run into is that it's completely illegal in all 50 states and at a Federal Level and he wants to be a superhero.
I hope that helps everyone! And please let me know what you think, I do want to read what you have to say.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
Last edited:
Chapter 4 - Here's the Blacksmith!
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
- Joined
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The following is a fan-based work of fiction. Justice League and Justice League Unlimited are all owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros. Animation. Please support the official release.
---
The infirmary was stocked with the most advanced medical technology I've ever seen. Surgical robots, XRVE Scanners, pharmaceutical synthesizers, the works. Once the shrapnel had been dug out of my arm and it was bandaged properly, the doctor gave me a welcome clean bill of health and I promptly paid the thankfully not that large bill directly via debit.
The taxi was driven by a ginger, graying hair and five o'clock shadow with mermaid tattoo on his forearm. He talked, but his mumbling made it hard to understand the guy, so I just responded with the occasional nod.
As we drove into the city, it became obvious that the city's budget went into the airport. I had seen pictures, but driving through it was so much worse. Graffiti was everywhere, trash was blowing across the streets but those streets seemed almost empty.
We drove past a long series of tents pitched on the sidewalk outside empty, obviously condemned apartment buildings. There weren't many sky scrapers, but the one we drove past had a lot of broken windows.
I most surprising thing was the guy on a rocket-board, flying overhead and snatching the purse of a woman right out of her hands before turning down an alleyway and out of sight before any of us could get a good look at him. She was left screaming for help as we drove past her.
This was a city on its last legs.
"Brubrdf thieves…"
I wish he didn't mumble. "I'm sorry?"
He spoke up. "That was a Rocket-boarder. A gang of thieves running around this part of the city. They prey on just about anyone they think has money."
"And they just fly free?" I asked. That...I mean, don't the cops at least have something they can do?
"Why not?" He asked. "It's not like the cops can do anything and it sure as hell ain't like Superman's going to drop in to give us a hand. He's too busy down in Metropolis, you know?"
Well crap. "What other gangs are there? Do you know?"
He cleared his throat. "Well, there's the Apples and the Oranges, they're always fighting."
"Apples and Oranges?" I asked, blinking slowly as I processed what I heard.
"Well, they were a single gang when they got started," the Driver explained. "But when they started to get bigger, the two leads had a falling out and now they're eating each other. Serves 'em right, stupid kids."
You can't make this stuff up, can you?
"There's a couple of others, but they ain't anything worth anything," he said. "What I wouldn't give to have Mountain Man back."
"Mountain Man! I heard of him," I said, giving him a small smile. "Does anyone know where he went?"
"No, but if you find out, drag him back here," he said. "Without him, this city is doomed."
"What about Cybergirl?" I asked. "Or Solar Forge?"
"Bah, those two didn't even last a week," he waved me off, giving me a brief but great view of his tattoo. "Mountain Man! He actually stuck around and did things. You know why they called him Mountain Man? Because he could grow a hundred feet tall! Him and that axe! It was like he could chop that sky scraper down there like a tree!"
"What if we got someone new?" I asked, tilting my head.
"Not happening." He pulled the cab to a stop. "We ain't seen a cape around here in almost ten years and there's a reason for that. Anyway, this is your stop."
"Thanks, friend," I said, sliding my card in the terminal beside the door. I tipped him thirty percent, because he didn't take the long way to run up his meter and gave me valuable information. "Drive safe."
"Hey, same to you, buddy," he said as I left and shut the door behind me.
He drove off.
The apartment, high end for the city, still looked run down on the outside. There was a large, grungy stain on the upper left corner and the front window was darkly tinted and cracked.
I walked inside and came to a diner. A very clean eatery, actually, with white tile floors, a steel counter and a lot of tables and chairs. Only a couple of customers, though. Behind the counter, an elderly man looked to the also elderly woman he was working with. They were rail thin with gray hair and wearing white dress shirts with name tags on them. "Patty! Customer."
"Hey," I approached, giving them a friendly wave. "I'm Jacob Graves, your new tenant."
"Oh, yeah," he said, smiling. He walked away, around the corner, then up to me, shaking my bandaged hand. "I'm George Smiles, that's my wife Patty. I should've guessed you were the new guy from your suit cases. Come on, I'll show you to your new place."
"Thanks," I said, happily following the man through a door and up the stairs.
"Boy are we glad to see you," George said. "A couple of our previous tenants got jobs in Metropolis and Central so we were afraid we were going to be pinching our pennies until we got your phone call."
"Hey, Sky Peak seems like an exciting place," I said with a shrug.
"You could say that again," George said. "I hope you were put off by the exterior, we had to trash it to keep in line with the rest of the city. Don't want to make ourselves targets, you know? I promise your apartment is as clean as the diner down stairs."
"Hey, that makes total sense," I replied, nodding as I comprehended the disparity between the clean, well kept diner and the grungy, old apartment building.
Up the stairs we went until we got to the seventh floor. We took the first right, and came to number seventy-seven.
George fished in his pocket for a moment and withdrew a shiny, silver key. "Here you go! Patty will be up later for you to finish signing your paperwork but feel free to get settled in and then come down for a bite to eat. Welcome to Sky Peak!"
"Thanks George," I said with a grin, shaking his hand. "I'll do that. Nice to meet you."
"You as well." George gave me a nod, then turned to go back downstairs.
---The next day--
The diner's actually pretty good! I'm impressed. I like the 15% bonus to my move speed their deluxe cheese burger gives me. Today, however, I had their salmon salad which made all of my skills increase 10% faster.
Anyway, I managed to score a warehouse in Sapphire Park, one of the districts here in Sky Peak. The warehouse was large, and it was empty. Four walls, a roof and a large, rolling door. Purchased some work clothes for myself, a welding mask, a welding torch, some other supplies.
Because it was finally time to start working on my Smithing skill!
Had everything I needed, a kiln, an anvil, a crucible, hammers, tongs, steel files, an apron, a multitude of molds and lots of scrap steel and rebar. Don't forget the welding torch.
First thing to do...is look on the internet and find some instructional videos. I had a small, silver laptop hooked up to a router which I purchased on my way here today. Installation was a piece of cake and then calling up an internet provider to switch me on took about ten minutes.
Okay, now!
A few clicks and a search in the browser, and I was watching a teenager in Central City doing a video in his backyard.
"Hey, welcome to my channel! My name is Danny Derrickson, and today I'm going to be showing you how to make nails!"
He took a very long piece of metal, thinner than rebar, heated up the end in his backyard kiln. When it was glowing, he took the end out and hammered it into almost a square, pointed spear before placing it on a tall, semi-pointy tool, which he then used in conjunction with his hammer to break off the point. Then he stuck the nail into another tool which fit on his anvil and hammered the top until the head had been shaped.
After quenching it in water, he brought the nail to the camera.
"And that's how you make a nail," Danny said proudly, grinning. "If you found that helpful, please leave a comment and subscribe, I would love to hear what you think! Bye now!"
Well, I did, because that was extraordinarily helpful. A like, a comment saying I enjoyed seeing the process and a subscription so I could find his videos later, and then untied my apron because I had more supplies to grab!
Didn't take long, the nearest home improvement store was about ten blocks away, and I had rented a pickup truck. Tall, semi-pointy piece of equipment was called a 'cutting hardy' while the other one which was used to hammer the nail heads was a 'nail header'. Creatively named it was not, but that really wasn't a slight against it.
I got back to my warehouse and then I got to work. For real this time, I hoped.
Fired up the kiln and stuck a small iron rod inside. I watched it closely until it heated up and drew it out, taking it to the anvil. Then I started hammering...it for some reason refused to a point. No matter how much I hit it, it just got thinner all around and when it cooled, I had to put it back in the kiln and wait for it to heat back up.
Oh, I wasn't hitting it right. Needed to hammer more at the point and less near the top. That explains a lot. When I withdrew the rod, the end seemed like a comically shrunken, glowing head. When I brought it to the anvil and hit it a single time with my hammer, it just broke off, snapping off of the main rod and snapping in two.
I just started to laugh. That's one way to mess up a nail!
And while it seemed like I was making rapid progress, the first fifteen skill levels always happened quick. Progress slowed from sixteen to twenty and then it dropped precipitously one we hit skill level fifty. Hence why I wasn't looking up any more instructional videos because the last 10 levels could take years if I wasn't scaling my projects up enough.
I probably wouldn't be able to scale my projects enough. I had infinitely replenishing money from my long-term investments, but that money only came in once every three months. Money I'd prefer to use on things like creating my actual armor.
Anyway.
My next nail started off much better, but the slope as the nail shrunk down to the point was uneven, but at least it actually had a point this time. It only took a few minutes and when I was satisfied, I brought it to the hardy and with several successful swings broke it off. Alright, so far so good, so I dropped the nail into the opening at the top of the nail header, a wrench-like tool, and...it got stuck half way up the nail, when it should only have about twenty-percent of the nail hanging up.
The uneven slope had come back to haunt me. I turned the header upside down and the nail didn't come out. I hit the header against the anvil and knocked the offending piece of iron into the scrap bin and started over.
I wasn't worried. Every single skill I had maxed involved a complete and total failure at the beginning. And every single time, I got good enough to put other masters to shame. It was only a matter of patience and persistence.
---One Week Later---
I had long gotten used too to the ringing of my hammer and anvil echoing in my nearly empty warehouse. Thanks to my Athletics skill, swinging this hammer didn't actually do anything to my overall energy levels, so it was much easier to keep going than it would be for a normal person. However, checking my game stats revealed that making nails no longer gave me enough experience to be feasible to level up the Smithing skills.
That meant that it was time to switch things up. I wanted to start making my own tools, like tongs, hammers and for some reason, pipes. Why pipes? Because I want going to need to start improving the ventilation for the warehouse. It wasn't bad yet, the smoke from my kiln and forge was funneled through pipes reaching through the ceiling, but when I started making heavier machinery, this place was going to get really bad.
As I grabbed a rebar to heat and got to work, I looked around the warehouse and got distracted by plans forming in the minds eye. I had a pretty solid understanding of the basics, which meant I knew that I knew almost nothing. I think the gas chamber would go in the center of the warehouse and it's extremely important that it was made flawlessly. The super powers would come from a treatment that would take weeks and I didn't want it to take even longer by losing gas to a leak.
The Rebar was fairly long, because I intended to break it in half and turn it into a pair of tongs.
The powers I wanted were powers I had been studying for a while. First, was super strength, which in this case is actually a form of telekinesis that provides active support your skeletal structure and muscle fibers. I wanted it because it would help me take a hit in my armor without turning into human jelly. The fact that it's telekinesis actually means I can essentially control my friction by pushing lightly away from my skin; if someone wants to grapple me, it'll be like grabbing soap.
What's active support? You know how when you're holding a garden hose and it's limp, but then the water is turned on and the water pressure straightens it out? That's active support. I'm going to call it Auto-telekinesis. You know, like an auto-biography is a biography written by the person?
The second power? Healing. Medical powers. I had a theory that there was a type of radiation that I could create which living organisms could metabolize hyper efficiently and increase their healing factor. The math checks out, is what I mean. You can adjust it, too, to clean wounds of infections and disease and destroy biological detritus, such as rotting flesh. Healing is a power that will save a lot of lives. You know how many people in car accidents or plane crashes die from bleeding out? Too many!
...of course, I'll have to extensively test it because this could easily turn ugly and give people cancer. Freaking cancer as a super power, I could see headlines now. 'Hero or villain? Cancerman saves lives, but at what cost?' Imagine applying to the Justice League. "What's your power?" Superman might ask. "Cancer!" I would reply. Batman would immediately start making a contingency plan to deal with me if I went rogue, only it would be in full view of everyone and no one would be mad because I had freaking cancer powers.
Seriously, though, that would be bad.
Third power, and the reason why my selection of powers is so limited, Immortality. I'm going to live young and beautiful forever! Well, as long as I don't lose my head, get shot through the heart or – oh, the rebar is hot! Whoops, got distracted.
I withdrew the steel and got to hammering on the anvil, each stroke echoing through the still fairly empty warehouse. Gas chamber would go in the center, I need to get a whiteboard on wheels so I can start drawing plans and list components. If there was one thing I was going to need to create, it was a 3D printer; I remember those from my old life and they were really, really cool.
But I would need to make the tools to make the tools to make the tools. Right now, I'm not even at the first level of tools to make the tools. Why not just buy the tools and skip the Smithing training? Because if I don't know how to put things together, it wouldn't matter if I had the tools and they'd be sitting idle while I made nails and tongs out of rebar on an anvil.
Though I will be buying chemistry supplies to get to work synthesizing my super power serum. I'm not that crazy. The issue with mixing the serum is that all the chemicals needed to actually synthesize any kind of super serum are tightly regulated and outright illegal to buy without a government license. Most famously, Miraclo, the thing which Venom is derived from, but its not the only one.
Thankfully, I had the smarts needed to synthesize all the chemicals from other sources. Miraclo can actually be jury rigged through a long, complex chemical process that starts with latex gloves of all things. No, really. The issue is that the process is top secret and I only learned about it when I finished maxing out Biology and Chemistry. Yes, you read that right; maxing out knowledge skills gave me information the government has spent trillions of dollars to keep out the hands of enterprising people like me.
The real power of the gamer power is the ability to pass skill checks. Any skill checks.
And pass them I shall.
The really cool part is that because I can source all of my specialized materials from mundane places, there isn't a paperwork trail that can lead to similarly enterprising super villains to discovering my secret identity, which is the really cool part.
…of course, there's going to be a lot of mundane materials I'll have to grab...this is going to be expensive…
Actually, you know what I just remembered. The Justice League! They aren't a thing yet. The Justice League has yet to be founded. Which strikes me as odd, now that I think about it, but I guess they haven't had a chance to work together in such and such a situation that would...bring them together.
Something big.
Apocalyptic.
A world ending threat, you might say.
…
And Superman is disarming all of our nukes.
…
OH CRAP!
---
Author's Note: And that's chapter 4! A little bit of a snapshot of Sky Peak before some exposition about Jacob's plans for his future. I'm not exactly sure when my chapters went from being 5k words long minimum to 3k, but I know it was while I was writing Giving Up. The Arc is going slightly longer than I thought, but I think it's going to be worth it when Jacob's finally flying high!
Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought, I'm anxious for your feedback.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
---
The infirmary was stocked with the most advanced medical technology I've ever seen. Surgical robots, XRVE Scanners, pharmaceutical synthesizers, the works. Once the shrapnel had been dug out of my arm and it was bandaged properly, the doctor gave me a welcome clean bill of health and I promptly paid the thankfully not that large bill directly via debit.
The taxi was driven by a ginger, graying hair and five o'clock shadow with mermaid tattoo on his forearm. He talked, but his mumbling made it hard to understand the guy, so I just responded with the occasional nod.
As we drove into the city, it became obvious that the city's budget went into the airport. I had seen pictures, but driving through it was so much worse. Graffiti was everywhere, trash was blowing across the streets but those streets seemed almost empty.
We drove past a long series of tents pitched on the sidewalk outside empty, obviously condemned apartment buildings. There weren't many sky scrapers, but the one we drove past had a lot of broken windows.
I most surprising thing was the guy on a rocket-board, flying overhead and snatching the purse of a woman right out of her hands before turning down an alleyway and out of sight before any of us could get a good look at him. She was left screaming for help as we drove past her.
This was a city on its last legs.
"Brubrdf thieves…"
I wish he didn't mumble. "I'm sorry?"
He spoke up. "That was a Rocket-boarder. A gang of thieves running around this part of the city. They prey on just about anyone they think has money."
"And they just fly free?" I asked. That...I mean, don't the cops at least have something they can do?
"Why not?" He asked. "It's not like the cops can do anything and it sure as hell ain't like Superman's going to drop in to give us a hand. He's too busy down in Metropolis, you know?"
Well crap. "What other gangs are there? Do you know?"
He cleared his throat. "Well, there's the Apples and the Oranges, they're always fighting."
"Apples and Oranges?" I asked, blinking slowly as I processed what I heard.
"Well, they were a single gang when they got started," the Driver explained. "But when they started to get bigger, the two leads had a falling out and now they're eating each other. Serves 'em right, stupid kids."
You can't make this stuff up, can you?
"There's a couple of others, but they ain't anything worth anything," he said. "What I wouldn't give to have Mountain Man back."
"Mountain Man! I heard of him," I said, giving him a small smile. "Does anyone know where he went?"
"No, but if you find out, drag him back here," he said. "Without him, this city is doomed."
"What about Cybergirl?" I asked. "Or Solar Forge?"
"Bah, those two didn't even last a week," he waved me off, giving me a brief but great view of his tattoo. "Mountain Man! He actually stuck around and did things. You know why they called him Mountain Man? Because he could grow a hundred feet tall! Him and that axe! It was like he could chop that sky scraper down there like a tree!"
"What if we got someone new?" I asked, tilting my head.
"Not happening." He pulled the cab to a stop. "We ain't seen a cape around here in almost ten years and there's a reason for that. Anyway, this is your stop."
"Thanks, friend," I said, sliding my card in the terminal beside the door. I tipped him thirty percent, because he didn't take the long way to run up his meter and gave me valuable information. "Drive safe."
"Hey, same to you, buddy," he said as I left and shut the door behind me.
He drove off.
The apartment, high end for the city, still looked run down on the outside. There was a large, grungy stain on the upper left corner and the front window was darkly tinted and cracked.
I walked inside and came to a diner. A very clean eatery, actually, with white tile floors, a steel counter and a lot of tables and chairs. Only a couple of customers, though. Behind the counter, an elderly man looked to the also elderly woman he was working with. They were rail thin with gray hair and wearing white dress shirts with name tags on them. "Patty! Customer."
"Hey," I approached, giving them a friendly wave. "I'm Jacob Graves, your new tenant."
"Oh, yeah," he said, smiling. He walked away, around the corner, then up to me, shaking my bandaged hand. "I'm George Smiles, that's my wife Patty. I should've guessed you were the new guy from your suit cases. Come on, I'll show you to your new place."
"Thanks," I said, happily following the man through a door and up the stairs.
"Boy are we glad to see you," George said. "A couple of our previous tenants got jobs in Metropolis and Central so we were afraid we were going to be pinching our pennies until we got your phone call."
"Hey, Sky Peak seems like an exciting place," I said with a shrug.
"You could say that again," George said. "I hope you were put off by the exterior, we had to trash it to keep in line with the rest of the city. Don't want to make ourselves targets, you know? I promise your apartment is as clean as the diner down stairs."
"Hey, that makes total sense," I replied, nodding as I comprehended the disparity between the clean, well kept diner and the grungy, old apartment building.
Up the stairs we went until we got to the seventh floor. We took the first right, and came to number seventy-seven.
George fished in his pocket for a moment and withdrew a shiny, silver key. "Here you go! Patty will be up later for you to finish signing your paperwork but feel free to get settled in and then come down for a bite to eat. Welcome to Sky Peak!"
"Thanks George," I said with a grin, shaking his hand. "I'll do that. Nice to meet you."
"You as well." George gave me a nod, then turned to go back downstairs.
---The next day--
The diner's actually pretty good! I'm impressed. I like the 15% bonus to my move speed their deluxe cheese burger gives me. Today, however, I had their salmon salad which made all of my skills increase 10% faster.
Anyway, I managed to score a warehouse in Sapphire Park, one of the districts here in Sky Peak. The warehouse was large, and it was empty. Four walls, a roof and a large, rolling door. Purchased some work clothes for myself, a welding mask, a welding torch, some other supplies.
Because it was finally time to start working on my Smithing skill!
Had everything I needed, a kiln, an anvil, a crucible, hammers, tongs, steel files, an apron, a multitude of molds and lots of scrap steel and rebar. Don't forget the welding torch.
First thing to do...is look on the internet and find some instructional videos. I had a small, silver laptop hooked up to a router which I purchased on my way here today. Installation was a piece of cake and then calling up an internet provider to switch me on took about ten minutes.
Okay, now!
A few clicks and a search in the browser, and I was watching a teenager in Central City doing a video in his backyard.
"Hey, welcome to my channel! My name is Danny Derrickson, and today I'm going to be showing you how to make nails!"
He took a very long piece of metal, thinner than rebar, heated up the end in his backyard kiln. When it was glowing, he took the end out and hammered it into almost a square, pointed spear before placing it on a tall, semi-pointy tool, which he then used in conjunction with his hammer to break off the point. Then he stuck the nail into another tool which fit on his anvil and hammered the top until the head had been shaped.
After quenching it in water, he brought the nail to the camera.
"And that's how you make a nail," Danny said proudly, grinning. "If you found that helpful, please leave a comment and subscribe, I would love to hear what you think! Bye now!"
Well, I did, because that was extraordinarily helpful. A like, a comment saying I enjoyed seeing the process and a subscription so I could find his videos later, and then untied my apron because I had more supplies to grab!
Didn't take long, the nearest home improvement store was about ten blocks away, and I had rented a pickup truck. Tall, semi-pointy piece of equipment was called a 'cutting hardy' while the other one which was used to hammer the nail heads was a 'nail header'. Creatively named it was not, but that really wasn't a slight against it.
I got back to my warehouse and then I got to work. For real this time, I hoped.
Fired up the kiln and stuck a small iron rod inside. I watched it closely until it heated up and drew it out, taking it to the anvil. Then I started hammering...it for some reason refused to a point. No matter how much I hit it, it just got thinner all around and when it cooled, I had to put it back in the kiln and wait for it to heat back up.
Oh, I wasn't hitting it right. Needed to hammer more at the point and less near the top. That explains a lot. When I withdrew the rod, the end seemed like a comically shrunken, glowing head. When I brought it to the anvil and hit it a single time with my hammer, it just broke off, snapping off of the main rod and snapping in two.
I just started to laugh. That's one way to mess up a nail!
And while it seemed like I was making rapid progress, the first fifteen skill levels always happened quick. Progress slowed from sixteen to twenty and then it dropped precipitously one we hit skill level fifty. Hence why I wasn't looking up any more instructional videos because the last 10 levels could take years if I wasn't scaling my projects up enough.
I probably wouldn't be able to scale my projects enough. I had infinitely replenishing money from my long-term investments, but that money only came in once every three months. Money I'd prefer to use on things like creating my actual armor.
Anyway.
My next nail started off much better, but the slope as the nail shrunk down to the point was uneven, but at least it actually had a point this time. It only took a few minutes and when I was satisfied, I brought it to the hardy and with several successful swings broke it off. Alright, so far so good, so I dropped the nail into the opening at the top of the nail header, a wrench-like tool, and...it got stuck half way up the nail, when it should only have about twenty-percent of the nail hanging up.
The uneven slope had come back to haunt me. I turned the header upside down and the nail didn't come out. I hit the header against the anvil and knocked the offending piece of iron into the scrap bin and started over.
I wasn't worried. Every single skill I had maxed involved a complete and total failure at the beginning. And every single time, I got good enough to put other masters to shame. It was only a matter of patience and persistence.
---One Week Later---
I had long gotten used too to the ringing of my hammer and anvil echoing in my nearly empty warehouse. Thanks to my Athletics skill, swinging this hammer didn't actually do anything to my overall energy levels, so it was much easier to keep going than it would be for a normal person. However, checking my game stats revealed that making nails no longer gave me enough experience to be feasible to level up the Smithing skills.
That meant that it was time to switch things up. I wanted to start making my own tools, like tongs, hammers and for some reason, pipes. Why pipes? Because I want going to need to start improving the ventilation for the warehouse. It wasn't bad yet, the smoke from my kiln and forge was funneled through pipes reaching through the ceiling, but when I started making heavier machinery, this place was going to get really bad.
As I grabbed a rebar to heat and got to work, I looked around the warehouse and got distracted by plans forming in the minds eye. I had a pretty solid understanding of the basics, which meant I knew that I knew almost nothing. I think the gas chamber would go in the center of the warehouse and it's extremely important that it was made flawlessly. The super powers would come from a treatment that would take weeks and I didn't want it to take even longer by losing gas to a leak.
The Rebar was fairly long, because I intended to break it in half and turn it into a pair of tongs.
The powers I wanted were powers I had been studying for a while. First, was super strength, which in this case is actually a form of telekinesis that provides active support your skeletal structure and muscle fibers. I wanted it because it would help me take a hit in my armor without turning into human jelly. The fact that it's telekinesis actually means I can essentially control my friction by pushing lightly away from my skin; if someone wants to grapple me, it'll be like grabbing soap.
What's active support? You know how when you're holding a garden hose and it's limp, but then the water is turned on and the water pressure straightens it out? That's active support. I'm going to call it Auto-telekinesis. You know, like an auto-biography is a biography written by the person?
The second power? Healing. Medical powers. I had a theory that there was a type of radiation that I could create which living organisms could metabolize hyper efficiently and increase their healing factor. The math checks out, is what I mean. You can adjust it, too, to clean wounds of infections and disease and destroy biological detritus, such as rotting flesh. Healing is a power that will save a lot of lives. You know how many people in car accidents or plane crashes die from bleeding out? Too many!
...of course, I'll have to extensively test it because this could easily turn ugly and give people cancer. Freaking cancer as a super power, I could see headlines now. 'Hero or villain? Cancerman saves lives, but at what cost?' Imagine applying to the Justice League. "What's your power?" Superman might ask. "Cancer!" I would reply. Batman would immediately start making a contingency plan to deal with me if I went rogue, only it would be in full view of everyone and no one would be mad because I had freaking cancer powers.
Seriously, though, that would be bad.
Third power, and the reason why my selection of powers is so limited, Immortality. I'm going to live young and beautiful forever! Well, as long as I don't lose my head, get shot through the heart or – oh, the rebar is hot! Whoops, got distracted.
I withdrew the steel and got to hammering on the anvil, each stroke echoing through the still fairly empty warehouse. Gas chamber would go in the center, I need to get a whiteboard on wheels so I can start drawing plans and list components. If there was one thing I was going to need to create, it was a 3D printer; I remember those from my old life and they were really, really cool.
But I would need to make the tools to make the tools to make the tools. Right now, I'm not even at the first level of tools to make the tools. Why not just buy the tools and skip the Smithing training? Because if I don't know how to put things together, it wouldn't matter if I had the tools and they'd be sitting idle while I made nails and tongs out of rebar on an anvil.
Though I will be buying chemistry supplies to get to work synthesizing my super power serum. I'm not that crazy. The issue with mixing the serum is that all the chemicals needed to actually synthesize any kind of super serum are tightly regulated and outright illegal to buy without a government license. Most famously, Miraclo, the thing which Venom is derived from, but its not the only one.
Thankfully, I had the smarts needed to synthesize all the chemicals from other sources. Miraclo can actually be jury rigged through a long, complex chemical process that starts with latex gloves of all things. No, really. The issue is that the process is top secret and I only learned about it when I finished maxing out Biology and Chemistry. Yes, you read that right; maxing out knowledge skills gave me information the government has spent trillions of dollars to keep out the hands of enterprising people like me.
The real power of the gamer power is the ability to pass skill checks. Any skill checks.
And pass them I shall.
The really cool part is that because I can source all of my specialized materials from mundane places, there isn't a paperwork trail that can lead to similarly enterprising super villains to discovering my secret identity, which is the really cool part.
…of course, there's going to be a lot of mundane materials I'll have to grab...this is going to be expensive…
Actually, you know what I just remembered. The Justice League! They aren't a thing yet. The Justice League has yet to be founded. Which strikes me as odd, now that I think about it, but I guess they haven't had a chance to work together in such and such a situation that would...bring them together.
Something big.
Apocalyptic.
A world ending threat, you might say.
…
And Superman is disarming all of our nukes.
…
OH CRAP!
---
Author's Note: And that's chapter 4! A little bit of a snapshot of Sky Peak before some exposition about Jacob's plans for his future. I'm not exactly sure when my chapters went from being 5k words long minimum to 3k, but I know it was while I was writing Giving Up. The Arc is going slightly longer than I thought, but I think it's going to be worth it when Jacob's finally flying high!
Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought, I'm anxious for your feedback.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
Last edited:
Chapter 5 - Motivation
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
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The following is a fan-based work of fiction. Justice League and Justice League Unlimited are all owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros. Animation. Please support the official release.
---
---Two Months Later---
I only sleep in the apartment once a week now, and that's just so I can pick up salmon salads. Aside from that, my time is spent working this damn forge. Practically working myself to the bone, here.
You know, I really should've put two and two together like three months ago when I first saw that news that Superman was disarming the world. I still don't know how he managed to get Russia and China to cooperate, but if I had to guess, its that they were afraid of another invasion from Apokalypse.
That's its name, right? Apokalypse?
The warehouse was now filled with tools. Tongs, hammers, cutters, you name it, hanging from wooden boards in quantities not out of place in a tool factory. The other things I made? Knives. Knives and swords. They were pretty nice knives and swords, I had to say.
Regardless, I was sharpening another sword, pumping the grindstone with my foot as I worked. Sparks flew as the blade had it's uneven parts smoothed out into a fine edge.
Whatever. I don't know how long I've got, but I've got to get ready before the other shoe drops and we're facing another invasion from Apokalypse or Space or from the Land of Dreams for all I know!
Once the blade was sharpened to my satisfaction, I stood and walked over to the rack where I placed all of my other swords. It was at that point that I figured something else out; I didn't actually know what my costumed identity was going to be.
With a pair of my homemade tongs, I pulled the crucible out of the kiln and poured the flaming murder soup of molten iron into a mold in the shape of an axe blade. Well, it wasn't an open mold, so you wouldn't know what it was by looking at it but I knew what it was.
...wait, did I?
This was the axe mold, right?
Once the murder soup had finished pouring, I plugged the mold on the top and looked at the blue tape label on the side, which had the word 'axe' written in black sharpie.
Whew, that's a relief. I almost wasted all that metal.
At that moment, my cellphone rang. Pulling my blacksmith glove off of one hand with the other, I pulled it out and answered it, without checking the caller ID.
That was a mistake. "Hello?"
"Jacob! Hey, it's Dad!" I found myself sharply taking in breath. Yes, they raised me, but I had the mind of an adult that whole time. Hated not being able to make any decisions for myself and so I didn't like seeing them. "How have you been, we haven't seen you in a while?"
"Been good, Dad, very good," I said. They weren't abusive or bad or anything. In fact, I think they were great parents! I just hated being under someone else's authority. On a deep, deep, intimately personal level. In fact, the reason I worked so damn hard to max my skills was to accelerate my exit from under their roof. "I moved, but it sound's like you figured that out."
"We did," Dad said. "Where did you move?"
"Sky Peak," I replied with a shrug. "Off in Red Mountain."
"Sky Peak?" Dad repeated. "Why?"
"Have you seen the pictures of the mountains?" I asked, my mouth twisting into a smirk. "Gorgeous!"
"Yeah, I'll bet its pretty," Dad replied. "Whose the superhero out there?"
"They don't actually have one," I reported.
"They don't?" Dad repeated. "Oh, your mother is going to be worried."
"It's actually not that bad," I lied.
Lies are a weapon, and like any weapon, you need to use it responsibly. In this case, I'm using it to protect myself from social encroachment by a pair of people who think they're owed my time just because they 'raised' me. If you're trying to protect yourself from what you know have coming, that's an irresponsible, but tempting, use of lying. Don't do that.
"You're staying indoors, right?" Dad asked, almost a little too quickly.
"Yeah, my current project is mostly an indoor affair," I reported.
"Oh, good!" He seemed happy. "What is it?"
"Sword making," I said, looking at the mold. "Actually, right now its an axe. Still, same thing. Blacksmithing. I'm getting pretty good at it."
"That's my boy," Dad said happily. "Eclectic but driven. Say, your Mom wanted me to ask you if you've been seeing any girls lately."
I slowly blinked, trying to chase away the irritation with the force of shutting my eyes before opening them. "Not since I moved. Why?"
"Oh, she was just telling me that she really missed the sounds of little feet on the ground," Dad said, giving me a very unsubtle hint as to the reason for this phone call.
I sighed. "Dad, please just spit it out."
"Well, we're getting older and we were hoping to see grandkids soon." Dad did, as requested, spit it out. "Having a child was the best decision we ever made and I think that if you don't, you'll be missing out."
I frowned. Well, I don't live in Metropolis anymore, so its not like they can just drop by to press the issue. "Listen, the more mom harangue's me about this, the less I want to start a family. I'll do it when I'm ready and not a second before."
Like when...no, no. Think about this later.
"Oh," Dad said. "Alright, well I guess I better let you go. Can we get your address? Your mom wanted to send you a package."
"Tell her I appreciate it, but that she can keep it," I said, pressing my lips into a fine line. "I'll talk to you later."
"B-" I didn't even give him the chance to finish.
Just leave me alone, you two! You want grandkids, fine. I get it. That is my obligation to you for raising me. I completely accept that. But I'll meet that obligation on my terms and you know what, I just realized that moving to get away from family is such a perfect excuse that I'm going to use it from now on.
Anyway, what was I thinking?
Oh, right, I was forging an axe blade.
I opened the mold and pulled out the blade. It was in the correct shape, but dull and without any place for the handle to be inserted. So, I brought it over to the drill press and slotted the blade into the vice I had fitted on it and turned it on.
...but, hang on, I was thinking of something else. What was it...oh, right. Who my super heroic identity would be. I don't know. I want something sleek, high tech and clearly at home in the sky because I want to fly, which means I need a jetpack.
There was a hero I remember from my old life. World War 2 era, punched Nazi's, but I don't remember his name. Wore a flight coat, brass helmet and an amazing looking jetpack – The Rocketeer! Yeah, him! I want to base my costume slightly on him. Maybe a super high-tech version of him. A futuristic fighter-pilot helmet, too.
Need a name.
I finished drilling out the axe blade, so I pulled it out of the vice and took it over to the workbench where axe handles and a hammer awaited. I fit the blade to a handle and started hammering it into place.
Something to do with the air. Sky King? Nah, that's taken. Not sure by who, but it was taken by someone. Aeroknight? That's almost too complicated. Air Knight? Maybe not Knight. Airman? I'm not in the Air Force.
With the blade on the handle, sanded town the top so it fit flush with the blade, and got to work cutting out the kerf, a small divot in the top of the handle.
Sky Peak had super villains but for some reason, the rest of the country doesn't care. I think it's because the world is really concerned with world-ending threats and their own super villains. No time or interest in a decaying city without any hope. No story for the press to sensationalize. It was just a slow, depressing, downward spiral.
The divot was cut out and I hammered the wedge into place, then I sanded the top down to be smooth.
Let's see...the biggest offender was some guy named Overlord. Super secretive guy, has had the police stumped for years. Only reason we know about him is that time when one of the city's sky scrapers collapsed into a neat, square pile with the DA inside and then the local press received a note from the guy, claiming responsibility. Since then, we've had a couple of other crimes; a bank heist where the only thing stolen was a thumb-drive, a few murders, but he takes responsibility for each. Why? Why bring the spotlight to himself? Does he have half the force in his pocket? Wouldn't surprise me.
Then there's that team of four anarchists, armed to the teeth with some of the best military hardware in the world who always show up to cause some kind of mayhem and then disappear right after. Without a trace. How did they get armed? Where do they go? Some footage I saw of them just featured them shooting. No shouting, no communicating, but they always acted with perfect teamwork.
I took the axe over to the grindstone and got to sharpening.
Then there's whoever took out my predecessors. I mean, I'm assuming they were taken out. Strongly assuming that's the case. Technically, none of my predecessor's deaths were even confirmed, they were just declared missing, then presumed dead. Presumed. No body, no recovered equipment, no nothing. The only common thread was that they all were heading into the Obsidian Wood south of Sky Peak for one heroic reason or another.
Alright, the axe is done!
Ay, good stuff!
Whoa! That was not expected! More good stuff! Well, it means I've got more Health, Stamina and Energy now since those directly scale with level. Beyond that, there's nothing else. I mean, I don't have perks in the skill trees or anything. Tragic, but that's the game.
Anyway.
The last thing? Well, I haven't heard of anything, except the last time there was a lightning storm up in the mountains, some people saw a pirate ship sailing through the clouds. No, really. The tabloids were all over it but no one pays attention to the tabloids.
And why would they? It's a pirate ship in the mountains. Which just means that I need to take it with absolute seriousness.
Had to wonder what was really going on, though. Overlord. What's he doing? Playing the long game, obviously, but what is it? World domination? I mean, probably. But how is he going to achieve it?
Wasn't anything on the Obsidian Wood, either. By all accounts on the internet, it's just a forest. No local legends, no stories, nothing that I could find. Which is so strange. It doesn't make any sense. Three, count them, three superheroes have gone missing in that place! You'd think there would be some explanation as to why.
The four anarchists are the ones that scare me, though. Were they telepathic and communicate with their thoughts? Would they find out my secret identity as I fight by reading my mind or combing through my memories? I'd need to find some kind of protection from that.
But then, I come back to my original question.
My heroic identity.
My whiteboard was full of drawings of what my eventual costume might look like. I erased them all and started making a bullet-point list of what I was thinking in blue marker.
I'm going to be a medic, so white was practically a requirement for my color scheme. Blue was my favorite color, so we're going to include that. Blue body-suit with white armor plates, which includes the jetpack. How will people know my name, whatever its going to be?
...well, if I want to be lazy and avoid doing public relations, I could just write it down on my breastplate. Like as a caption across the plate covering my left pectoral. But I need a name! A cool, fun-to-say name.
Since white is a color of mine, maybe Cloud? Or Cloud Something. Cloud Knight? Almost. That's really good. Cloud Knight. Cloud. Knight. CLOUD. Knight. It's not quite what I'm looking for, but it's darn close.
Cloud Strike?
Yeah, I like that. "Cloud Strike," I said, testing to see how it rolled off of the tongue. Yeah, I like it! I'm coming from the clouds and I'm punishing evil-doers. It's great!
Except that the word 'Strike' says something aggressive and while I'm definitely going to be aggressive, I don't want that to be my main focus. I'm going to be a medic, my emphasis is going to be on saving lives not necessarily fighting evil-doers.
...which brings to mind the question of why I was doing this. Well, it's DC. Who hasn't wanted to be a superhero alongside Superman and Batman? That's living the dream!
Isn't it?
I stepped away from the whiteboard, sitting down in a rolling chair and moving over to my desk.
But what if that's not enough?
Psychology Check Success: 100/70.
It's not enough.
I need something more substantial than being a fanboy, obsessed with the other heroes of my day. Okay, fine. I protect people because I think people are inherently good and need someone to show them the way! I'm an example, an exemplar, a savior of men!
...that's just not true. For starters, there's my...proclivities which make me question whether or not I even could even be a good person. Not just talking about my non-monogamy, here, either.
Putting more holes in that idea, I don't even think people are inherently good. In fact, I think the exact opposite of that. People are selfish, hedonistic, lazy animals who only behave appropriately because they fear the consequences of the law.
If people were inherently good, we'd have optimized society in such a way as to remove unnecessary suffering by now. Hunger, homelessness, they would be gone. They would've been gone a very, very long time ago.
Which begs the question, why do Superman, Batman, The Flash and so on do what they do? Super heroics are not a walk in the park. It's a sacrifice that they undertake willingly. Batman's traumatized, but he's trying to save his villains. Superman helps because the world needs him and so its a source of approval and self-esteem. It's not like my cynicism is drawn upon by my lived experience, either, it's drawn from my studies into the field of psychology. The idea that people are inherently good is false and only exists to flatter people's ego.
It's compassion, but I guess I don't understand where compassion comes from. I know it exists, I've experienced and shown compassion in my life, I promise. There was that time I helped that old lady with a broken leg with her groceries in when I was seven, or stood up for that kid in middle school who was being bullied because he hadn't grown a spine yet. Heck, even just being here in The City of Sky Peak instead of taking the easy route of just being another of Superman's sidekicks in Metropolis is proof of that.
Except, no. No, it's not. I picked a city without a superhero because I didn't want to play second fiddle to anyone. It was to flatter my ego. So no, it's not compassion that's brought me here. I mean, maybe it is. If I was completely devoid of it, I'd have no qualms becoming a super villain and my rules around dating wouldn't exist.
And what is compassion? Being pro-social? Makes sense. Would it make me happy to be a superhero? Well, yeah. I've invested countless hours into preparing to be a superhero, I'd like to see it pay off. But if I don't have an intrinsic reason to be a superhero, I'm not going to stay a superhero.
…
I'm wasting time and going in circles.
I stood up and got back to work, forging another sword.
---
Unfortunately, all my survival bars had turned red in the workshop and I had no supplies, so I came back home to the diner. Thankfully, my drowsiness and blurred vision didn't get me pulled over, but I did almost cause an accident when I ran a stop sign.
Need to be more responsible, that was completely unacceptable.
I was sitting at one of the diners tables, head in my arms because I was tired. The clean diner had only one other customer, a guy who lived here that I had seen before, two heads shorter than me and a stick-figure, black hair and brown eyes. He was eating a steak over by the cracked window.
"Here you go," Patty, the lovely old lady who helped run this apartment complex with her husband, came by with my deluxe burger and soder cola. I had a lot of salmon over the past few months and I wanted something that would help me get to bed faster. Literally. "One deluxe burger and a soder cola. You let me know if you need anything else, alright?"
"Thanks Patty," I said, grabbing my burger and taking a massive bite out of it. After chewing and swallowing my first bite, the food bar in the corner of my vision filled, and the image in the center changed to that of the burger, but it was grayed out in sections and I knew from experience that the buff would only take effect when I finished eating.
"So have you been doing alright?" Patty asked, hands on her hips. "You seemed like such a social butterfly when you first showed up."
"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, sipping my soder through my straw, downing it and returning my thirst bar to the yellow, but only barely. The caffeine put a line through the half-way point in my sleep bar, meaning that as long as I had caffeine in my system, I would be able to act like my bar was half-full. "Just started a project when I got here and then realized that I'm on the clock, so I don't have much time for socializing."
The issue with caffeine is that your sleep bar keeps going downward so even if you don't feel it, the penalties from lack of sleep still accumulate and caffeine can only be reapplied so many times before I get the 'Caffeinated Shock' debuff, where I can't benefit from caffeine for twenty four hours. I learned about that in High School, don't ask me how.
"Must be some clock," Patty said. "You're working twenty-four seven, which is an awful lot for someone whose supposed to be retired."
"Still got that youthful vigor," I said with a grin and taking another bite of my burger.
"Yeah, I can see that," Patty said, returning my grin. "You just seemed a little upset when you came in the door, so I was wondering."
I shrugged. "My Dad called me today."
"Oh." Patty had a pensive look on her face. "Are you not close with your folks?"
"It's not that," I said. "It's just that I value my independence and life was difficult for me when I didn't have it."
"You're afraid they're going to keep trying to tell you what to do, huh?" Patty summed up, giving me a sympathetic look. "Yeah, I see that. Coming from me, they're just scared of losing their little boy, you know?"
"Well, yeah," I said, frowning at the half-eaten burger clutched in my fingers like talons. "But I'm scared of not having my own life. So, who wins?"
"Well, you do, Jacob," Patty said. "That's why they're afraid."
From his place behind the counter, George added to the conversation. "They'll get over it. They just don't know what to do with themselves now that they've got an empty nest."
Oh, so I made the right call enforcing a boundary. I mean, that's usually the right call, I was almost nervous that I was being unreasonable. I mean, Mom just wanted to send me a package and...nah. Nah, she can keep it.
I don't need them anymore. Maybe someday I'll head back and visit.
"So why did you come to Sky Peak?" Patty asked.
To be a superhero for a city without one. Though the reasons why I want to be a superhero are currently up for debate. Also? "To get away from family."
"And you picked Sky Peak?" Patty asked, laughing.
"I mean, those mountains are gorgeous," I said, pointing out the window. "Besides, I doubt this city is doomed, its just a bit of a fixer upper."
Patty smirked. "Just a bit."
I held up my hand and made a pincer out of my fingers. "Just a tiny bit."
Patty laughed.
"Yeah, just a bit of spit and a little elbow grease, it'll look good as new," George said.
You know, except for the gangs, the lunatics and the little surprises that constantly stream out of the airport. Those are always fun!
At that moment, a chill brushed up against my cheek and I started to look around for the thing setting off my danger sense.
Patty frowned. "Jacob, what's wrong?"
The door opened, and in walked a trio of distinguished gentlemen wearing orange hoodies and black headbands with oranges on them. The lead, a portly Latino with a thin mustache smiled. "Patty, George! Hey, I'm here to collect your payment."
It was like a blizzard had rushed into the diner with them.
"Right. Of course, Martinez," Patty said, hurriedly walking around the counter to join her husband.
"We're a little short today," George said, popping the register and dumping the contents on the counter, before handing him the dollar bills. "Here's what we had."
Martinez flipped through the money with a cold expression on his face. "Fifty and some change ain't just short, old man. Are you trying to cheat us?"
George's eyes widened. "No, no! I would never! You guys have been real good to us. We're just short today because the oven broke!"
"That is just not my problem," Martinez replied, arching an eyebrow. One of the guys behind him drew a baseball bat from behind his back and started tapping it in his hand.
I stood up and walked forward. "Take it easy, I think I saw the old man drop his wallet in the back when he was paying the repairman."
"Oh you think so?" Martinez asked, walking forward and glaring right into my soul. "And you are you supposed to be?"
The guy that's going to cave your face in when his armor is done. "Just a guy. I was helping them move some stuff in the back earlier. You'll get your money."
Speech Check Success: 100/65.
"Alright." Martinez started to nod. "Okay, I see you. Go find his wallet and maybe there will be enough to pay the bill."
I gestured to George with my head and both he and Patty followed me into the back.
The kitchen wasn't as clean as the diner. It just wasn't. Crumbs and leftovers were everywhere, the garbage was filling up. But there were counters, ovens and stove tops all around and in the center.
Pulling my wallet out, I turned to face the elderly couple. "How much?"
"It's five hundred," George immediately said.
I kept money on me to pay off thieves so they'll leave me alone, but I didn't keep that much. "Okay. Where's the nearest ATM?"
"Just out back," Patty said, pointing out the door. "Its in the alleyway beside our dumpster."
"Be back in a minute." I started for it. "George, drop your wallet somewhere and then both of you act like you're looking for it. If they come in after you, act like I'm in the freezer looking for it."
Exiting the door, I came to the alley. Immediately, I saw the ATM, a heavily armored computer terminal with a card reader. A minute later, I had five hundred dollars in my hand but that was the rest of my blacksmithing budget for the month.
I took a deep breath and headed back for the kitchen.
"Got it!" I said, holding the money aloft as a frosty feeling washed over my face.
It was then that the door back out to the diner opened and in walked Martinez and his goons. "Hey, you got our money! Good work, kid. Now hand it over."
I wasn't proud of it, but I handed over the money.
"Thank you kindly," Martinez said with a smile. He turned to George. "In the future, be more responsible and keep your dates straight and then you wouldn't have to get bailed out by a good Samaritan, would you?"
"He dropped his wallet out back," I lied, pointing out back as the chill started to fade.
"He sure did," Martinez agreed, slowly nodding. "He sure did. Come on guys, we're done here."
The three left and the chill disappeared.
My fists were tight enough to turn my knuckles white. "Okay. Those are the Orange's, huh?"
"Yeah." George let out a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. "Hey, thanks. We owe you one."
"You saved us big time," Patty said, rubbing her shaking hands together to work off the nerves.
"Don't worry about it," I said. "Seriously, don't."
"At least let me bake you a cake," Patty implored.
"...alright, you can bake me a cake," I said, scratching the back of my head. "Anyway, I'm going to finish my burger and hit the hay...hey, you don't think the Apple's will show up tonight, do you?"
"Nah," George answered, shaking his head. "This is pretty solidly Orange territory."
"Thank goodness," I said, leaving the kitchen and returning to...my...burger.
Where a half-eaten burger should've been, there was an empty plate.
I let out a growl of frustration.
"What's wrong?" Patty asked, emerging from the kitchen.
"They ate my burger!" I growled, seeing the burger icon in my hunger bar disappear as my time to eat it elapsed.
"We'll make you another one, dear," Patty said. "Free of charge."
"Thanks," I said, holding my hands in my head. At least I ate enough that my hunger bar wouldn't deplete in the meantime.
I have never experience empty survival bars and I hope to never find out what happens when they do empty.
…
I understood how people could stoop that low. In a city like this, people did what they had to survive. It was a predator and prey dynamic and you didn't begrudge a predator for eating a prey whose only sin was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But to see it first hand? To see how scared Patty and George were, after they had been nothing but kind to me since we've met?
It galled me.
And I think I had an answer to my question.
In a city like this, there were still good, honest people. Even when its been reduced to an almost dog eat dog world, there were still people who were good, even when our natural inclination would be to become as selfish as we needed to be in order to protect ourselves.
Which means, I guess, if you'll forgive me being sappy, that good is a miracle.
It shouldn't exist. I almost think natural selection is entirely against it. The strong eat and the weak starve. Yet good not only exists, but it thrives, and there's a lot of good in the world. Superman himself, The Wayne Foundation's endless charity work, even people extending an encouraging word to someone down. Like I was.
What was his name? The other comic company's headliner, Spider-Man? His motto was With Great Power comes Great Responsibility? I think I've found my motto.
Good is a miracle. It deserves protection.
And the people of Sky Peak have been without a guardian for so long time that they have almost lost hope.
A guardian I hope to be.
…
Wait.
Guardian.
Guard.
Cloud Guard.
That! That's me! That one! Cloud Guard!
That's my name!
My name is Cloud Guard!
---
Author's Note: Here we are! I decided on Cloud Guard because it just feels good to say. At least, it does to me. Got some more thoughts on paper. Before you ask, there are perks, they're just tied to high level quest rewards. The skills are actually structured in such a way that the perks you would normally get are just implicitly built into the skill.
I don't have much else to say, but I hope you enjoyed the chapter in any case. I predict he'll get his costumed identity in two, maybe three more chapters, but now it's starting to coalesce.
Thanks for reading and make sure to tell me what you think!
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
---
---Two Months Later---
I only sleep in the apartment once a week now, and that's just so I can pick up salmon salads. Aside from that, my time is spent working this damn forge. Practically working myself to the bone, here.
You know, I really should've put two and two together like three months ago when I first saw that news that Superman was disarming the world. I still don't know how he managed to get Russia and China to cooperate, but if I had to guess, its that they were afraid of another invasion from Apokalypse.
That's its name, right? Apokalypse?
The warehouse was now filled with tools. Tongs, hammers, cutters, you name it, hanging from wooden boards in quantities not out of place in a tool factory. The other things I made? Knives. Knives and swords. They were pretty nice knives and swords, I had to say.
Regardless, I was sharpening another sword, pumping the grindstone with my foot as I worked. Sparks flew as the blade had it's uneven parts smoothed out into a fine edge.
Whatever. I don't know how long I've got, but I've got to get ready before the other shoe drops and we're facing another invasion from Apokalypse or Space or from the Land of Dreams for all I know!
Once the blade was sharpened to my satisfaction, I stood and walked over to the rack where I placed all of my other swords. It was at that point that I figured something else out; I didn't actually know what my costumed identity was going to be.
With a pair of my homemade tongs, I pulled the crucible out of the kiln and poured the flaming murder soup of molten iron into a mold in the shape of an axe blade. Well, it wasn't an open mold, so you wouldn't know what it was by looking at it but I knew what it was.
...wait, did I?
This was the axe mold, right?
Once the murder soup had finished pouring, I plugged the mold on the top and looked at the blue tape label on the side, which had the word 'axe' written in black sharpie.
Whew, that's a relief. I almost wasted all that metal.
At that moment, my cellphone rang. Pulling my blacksmith glove off of one hand with the other, I pulled it out and answered it, without checking the caller ID.
That was a mistake. "Hello?"
"Jacob! Hey, it's Dad!" I found myself sharply taking in breath. Yes, they raised me, but I had the mind of an adult that whole time. Hated not being able to make any decisions for myself and so I didn't like seeing them. "How have you been, we haven't seen you in a while?"
"Been good, Dad, very good," I said. They weren't abusive or bad or anything. In fact, I think they were great parents! I just hated being under someone else's authority. On a deep, deep, intimately personal level. In fact, the reason I worked so damn hard to max my skills was to accelerate my exit from under their roof. "I moved, but it sound's like you figured that out."
"We did," Dad said. "Where did you move?"
"Sky Peak," I replied with a shrug. "Off in Red Mountain."
"Sky Peak?" Dad repeated. "Why?"
"Have you seen the pictures of the mountains?" I asked, my mouth twisting into a smirk. "Gorgeous!"
"Yeah, I'll bet its pretty," Dad replied. "Whose the superhero out there?"
"They don't actually have one," I reported.
"They don't?" Dad repeated. "Oh, your mother is going to be worried."
"It's actually not that bad," I lied.
Lies are a weapon, and like any weapon, you need to use it responsibly. In this case, I'm using it to protect myself from social encroachment by a pair of people who think they're owed my time just because they 'raised' me. If you're trying to protect yourself from what you know have coming, that's an irresponsible, but tempting, use of lying. Don't do that.
"You're staying indoors, right?" Dad asked, almost a little too quickly.
"Yeah, my current project is mostly an indoor affair," I reported.
"Oh, good!" He seemed happy. "What is it?"
"Sword making," I said, looking at the mold. "Actually, right now its an axe. Still, same thing. Blacksmithing. I'm getting pretty good at it."
"That's my boy," Dad said happily. "Eclectic but driven. Say, your Mom wanted me to ask you if you've been seeing any girls lately."
I slowly blinked, trying to chase away the irritation with the force of shutting my eyes before opening them. "Not since I moved. Why?"
"Oh, she was just telling me that she really missed the sounds of little feet on the ground," Dad said, giving me a very unsubtle hint as to the reason for this phone call.
I sighed. "Dad, please just spit it out."
"Well, we're getting older and we were hoping to see grandkids soon." Dad did, as requested, spit it out. "Having a child was the best decision we ever made and I think that if you don't, you'll be missing out."
I frowned. Well, I don't live in Metropolis anymore, so its not like they can just drop by to press the issue. "Listen, the more mom harangue's me about this, the less I want to start a family. I'll do it when I'm ready and not a second before."
Like when...no, no. Think about this later.
"Oh," Dad said. "Alright, well I guess I better let you go. Can we get your address? Your mom wanted to send you a package."
"Tell her I appreciate it, but that she can keep it," I said, pressing my lips into a fine line. "I'll talk to you later."
"B-" I didn't even give him the chance to finish.
Just leave me alone, you two! You want grandkids, fine. I get it. That is my obligation to you for raising me. I completely accept that. But I'll meet that obligation on my terms and you know what, I just realized that moving to get away from family is such a perfect excuse that I'm going to use it from now on.
Anyway, what was I thinking?
Oh, right, I was forging an axe blade.
I opened the mold and pulled out the blade. It was in the correct shape, but dull and without any place for the handle to be inserted. So, I brought it over to the drill press and slotted the blade into the vice I had fitted on it and turned it on.
...but, hang on, I was thinking of something else. What was it...oh, right. Who my super heroic identity would be. I don't know. I want something sleek, high tech and clearly at home in the sky because I want to fly, which means I need a jetpack.
There was a hero I remember from my old life. World War 2 era, punched Nazi's, but I don't remember his name. Wore a flight coat, brass helmet and an amazing looking jetpack – The Rocketeer! Yeah, him! I want to base my costume slightly on him. Maybe a super high-tech version of him. A futuristic fighter-pilot helmet, too.
Need a name.
I finished drilling out the axe blade, so I pulled it out of the vice and took it over to the workbench where axe handles and a hammer awaited. I fit the blade to a handle and started hammering it into place.
Something to do with the air. Sky King? Nah, that's taken. Not sure by who, but it was taken by someone. Aeroknight? That's almost too complicated. Air Knight? Maybe not Knight. Airman? I'm not in the Air Force.
With the blade on the handle, sanded town the top so it fit flush with the blade, and got to work cutting out the kerf, a small divot in the top of the handle.
Sky Peak had super villains but for some reason, the rest of the country doesn't care. I think it's because the world is really concerned with world-ending threats and their own super villains. No time or interest in a decaying city without any hope. No story for the press to sensationalize. It was just a slow, depressing, downward spiral.
The divot was cut out and I hammered the wedge into place, then I sanded the top down to be smooth.
Let's see...the biggest offender was some guy named Overlord. Super secretive guy, has had the police stumped for years. Only reason we know about him is that time when one of the city's sky scrapers collapsed into a neat, square pile with the DA inside and then the local press received a note from the guy, claiming responsibility. Since then, we've had a couple of other crimes; a bank heist where the only thing stolen was a thumb-drive, a few murders, but he takes responsibility for each. Why? Why bring the spotlight to himself? Does he have half the force in his pocket? Wouldn't surprise me.
Then there's that team of four anarchists, armed to the teeth with some of the best military hardware in the world who always show up to cause some kind of mayhem and then disappear right after. Without a trace. How did they get armed? Where do they go? Some footage I saw of them just featured them shooting. No shouting, no communicating, but they always acted with perfect teamwork.
I took the axe over to the grindstone and got to sharpening.
Then there's whoever took out my predecessors. I mean, I'm assuming they were taken out. Strongly assuming that's the case. Technically, none of my predecessor's deaths were even confirmed, they were just declared missing, then presumed dead. Presumed. No body, no recovered equipment, no nothing. The only common thread was that they all were heading into the Obsidian Wood south of Sky Peak for one heroic reason or another.
Alright, the axe is done!
Ay, good stuff!
Whoa! That was not expected! More good stuff! Well, it means I've got more Health, Stamina and Energy now since those directly scale with level. Beyond that, there's nothing else. I mean, I don't have perks in the skill trees or anything. Tragic, but that's the game.
Anyway.
The last thing? Well, I haven't heard of anything, except the last time there was a lightning storm up in the mountains, some people saw a pirate ship sailing through the clouds. No, really. The tabloids were all over it but no one pays attention to the tabloids.
And why would they? It's a pirate ship in the mountains. Which just means that I need to take it with absolute seriousness.
Had to wonder what was really going on, though. Overlord. What's he doing? Playing the long game, obviously, but what is it? World domination? I mean, probably. But how is he going to achieve it?
Wasn't anything on the Obsidian Wood, either. By all accounts on the internet, it's just a forest. No local legends, no stories, nothing that I could find. Which is so strange. It doesn't make any sense. Three, count them, three superheroes have gone missing in that place! You'd think there would be some explanation as to why.
The four anarchists are the ones that scare me, though. Were they telepathic and communicate with their thoughts? Would they find out my secret identity as I fight by reading my mind or combing through my memories? I'd need to find some kind of protection from that.
But then, I come back to my original question.
My heroic identity.
My whiteboard was full of drawings of what my eventual costume might look like. I erased them all and started making a bullet-point list of what I was thinking in blue marker.
I'm going to be a medic, so white was practically a requirement for my color scheme. Blue was my favorite color, so we're going to include that. Blue body-suit with white armor plates, which includes the jetpack. How will people know my name, whatever its going to be?
...well, if I want to be lazy and avoid doing public relations, I could just write it down on my breastplate. Like as a caption across the plate covering my left pectoral. But I need a name! A cool, fun-to-say name.
Since white is a color of mine, maybe Cloud? Or Cloud Something. Cloud Knight? Almost. That's really good. Cloud Knight. Cloud. Knight. CLOUD. Knight. It's not quite what I'm looking for, but it's darn close.
Cloud Strike?
Yeah, I like that. "Cloud Strike," I said, testing to see how it rolled off of the tongue. Yeah, I like it! I'm coming from the clouds and I'm punishing evil-doers. It's great!
Except that the word 'Strike' says something aggressive and while I'm definitely going to be aggressive, I don't want that to be my main focus. I'm going to be a medic, my emphasis is going to be on saving lives not necessarily fighting evil-doers.
...which brings to mind the question of why I was doing this. Well, it's DC. Who hasn't wanted to be a superhero alongside Superman and Batman? That's living the dream!
Isn't it?
I stepped away from the whiteboard, sitting down in a rolling chair and moving over to my desk.
But what if that's not enough?
Psychology Check Success: 100/70.
It's not enough.
I need something more substantial than being a fanboy, obsessed with the other heroes of my day. Okay, fine. I protect people because I think people are inherently good and need someone to show them the way! I'm an example, an exemplar, a savior of men!
...that's just not true. For starters, there's my...proclivities which make me question whether or not I even could even be a good person. Not just talking about my non-monogamy, here, either.
Putting more holes in that idea, I don't even think people are inherently good. In fact, I think the exact opposite of that. People are selfish, hedonistic, lazy animals who only behave appropriately because they fear the consequences of the law.
If people were inherently good, we'd have optimized society in such a way as to remove unnecessary suffering by now. Hunger, homelessness, they would be gone. They would've been gone a very, very long time ago.
Which begs the question, why do Superman, Batman, The Flash and so on do what they do? Super heroics are not a walk in the park. It's a sacrifice that they undertake willingly. Batman's traumatized, but he's trying to save his villains. Superman helps because the world needs him and so its a source of approval and self-esteem. It's not like my cynicism is drawn upon by my lived experience, either, it's drawn from my studies into the field of psychology. The idea that people are inherently good is false and only exists to flatter people's ego.
It's compassion, but I guess I don't understand where compassion comes from. I know it exists, I've experienced and shown compassion in my life, I promise. There was that time I helped that old lady with a broken leg with her groceries in when I was seven, or stood up for that kid in middle school who was being bullied because he hadn't grown a spine yet. Heck, even just being here in The City of Sky Peak instead of taking the easy route of just being another of Superman's sidekicks in Metropolis is proof of that.
Except, no. No, it's not. I picked a city without a superhero because I didn't want to play second fiddle to anyone. It was to flatter my ego. So no, it's not compassion that's brought me here. I mean, maybe it is. If I was completely devoid of it, I'd have no qualms becoming a super villain and my rules around dating wouldn't exist.
And what is compassion? Being pro-social? Makes sense. Would it make me happy to be a superhero? Well, yeah. I've invested countless hours into preparing to be a superhero, I'd like to see it pay off. But if I don't have an intrinsic reason to be a superhero, I'm not going to stay a superhero.
…
I'm wasting time and going in circles.
I stood up and got back to work, forging another sword.
---
Unfortunately, all my survival bars had turned red in the workshop and I had no supplies, so I came back home to the diner. Thankfully, my drowsiness and blurred vision didn't get me pulled over, but I did almost cause an accident when I ran a stop sign.
Need to be more responsible, that was completely unacceptable.
I was sitting at one of the diners tables, head in my arms because I was tired. The clean diner had only one other customer, a guy who lived here that I had seen before, two heads shorter than me and a stick-figure, black hair and brown eyes. He was eating a steak over by the cracked window.
"Here you go," Patty, the lovely old lady who helped run this apartment complex with her husband, came by with my deluxe burger and soder cola. I had a lot of salmon over the past few months and I wanted something that would help me get to bed faster. Literally. "One deluxe burger and a soder cola. You let me know if you need anything else, alright?"
"Thanks Patty," I said, grabbing my burger and taking a massive bite out of it. After chewing and swallowing my first bite, the food bar in the corner of my vision filled, and the image in the center changed to that of the burger, but it was grayed out in sections and I knew from experience that the buff would only take effect when I finished eating.
"So have you been doing alright?" Patty asked, hands on her hips. "You seemed like such a social butterfly when you first showed up."
"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, sipping my soder through my straw, downing it and returning my thirst bar to the yellow, but only barely. The caffeine put a line through the half-way point in my sleep bar, meaning that as long as I had caffeine in my system, I would be able to act like my bar was half-full. "Just started a project when I got here and then realized that I'm on the clock, so I don't have much time for socializing."
The issue with caffeine is that your sleep bar keeps going downward so even if you don't feel it, the penalties from lack of sleep still accumulate and caffeine can only be reapplied so many times before I get the 'Caffeinated Shock' debuff, where I can't benefit from caffeine for twenty four hours. I learned about that in High School, don't ask me how.
"Must be some clock," Patty said. "You're working twenty-four seven, which is an awful lot for someone whose supposed to be retired."
"Still got that youthful vigor," I said with a grin and taking another bite of my burger.
"Yeah, I can see that," Patty said, returning my grin. "You just seemed a little upset when you came in the door, so I was wondering."
I shrugged. "My Dad called me today."
"Oh." Patty had a pensive look on her face. "Are you not close with your folks?"
"It's not that," I said. "It's just that I value my independence and life was difficult for me when I didn't have it."
"You're afraid they're going to keep trying to tell you what to do, huh?" Patty summed up, giving me a sympathetic look. "Yeah, I see that. Coming from me, they're just scared of losing their little boy, you know?"
"Well, yeah," I said, frowning at the half-eaten burger clutched in my fingers like talons. "But I'm scared of not having my own life. So, who wins?"
"Well, you do, Jacob," Patty said. "That's why they're afraid."
From his place behind the counter, George added to the conversation. "They'll get over it. They just don't know what to do with themselves now that they've got an empty nest."
Oh, so I made the right call enforcing a boundary. I mean, that's usually the right call, I was almost nervous that I was being unreasonable. I mean, Mom just wanted to send me a package and...nah. Nah, she can keep it.
I don't need them anymore. Maybe someday I'll head back and visit.
"So why did you come to Sky Peak?" Patty asked.
To be a superhero for a city without one. Though the reasons why I want to be a superhero are currently up for debate. Also? "To get away from family."
"And you picked Sky Peak?" Patty asked, laughing.
"I mean, those mountains are gorgeous," I said, pointing out the window. "Besides, I doubt this city is doomed, its just a bit of a fixer upper."
Patty smirked. "Just a bit."
I held up my hand and made a pincer out of my fingers. "Just a tiny bit."
Patty laughed.
"Yeah, just a bit of spit and a little elbow grease, it'll look good as new," George said.
You know, except for the gangs, the lunatics and the little surprises that constantly stream out of the airport. Those are always fun!
At that moment, a chill brushed up against my cheek and I started to look around for the thing setting off my danger sense.
Patty frowned. "Jacob, what's wrong?"
The door opened, and in walked a trio of distinguished gentlemen wearing orange hoodies and black headbands with oranges on them. The lead, a portly Latino with a thin mustache smiled. "Patty, George! Hey, I'm here to collect your payment."
It was like a blizzard had rushed into the diner with them.
"Right. Of course, Martinez," Patty said, hurriedly walking around the counter to join her husband.
"We're a little short today," George said, popping the register and dumping the contents on the counter, before handing him the dollar bills. "Here's what we had."
Martinez flipped through the money with a cold expression on his face. "Fifty and some change ain't just short, old man. Are you trying to cheat us?"
George's eyes widened. "No, no! I would never! You guys have been real good to us. We're just short today because the oven broke!"
"That is just not my problem," Martinez replied, arching an eyebrow. One of the guys behind him drew a baseball bat from behind his back and started tapping it in his hand.
I stood up and walked forward. "Take it easy, I think I saw the old man drop his wallet in the back when he was paying the repairman."
"Oh you think so?" Martinez asked, walking forward and glaring right into my soul. "And you are you supposed to be?"
The guy that's going to cave your face in when his armor is done. "Just a guy. I was helping them move some stuff in the back earlier. You'll get your money."
Speech Check Success: 100/65.
"Alright." Martinez started to nod. "Okay, I see you. Go find his wallet and maybe there will be enough to pay the bill."
I gestured to George with my head and both he and Patty followed me into the back.
The kitchen wasn't as clean as the diner. It just wasn't. Crumbs and leftovers were everywhere, the garbage was filling up. But there were counters, ovens and stove tops all around and in the center.
Pulling my wallet out, I turned to face the elderly couple. "How much?"
"It's five hundred," George immediately said.
I kept money on me to pay off thieves so they'll leave me alone, but I didn't keep that much. "Okay. Where's the nearest ATM?"
"Just out back," Patty said, pointing out the door. "Its in the alleyway beside our dumpster."
"Be back in a minute." I started for it. "George, drop your wallet somewhere and then both of you act like you're looking for it. If they come in after you, act like I'm in the freezer looking for it."
Exiting the door, I came to the alley. Immediately, I saw the ATM, a heavily armored computer terminal with a card reader. A minute later, I had five hundred dollars in my hand but that was the rest of my blacksmithing budget for the month.
I took a deep breath and headed back for the kitchen.
"Got it!" I said, holding the money aloft as a frosty feeling washed over my face.
It was then that the door back out to the diner opened and in walked Martinez and his goons. "Hey, you got our money! Good work, kid. Now hand it over."
I wasn't proud of it, but I handed over the money.
"Thank you kindly," Martinez said with a smile. He turned to George. "In the future, be more responsible and keep your dates straight and then you wouldn't have to get bailed out by a good Samaritan, would you?"
"He dropped his wallet out back," I lied, pointing out back as the chill started to fade.
"He sure did," Martinez agreed, slowly nodding. "He sure did. Come on guys, we're done here."
The three left and the chill disappeared.
My fists were tight enough to turn my knuckles white. "Okay. Those are the Orange's, huh?"
"Yeah." George let out a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. "Hey, thanks. We owe you one."
"You saved us big time," Patty said, rubbing her shaking hands together to work off the nerves.
"Don't worry about it," I said. "Seriously, don't."
"At least let me bake you a cake," Patty implored.
"...alright, you can bake me a cake," I said, scratching the back of my head. "Anyway, I'm going to finish my burger and hit the hay...hey, you don't think the Apple's will show up tonight, do you?"
"Nah," George answered, shaking his head. "This is pretty solidly Orange territory."
"Thank goodness," I said, leaving the kitchen and returning to...my...burger.
Where a half-eaten burger should've been, there was an empty plate.
I let out a growl of frustration.
"What's wrong?" Patty asked, emerging from the kitchen.
"They ate my burger!" I growled, seeing the burger icon in my hunger bar disappear as my time to eat it elapsed.
"We'll make you another one, dear," Patty said. "Free of charge."
"Thanks," I said, holding my hands in my head. At least I ate enough that my hunger bar wouldn't deplete in the meantime.
I have never experience empty survival bars and I hope to never find out what happens when they do empty.
…
I understood how people could stoop that low. In a city like this, people did what they had to survive. It was a predator and prey dynamic and you didn't begrudge a predator for eating a prey whose only sin was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But to see it first hand? To see how scared Patty and George were, after they had been nothing but kind to me since we've met?
It galled me.
And I think I had an answer to my question.
In a city like this, there were still good, honest people. Even when its been reduced to an almost dog eat dog world, there were still people who were good, even when our natural inclination would be to become as selfish as we needed to be in order to protect ourselves.
Which means, I guess, if you'll forgive me being sappy, that good is a miracle.
It shouldn't exist. I almost think natural selection is entirely against it. The strong eat and the weak starve. Yet good not only exists, but it thrives, and there's a lot of good in the world. Superman himself, The Wayne Foundation's endless charity work, even people extending an encouraging word to someone down. Like I was.
What was his name? The other comic company's headliner, Spider-Man? His motto was With Great Power comes Great Responsibility? I think I've found my motto.
Good is a miracle. It deserves protection.
And the people of Sky Peak have been without a guardian for so long time that they have almost lost hope.
A guardian I hope to be.
…
Wait.
Guardian.
Guard.
Cloud Guard.
That! That's me! That one! Cloud Guard!
That's my name!
My name is Cloud Guard!
---
Author's Note: Here we are! I decided on Cloud Guard because it just feels good to say. At least, it does to me. Got some more thoughts on paper. Before you ask, there are perks, they're just tied to high level quest rewards. The skills are actually structured in such a way that the perks you would normally get are just implicitly built into the skill.
I don't have much else to say, but I hope you enjoyed the chapter in any case. I predict he'll get his costumed identity in two, maybe three more chapters, but now it's starting to coalesce.
Thanks for reading and make sure to tell me what you think!
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
Chapter 6 - Difficulties
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
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The following is a fan-based work of fiction. Justice League and Justice League Unlimited are all owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros. Animation. Please support the official release.
---
I woke up early in the morning. One of the benefits of being a Game Character in real life is that I was never drowsy. Quick shower because the Body Odor debuff was embarrassing to even hold and then I was off in my truck to the warehouse.
It was still dark, the sun hadn't come up. The brisk morning air had filled my lungs. Mist seemed to glide across the pavement as I pulled up to the warehouse. I parked, got out and started walking toward...the entrance.
The front door was swinging in the breeze. A pair of holes had been blown where the knob and bolt were supposed to be. I got over to it and ran inside the warehouse. Lights on. Immediately, the place felt empty, a sensation which only got sharper as I saw that things were missing.
Most of my swords were gone. So were my knives and axes. A majority of my tools, the nice ones, were nowhere to be seen. My whiteboard remained, thankfully. I felt a freezing sensation in my stomach until I remembered that I had erased anything superhero on it.
As it was, my breathing was shallow, and it only got worse as I started turning over every piece of paper and scrap metal, looking for what remained. Only the scrap metal and the tools I made when I was still working on Where's the Blacksmith? were left.
I pulled my cellphone and dialed the police department.
"Sky Peak Police Department."
"Hello, I'd like to report a break in."
Please tell me they can find who took my stuff!
---
"At least they left me my kiln," I joked with a sigh.
The police had taken about an hour to arrive. I wasn't about to judge until I knew more, but I was going to see about getting a police scanner soon.
"Yeah." Detective Van Pelt was a grizzled, older man. His eyes had bags beneath them and his clothes almost seemed like he pulled them on as he was walking out the door. "So, what was the point of making so many swords?"
We were standing in the middle of the warehouse. Police officers were examining the scene of the crime. Some officers picked up some tongs I made out of rebar, then tossed it back on the workbench with a light scoff.
"Practice," I replied, giving those officers the side-eye. "I've been interested in blacksmithing for a long time and I've started the hobby not too long ago."
"Uh huh," the Detective took some notes on his notepad, not even caring to notice his officers disrespect. "So, why make so many? Were you going to sell them?"
"The idea had crossed my mind," I said, shrugging. I mean, I had spent a lot of money on materials, might as well get some back, right? You know, if I wasn't going to melt them down. Not that I had an option, anymore. "I was going to use the rest of my supplies first. Just a hobbyist."
"And you came to Sky Peak recently, correct?" His tired eyes stared into mine with an odd intensity.
"Yeah, I did," I replied, shifting slightly on my feet.
"Where did you say you came from?" He asked.
"Metropolis, Detective."
"Is there a reason you came to Sky Peak to practice your hobby?" Detective Van Pelt asked, eyes narrowing, never moving his gaze as if he were trying to stare a hole in the center of my face.
"To get away from family," I replied, the corners of my mouth twisting to a frown.
"Gotcha. Well, kid," he said, flipping his notebook closed. "We'll do what we can, but realistically, those swords are long gone."
I let out a sigh. "Alright. Well, thanks for trying, Detective."
He turned on his wheel to walk away. "And take my advice? Head back to Metropolis. This place is a rotting corpse with nothing but the airport paying its life support."
I sat down on a bench that I had made and let the Police work. The Detective's words seemed to bounce between my ears and made my frown much worse. I mean, I knew this city was in shambles, but even Law Enforcement was saying to abandon ship, and they know things no one else does. Don't they?
Eventually, they were satisfied they could find nothing else in my workshop and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I let out a breath and stood back up
Well, as much as I'd like too, I couldn't make my own door knobs. Not yet. First thing to do is head to the nearest home improvement store and buy a new door. Then, get a security system installed. Not sure why I thought the guy I was renting this place from had it taken care of already, but I paid for my carelessness today.
Unacceptably sloppy of me.
But I'm going to call the landlord and let him get this straightened out. Well, actually, no. I don't want to sit on my hands and wait for him to fix things. Could be weeks. I'm sure he won't mind if I replaced it myself and paid for a more advanced security system.
Because this cannot happen again.
Once those essential things are taken care of, I'm making new tools. A blacksmith is only as good as his tools and the ones I made when I was first starting out are practically garbage compared to what I can do now.
With that, I got back to work.
---Two Months Later---
Before you ask, no. I never saw my swords again. They are just gone. Thankfully, however, the front door was much sturdier and the security system I put in place managed to scare off another robbery attempt.
According to the new security cameras, it was a pair of Rocket Borders. Chasing them down is going to be a lot of fun for more than a few reasons, let me tell you. I had a strong urge to melt the swords they stole from me down into murder soup and force feed it to them. Wasn't going too, but I wanted too.
The thieves were only interested in finished products, so I still had enough scrap metal and rebar to make new tools and then I melted down my old ones to turn into better tools. After which, I got started on my plans a bit early. I was on the clock and it was going to take longer than I wanted.
I needed help. A lot of help. Luckily, that was a simple problem to solve.
First thing I did was head off to an electronics store and purchased computer supplies. Then, I forged and manufactured my first powered tool. A power hammer, something to rapidly and quickly hammer metal quickly into shape.
With that done, I built my first robot.
Nothing for it, I was going to need help to get the things I wanted done, done. The robot looked like a four-legged crab with a pair of free moving arms built on top. From the side, it's profile was that of an arch. The free moving arms featured a grabber, the other a welding torch. It's job was to get into angles that I couldn't and weld things I needed welded.
From there, I started making drones. Aerial things designed to float on miniature helicopter blades. Not something seen in this universe yet but they were all over the place in my old world. Their only job was to pick things up and move them. That's it.
As I got more confident, I made another welding bot and made upgrades to the first one I made. Then another. With all this automated help, I was able to finally build a 3D Printer, another bit of technology that hadn't been seen yet here, but was available in my previous world. Then I made another one, this one larger and capable of working metal.
Couldn't help but geek out about how I was capable of bringing futuristic technology to a comic book world. The future is now, Superman!
Things really got moving when I started building the assembly lines. Six welders, dozens of drones all put those things together like lightning. My warehouse went from a hobbyist's den to a factory. It was really cool, watching this robotic symphony of materials being moved, shaped and then moved again, like an artificial ecosystem. What were we building?
I call it the Automatic Bunker Constructor, or the ABC. What it would do is tunnel underneath the warehouse and, with the help of the rest of the robots, build a vast, underground bunker where I could really get into the Superhero mindset. It would be my fortress, my hideout, my batcave. The place where I would put my plans into motion, investigate crimes, repair and maintain my equipment, my sanctuary. I set the ABC to run overnight and I'd get a message on my phone when it was done or if it ran into problems.
With all of that done, here's my current tally for my Smithing skill.
The final ten ranks of any skill could, but not always, take years. That's why I cheated and waited until I hit the final ten ranks to start reading skill books and, in the modern day, watch instructional videos.
So, I was on my way back to my apartment to watch the celebratory five or so hours of videos dedicated to teaching people how to blacksmith. I parked in my reserved parking spot, got out, walked in the diner.
"Hey." I greeted George and Patty with a wave.
"Hey, sport!" George beamed at me. "How're things at the forge?"
"Oh, fantastic," I told him with a grin. "Finally finished that big project I've been working on."
"How wonderful," Patty said. "You're home kind of early, though, aren't you dear?"
"Wanted to celebrate." I sat down at the bar, rapidly slapping the counter with my hands. "Would you guys get me t-bone steak with a side of mashed potatoes and a nice tall glass of root beer?"
"Coming right up!" George said, disappearing into the kitchen behind him.
The stat bonus attached to a t-bone steak was 10% extra hit points. It...really wasn't noticeable. I barely got involved in combat anymore and even when I did, tanking an explosion back at the airport didn't even clear 10% of my health bar, and I wasn't wearing any armor.
It was very rare that I ate anything for no reason but the taste, but this was a celebration! The ABC was working and I was getting my hideout! Now that I think about it, I was going to need to set up some kind of cover operation in the warehouse to explain why I keep going in and out.
...probably a sword-making operation. Ha!
Dinner was great. Made small talk with George and Patty, ate a delicious steak and the mashed potatoes that came with it and then I was back in my apartment.
My apartment...was really bare. Once you came in, there was a coat closet directly on the left. Past that wall was the kitchen, which was divided from the great room by a wall with a window for a bar cut through the center right above the sink.
In the great room was only one thing, my desk and desktop computer, set up against the wall next to the glass door out to the balcony. With a fold-up chair.
I kept meaning to stock my apartments with furniture. I did. But I just got busy at the warehouse and honestly slept over there a couple of times so this place was a little neglected. At least it was clean. Honestly, I couldn't wait until the bunker was finished, so I could start making my apartment presentable and then keep all my secret passions and endeavors down in the bunker where no one will ever find them.
Sat down at the desk, booted up my browser, did a search and...came across a thumbnail of someone making a medieval torture device. Specifically, a thumb screw, where ones thumbs were placed in an upside down arch and then had a plate screwed down on top of them, very tightly.
Why not, that sounds fascinating! Morbid, but fascinating!
I clicked on a video and immediately came face to face with a woman. She had black hair, cut short to about chin level. She had beautiful tattoos on her arms and neck and a nose-ring. But what immediately stood out to me was the thick, leather collar on her neck, a padlock dangling from it.
...this girl was a collared submissive.
Huh.
I leaned in closer.
"Hey there! GothGirlForges here to teach you how we make the medieval thumbscrew," She said, smiling like a perky cheer captain directing her squad mates. "It's actually really easy to make. We'll show you how to make it, then at the end of the video we'll test it out."
"That's your favorite part of the video, isn't it?" Asked a male voice from behind the camera, likely the cameraman.
"Yeah," she said. Then she laughed.
The video ran for about twenty minutes. There was a lot of instructional material, but the other half of the video was just her and the camera man flirting and being adorable together. Presumably, the cameraman was her dominant, the way they were talking with each other.
Eventually, after finishing the device, the camera cut to an angle placed down on the table. The thumb screw was in front of it. It was stapled to the table.
"Okay," GothGirlForges was leaning forward on the table, providing a great view of her cleavage behind the thumbscrew. "So as you can see, it was really easy to make. With the right tools and a bit of practice, you can make one of your own! Now, for the moment we've all been waiting for, it's time to test it."
She stretched out her arms and placed her thumbs in the grooves meant for them.
"Are you ready?" the camera man asked, putting his decidedly thicker fingers on the screw itself.
She got a hesitant look on her face. "...go ahead."
He started screwing, forcing the lever down until it was pressing against her thumbs, then just a little further. "Ow, ow, ow!" She was laughing. "Oh, that hurts! Yeah, this works! You don't have to go any further."
"Okay," he said, before screwing down even harder.
"Ow!" She was laughing even harder. "You are so mean!"
"Only because I care," he said, clearly enjoying himself.
"Okay, well," she was laughing. "Ow." The camera picked up and moved to get a better angle to see GothGirlForges splayed over across the table, held there by her thumbs in the screw, her feminine curves on full display in her tight shirt and jeans. "If you enjoyed this video, please make sure to like, comment and subscribe!"
The video ended there. I presume the camera man started a discipline scene after all that, because, well, his sub was there, helpless, uncomfortable and bent over a table. That was practically begging for a spanking, wasn't it?
...that was the kind of relationship that I wanted. Which is why I never really clicked with any of the girls back in Metropolis. The were far too normal. Infuriatingly so. I wanted a girl who wanted me to tie her up and do unspeakably filthy things to her while she was powerless to stop me.
I wanted to be a dom and I wanted a sub.
Well, not a sub. I wanted a lot of subs. I wanted a harem of devoted sex slaves that I could use and punish at will.
What guy doesn't? Aside from the 'punish' part, that's pretty niche.
The issue is that I refuse to have sex prior to marriage and having multiple spouses was so illegal and taboo, that the US government would trample over as many civil rights as it needed to in order to stop it. They declare 'freedom of religion' and then when that religion says to take multiple wives, they say, "No, not like that!".
Islamic immigrants sometimes claim their extra wives are their sisters just to get through customs. Utah was marched upon by the US army. Multiple spouses, especially multiple wives, is a huge no-no for daddy government.
So why get married? Well, sleeping with a girl can be a lot like planting a flag on her and declaring her yours. I refuse to claim a girl without also taking responsibility for her welfare. If she can handle herself, great! But I don't want her to have to take care of herself if she doesn't want to.
Which is the real rub of the modern day; sleep around as much as you like, but the second you want to actually take care of the girls you're sleeping with, that's a huge problem.
Then, you add the whole BDSM thing and I'm just concerned that I'm secretly a horrible person whose only way to satisfy his fetish's is by scooping up girls who've been ground to so much dust by life that they'd take anything just to avoid being alone.
I don't want to do that. I'd rather be alone myself than take advantage of people.
Some times, I've thought about going to events for this sort of things. Gatherings. They exist and there's people that do this sort of thing. Women looking for doms, men looking for subs and of course, women looking for subs and men looking for doms. Because the kink scene is equal opportunity and that's a point in its favor.
I could find someone there, but I'm celibate until marriage. Even if that little fact didn't get me laughed out of the building by literally everyone at this hypothetical sex party, I would be so extremely uncomfortable that I don't think I'd get any meetings and greetings done while I was there.
Basically, I was in a catch twenty-two. Caught between my morals and my discomfort. And I did try giving regular relationships a try. Ones where that incredibly sexy power dynamic wasn't in play. I really did.
But I really want that dynamic and I want it with someone who truly wants to be in that dynamic.
No kink is better than bad kink.
---
Author's Note: I'm hoping that the inclusion of kinkier elements doesn't detract from everyone's enjoyment. The last time I tried to discuss the topic in one of my works, there was some controversy that I wasn't comfortable with, so I'm hoping this dive into Jacob's psyche works better here in this fic than it did in some of my previous work.
Do let me know what you think in the comments down below.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
---
I woke up early in the morning. One of the benefits of being a Game Character in real life is that I was never drowsy. Quick shower because the Body Odor debuff was embarrassing to even hold and then I was off in my truck to the warehouse.
It was still dark, the sun hadn't come up. The brisk morning air had filled my lungs. Mist seemed to glide across the pavement as I pulled up to the warehouse. I parked, got out and started walking toward...the entrance.
The front door was swinging in the breeze. A pair of holes had been blown where the knob and bolt were supposed to be. I got over to it and ran inside the warehouse. Lights on. Immediately, the place felt empty, a sensation which only got sharper as I saw that things were missing.
Most of my swords were gone. So were my knives and axes. A majority of my tools, the nice ones, were nowhere to be seen. My whiteboard remained, thankfully. I felt a freezing sensation in my stomach until I remembered that I had erased anything superhero on it.
As it was, my breathing was shallow, and it only got worse as I started turning over every piece of paper and scrap metal, looking for what remained. Only the scrap metal and the tools I made when I was still working on Where's the Blacksmith? were left.
I pulled my cellphone and dialed the police department.
"Sky Peak Police Department."
"Hello, I'd like to report a break in."
Please tell me they can find who took my stuff!
---
"At least they left me my kiln," I joked with a sigh.
The police had taken about an hour to arrive. I wasn't about to judge until I knew more, but I was going to see about getting a police scanner soon.
"Yeah." Detective Van Pelt was a grizzled, older man. His eyes had bags beneath them and his clothes almost seemed like he pulled them on as he was walking out the door. "So, what was the point of making so many swords?"
We were standing in the middle of the warehouse. Police officers were examining the scene of the crime. Some officers picked up some tongs I made out of rebar, then tossed it back on the workbench with a light scoff.
"Practice," I replied, giving those officers the side-eye. "I've been interested in blacksmithing for a long time and I've started the hobby not too long ago."
"Uh huh," the Detective took some notes on his notepad, not even caring to notice his officers disrespect. "So, why make so many? Were you going to sell them?"
"The idea had crossed my mind," I said, shrugging. I mean, I had spent a lot of money on materials, might as well get some back, right? You know, if I wasn't going to melt them down. Not that I had an option, anymore. "I was going to use the rest of my supplies first. Just a hobbyist."
"And you came to Sky Peak recently, correct?" His tired eyes stared into mine with an odd intensity.
"Yeah, I did," I replied, shifting slightly on my feet.
"Where did you say you came from?" He asked.
"Metropolis, Detective."
"Is there a reason you came to Sky Peak to practice your hobby?" Detective Van Pelt asked, eyes narrowing, never moving his gaze as if he were trying to stare a hole in the center of my face.
"To get away from family," I replied, the corners of my mouth twisting to a frown.
"Gotcha. Well, kid," he said, flipping his notebook closed. "We'll do what we can, but realistically, those swords are long gone."
I let out a sigh. "Alright. Well, thanks for trying, Detective."
He turned on his wheel to walk away. "And take my advice? Head back to Metropolis. This place is a rotting corpse with nothing but the airport paying its life support."
I sat down on a bench that I had made and let the Police work. The Detective's words seemed to bounce between my ears and made my frown much worse. I mean, I knew this city was in shambles, but even Law Enforcement was saying to abandon ship, and they know things no one else does. Don't they?
Eventually, they were satisfied they could find nothing else in my workshop and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I let out a breath and stood back up
Well, as much as I'd like too, I couldn't make my own door knobs. Not yet. First thing to do is head to the nearest home improvement store and buy a new door. Then, get a security system installed. Not sure why I thought the guy I was renting this place from had it taken care of already, but I paid for my carelessness today.
Unacceptably sloppy of me.
But I'm going to call the landlord and let him get this straightened out. Well, actually, no. I don't want to sit on my hands and wait for him to fix things. Could be weeks. I'm sure he won't mind if I replaced it myself and paid for a more advanced security system.
Because this cannot happen again.
Once those essential things are taken care of, I'm making new tools. A blacksmith is only as good as his tools and the ones I made when I was first starting out are practically garbage compared to what I can do now.
With that, I got back to work.
---Two Months Later---
Before you ask, no. I never saw my swords again. They are just gone. Thankfully, however, the front door was much sturdier and the security system I put in place managed to scare off another robbery attempt.
According to the new security cameras, it was a pair of Rocket Borders. Chasing them down is going to be a lot of fun for more than a few reasons, let me tell you. I had a strong urge to melt the swords they stole from me down into murder soup and force feed it to them. Wasn't going too, but I wanted too.
The thieves were only interested in finished products, so I still had enough scrap metal and rebar to make new tools and then I melted down my old ones to turn into better tools. After which, I got started on my plans a bit early. I was on the clock and it was going to take longer than I wanted.
I needed help. A lot of help. Luckily, that was a simple problem to solve.
First thing I did was head off to an electronics store and purchased computer supplies. Then, I forged and manufactured my first powered tool. A power hammer, something to rapidly and quickly hammer metal quickly into shape.
With that done, I built my first robot.
Nothing for it, I was going to need help to get the things I wanted done, done. The robot looked like a four-legged crab with a pair of free moving arms built on top. From the side, it's profile was that of an arch. The free moving arms featured a grabber, the other a welding torch. It's job was to get into angles that I couldn't and weld things I needed welded.
From there, I started making drones. Aerial things designed to float on miniature helicopter blades. Not something seen in this universe yet but they were all over the place in my old world. Their only job was to pick things up and move them. That's it.
As I got more confident, I made another welding bot and made upgrades to the first one I made. Then another. With all this automated help, I was able to finally build a 3D Printer, another bit of technology that hadn't been seen yet here, but was available in my previous world. Then I made another one, this one larger and capable of working metal.
Couldn't help but geek out about how I was capable of bringing futuristic technology to a comic book world. The future is now, Superman!
Things really got moving when I started building the assembly lines. Six welders, dozens of drones all put those things together like lightning. My warehouse went from a hobbyist's den to a factory. It was really cool, watching this robotic symphony of materials being moved, shaped and then moved again, like an artificial ecosystem. What were we building?
I call it the Automatic Bunker Constructor, or the ABC. What it would do is tunnel underneath the warehouse and, with the help of the rest of the robots, build a vast, underground bunker where I could really get into the Superhero mindset. It would be my fortress, my hideout, my batcave. The place where I would put my plans into motion, investigate crimes, repair and maintain my equipment, my sanctuary. I set the ABC to run overnight and I'd get a message on my phone when it was done or if it ran into problems.
With all of that done, here's my current tally for my Smithing skill.
The final ten ranks of any skill could, but not always, take years. That's why I cheated and waited until I hit the final ten ranks to start reading skill books and, in the modern day, watch instructional videos.
So, I was on my way back to my apartment to watch the celebratory five or so hours of videos dedicated to teaching people how to blacksmith. I parked in my reserved parking spot, got out, walked in the diner.
"Hey." I greeted George and Patty with a wave.
"Hey, sport!" George beamed at me. "How're things at the forge?"
"Oh, fantastic," I told him with a grin. "Finally finished that big project I've been working on."
"How wonderful," Patty said. "You're home kind of early, though, aren't you dear?"
"Wanted to celebrate." I sat down at the bar, rapidly slapping the counter with my hands. "Would you guys get me t-bone steak with a side of mashed potatoes and a nice tall glass of root beer?"
"Coming right up!" George said, disappearing into the kitchen behind him.
The stat bonus attached to a t-bone steak was 10% extra hit points. It...really wasn't noticeable. I barely got involved in combat anymore and even when I did, tanking an explosion back at the airport didn't even clear 10% of my health bar, and I wasn't wearing any armor.
It was very rare that I ate anything for no reason but the taste, but this was a celebration! The ABC was working and I was getting my hideout! Now that I think about it, I was going to need to set up some kind of cover operation in the warehouse to explain why I keep going in and out.
...probably a sword-making operation. Ha!
Dinner was great. Made small talk with George and Patty, ate a delicious steak and the mashed potatoes that came with it and then I was back in my apartment.
My apartment...was really bare. Once you came in, there was a coat closet directly on the left. Past that wall was the kitchen, which was divided from the great room by a wall with a window for a bar cut through the center right above the sink.
In the great room was only one thing, my desk and desktop computer, set up against the wall next to the glass door out to the balcony. With a fold-up chair.
I kept meaning to stock my apartments with furniture. I did. But I just got busy at the warehouse and honestly slept over there a couple of times so this place was a little neglected. At least it was clean. Honestly, I couldn't wait until the bunker was finished, so I could start making my apartment presentable and then keep all my secret passions and endeavors down in the bunker where no one will ever find them.
Sat down at the desk, booted up my browser, did a search and...came across a thumbnail of someone making a medieval torture device. Specifically, a thumb screw, where ones thumbs were placed in an upside down arch and then had a plate screwed down on top of them, very tightly.
Why not, that sounds fascinating! Morbid, but fascinating!
I clicked on a video and immediately came face to face with a woman. She had black hair, cut short to about chin level. She had beautiful tattoos on her arms and neck and a nose-ring. But what immediately stood out to me was the thick, leather collar on her neck, a padlock dangling from it.
...this girl was a collared submissive.
Huh.
I leaned in closer.
"Hey there! GothGirlForges here to teach you how we make the medieval thumbscrew," She said, smiling like a perky cheer captain directing her squad mates. "It's actually really easy to make. We'll show you how to make it, then at the end of the video we'll test it out."
"That's your favorite part of the video, isn't it?" Asked a male voice from behind the camera, likely the cameraman.
"Yeah," she said. Then she laughed.
The video ran for about twenty minutes. There was a lot of instructional material, but the other half of the video was just her and the camera man flirting and being adorable together. Presumably, the cameraman was her dominant, the way they were talking with each other.
Eventually, after finishing the device, the camera cut to an angle placed down on the table. The thumb screw was in front of it. It was stapled to the table.
"Okay," GothGirlForges was leaning forward on the table, providing a great view of her cleavage behind the thumbscrew. "So as you can see, it was really easy to make. With the right tools and a bit of practice, you can make one of your own! Now, for the moment we've all been waiting for, it's time to test it."
She stretched out her arms and placed her thumbs in the grooves meant for them.
"Are you ready?" the camera man asked, putting his decidedly thicker fingers on the screw itself.
She got a hesitant look on her face. "...go ahead."
He started screwing, forcing the lever down until it was pressing against her thumbs, then just a little further. "Ow, ow, ow!" She was laughing. "Oh, that hurts! Yeah, this works! You don't have to go any further."
"Okay," he said, before screwing down even harder.
"Ow!" She was laughing even harder. "You are so mean!"
"Only because I care," he said, clearly enjoying himself.
"Okay, well," she was laughing. "Ow." The camera picked up and moved to get a better angle to see GothGirlForges splayed over across the table, held there by her thumbs in the screw, her feminine curves on full display in her tight shirt and jeans. "If you enjoyed this video, please make sure to like, comment and subscribe!"
The video ended there. I presume the camera man started a discipline scene after all that, because, well, his sub was there, helpless, uncomfortable and bent over a table. That was practically begging for a spanking, wasn't it?
...that was the kind of relationship that I wanted. Which is why I never really clicked with any of the girls back in Metropolis. The were far too normal. Infuriatingly so. I wanted a girl who wanted me to tie her up and do unspeakably filthy things to her while she was powerless to stop me.
I wanted to be a dom and I wanted a sub.
Well, not a sub. I wanted a lot of subs. I wanted a harem of devoted sex slaves that I could use and punish at will.
What guy doesn't? Aside from the 'punish' part, that's pretty niche.
The issue is that I refuse to have sex prior to marriage and having multiple spouses was so illegal and taboo, that the US government would trample over as many civil rights as it needed to in order to stop it. They declare 'freedom of religion' and then when that religion says to take multiple wives, they say, "No, not like that!".
Islamic immigrants sometimes claim their extra wives are their sisters just to get through customs. Utah was marched upon by the US army. Multiple spouses, especially multiple wives, is a huge no-no for daddy government.
So why get married? Well, sleeping with a girl can be a lot like planting a flag on her and declaring her yours. I refuse to claim a girl without also taking responsibility for her welfare. If she can handle herself, great! But I don't want her to have to take care of herself if she doesn't want to.
Which is the real rub of the modern day; sleep around as much as you like, but the second you want to actually take care of the girls you're sleeping with, that's a huge problem.
Then, you add the whole BDSM thing and I'm just concerned that I'm secretly a horrible person whose only way to satisfy his fetish's is by scooping up girls who've been ground to so much dust by life that they'd take anything just to avoid being alone.
I don't want to do that. I'd rather be alone myself than take advantage of people.
Some times, I've thought about going to events for this sort of things. Gatherings. They exist and there's people that do this sort of thing. Women looking for doms, men looking for subs and of course, women looking for subs and men looking for doms. Because the kink scene is equal opportunity and that's a point in its favor.
I could find someone there, but I'm celibate until marriage. Even if that little fact didn't get me laughed out of the building by literally everyone at this hypothetical sex party, I would be so extremely uncomfortable that I don't think I'd get any meetings and greetings done while I was there.
Basically, I was in a catch twenty-two. Caught between my morals and my discomfort. And I did try giving regular relationships a try. Ones where that incredibly sexy power dynamic wasn't in play. I really did.
But I really want that dynamic and I want it with someone who truly wants to be in that dynamic.
No kink is better than bad kink.
---
Author's Note: I'm hoping that the inclusion of kinkier elements doesn't detract from everyone's enjoyment. The last time I tried to discuss the topic in one of my works, there was some controversy that I wasn't comfortable with, so I'm hoping this dive into Jacob's psyche works better here in this fic than it did in some of my previous work.
Do let me know what you think in the comments down below.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
Chapter 7 - Forging Cloud Guard
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
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The following is a fan-based work of fiction. Justice League and Justice League Unlimited are all owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros. Animation. Please support the official release.
---
I binged her videos. Nine hours of content. Pretty embarrassed to admit it, but I did. The shadows of what I wanted in my life were a meager oasis in the middle of a vast and uncompromising desert. I drank like a man whose throat was dryer than sandpaper and who must leave the oasis in short order.
...anyway.
I got out of bed at six in the morning, took a shower, got dressed, had a breakfast of cold cereal. Hadn't had it in a while, that Salmon Salad was too important to keep this skill-up train running full steam ahead.
It was really nice.
After that, I headed out the door, said good morning and goodbye to George and Patty, and then headed back to the warehouse.
On the outside, everything looked normal. Thankfully, no break-in, the door looked sturdy and intact. The air was crisp and invigorating as it filled my lungs as I stepped out of the truck. Inside the warehouse was a different story.
Aside from all the smithing and assembly equipment, there were piles and piles of dark bricks organized against the far wall. All my drones had plugged themselves into their charging stations, which were situated on steel shelves that I had made, their stations arranged into multiple six by six grids. The welders were resting at their feet, also charging.
Directly to my right, away from my workstation was the ABC. The ABC was a rectangular robot that was taller than me by a head and wider than me on both sides. At the foot of it was the entrance to my bunker, a staircase going down exactly twenty feet, to dive below any potential wiring or pipes. and was made some some of those dark bricks otherwise piled against the back of the warehouse.
I descended into the bunker, using a flashlight to navigate. The tunnel was taller and wider than I, of course. Above me, steel supports the printer had been making while the bunker was being dug held perfectly. Beneath my feet, the floor had been molten into a solid stone floor by the ABC.
The tunnel let out to a small room, which I intended to be the reception area. I wasn't planning on ever having guests, but I was going to need a security checkpoint in case anyone finds my secret hideout. A place I can detain them until I can figure out how to handle infiltrators without simply relocating the entire hideout.
There was a large wall in the center, and walking around it lead to another, smaller tunnel, which I walked through and into the large great room. There were other tunnels leading out from the tunnel. Lining the ceiling was a spider-web of steel ventilation shafts.
...yes. Yes, this was perfect.
First order of business was to construct the air recyclers and HVAC system. Then, build the reactor. Thankfully, I had a few ideas on how to do that without purchasing anything illegal or otherwise controlled. After that? We move the printer and robots down here and start making this place functional.
---One Month Later-
The reactor is online! Turns out, I was right! You can, in fact, hook stuff up to the Speed Force. I mean, it's a no-brainer, right? You want to turn your turbines really, really fast and the speed force can straight up generate electricity. The issue is being able to harvest and dispose all the extra electricity and keep everything within tolerances so it didn't do something crazy like jump forward in time.
To maintain appearances, I ordered a bunch of solar panels and they should be installed soon. Landlord should be thrilled because no power bill is better than a power bill.
Now, let's get the rest of the high tech stuff moved down here and then find a way to hide the entrance. Once that's done, it's time to construct the gas chamber and start synthesizing the serum. I was anxious to have some actual super powers!
---One Week Later---
Shining in the light was the gas chamber. A large, circular platform surrounded by glass and, when closed, would be vacuum sealed. The glass reflected the ceiling lights and the steel ceiling like the blade of a sword. It was finally complete.
My eyes were wide, my heart was pounding and my hands were shaking. This was it. I had the serum. Tested it on drops of my blood. I ran the math. Today, I was going to start the treatments needed to get super powers. Powers besides the game. I was going to be super strong. I would be able to heal people. And I would be immortal, undying, living forever.
Unless someone chopped my head off, but that's what my armor would be for.
The treatments themselves would take two weeks to complete. But then I would be fit as a fiddle and capable of bench-pressing the Titanic. Actually, probably more than that.
I just had one final order of business to take care of; I needed someone to hold the fort while I was out of commission. So I moved to my computer, the one I had bought exclusively for The Hideout, and started writing my AI. Per rule number one for this place, at no point was any of it's computer systems to be connected to the Internet. It was a closed system and that was how I liked it. Should protect this new individual from the collective insanity of the human race, anyway.
The final few lines were written. I had did a preliminary analysis to make sure I didn't do something stupid like misspell 'tether' as 'teether'. Then...I ran the code.
Computer Science Check Passed: (100/95).
A loading bar appeared, then another. They filled, disappeared and were replaced by other bars. After what felt like an eternity, the final bar filled and I was left with an audio window. "Greetings, sir. Butler version 1.0 is online and ready for service."
"Welcome to the world," I said with a grin. I did it! He's working! And he hasn't declared war on the human race yet! Hallelujah! "How are you feeling?"
"Self-Diagnostics report that all systems are green with no areas for concern," Butler said, the lines of his audio window rising and falling like the waves of an ocean as he spoke. "How may I assist sir, today?"
"I'm commencing Gas Treatment 1," I said, standing up and pulling my shirt off.
"Very good, sir," Butler replied. "Available drones being redirected. When you are ready on the gurney, they will wheel you into the gas chamber where we will await your command to start."
Then, I shed my pants, leaving me with only my underwear.
The gurney's padding was covered in synthetic leather which was cool to my back as I laid down upon it. A pair of drones flew past and started pulling the gurney forward, up the ramp and into the chamber. The sound of the wheels rolling on the steel ramp and floor of the chamber almost seemed to echo in the vast recesses of my mind.
This was really happening.
The gurney was stopped in the center of the chamber and the drones angled the gurney up so I could look outside. A line of six drones was floating outside on stand-bye, in case something went wrong.
Butler startled me when his voiced boomed in the intercom. "Ready to begin Gas Treatment 1 on your command, sir."
I was breathing heavily. This was it. I just had to give the order. But I was struggling to do so. Sure, I got multiple skill check success notifications as I synthesized my serum. But what if something went wrong? I may have been joking about Cancerman before, but that was a legitimate concern. What if an accident happens? What if I become a diseased, cancerous beast, another monster to haunt the streets of this dying city?
What if I become the reason the Justice League forms?
I clenched and released my fists, trying to relieve the tension.
How many science experiments have there been where a scientist tried to elevate themselves above mortal man, trying to elevate their throne above the stars of God, only to become a devilish or demonic enemy to mankind?
Frankenstein's Monster. Mr. Freeze and Parasite to name only a few.
There's a reason most superheroes are either alien beings, empowered by aliens or straight up use magic. To tamper with your genetic makeup, to change the very essence of what you are is almost making a mockery of your own humanity.
But then, if we're counting all the heroes I know about, a humble spider-bite created one of the best heroes ever.
...and a gas treatment created his biggest villain. That was the inspiration for the gas chamber, you know. That guy. What was his name? Goblin! Green Goblin. He's from Marvel, not DC, but still. Is it cheating to be thinking about what the competition is doing so I can rip them off? Probably.
I could walk away. Abort the treatment and go back to my silly little life where I pursue whatever it is that takes my fancy. But what kind of life is that? A life where I pursue mindless hobby after mindless hobby only this time without purpose or direction? That's not a life. That sounds like a unique form of hell.
Whether I like it or not, this is what I've been building my life towards. If I chicken out now, I'll never forgive myself. Imagine if I give up and then something happens, the Justice League forms. I'd be kicking myself forever, thinking that I could've been a founding member but chose not too.
This is the DCAU RPG. I want to finally play the game I've been preparing for all my life.
The air in the chamber was still, the drones hovered in the air, waiting. Somewhere in the background, I could hear the HVAC system running, keeping us flush with clean, breathable air. After a moment of gritting my teeth to steel myself, I gave the order. "Start the treatment."
"Very good sir. Cycling the gas."
In great, billowing movements, clouds of blue gas flooded the chamber, pumped in from tanks just outside of view. For a moment, I held my breath. But that would undermine this entire endeavor, wouldn't it? Despite how my survival instincts were forcing me to not breathe, like they were convinced I was sinking into the ocean, I eventually forced myself to take a deep, gasping breath. It smelled like sugar, with an undercurrent of gasoline.
The tips of my fingers and toes turned numb and that feeling began to stretch out up my arms and legs. When it got to my torso, I experienced a bubbling sensation in my stomach. The breaths I took turned uneven as my lungs began twitching and trembling.
...oh no. This...this is going to suck.
I could actually feel the beating of my heart against my rib cage, like it was shaking and vibrating while desperately trying to keep pumping blood through my system.
My face was numb. I grit my teeth and pulled my tongue back to stop myself from chattering it into pieces. Looking down, I saw golden sparks of light flashing at random points on my skin. Then, my torso began to shine like a lighthouse had been built atop my solar plexus.
Involuntarily, I gasped and my vision started to get obscured by yellow light coming from somewhere that I couldn't see. It then felt like a wave of cold water was washing down my body from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
At it's apex, I was blinded. Blinded by the light of the sun within me.
Trying to control my twitching, jerking body was impossible. It felt like lightning bolts were striking from my spine down my arms and legs. My body was cold, then it was warm, then it was cold again.
Then, it eventually settled on feeling nothing at all.
And as quickly as it all happened, it was all over. The gas disappeared and I felt normal. Well, except for the fact that I couldn't move my limbs. I could feel them, but it was like they had no strength at all in them. They were dead. Smoked. Non-functioning.
I knew this wouldn't be easy to go through. I knew it. But now that I've experienced it? Actually felt the change my body went through and would continue to go through?
...I'm afraid.
I'm very afraid.
CRAP!
Okay, keep calm, just keep calm. It's just until the end of the quest. I hope. Games do that sometimes. It's okay. Keep it calm.
This is the absolute worst possible thing that could've ever happened I can't believe it what is this I hate this I am going to go back in time and strangle myself for even trying this how stupid could I be what was-
"Life signs have stabilized," Butler said. "From all accounts, the treatment was a complete success. Are you mobile, sir?"
What came out of my mouth in response were not words.
"It appears not," Butler said, almost sounding amused, the jerk. "Not to worry, sir, your body is restructuring itself in response to the treatment."
I know that! I still want to kill something! Violently!
"Until then, sir, I'll ensure you are taken care of." The gas chamber opened and the drones flew in. "I invite sir to try to rest and relax until the treatments are complete."
Fine!
...just...fine...
---Two Weeks Later---
The time in between gas treatments was spent sleeping and being fed food. Eventually, in spite of my paralyzed status effect, I was able to begin speaking and was able to chew my food. I'm so glad I hadn't procured the assistance of a living being, because this was humiliating.
Thankfully, I was able to sleep for twenty-four hour periods, so I mainly woke up when I was hungry and I was only fed when I asked to be fed, so I could maintain some control over the situation. That made completing this quest at least a little bearable.
And the rewards for finishing this quest? For pushing through my fear and sticking with this?
My first perks.
Yeah, wild huh? Perks in this RPG are just Super Powers and their component parts. I mean, sure I got fun bonuses for maxing my skills, but those were only almost superhuman. Perks are blatantly superhuman, game breaking attributes that only superheroes and villains get to have.
You know, when Death and the Reaper told me I'd be getting a modified Skyrim, I was thinking there would be a lot more perks and that they'd be tied to skills. Instead, I got more of an Oblivion-Skyrim mix, with getting bonuses attached to maxing skills, but perks being given as quest rewards. Which is cool! Very cool. But it wasn't what I was expecting. Glad to have that mystery solved, at least.
I can think of a lot of uses for the ability to negate friction, Game. Escaping a grapple is only the most innocent one.
The second gas treatment was worse than the first. I accidentally bit my tongue and nearly took the tip right off. Thankfully, the treatment rendered me numb and going to sleep healing all my injuries, so I never felt it. One of the many tender mercies afforded by being a video game character in real life. But...it was bad. I passed out.
Being honest? This perk has saved me. Lets assume I find a way around my legal and ethical dilemma and obtain a harem of sex slaves. Without this perk? Every touch, every grasp spelled the unacceptable risk of causing real, bloody bodily harm. It wouldn't be a question of if, it'd be a question of when I accidentally killed someone, someone who I would have loved more than a great deal.
So I will take this time to count my blessings and be grateful as my celibacy almost became permanent.
...that would mainly be a problem for broken bones and it makes sense. I think there's a way to account for that little feature, I'll just need to build the right gadget.
Currently, I was sitting in the infirmary's bed with a single drone floating by the door, waiting to serve me in whatsoever way I needed. The walls of the infirmary were painted white with a cyan stripe on the lower half and the floor was just painted white. The rest of the drones and other robots were livening The Hideout up, making it look nice as well as helping it be functional.
I was feeling totally fine, but I was thinking.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
I did it.
I had powers.
The feelings I had were complicated. There was the relief, obviously. The joy. I had accomplished a life-long goal and that wasn't nothing. But there was something else. A sense of confusion. I wasn't sure what to do now.
I mean, I knew what to do, but how do I do it? How do I actually be a superhero? What if I mess up?
What if I die again?
Then you factor in my immortality. Am I going to want to be a superhero for eternity? What if I only last a month? What kind of purpose would I have that can satisfy me literally forever?
Put all that aside for now. I need to get a police scanner so I can listen and get an understanding of the finer points of crime and danger in the city so I can make plans. Have Butler listen too, he'll be able to process way more information than I can.
By my estimation, it'd be another decade or two before I can start adding powers again. Next one is going to be super speed. Arguably the actual best power you can get, but Immortality and Super Speed together were too much genetic load to handle at once, and I wanted Immortality before aging started to destroy me in fifty years when my body could finally handle having something added on top of Super Speed.
Okay, what's next?
My armor. I need to make my armor.
But first, let's go ahead and see what Healing Hands looks like.
I extended my hand and focused. Focused on healing, fixing things, and then on the bringing the warm fire I felt inside me to my hands and pushing out. My hands blew out a short plume of golden light and…
And the blue bar, the Magicka Bar, went down.
Energy: 95%.
Well, it's the energy bar, but the point stands. I had completely forgotten that bar even existed, because my health and stamina bars disappear when not in use and I've never used my blue bar before. What? I...I don't believe it.
Wow!
That's incredible! I know officially have the full Skyrim experience! In the DC Universe, I mean.
Just...I need a moment.
…
Okay, time to get up and start work on my armor.
---Four Days Later---
With all the high-tech manufacturing stuff that I had at my disposal, the 3D printers, the assembly lines, building my armor and weapons were easy. It was almost funny, given the amount of work it took to get this far.
My bunker was always meant to have a training area and today, alongside my gear, it was finished. My weapons and armor were arrayed before me, the pieces gleaming in the artificial light. Targets were set up down range and on the opposite side of that was an obstacle course with drones holding large hula-hoops for me to fly through.
I began to don the armor. Well, the bodysuit. Ocean blue, full body with a hood underneath the helmet. Functioned as climate control suit to keep me warm when I'm flying high in the sky, or cool in the middle of a desert It was nice, felt comfortable and did a good job at what I needed it to do.
The armor itself, white plates, were designed to be minimalistic, but offer at least some protection to all parts of my body. A breast plate with gaps to allow maximum mobility, pauldrons, thigh plates, knee and elbow pads, boots and gauntlets. Each offering some protection, but not being as thick as perhaps some may suggest due to my now great strength. The reason? I wanted to make absolutely sure I was using my maxed out Light Armor skill and not accidentally wind up using my rank 0 Heavy Armor skill. A heavier suit of armor would come later.
Seriously, I did not want to have spent the last four days forging a suit of armor I couldn't use. Belt came equipped with a cloaking device, which was going to come in seriously handy later.
The helmet was a white helmet with a built in rebreather. It would link up with my bodysuit to provide a vacuum sealed environment. No nerve gases or other chemical weapons would be disrupting my game today, no thank you!
On the back, near the bottom was a subtle engraving of a stylized octopus. It was so faint that I don't think anyone would notice and I honestly hoped they wouldn't. Didn't want to explain that I adorned my armor with my favorite animals in a way that didn't seem almost childish.
It helped soothe my nerves, actually. I mean, an octopus was so smart is actually counted as a vertebrate for the purposes of animal cruelty laws. It could camouflage, shoot ink at predators and literally swam through the water on jet propulsion.
Jet. Propulsion.
What a cool animal.
On the right gauntlet was the Healer Laser. Yes, I'm proud of how the name rhymes. What it does is use lasers to project both the Lay on Hands or Loh Radiation and my telekinetic field onto a person. The telekinetic field corrects any outstanding injuries, setting bones and holding fibers together in their proper place, then allow the Loh Radiation to assist the healing process, letting it get done in seconds.
Using just the telekinetic field, I can fix up mechanical damage do, like take dents out of a car or even reattach anything that's been broken off by recreating chemical bonds. No, really. Telekinesis is such a crazy power and when you augment it with mechanical precision…
Before you ask, straight telekinesis would put me out for thirty-five or so years and I wanted Immortality, so I decided to settle for my limited version instead.
When the Healer Laser wasn't in use, it folded out of my way so that hand would be unobstructed for.
In my left would be my blaster.
A single-action blaster pistol. Used my telekinesis to shape force-field bullets and never ran out so long as the battery remained charged. When I discharged the weapon, I got a scarlet muzzle flare and when the otherwise transparent projectile hit the target, there was a red splash of light at the point of impact. On the grip was a stylized wolf's head, subtly engraved like the octopus on my helm.
Wolves hunted in packs, and this would be the first of many weapons. They also had a strong family unit and I admired that greatly about them.
Why a single-action? Because before I squeezed the trigger to take someone's life, I wanted there to be an extra step. A way to ask myself if I was sure. If I was ready to remove another human being from the mortal coil and accept the consequences of my decision.
...and because I wanted to fan the hammer on some fools.
The grip was made out of impact-absorbing material surrounding a steel grip. In my hand, it felt sturdy, supple. It fit my hand and it fit well. I holstered the weapon in the holster bolted to my left thigh-plate.
On my back was the armor's reactor and jetpack. The reactor was a little, miniature Speed Force reactor. Thing generated enough power to keep a house online, so it was a pretty remarkable thing. It was housed in as thick armor as I could get without compromising the structure of the jetpack.
The alpha-as-can-be Flash is just plugged into this thing twenty-four seven. I can't even imagine what that's like. Dude could rule the world if he wanted. People talk about Superman taking over the world, but no, it's the Flash they got to worry about in my opinion.
I was pretty proud of the jetpack, though. A pack with twin thrusters on either side, with small wings about the size of dolphin fins sticking out the sides. Not just because of the thrusters using my latent telekinetic power to function, but because of the telekinetic bubble it generated, letting me steer without flaps.
The wings on either side were to make it easier to glide through the air when my thrusters weren't in use and we were too high above the ground to keep myself afloat without those thrusters.
With my body clad in white and blue, I walked over to the mirror wall I had installed next to the door. The armor felt like a warm hug, if I had to put it to words. Comfortable, secure, helping me feel like things were going to be okay. I looked like a storm trooper in some ways, except my helmet didn't look like a skull, it looked like a science-fiction fighter pilot. And my bodysuit was blue. Plus I was using a revolver instead of a rifle.
On my left breast was my name, Cloud Guard, written in black letters like a caption to a blank comic book panel. Looking closer, I could see the engraving above it, a stylized lion's head. It was really faint and hopefully no one would see it. Again, favorite animals.
A male lion surrounded himself with a pride of female lionesses. He would breed with them at will, sired cubs and lived well. The lionesses would hunt for him, care for the cubs and so on. The only time the male lion was in danger was when another male showed up. The lionesses would do nothing and would wait to see who won the battle. If the new Lion won, the lionesses would do nothing as he killed the cubs of the previous king and then had his way with his new harem of lionesses.
It was a useful object lesson; if I wanted a harem, I needed to be the best. If they were going to be sharing any man, they would deserve the best they could possibly get in compensation.
Personally, I think I am the best that women can do. Batman's too obsessed with his mission, Superman's too nice, Luthor's too narcissistic and Joker...is the Joker. But that's for the ladies to decide, not me.
Anyway, back on task.
"Butler, start Target training," I spoke out loud, taking note of how the speaker on my helmet lightly distorted my voice.
"At once, sir," came the reply over the intercom.
I walked up to the firing range. Out from the sides came a series of moving targets, disks painted in rings of red and green. Red were enemies, green were allies. Shoot the red, avoid the green.
Drawing my weapon, I started fanning the hammer. Ten shots, all red targets were down in a single flurry and not a single green one was hit. Following every shot was a mild vibration, a light pressure at the barrel trying to force it up but unable to contest my immense strength. Every shot was a joy to take.
More than satisfied, I twirled the weapon like I had been born with it in my hand and holstered with with a satisfied grin.
"Very good, sir."
That's Marksmanship 100 for you! Tracking and shooting multiple targets is effortless!
"Thanks, Butler," I said, turning. With a thought, I activated my kinetic bubble, raising myself up above the ground. My heart started to flutter and I had an airy feeling in my chest. "Start the obstacle course timing?"
"At once, sir."
I surged forward, without activating the thrusters. With how much power the thrusters had, they would be difficult to control in the confines of a simple obstacle course.
Dipping down, I passed through the first ring. Shooting up, I passed through two more and then a third as I coiled around to my right and flew forward. Then back down, up, down, each time passing through a new ring. I coiled around to my left, passing through a ring and the final ring, across the entire obstacle course on the other side of the room.
I turned on my thrusters. Immediately, I launched forward like I had just floored the gas pedal. I passed through the ring and shut them off, only barely avoiding slamming into the wall at top speed by a hairs breadth.
"Ten point nineteen seconds," Butler said. "A good first time, sir."
"Thanks," I said with a grin, slowly coming down and landing. "Final systems check."
My helmet was fine and I didn't need a heads up display since I could recall nearly any element to my sight by thinking about it. I folded out the laser and squeezed the trigger, watching the golden light stream forth in a beam towards the floor.
Energy: 77%.
With another thought, I activated the suit's cloaking field. Useful for all kinds of stuff, like exiting the hideout unseen, performing stealth mission, and so on. Seriously, I didn't want anyone seeing one of the ports I exited my hideout to begin my heroic duties.
I took in a deep breath and let it out. Deep breath, in and out. Let it in, let it out.
I did it.
Cloud Guard was ready to take on the bad guys. Sky Peak, your hero is here and he is here to stay!
Well, at least those quests are still active. I'll definitely be completing both of those if only to make it easier to be a hero down the line.
It was at that moment that klaxons sounded in the Hideout.
"Sir, it appears a meteor has crashed in Metropolis," Butler said. "And it appears an alien life form has emerged from it and is causing havoc."
…
"Sir?"
It has begun.
---
Author's Note: Okay, you see all this set up? You see how long it took to get to the action? Imagine having to take all of that but expand all the setup over the course of an entire lifetime. I didn't have it in me to write that. Maybe it would've been good, but I had zero interest in doing so when I'd rather just get to the part where he's shooting aliens.
Jacob's favorite animals was a spur of the moment decision. It almost feels totemic in a way, invoking these symbols of power.
Other than that, let me know what you all think, I'm anxious to read your comments.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
---
I binged her videos. Nine hours of content. Pretty embarrassed to admit it, but I did. The shadows of what I wanted in my life were a meager oasis in the middle of a vast and uncompromising desert. I drank like a man whose throat was dryer than sandpaper and who must leave the oasis in short order.
...anyway.
I got out of bed at six in the morning, took a shower, got dressed, had a breakfast of cold cereal. Hadn't had it in a while, that Salmon Salad was too important to keep this skill-up train running full steam ahead.
It was really nice.
After that, I headed out the door, said good morning and goodbye to George and Patty, and then headed back to the warehouse.
On the outside, everything looked normal. Thankfully, no break-in, the door looked sturdy and intact. The air was crisp and invigorating as it filled my lungs as I stepped out of the truck. Inside the warehouse was a different story.
Aside from all the smithing and assembly equipment, there were piles and piles of dark bricks organized against the far wall. All my drones had plugged themselves into their charging stations, which were situated on steel shelves that I had made, their stations arranged into multiple six by six grids. The welders were resting at their feet, also charging.
Directly to my right, away from my workstation was the ABC. The ABC was a rectangular robot that was taller than me by a head and wider than me on both sides. At the foot of it was the entrance to my bunker, a staircase going down exactly twenty feet, to dive below any potential wiring or pipes. and was made some some of those dark bricks otherwise piled against the back of the warehouse.
I descended into the bunker, using a flashlight to navigate. The tunnel was taller and wider than I, of course. Above me, steel supports the printer had been making while the bunker was being dug held perfectly. Beneath my feet, the floor had been molten into a solid stone floor by the ABC.
The tunnel let out to a small room, which I intended to be the reception area. I wasn't planning on ever having guests, but I was going to need a security checkpoint in case anyone finds my secret hideout. A place I can detain them until I can figure out how to handle infiltrators without simply relocating the entire hideout.
There was a large wall in the center, and walking around it lead to another, smaller tunnel, which I walked through and into the large great room. There were other tunnels leading out from the tunnel. Lining the ceiling was a spider-web of steel ventilation shafts.
...yes. Yes, this was perfect.
First order of business was to construct the air recyclers and HVAC system. Then, build the reactor. Thankfully, I had a few ideas on how to do that without purchasing anything illegal or otherwise controlled. After that? We move the printer and robots down here and start making this place functional.
---One Month Later-
The reactor is online! Turns out, I was right! You can, in fact, hook stuff up to the Speed Force. I mean, it's a no-brainer, right? You want to turn your turbines really, really fast and the speed force can straight up generate electricity. The issue is being able to harvest and dispose all the extra electricity and keep everything within tolerances so it didn't do something crazy like jump forward in time.
To maintain appearances, I ordered a bunch of solar panels and they should be installed soon. Landlord should be thrilled because no power bill is better than a power bill.
Now, let's get the rest of the high tech stuff moved down here and then find a way to hide the entrance. Once that's done, it's time to construct the gas chamber and start synthesizing the serum. I was anxious to have some actual super powers!
---One Week Later---
Shining in the light was the gas chamber. A large, circular platform surrounded by glass and, when closed, would be vacuum sealed. The glass reflected the ceiling lights and the steel ceiling like the blade of a sword. It was finally complete.
My eyes were wide, my heart was pounding and my hands were shaking. This was it. I had the serum. Tested it on drops of my blood. I ran the math. Today, I was going to start the treatments needed to get super powers. Powers besides the game. I was going to be super strong. I would be able to heal people. And I would be immortal, undying, living forever.
Unless someone chopped my head off, but that's what my armor would be for.
The treatments themselves would take two weeks to complete. But then I would be fit as a fiddle and capable of bench-pressing the Titanic. Actually, probably more than that.
I just had one final order of business to take care of; I needed someone to hold the fort while I was out of commission. So I moved to my computer, the one I had bought exclusively for The Hideout, and started writing my AI. Per rule number one for this place, at no point was any of it's computer systems to be connected to the Internet. It was a closed system and that was how I liked it. Should protect this new individual from the collective insanity of the human race, anyway.
The final few lines were written. I had did a preliminary analysis to make sure I didn't do something stupid like misspell 'tether' as 'teether'. Then...I ran the code.
Computer Science Check Passed: (100/95).
A loading bar appeared, then another. They filled, disappeared and were replaced by other bars. After what felt like an eternity, the final bar filled and I was left with an audio window. "Greetings, sir. Butler version 1.0 is online and ready for service."
"Welcome to the world," I said with a grin. I did it! He's working! And he hasn't declared war on the human race yet! Hallelujah! "How are you feeling?"
"Self-Diagnostics report that all systems are green with no areas for concern," Butler said, the lines of his audio window rising and falling like the waves of an ocean as he spoke. "How may I assist sir, today?"
"I'm commencing Gas Treatment 1," I said, standing up and pulling my shirt off.
"Very good, sir," Butler replied. "Available drones being redirected. When you are ready on the gurney, they will wheel you into the gas chamber where we will await your command to start."
Then, I shed my pants, leaving me with only my underwear.
The gurney's padding was covered in synthetic leather which was cool to my back as I laid down upon it. A pair of drones flew past and started pulling the gurney forward, up the ramp and into the chamber. The sound of the wheels rolling on the steel ramp and floor of the chamber almost seemed to echo in the vast recesses of my mind.
This was really happening.
The gurney was stopped in the center of the chamber and the drones angled the gurney up so I could look outside. A line of six drones was floating outside on stand-bye, in case something went wrong.
Butler startled me when his voiced boomed in the intercom. "Ready to begin Gas Treatment 1 on your command, sir."
I was breathing heavily. This was it. I just had to give the order. But I was struggling to do so. Sure, I got multiple skill check success notifications as I synthesized my serum. But what if something went wrong? I may have been joking about Cancerman before, but that was a legitimate concern. What if an accident happens? What if I become a diseased, cancerous beast, another monster to haunt the streets of this dying city?
What if I become the reason the Justice League forms?
I clenched and released my fists, trying to relieve the tension.
How many science experiments have there been where a scientist tried to elevate themselves above mortal man, trying to elevate their throne above the stars of God, only to become a devilish or demonic enemy to mankind?
Frankenstein's Monster. Mr. Freeze and Parasite to name only a few.
There's a reason most superheroes are either alien beings, empowered by aliens or straight up use magic. To tamper with your genetic makeup, to change the very essence of what you are is almost making a mockery of your own humanity.
But then, if we're counting all the heroes I know about, a humble spider-bite created one of the best heroes ever.
...and a gas treatment created his biggest villain. That was the inspiration for the gas chamber, you know. That guy. What was his name? Goblin! Green Goblin. He's from Marvel, not DC, but still. Is it cheating to be thinking about what the competition is doing so I can rip them off? Probably.
I could walk away. Abort the treatment and go back to my silly little life where I pursue whatever it is that takes my fancy. But what kind of life is that? A life where I pursue mindless hobby after mindless hobby only this time without purpose or direction? That's not a life. That sounds like a unique form of hell.
Whether I like it or not, this is what I've been building my life towards. If I chicken out now, I'll never forgive myself. Imagine if I give up and then something happens, the Justice League forms. I'd be kicking myself forever, thinking that I could've been a founding member but chose not too.
This is the DCAU RPG. I want to finally play the game I've been preparing for all my life.
The air in the chamber was still, the drones hovered in the air, waiting. Somewhere in the background, I could hear the HVAC system running, keeping us flush with clean, breathable air. After a moment of gritting my teeth to steel myself, I gave the order. "Start the treatment."
"Very good sir. Cycling the gas."
In great, billowing movements, clouds of blue gas flooded the chamber, pumped in from tanks just outside of view. For a moment, I held my breath. But that would undermine this entire endeavor, wouldn't it? Despite how my survival instincts were forcing me to not breathe, like they were convinced I was sinking into the ocean, I eventually forced myself to take a deep, gasping breath. It smelled like sugar, with an undercurrent of gasoline.
The tips of my fingers and toes turned numb and that feeling began to stretch out up my arms and legs. When it got to my torso, I experienced a bubbling sensation in my stomach. The breaths I took turned uneven as my lungs began twitching and trembling.
...oh no. This...this is going to suck.
I could actually feel the beating of my heart against my rib cage, like it was shaking and vibrating while desperately trying to keep pumping blood through my system.
My face was numb. I grit my teeth and pulled my tongue back to stop myself from chattering it into pieces. Looking down, I saw golden sparks of light flashing at random points on my skin. Then, my torso began to shine like a lighthouse had been built atop my solar plexus.
Involuntarily, I gasped and my vision started to get obscured by yellow light coming from somewhere that I couldn't see. It then felt like a wave of cold water was washing down my body from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
At it's apex, I was blinded. Blinded by the light of the sun within me.
Trying to control my twitching, jerking body was impossible. It felt like lightning bolts were striking from my spine down my arms and legs. My body was cold, then it was warm, then it was cold again.
Then, it eventually settled on feeling nothing at all.
And as quickly as it all happened, it was all over. The gas disappeared and I felt normal. Well, except for the fact that I couldn't move my limbs. I could feel them, but it was like they had no strength at all in them. They were dead. Smoked. Non-functioning.
I knew this wouldn't be easy to go through. I knew it. But now that I've experienced it? Actually felt the change my body went through and would continue to go through?
...I'm afraid.
I'm very afraid.
CRAP!
Okay, keep calm, just keep calm. It's just until the end of the quest. I hope. Games do that sometimes. It's okay. Keep it calm.
This is the absolute worst possible thing that could've ever happened I can't believe it what is this I hate this I am going to go back in time and strangle myself for even trying this how stupid could I be what was-
"Life signs have stabilized," Butler said. "From all accounts, the treatment was a complete success. Are you mobile, sir?"
What came out of my mouth in response were not words.
"It appears not," Butler said, almost sounding amused, the jerk. "Not to worry, sir, your body is restructuring itself in response to the treatment."
I know that! I still want to kill something! Violently!
"Until then, sir, I'll ensure you are taken care of." The gas chamber opened and the drones flew in. "I invite sir to try to rest and relax until the treatments are complete."
Fine!
...just...fine...
---Two Weeks Later---
The time in between gas treatments was spent sleeping and being fed food. Eventually, in spite of my paralyzed status effect, I was able to begin speaking and was able to chew my food. I'm so glad I hadn't procured the assistance of a living being, because this was humiliating.
Thankfully, I was able to sleep for twenty-four hour periods, so I mainly woke up when I was hungry and I was only fed when I asked to be fed, so I could maintain some control over the situation. That made completing this quest at least a little bearable.
And the rewards for finishing this quest? For pushing through my fear and sticking with this?
My first perks.
Yeah, wild huh? Perks in this RPG are just Super Powers and their component parts. I mean, sure I got fun bonuses for maxing my skills, but those were only almost superhuman. Perks are blatantly superhuman, game breaking attributes that only superheroes and villains get to have.
You know, when Death and the Reaper told me I'd be getting a modified Skyrim, I was thinking there would be a lot more perks and that they'd be tied to skills. Instead, I got more of an Oblivion-Skyrim mix, with getting bonuses attached to maxing skills, but perks being given as quest rewards. Which is cool! Very cool. But it wasn't what I was expecting. Glad to have that mystery solved, at least.
I can think of a lot of uses for the ability to negate friction, Game. Escaping a grapple is only the most innocent one.
The second gas treatment was worse than the first. I accidentally bit my tongue and nearly took the tip right off. Thankfully, the treatment rendered me numb and going to sleep healing all my injuries, so I never felt it. One of the many tender mercies afforded by being a video game character in real life. But...it was bad. I passed out.
Being honest? This perk has saved me. Lets assume I find a way around my legal and ethical dilemma and obtain a harem of sex slaves. Without this perk? Every touch, every grasp spelled the unacceptable risk of causing real, bloody bodily harm. It wouldn't be a question of if, it'd be a question of when I accidentally killed someone, someone who I would have loved more than a great deal.
So I will take this time to count my blessings and be grateful as my celibacy almost became permanent.
...that would mainly be a problem for broken bones and it makes sense. I think there's a way to account for that little feature, I'll just need to build the right gadget.
Currently, I was sitting in the infirmary's bed with a single drone floating by the door, waiting to serve me in whatsoever way I needed. The walls of the infirmary were painted white with a cyan stripe on the lower half and the floor was just painted white. The rest of the drones and other robots were livening The Hideout up, making it look nice as well as helping it be functional.
I was feeling totally fine, but I was thinking.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
I did it.
I had powers.
The feelings I had were complicated. There was the relief, obviously. The joy. I had accomplished a life-long goal and that wasn't nothing. But there was something else. A sense of confusion. I wasn't sure what to do now.
I mean, I knew what to do, but how do I do it? How do I actually be a superhero? What if I mess up?
What if I die again?
Then you factor in my immortality. Am I going to want to be a superhero for eternity? What if I only last a month? What kind of purpose would I have that can satisfy me literally forever?
Put all that aside for now. I need to get a police scanner so I can listen and get an understanding of the finer points of crime and danger in the city so I can make plans. Have Butler listen too, he'll be able to process way more information than I can.
By my estimation, it'd be another decade or two before I can start adding powers again. Next one is going to be super speed. Arguably the actual best power you can get, but Immortality and Super Speed together were too much genetic load to handle at once, and I wanted Immortality before aging started to destroy me in fifty years when my body could finally handle having something added on top of Super Speed.
Okay, what's next?
My armor. I need to make my armor.
But first, let's go ahead and see what Healing Hands looks like.
I extended my hand and focused. Focused on healing, fixing things, and then on the bringing the warm fire I felt inside me to my hands and pushing out. My hands blew out a short plume of golden light and…
And the blue bar, the Magicka Bar, went down.
Energy: 95%.
Well, it's the energy bar, but the point stands. I had completely forgotten that bar even existed, because my health and stamina bars disappear when not in use and I've never used my blue bar before. What? I...I don't believe it.
Wow!
That's incredible! I know officially have the full Skyrim experience! In the DC Universe, I mean.
Just...I need a moment.
…
Okay, time to get up and start work on my armor.
---Four Days Later---
With all the high-tech manufacturing stuff that I had at my disposal, the 3D printers, the assembly lines, building my armor and weapons were easy. It was almost funny, given the amount of work it took to get this far.
My bunker was always meant to have a training area and today, alongside my gear, it was finished. My weapons and armor were arrayed before me, the pieces gleaming in the artificial light. Targets were set up down range and on the opposite side of that was an obstacle course with drones holding large hula-hoops for me to fly through.
I began to don the armor. Well, the bodysuit. Ocean blue, full body with a hood underneath the helmet. Functioned as climate control suit to keep me warm when I'm flying high in the sky, or cool in the middle of a desert It was nice, felt comfortable and did a good job at what I needed it to do.
The armor itself, white plates, were designed to be minimalistic, but offer at least some protection to all parts of my body. A breast plate with gaps to allow maximum mobility, pauldrons, thigh plates, knee and elbow pads, boots and gauntlets. Each offering some protection, but not being as thick as perhaps some may suggest due to my now great strength. The reason? I wanted to make absolutely sure I was using my maxed out Light Armor skill and not accidentally wind up using my rank 0 Heavy Armor skill. A heavier suit of armor would come later.
Seriously, I did not want to have spent the last four days forging a suit of armor I couldn't use. Belt came equipped with a cloaking device, which was going to come in seriously handy later.
The helmet was a white helmet with a built in rebreather. It would link up with my bodysuit to provide a vacuum sealed environment. No nerve gases or other chemical weapons would be disrupting my game today, no thank you!
On the back, near the bottom was a subtle engraving of a stylized octopus. It was so faint that I don't think anyone would notice and I honestly hoped they wouldn't. Didn't want to explain that I adorned my armor with my favorite animals in a way that didn't seem almost childish.
It helped soothe my nerves, actually. I mean, an octopus was so smart is actually counted as a vertebrate for the purposes of animal cruelty laws. It could camouflage, shoot ink at predators and literally swam through the water on jet propulsion.
Jet. Propulsion.
What a cool animal.
On the right gauntlet was the Healer Laser. Yes, I'm proud of how the name rhymes. What it does is use lasers to project both the Lay on Hands or Loh Radiation and my telekinetic field onto a person. The telekinetic field corrects any outstanding injuries, setting bones and holding fibers together in their proper place, then allow the Loh Radiation to assist the healing process, letting it get done in seconds.
Using just the telekinetic field, I can fix up mechanical damage do, like take dents out of a car or even reattach anything that's been broken off by recreating chemical bonds. No, really. Telekinesis is such a crazy power and when you augment it with mechanical precision…
Before you ask, straight telekinesis would put me out for thirty-five or so years and I wanted Immortality, so I decided to settle for my limited version instead.
When the Healer Laser wasn't in use, it folded out of my way so that hand would be unobstructed for.
In my left would be my blaster.
A single-action blaster pistol. Used my telekinesis to shape force-field bullets and never ran out so long as the battery remained charged. When I discharged the weapon, I got a scarlet muzzle flare and when the otherwise transparent projectile hit the target, there was a red splash of light at the point of impact. On the grip was a stylized wolf's head, subtly engraved like the octopus on my helm.
Wolves hunted in packs, and this would be the first of many weapons. They also had a strong family unit and I admired that greatly about them.
Why a single-action? Because before I squeezed the trigger to take someone's life, I wanted there to be an extra step. A way to ask myself if I was sure. If I was ready to remove another human being from the mortal coil and accept the consequences of my decision.
...and because I wanted to fan the hammer on some fools.
The grip was made out of impact-absorbing material surrounding a steel grip. In my hand, it felt sturdy, supple. It fit my hand and it fit well. I holstered the weapon in the holster bolted to my left thigh-plate.
On my back was the armor's reactor and jetpack. The reactor was a little, miniature Speed Force reactor. Thing generated enough power to keep a house online, so it was a pretty remarkable thing. It was housed in as thick armor as I could get without compromising the structure of the jetpack.
The alpha-as-can-be Flash is just plugged into this thing twenty-four seven. I can't even imagine what that's like. Dude could rule the world if he wanted. People talk about Superman taking over the world, but no, it's the Flash they got to worry about in my opinion.
I was pretty proud of the jetpack, though. A pack with twin thrusters on either side, with small wings about the size of dolphin fins sticking out the sides. Not just because of the thrusters using my latent telekinetic power to function, but because of the telekinetic bubble it generated, letting me steer without flaps.
The wings on either side were to make it easier to glide through the air when my thrusters weren't in use and we were too high above the ground to keep myself afloat without those thrusters.
With my body clad in white and blue, I walked over to the mirror wall I had installed next to the door. The armor felt like a warm hug, if I had to put it to words. Comfortable, secure, helping me feel like things were going to be okay. I looked like a storm trooper in some ways, except my helmet didn't look like a skull, it looked like a science-fiction fighter pilot. And my bodysuit was blue. Plus I was using a revolver instead of a rifle.
On my left breast was my name, Cloud Guard, written in black letters like a caption to a blank comic book panel. Looking closer, I could see the engraving above it, a stylized lion's head. It was really faint and hopefully no one would see it. Again, favorite animals.
A male lion surrounded himself with a pride of female lionesses. He would breed with them at will, sired cubs and lived well. The lionesses would hunt for him, care for the cubs and so on. The only time the male lion was in danger was when another male showed up. The lionesses would do nothing and would wait to see who won the battle. If the new Lion won, the lionesses would do nothing as he killed the cubs of the previous king and then had his way with his new harem of lionesses.
It was a useful object lesson; if I wanted a harem, I needed to be the best. If they were going to be sharing any man, they would deserve the best they could possibly get in compensation.
Personally, I think I am the best that women can do. Batman's too obsessed with his mission, Superman's too nice, Luthor's too narcissistic and Joker...is the Joker. But that's for the ladies to decide, not me.
Anyway, back on task.
"Butler, start Target training," I spoke out loud, taking note of how the speaker on my helmet lightly distorted my voice.
"At once, sir," came the reply over the intercom.
I walked up to the firing range. Out from the sides came a series of moving targets, disks painted in rings of red and green. Red were enemies, green were allies. Shoot the red, avoid the green.
Drawing my weapon, I started fanning the hammer. Ten shots, all red targets were down in a single flurry and not a single green one was hit. Following every shot was a mild vibration, a light pressure at the barrel trying to force it up but unable to contest my immense strength. Every shot was a joy to take.
More than satisfied, I twirled the weapon like I had been born with it in my hand and holstered with with a satisfied grin.
"Very good, sir."
That's Marksmanship 100 for you! Tracking and shooting multiple targets is effortless!
"Thanks, Butler," I said, turning. With a thought, I activated my kinetic bubble, raising myself up above the ground. My heart started to flutter and I had an airy feeling in my chest. "Start the obstacle course timing?"
"At once, sir."
I surged forward, without activating the thrusters. With how much power the thrusters had, they would be difficult to control in the confines of a simple obstacle course.
Dipping down, I passed through the first ring. Shooting up, I passed through two more and then a third as I coiled around to my right and flew forward. Then back down, up, down, each time passing through a new ring. I coiled around to my left, passing through a ring and the final ring, across the entire obstacle course on the other side of the room.
I turned on my thrusters. Immediately, I launched forward like I had just floored the gas pedal. I passed through the ring and shut them off, only barely avoiding slamming into the wall at top speed by a hairs breadth.
"Ten point nineteen seconds," Butler said. "A good first time, sir."
"Thanks," I said with a grin, slowly coming down and landing. "Final systems check."
My helmet was fine and I didn't need a heads up display since I could recall nearly any element to my sight by thinking about it. I folded out the laser and squeezed the trigger, watching the golden light stream forth in a beam towards the floor.
Energy: 77%.
With another thought, I activated the suit's cloaking field. Useful for all kinds of stuff, like exiting the hideout unseen, performing stealth mission, and so on. Seriously, I didn't want anyone seeing one of the ports I exited my hideout to begin my heroic duties.
I took in a deep breath and let it out. Deep breath, in and out. Let it in, let it out.
I did it.
Cloud Guard was ready to take on the bad guys. Sky Peak, your hero is here and he is here to stay!
Well, at least those quests are still active. I'll definitely be completing both of those if only to make it easier to be a hero down the line.
It was at that moment that klaxons sounded in the Hideout.
"Sir, it appears a meteor has crashed in Metropolis," Butler said. "And it appears an alien life form has emerged from it and is causing havoc."
…
"Sir?"
It has begun.
---
Author's Note: Okay, you see all this set up? You see how long it took to get to the action? Imagine having to take all of that but expand all the setup over the course of an entire lifetime. I didn't have it in me to write that. Maybe it would've been good, but I had zero interest in doing so when I'd rather just get to the part where he's shooting aliens.
Jacob's favorite animals was a spur of the moment decision. It almost feels totemic in a way, invoking these symbols of power.
Other than that, let me know what you all think, I'm anxious to read your comments.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
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Chapter 8 - First Night on the Job
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
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The following is a fan-based work of fiction. Justice League and Justice League Unlimited are all owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros. Animation. Please support the official release.
---
The plan for The Hideout was to give it multiple exits so that if one of the exits was being watched by idle passerby's, I could still get out and do my work for the day. Only thing stopping me was that I wasn't sure how to disguise those exits from common view. I had a few ideas, but completing those exits would have to wait.
As I made my way toward the only exit I had, the warehouse, a drone flew slightly ahead of me, carrying a screen with a news broadcast from Metropolis. On the news feed was a massive, three legged creature shooting a laser beam out of its eye. It was white and it's legs reminded me of massive spider legs, with great hooks at the end.
First thing I noticed is that the military response, missiles and all, were targeting the large head, where likely the armor was heaviest. If they wanted to bring that thing down, they'd have to target the legs, ideally the joints.
I was actually aggravated.
The camera focused on a reporter, speaking into a mic. "This is Snapper Carr, reporting from ground zero of an alien invasion! Multiple towering creatures have laid siege to Metropolis, and…"
He looked off in the distance. "Point the camera, point the camera!"
The camera whirled and focused on a trio of silver and red alien fighters. Triangular, but lopsided with red crystalline structures sticking out of their left side. On the lower corner were a trio of red, circular lenses.
The reporter took to the camera again. "Alien fliers have now descended into Earth's atmosphere and have engaged in combat with the combined military forces of the United States. More news as it breaks!"
Well, today just got really exciting, didn't it?
"Sir, one of those meteorites has landed at the airport," Butler chimed in. "And fliers have followed after it."
"Of course it was at the airport," I grumbled. "That's where all the interesting stuff comes from."
If Butler understood my sarcasm, he didn't comment. "As you say, sir. Shall I open the roof exit?"
"Please do," I said, walking up the stairs into the warehouse proper.
The warehouse itself was now a lot emptier after my more advanced equipment had been moved downstairs. Just my blacksmithing tools were left up here, and they haven't been touched in weeks.
Like Dad said, eclectic but driven. The memory pulled my lips into a frown as I looked to my exit.
Up above, the ceiling entrance I had installed by the drones had opened. It was a mechanical double-door that pulled a pair of cut outs from the ceiling inward. They cutouts had solar panels attached, so anyone looking at it from above wouldn't see the lines.
I activated my cloaking device and flew up and out the roof exit, activating my thrusters when I was high enough and made my way to the airport.
Quickly, it became apparent that flying through an obstacle course and flying out in the open were two, very different things. One was safe, confined and stifling, to be honest. The other? The other was freedom. It was power. The power to rocket through the sky, my thrusters screaming a death metal duet as they carried me in whatever direction I demanded was like nothing I had ever felt before.
My reverie should've been distracting, but no. It only served to sharpen my focus and bring me to my destination with a laser focus. I was free and I had a mission to accomplish.
It was pretty easy to find, the airport. The asteroid was still trailing smoke to the stars from whence it came, and the red flashes in the distance quickly became laser beams from the tall, bone-white alien tripod. Behind it was the asteroid, a black stone behemoth that put many of the surviving buildings in Sky Peak to shame.
Stone broke out from the asteroid, revealing another bone white leg.
Alright, then. Lets take out the first before the second can get its bearings.
As I flew in at high speeds, I drew my blaster, thumbed the hammer down and squeezed the trigger, then repeating that twice more, sending a trio of telekinetic rounds down range. Flying forward made it a little harder to stay on target as the air-resistance exacerbated the recoil, but not enough to actually matter.
I was rewarded for all those hours spent in Nerf wars and airsoft when all three legs of the tripod were blown off at the knees in scarlet flashes of light. The massive, oval-like head fell to the ground like a dropped egg, shattering all over the tarmac in a gooey mess.
The second one was still emerging, and I waited for it to stand upright before also taking out its legs and letting the head drop and shatter into a million pieces like a fruit falling from its tree.
...was that it? Come on, this is supposed to be an invasion! You brought air support and everything. I'm so disappointed.
My question was answered when I felt a cold chill hit the back of my head like a frost laser. I immediately sent my thrusters to maximum power, flying over a crimson beam. I turned in place and saw a quad of those flier, their bottom lens glowing with power.
Alright, out of those three lens-looking things, which one of those is the cockpit?
I took aim and fired at the first flier, trying to hit it's laser cannon dead on, and I don't miss.
It immediately banked to the left, and fired it's own salvo of scarlet blasts.
But they can dodge, can't they?
I flew backward, performing a barrel roll, successfully, circling the energy blasts as they passed me. I looked down behind me and fired off a few blasts and they fliers banked and scurried.
Doing a corkscrew in the air to face downward, I immediately saw that a third walker had emerged from the asteroid. Like shooting fish in a barrel, a trio of blasts destroyed the trio of knees, making for a third, giant, scrambled egg on the runway.
Pulling up at just the right moment, I found myself flying barely a foot over the ground, careening forward like a meat missile. After dodging a flatbed with a lot of luggage piled on it, I pulled back up, banking hard to the right and coming face to face with a flier.
Finding myself in a blizzard pillar courtesy of my danger sense, I pulled over, doing another barrel roll around the thing's burst of red death. I just wanted to find out which one of the two remaining lenses were the cockpit.
I won the game of chicken when my kinetic bubble let me stick to the flier. Immediately, I got an answer to my question; through the opaque ruby lens on the upper right, I saw the opaque outline of an alien flying this thing.
Thanks for contributing to Cloud Guard's knowledge! Have a bullet.
The bolt burned a hole straight through cockpit and immediately the flier took a nose dive. I got off before it could complete it's fiery crash onto the tarmac.
One one, two to go.
A chill flowed over my skin. I deactivated the kinetic bubble and thrusters, dropping, the red glow of their weapons salvos illuminating my boots as I did do. Up above, the twin fighters passed each other with razor precision, only inches between them.
Turning both my gadgets on, I did a small corkscrew as I continued my rapid descent toward the ground. Behind me, the aliens followed, their own crafts silent as they careened through the air after me. An aileron roll, where I turned in place while rocketing forward, kept me from getting shot through as they fired, as they had anticipated a barrel roll instead.
I dove through the destroyed head of one of the walkers, there being a hole just large enough for me to slip through between the main body and a relatively intact piece laying on the ground. Then I rose up and did a corkscrew to dodge a group of scarlet shots determined to end my superhero career before it even began.
Looking back, I aimed my pistol and fired as they were firing at me, sending a bolt right through one of their cockpits, causing it to fall to the ground and crash in a fiery pile of rubble.
Just one more to go!
I cut the thrusters and let my bubble bring me to a stop, causing the fighter to shoot past me, then I activated my cloaking device.
One of the issues with the cloak is that it doesn't do anything to hide my thrusters' azure exhaust, making it look like a blue light was flying through the air instead of me, rending the cloak moot. I couldn't go very fast, in other words, with it on.
The alien ahead of me pitched up until he was facing back toward me and did an aileron to right himself. I aimed and fired, sending a bolt through the cockpit and sending him to join his partners smeared on the tarmac in flaming ruin.
I was breathing heavily, but my mouth was spread into the widest smile I think I've ever had.
There should've been fear. Perhaps terror. This was stressful, far more stress than I've ever had, but I was calm. That means that, with my maxed out Psychology skill, the mental preparations I've been doing since then have done their job. There was no cowering or whimpering, no sadness or overpowering urge to flee.
Only the game.
I was finally playing.
And I was good.
I descended down to the tarmac, where I was met by airport security, the paramilitary organization entrusted with the safety of this place. Their rifles were tightly gripped as adrenaline coursed through their veins, but they weren't pointed at me, so that was a good sign.
"Is everyone alright?" I asked, looking around the airport. I really wished I had room to include a sensor suite, but the mind-link capability took up everything this helmet could do for me.
"We've got a couple wounded taking cover back there." Hey, it's Officer Brown! Malcolm Brown, if I remember right. He was pointing with his thumb back to the airport and honestly, it was kind of nice to see him again, even if he wouldn't recognize me through the mask. "Who are you supposed to be?"
Disguise Check Success: 33/30.
"Call me Cloud Guard," I told him, holstering my pistol so I could unfold the Healer Laser. Armor wouldn't let me unfold the latter while the former was out of its holster. Safety precaution, you know? Couldn't afford a mix up. "I can help the wounded, if you'd lead the way."
"Gotcha," Malcolm replied. He turned to one of the other officers, his voice sounding ragged and barely held together. "Hey, Pedro?"
"Go ahead," one of the other guys, a Latino-sounding man replied with a nod. There was a relief to his voice, something a little bit deeper than because combat simply stopped. "Be fast, though. Don't know if its actually over or if they're regrouping."
"Won't take any time at all," I replied, following after Officer Brown.
The Airport's runway was in shambled. The meteor with its trio of craters where the walkers had emerged from was still smoking, almost darkening the already darkened night sky to a pitch black. We walked past one of the walkers, it's sheer size apparent to me now that I wasn't looking down on it from above. Milky white slime had pooled like an oil-spill around the wreckage. The cheesy pieces of debris were scattered across the tarmac like shattered glass.
These aliens used bio-technology. I wonder how it works? Also, how does it smell? I had a rebreather and a vacuum sealed costume so I couldn't smell anything outside of my suit but if I had to guess, either like spoiled fruit or a rotten egg. Maybe a mix.
We arrived at that flatbed I had passed earlier, and found a trio of officers. One with a white, blood stained bandage tied around his bicep, another was holding their leg. The last was a woman, holding her helmet in her hands, which had a large whole burned through it. On her forehead was a third degree burn.
"I can help," I said. "You won't be able to move for a few seconds, but after that, you'd never guess there was anything wrong. May I patch you all up?"
The three officers gave me nods and soft affirmatives, their exhaustion leaving them with little strength to speak.
The laser unfolded with the crisp snapping of mechanical parts finding their place. The handle had a pair of triggers, the first, larger one was for the telekinetic portion, good for holding people in place and setting bones to prevent them from healing wrong. I pulled that trigger, engulfing the first officer in blue light emitting from the lens on the bottom of the handle. It was then that the second trigger was enabled, which I squeezed, sending a current of golden light to him. It should only take a few seconds...there.
"Alright, how do you feel?" I asked.
"Better!" He said, standing up. "Way better! It was kind of freaky at first but yeah! All patched up."
"Good," I said. I hadn't actually experienced Loh Radiation first hand, so I don't know how it feels. Maybe warm, with some pins and needles? "If you'll stand aside?"
He did, letting me get to the second one. The telekinesis adjusted his leg somewhat, I saw. I imagine that hurt, but he was held in place, so he couldn't wince if wanted too. Once that was done, I sent the Loh Radiation down to them and waited. His expression was invisible behind his helmet. Three...two...one…
"Can you stand?" I asked.
"I think so!" He said, sounding more lively. Then he did. Effortlessly. "Wow! That was amazing! Set my leg and adjusted my spine! How does that thing work?"
"Magic," I replied with a smirk, immediately realizing that I could actually market the healing laser to hospitals or even homes once I figured out how to emulate the Loh Radiation with technology. "Ma'am, are you ready?"
Her words were barely audible. "Just do it."
The laser sheathed her in blue. After a moment for everything to settle, I sent the current of gold down to her and it was amazing to watch it work. The burn started to disappear right in front of our eyes and her eyes started to widen in excitement. I counted down the seconds. "Alright, how does that feel!"
"Holy cow!" She said, standing and picking up her rifle. Grinning from ear to ear, she continued, "I thought I was going to die and you...you just saved me."
She walked forward and kissed my helmet where my cheek was, causing my cheeks to feel warm and fuzzy.
"Thanks, ma'am. Glad to be of help."
Malcolm spoke up, almost sounding awed. "Where you were a year ago?"
"No kidding!" The officer who had the broken leg said.
"Getting ready," I said, smirking.
At the edge of my hearing, there was a person loudly and quickly shoving their way toward me. Turning, I saw that it was a blonde woman in a coat and thick, winter pants, hefting a microphone and trailed by a guy also in winter gear, keeping the camera mounted on his shoulder trained on me.
"Excuse me, sir! Devon Smith, with Channel 9! Would you please offer a comment?" She asked as she drew close. "First off, who are you?"
Then she practically shoved that microphone in my face. "Call me Cloud Guard."
"Where did this alien invasion come from?" She asked rapidly, before, again, aggressively thrusting that mic in my face.
"Space," I replied, my smirk returning. Some of the officers behind me chuckled.
Devon got flustered. "Well, okay, but do you know how they've managed to land on earth without any of our deep space security measures being able to detect them?"
Mic in face.
"I do not."
"Why has our own military failed to deal with the invaders?" Devon demanded. "Why haven't they arrived here in Sky Peak?"
"Presumably, because our nukes were disarmed to appease a bunch of third world, backwater dictators," I said, arching an eyebrow beneath my helmet. "And Red Mountain's military strong holds are either up in the mountains or down in Red Mountain Springs. My best guess is that they're circling the wagons."
"But you don't know," Devon pressed.
"I do not."
"Are you with the military?"
"I am not."
"What is your real name?"
"No comment. Also, that's quite rude, Ms. Smith."
Again, she was put on the back foot. "Well, are you native to Sky Peak?"
"I live here," I said, the air taking on an unnatural chill. "You should get to safety before something else happens."
Devon brought the mic back to her, smiling in excitement and relief. "One more question. Do you truly believe we have a chance at stopping them?"
I looked around at the walker's corpse behind me, placing my hand on my holstered weapon. "Yeah, I think so."
"What-" She was cut off by the sharp sound of a cracking explosion.
Immediately, I turned around. The asteroid which had since been dormant had cracked open like a coconut. Stretching out from the broken stone were black tentacles which looked like they were reaching out from the abyss to pull down the sky. Dark clouds, cracking with electricity, were rising with them.
"Devon Smith with a development," Devon started from behind me. "Having just concluded an interview with Cloud Guard, Sky Peak's new hero, the meteor which initially crashed here at the airport has exploded, revealing alien appendages. Wait, what are they doing?"
The tentacles started to solidify into a structure. A curvy, alien structure with bizarre architecture. Split into two levels, connected by a lopsided, large trunk and two significantly smaller needles. On the bottom layer, a massive drill emerged, and started pounding the ground. Twin scarlet lungs with black veins began pumping. Out the top were streams of dark clouds, lightning coursing through them.
Out from the structure came streaming humanoid figures, except it was like they didn't have skin. White veins with black nerve endings and their heads were amoebic. There were at least fifty or sixty of them and they were hefting dark rifles.
"Get down!" I shouted, drawing my pistol which caused my healer to automatically retract. I fanned the hammer taking down five with perfectly placed head shots, causing them to fall to the floor as black and white puddles.
My danger sense, which I really need to give a proper name, gave me a chill right where my head was and I tilted to the right, allowing a laser blast to pass harmlessly to my left. Turning the bubble on, I started ascending.
Below me, airport security immediately got back to work, taking cover and shooting when they could. Their bullets rang through the air, as did the scarlet lasers returning the favor.
Okay, game plan. Pop the lungs on the first level to slow down their plans to blot out the sky. Then, enter into the first level and do a full dungeon clear and try to learn anything I can. Technology specs, communications, whatever. Then, disable the pollution factory permanently, either by ruining its internals or targeting the structural weak points connecting the first and second levels.
Also, kill every alien invader I see. This is war, not law enforcement.
With that done, I rolled my shoulders, turned on my thrusters and rocketed forward to my first ever dungeon crawl.
...I'm so excited.
---
Author's Note: FINALLY! We've gotten to the action! Holy cow! For those of you who have actually watched the first arc of Justice League recently, you'll know that it's a little early for the factories to start running. See, their initial plan is to use the walkers to soften resistance and then, when the area is secure, deploy the factory.
However, our boy Cloud Guard here ruined that plan by completely outclassing the relatively immobile weapons platforms with obvious weak points. Then once the fliers were down, they activated the factory early as a last ditch effort before this part of the invasion fails completely.
Hope you enjoyed! I know I did.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
---
The plan for The Hideout was to give it multiple exits so that if one of the exits was being watched by idle passerby's, I could still get out and do my work for the day. Only thing stopping me was that I wasn't sure how to disguise those exits from common view. I had a few ideas, but completing those exits would have to wait.
As I made my way toward the only exit I had, the warehouse, a drone flew slightly ahead of me, carrying a screen with a news broadcast from Metropolis. On the news feed was a massive, three legged creature shooting a laser beam out of its eye. It was white and it's legs reminded me of massive spider legs, with great hooks at the end.
First thing I noticed is that the military response, missiles and all, were targeting the large head, where likely the armor was heaviest. If they wanted to bring that thing down, they'd have to target the legs, ideally the joints.
I was actually aggravated.
The camera focused on a reporter, speaking into a mic. "This is Snapper Carr, reporting from ground zero of an alien invasion! Multiple towering creatures have laid siege to Metropolis, and…"
He looked off in the distance. "Point the camera, point the camera!"
The camera whirled and focused on a trio of silver and red alien fighters. Triangular, but lopsided with red crystalline structures sticking out of their left side. On the lower corner were a trio of red, circular lenses.
The reporter took to the camera again. "Alien fliers have now descended into Earth's atmosphere and have engaged in combat with the combined military forces of the United States. More news as it breaks!"
Well, today just got really exciting, didn't it?
"Sir, one of those meteorites has landed at the airport," Butler chimed in. "And fliers have followed after it."
"Of course it was at the airport," I grumbled. "That's where all the interesting stuff comes from."
If Butler understood my sarcasm, he didn't comment. "As you say, sir. Shall I open the roof exit?"
"Please do," I said, walking up the stairs into the warehouse proper.
The warehouse itself was now a lot emptier after my more advanced equipment had been moved downstairs. Just my blacksmithing tools were left up here, and they haven't been touched in weeks.
Like Dad said, eclectic but driven. The memory pulled my lips into a frown as I looked to my exit.
Up above, the ceiling entrance I had installed by the drones had opened. It was a mechanical double-door that pulled a pair of cut outs from the ceiling inward. They cutouts had solar panels attached, so anyone looking at it from above wouldn't see the lines.
I activated my cloaking device and flew up and out the roof exit, activating my thrusters when I was high enough and made my way to the airport.
Quickly, it became apparent that flying through an obstacle course and flying out in the open were two, very different things. One was safe, confined and stifling, to be honest. The other? The other was freedom. It was power. The power to rocket through the sky, my thrusters screaming a death metal duet as they carried me in whatever direction I demanded was like nothing I had ever felt before.
My reverie should've been distracting, but no. It only served to sharpen my focus and bring me to my destination with a laser focus. I was free and I had a mission to accomplish.
It was pretty easy to find, the airport. The asteroid was still trailing smoke to the stars from whence it came, and the red flashes in the distance quickly became laser beams from the tall, bone-white alien tripod. Behind it was the asteroid, a black stone behemoth that put many of the surviving buildings in Sky Peak to shame.
Stone broke out from the asteroid, revealing another bone white leg.
Alright, then. Lets take out the first before the second can get its bearings.
As I flew in at high speeds, I drew my blaster, thumbed the hammer down and squeezed the trigger, then repeating that twice more, sending a trio of telekinetic rounds down range. Flying forward made it a little harder to stay on target as the air-resistance exacerbated the recoil, but not enough to actually matter.
I was rewarded for all those hours spent in Nerf wars and airsoft when all three legs of the tripod were blown off at the knees in scarlet flashes of light. The massive, oval-like head fell to the ground like a dropped egg, shattering all over the tarmac in a gooey mess.
The second one was still emerging, and I waited for it to stand upright before also taking out its legs and letting the head drop and shatter into a million pieces like a fruit falling from its tree.
...was that it? Come on, this is supposed to be an invasion! You brought air support and everything. I'm so disappointed.
My question was answered when I felt a cold chill hit the back of my head like a frost laser. I immediately sent my thrusters to maximum power, flying over a crimson beam. I turned in place and saw a quad of those flier, their bottom lens glowing with power.
Alright, out of those three lens-looking things, which one of those is the cockpit?
I took aim and fired at the first flier, trying to hit it's laser cannon dead on, and I don't miss.
It immediately banked to the left, and fired it's own salvo of scarlet blasts.
But they can dodge, can't they?
I flew backward, performing a barrel roll, successfully, circling the energy blasts as they passed me. I looked down behind me and fired off a few blasts and they fliers banked and scurried.
Doing a corkscrew in the air to face downward, I immediately saw that a third walker had emerged from the asteroid. Like shooting fish in a barrel, a trio of blasts destroyed the trio of knees, making for a third, giant, scrambled egg on the runway.
Pulling up at just the right moment, I found myself flying barely a foot over the ground, careening forward like a meat missile. After dodging a flatbed with a lot of luggage piled on it, I pulled back up, banking hard to the right and coming face to face with a flier.
Finding myself in a blizzard pillar courtesy of my danger sense, I pulled over, doing another barrel roll around the thing's burst of red death. I just wanted to find out which one of the two remaining lenses were the cockpit.
I won the game of chicken when my kinetic bubble let me stick to the flier. Immediately, I got an answer to my question; through the opaque ruby lens on the upper right, I saw the opaque outline of an alien flying this thing.
Thanks for contributing to Cloud Guard's knowledge! Have a bullet.
The bolt burned a hole straight through cockpit and immediately the flier took a nose dive. I got off before it could complete it's fiery crash onto the tarmac.
One one, two to go.
A chill flowed over my skin. I deactivated the kinetic bubble and thrusters, dropping, the red glow of their weapons salvos illuminating my boots as I did do. Up above, the twin fighters passed each other with razor precision, only inches between them.
Turning both my gadgets on, I did a small corkscrew as I continued my rapid descent toward the ground. Behind me, the aliens followed, their own crafts silent as they careened through the air after me. An aileron roll, where I turned in place while rocketing forward, kept me from getting shot through as they fired, as they had anticipated a barrel roll instead.
I dove through the destroyed head of one of the walkers, there being a hole just large enough for me to slip through between the main body and a relatively intact piece laying on the ground. Then I rose up and did a corkscrew to dodge a group of scarlet shots determined to end my superhero career before it even began.
Looking back, I aimed my pistol and fired as they were firing at me, sending a bolt right through one of their cockpits, causing it to fall to the ground and crash in a fiery pile of rubble.
Just one more to go!
I cut the thrusters and let my bubble bring me to a stop, causing the fighter to shoot past me, then I activated my cloaking device.
One of the issues with the cloak is that it doesn't do anything to hide my thrusters' azure exhaust, making it look like a blue light was flying through the air instead of me, rending the cloak moot. I couldn't go very fast, in other words, with it on.
The alien ahead of me pitched up until he was facing back toward me and did an aileron to right himself. I aimed and fired, sending a bolt through the cockpit and sending him to join his partners smeared on the tarmac in flaming ruin.
I was breathing heavily, but my mouth was spread into the widest smile I think I've ever had.
There should've been fear. Perhaps terror. This was stressful, far more stress than I've ever had, but I was calm. That means that, with my maxed out Psychology skill, the mental preparations I've been doing since then have done their job. There was no cowering or whimpering, no sadness or overpowering urge to flee.
Only the game.
I was finally playing.
And I was good.
I descended down to the tarmac, where I was met by airport security, the paramilitary organization entrusted with the safety of this place. Their rifles were tightly gripped as adrenaline coursed through their veins, but they weren't pointed at me, so that was a good sign.
"Is everyone alright?" I asked, looking around the airport. I really wished I had room to include a sensor suite, but the mind-link capability took up everything this helmet could do for me.
"We've got a couple wounded taking cover back there." Hey, it's Officer Brown! Malcolm Brown, if I remember right. He was pointing with his thumb back to the airport and honestly, it was kind of nice to see him again, even if he wouldn't recognize me through the mask. "Who are you supposed to be?"
Disguise Check Success: 33/30.
"Call me Cloud Guard," I told him, holstering my pistol so I could unfold the Healer Laser. Armor wouldn't let me unfold the latter while the former was out of its holster. Safety precaution, you know? Couldn't afford a mix up. "I can help the wounded, if you'd lead the way."
"Gotcha," Malcolm replied. He turned to one of the other officers, his voice sounding ragged and barely held together. "Hey, Pedro?"
"Go ahead," one of the other guys, a Latino-sounding man replied with a nod. There was a relief to his voice, something a little bit deeper than because combat simply stopped. "Be fast, though. Don't know if its actually over or if they're regrouping."
"Won't take any time at all," I replied, following after Officer Brown.
The Airport's runway was in shambled. The meteor with its trio of craters where the walkers had emerged from was still smoking, almost darkening the already darkened night sky to a pitch black. We walked past one of the walkers, it's sheer size apparent to me now that I wasn't looking down on it from above. Milky white slime had pooled like an oil-spill around the wreckage. The cheesy pieces of debris were scattered across the tarmac like shattered glass.
These aliens used bio-technology. I wonder how it works? Also, how does it smell? I had a rebreather and a vacuum sealed costume so I couldn't smell anything outside of my suit but if I had to guess, either like spoiled fruit or a rotten egg. Maybe a mix.
We arrived at that flatbed I had passed earlier, and found a trio of officers. One with a white, blood stained bandage tied around his bicep, another was holding their leg. The last was a woman, holding her helmet in her hands, which had a large whole burned through it. On her forehead was a third degree burn.
"I can help," I said. "You won't be able to move for a few seconds, but after that, you'd never guess there was anything wrong. May I patch you all up?"
The three officers gave me nods and soft affirmatives, their exhaustion leaving them with little strength to speak.
The laser unfolded with the crisp snapping of mechanical parts finding their place. The handle had a pair of triggers, the first, larger one was for the telekinetic portion, good for holding people in place and setting bones to prevent them from healing wrong. I pulled that trigger, engulfing the first officer in blue light emitting from the lens on the bottom of the handle. It was then that the second trigger was enabled, which I squeezed, sending a current of golden light to him. It should only take a few seconds...there.
"Alright, how do you feel?" I asked.
"Better!" He said, standing up. "Way better! It was kind of freaky at first but yeah! All patched up."
"Good," I said. I hadn't actually experienced Loh Radiation first hand, so I don't know how it feels. Maybe warm, with some pins and needles? "If you'll stand aside?"
He did, letting me get to the second one. The telekinesis adjusted his leg somewhat, I saw. I imagine that hurt, but he was held in place, so he couldn't wince if wanted too. Once that was done, I sent the Loh Radiation down to them and waited. His expression was invisible behind his helmet. Three...two...one…
"Can you stand?" I asked.
"I think so!" He said, sounding more lively. Then he did. Effortlessly. "Wow! That was amazing! Set my leg and adjusted my spine! How does that thing work?"
"Magic," I replied with a smirk, immediately realizing that I could actually market the healing laser to hospitals or even homes once I figured out how to emulate the Loh Radiation with technology. "Ma'am, are you ready?"
Her words were barely audible. "Just do it."
The laser sheathed her in blue. After a moment for everything to settle, I sent the current of gold down to her and it was amazing to watch it work. The burn started to disappear right in front of our eyes and her eyes started to widen in excitement. I counted down the seconds. "Alright, how does that feel!"
"Holy cow!" She said, standing and picking up her rifle. Grinning from ear to ear, she continued, "I thought I was going to die and you...you just saved me."
She walked forward and kissed my helmet where my cheek was, causing my cheeks to feel warm and fuzzy.
"Thanks, ma'am. Glad to be of help."
Malcolm spoke up, almost sounding awed. "Where you were a year ago?"
"No kidding!" The officer who had the broken leg said.
"Getting ready," I said, smirking.
At the edge of my hearing, there was a person loudly and quickly shoving their way toward me. Turning, I saw that it was a blonde woman in a coat and thick, winter pants, hefting a microphone and trailed by a guy also in winter gear, keeping the camera mounted on his shoulder trained on me.
"Excuse me, sir! Devon Smith, with Channel 9! Would you please offer a comment?" She asked as she drew close. "First off, who are you?"
Then she practically shoved that microphone in my face. "Call me Cloud Guard."
"Where did this alien invasion come from?" She asked rapidly, before, again, aggressively thrusting that mic in my face.
"Space," I replied, my smirk returning. Some of the officers behind me chuckled.
Devon got flustered. "Well, okay, but do you know how they've managed to land on earth without any of our deep space security measures being able to detect them?"
Mic in face.
"I do not."
"Why has our own military failed to deal with the invaders?" Devon demanded. "Why haven't they arrived here in Sky Peak?"
"Presumably, because our nukes were disarmed to appease a bunch of third world, backwater dictators," I said, arching an eyebrow beneath my helmet. "And Red Mountain's military strong holds are either up in the mountains or down in Red Mountain Springs. My best guess is that they're circling the wagons."
"But you don't know," Devon pressed.
"I do not."
"Are you with the military?"
"I am not."
"What is your real name?"
"No comment. Also, that's quite rude, Ms. Smith."
Again, she was put on the back foot. "Well, are you native to Sky Peak?"
"I live here," I said, the air taking on an unnatural chill. "You should get to safety before something else happens."
Devon brought the mic back to her, smiling in excitement and relief. "One more question. Do you truly believe we have a chance at stopping them?"
I looked around at the walker's corpse behind me, placing my hand on my holstered weapon. "Yeah, I think so."
"What-" She was cut off by the sharp sound of a cracking explosion.
Immediately, I turned around. The asteroid which had since been dormant had cracked open like a coconut. Stretching out from the broken stone were black tentacles which looked like they were reaching out from the abyss to pull down the sky. Dark clouds, cracking with electricity, were rising with them.
"Devon Smith with a development," Devon started from behind me. "Having just concluded an interview with Cloud Guard, Sky Peak's new hero, the meteor which initially crashed here at the airport has exploded, revealing alien appendages. Wait, what are they doing?"
The tentacles started to solidify into a structure. A curvy, alien structure with bizarre architecture. Split into two levels, connected by a lopsided, large trunk and two significantly smaller needles. On the bottom layer, a massive drill emerged, and started pounding the ground. Twin scarlet lungs with black veins began pumping. Out the top were streams of dark clouds, lightning coursing through them.
Out from the structure came streaming humanoid figures, except it was like they didn't have skin. White veins with black nerve endings and their heads were amoebic. There were at least fifty or sixty of them and they were hefting dark rifles.
"Get down!" I shouted, drawing my pistol which caused my healer to automatically retract. I fanned the hammer taking down five with perfectly placed head shots, causing them to fall to the floor as black and white puddles.
My danger sense, which I really need to give a proper name, gave me a chill right where my head was and I tilted to the right, allowing a laser blast to pass harmlessly to my left. Turning the bubble on, I started ascending.
Below me, airport security immediately got back to work, taking cover and shooting when they could. Their bullets rang through the air, as did the scarlet lasers returning the favor.
Okay, game plan. Pop the lungs on the first level to slow down their plans to blot out the sky. Then, enter into the first level and do a full dungeon clear and try to learn anything I can. Technology specs, communications, whatever. Then, disable the pollution factory permanently, either by ruining its internals or targeting the structural weak points connecting the first and second levels.
Also, kill every alien invader I see. This is war, not law enforcement.
With that done, I rolled my shoulders, turned on my thrusters and rocketed forward to my first ever dungeon crawl.
...I'm so excited.
---
Author's Note: FINALLY! We've gotten to the action! Holy cow! For those of you who have actually watched the first arc of Justice League recently, you'll know that it's a little early for the factories to start running. See, their initial plan is to use the walkers to soften resistance and then, when the area is secure, deploy the factory.
However, our boy Cloud Guard here ruined that plan by completely outclassing the relatively immobile weapons platforms with obvious weak points. Then once the fliers were down, they activated the factory early as a last ditch effort before this part of the invasion fails completely.
Hope you enjoyed! I know I did.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
Last edited:
Chapter 9 - Up in Smoke
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
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The following is a fan-based work of fiction. Justice League and Justice League Unlimited are all owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros. Animation. Please support the official release.
---
The hail of blaster fire got much, much harder to avoid as I got closer to the smog factory. The walls of guns was extraordinarily angry with me in particular, as most of their destructive wrath was channeled into the sky. It was a pretty hairy, but a fun 'bullet-hell' segment that I honestly wasn't expecting to encounter nor navigate successfully in an RPG of all things. Even through my armor's temperature regulation, I could feel the heat of the bolts as they whizzed past me en masse.
It was fine with me, in all honesty. Down on the ground, airport security was getting it's licks in, avenging anyone whose lost their lives tonight. For me, I was only able to take a shot every now and again in between dodging and twirling around masses of fire, streaking through the air like demonic schools of flying fish.
I found an opening, a lull in fire as the aliens started diverting attention to the security forces on the ground. If I could feel the heat of their weapons fire through my suit, I could only imagine what the normal guys are going through. So, I drew my pistol and fanned the hammer. Ten shots, ten kills in short order.
Eyes up here, jerks.
The aliens looked back up at me and then they started to retreat, running back into the massive, alien structure pumping storm and smog into the air. I dove after them, only for the very entrance to shrink and disappear from view, leaving only a solid wall.
Alright, then.
Tempted to just rip a hole in the wall and chase after them, but I could do better.
I flew around to the giant heart on the first segment of this great factory, twin scarlet pumps with black veins pumping in an easy, steady cadence to create dark clouds to block the sky. Searching with my fingers, I couldn't find a seam where the pump met the walls of the structure.
Thought about just plunging a knife-hand straight into the pump and tearing it open that way, but I thought about what would happen if it was tougher than me. Broken fingers were not something I wanted to ever experience.
But I've got healing powers so, I'll just have to bite the bullet.
Waiting for this half to be collapsed and empty, I plunged a knife-hand into the pump, finding the wall to have the same consistency and feel of muscle fibers, almost like steak. It was thick enough that it took my whole hand to grip it in it's entirety. I pulled, pushing out from the air and tearing the entire pump out of the socket. When I was done, I tossed my prize down on the runway.
Some bits of fleshy pump remained in the socket, but on the inside were pipes going inward. The other pump had stopped working, having inflated and remained the way. I rocketed forward, bringing my fists together and stabbing through the steel walls of the pipe like a harpoon.
Immediately, I found myself in a darker structure. Twin aliens were inside and with startled yelps, they collapsed at seeing my arrival. Their amoebic faces betrayed no emotion to me and I started to believe that they expressed emotion or other communication in ways other than facial expressions.
The aliens reached inside their own chests and each pulled out a black and white rifle. They both aimed at me, the red lenses glowing with power.
Draw, shoot, shoot, holster. Both the aliens collapsed into oozing puddles of black and white goo, having lost the ability to hold themselves together. With them taken care of, I surveyed the room I had found myself in.
It was dark, with little natural lighting. The walls seemed to curve and wave as if they were made of out coral. Next to the exit I made in the pipe was a control panel. The interface was like nothing I had ever seen, circular with red, circular lights of various sizes dotting it like stars in a constellation.
It seemed more like an abstract art piece than a command console. I fiddled with it, pressed the lights and tried to run my fingers over it, but got nowhere. So, I carefully pinched and tore a hole in its chassis with my two index fingers, hopefully without breaking anything important, to see if looking at its internals would provide a hint as to how it functions.
Inside, I found a mess of wires and components. Alien in make and origin, obviously, looking more like wands and tentacles instead of electrical circuits. If I had to hazard a guess, the aliens have some psychic ability, but the actual nature of that psychic ability is beyond my understanding for now.
Not entirely sure how I can jury rig this console to work for me. Even if I could, how would I know what the console is supposed to do? I'm getting nowhere fast, time to move on.
Annoyed that I was no closer to cracking their technology than before, I stood up and placed my fingers on the console, trying to focus my telekinetic power into the console. I knelt back down, checking to see if any of the internals were doing anything...and they were! One of the wands was lighting up orange. On the console itself, one of the lights turned on.
But trying to move my fingers along the console did nothing and the wand stopped glowing.
Hm.
Okay, figuring out their technology was going to be a challenge. It can be done, though! Lots of questions just waiting to be answered. If I can figure out how their weapons change form, or how this factory was assembled from those tentacles, maybe I could apply that to the rest of my gear, which would make changing in and out of costume a literal breeze.
The Chill, that I just decided to name my danger sense, breezed across my skin through the wall behind me. I turned and drew my pistol right as it opened, letting a trio of aliens in to shoot me. Shot one, jumped up over their attacks and shot another as I landed and planted a solid kick in the third's torso.
I was shocked, though, when it literally deformed into a standing puddle and reformed on the outside of my kick. He aimed his rifle at my head, but I was faster and put it down with a head shot from my pistol.
What in the world? Was not expecting shape-shifting abilities.
I mean, they were amoebic, so it wasn't like it was impossible.
...why do I get the feeling that's going to be important later?
Anyway, fisticuffs are a bad idea. Need specialized weapons to deal with these things. Right now, that's my pistol and only my pistol. I'll have to figure out other weapons later.
Speaking of weapons, I knelt down and picked up one of their black rifles and examined it for a moment. It didn't have a visible trigger or any sights that I could identify. The weapon trembled for a moment in my hand before loudly and almost violently snapping into a dark ball with white veins covering its surface, broken up by the occasional red node.
Handy. I pocketed it for study and moved on.
The hole in the wall was still open, and walking through it brought me to a multi-layered maze of wavy catwalks and porous gantries. It was barely lit with a soft violet light, the source of which I couldn't identify but it seemed to course through the walls like thick, gooey blood.
However, I didn't have any trouble seeing the white, amoebic-humanoid aliens who I now strongly suspected were bio-luminescent as they took positions all around the room. I flew up, taking cover behind a support beam that reminded me of gum stretched between two fingers.
I engaged my cloaking device and flew up, leaving them to shoot the beam I had been taking cover behind to pieces. When they saw I wasn't there, some of them pointed down the hole in the wall where I had come from.
Sneak Check Success: 100/55.
Silently floating through the coral-like structure, I immediately ran into a problem when I had crested the top of a bridge. To the right was a large column with a control panel mounted on it. After a fed moments of observation, it opened up on all sides by itself, no visible seams or anything for the walls to slide into; it was as if the architecture warped to meet the needs of its occupants.
Out of the column walked a pair of the aliens, hefting black rifles, then the column shut, leaving no entrance. I could hear them speaking to each other in their language, which sounded like the syllables had been electronically mixed up and blended in nonsensical means. Down below, other aliens were moving in twos, moving quickly but carefully, their heads moving all around; they had started a search.
That was clearly the elevator to the second section. There was no way for me to open it, I had no idea if it really was just telekinetically operated or if there was a genetic lock on it too. The problem with stealth in real life is that you're on a timer. My cloak will only hold until someone notices my silhouette, which is faint, but there.
Biology Check Success: 100/25.
The aliens are speaking, so they aren't telepathic and they're holding their weapons, so they aren't telekinetic either. Which means their interfaces are keyed into their unique biology, likely some form of shape-shifting, and I don't have that key.
That means the quiet approach is out of the question. I looked down and around, circling the elevator shaft to get a count of how many aliens there were. Let's see...thirty. Thirty by my count and more are in the halls around the room. Okay. Well.
To make this easier on me, I needed to drive them out of their facility where I can deny them the home field advantage of magically changing and warping terrain. If I can't get anywhere through stealth, I'll have to handle this from the outside.
With no more reason to stick around here, I dove down and fled back through the wall I had come through and saw that a pair of aliens were currently using their hands to close the hole I made in the pipe somehow. It was like magic, they were massaging the pipes, their fingers pulsing like a heartbeat over the surface and the steel just closed on its own.
Wow.
Having forgone the quiet option, I just dove back through the pipe once again, ripping through steel like a bullet. I came face to face with the pump that was slowly starting to close up again as I dove through it.
Okay, well, the pump getting repaired seemed bad, but it wasn't going to matter in a second. I de-cloaked and rocketed up toward the structural support beams which were were a little thicker than my entire body, both of them. With a well placed kick put a dent and knocked some of the steel loose, which I grabbed and flew around the support, tearing out the steel and leaving a gap in the support, exposing a wet, spongy core. A kick toward the lower half knocked the support into two pieces, sending it to the ground.
Oh, that's surprisingly easy. Good!
I flew to the next support and repeated the process. As the second support stopped working, I could hear the building start to creek. With screaming thrusters, I rocketed toward the central pillar, coming to one side and kicking it, causing it to dent. Driving my knee into it finally allowed the steel to come apart, giving me something to grip, and I did.
Flying around, stripping the steel like the plastic guard on the cap of a gallon of milk, I started to hear the steel creaking like a groaning titan who didn't feel so good anymore. Cracks started to emerge in the steel like a rapidly growing spider-web and bits were going flying. With screaming thrusters and a grin on my face, I rocketed up to the second floor on the opposite side and tackled it with a shoulder charge, trying to force it in the direction of the weakened supports.
Health: 99%.
My shoulder throbbed, but I got ready for another charge anyway and launched forward, the force of my impact against the steel, trying to push it instead of pierce through it rattled through my entire frame, causing my bones to shake, but I got up and got ready to do it again.
Health: 98%.
With a final, thunderous impact, the top floor with its non-functioning smoke-stacks toppled onto the first floor and then slid off to the left, landing onto the corpse of a walker, squishing it like curdled milk. The top floor itself broke in half, spilling most of its contents onto the runway.
Wincing at the volume of the impact, I dove down to get a closer, better look at the wreckage. The inside was filled with bridges and platforms, each broken with pieces raining to the floor. Dust clouds had filled the runway, making it difficult to see.
Carefully, I descended into the wreckage, my pistol at the ready. As the dust cleared, I got sight of my milky white targets. They had been thrown around by the collapse and were scrambling to get back to their feet, while the walls and floors were decorated with the black and white slime pools that were their fellows corpses. Some were already standing and had weapons, so they were my first targets. Draw, shoot, shoot…
As I fired on them, the aliens started to run. The only ones who avoided a surprise meeting with their maker are the ones who quickly found cover, but I circled around overhead, my jetpack carrying me screaming through the air like a falcon on crack.
I fanned the hammer of my blaster, firing on them even as they returned fire at me. Dodging the scarlet blasts was easy as the Chill warned me when they had drawn a bead on me and needed to duck or jump. By my count, there were twenty aliens on this floor
The second floor was obviously where a majority of the action happened. I found myself looking at some kind of stasis field with some kind of walnut-shaped crystal the size of my head floating in the center. The stasis field, a red energy bubble, flickered and died, leaving me to catch the crystal.
Well. This was obviously important. But I didn't have anywhere to store the thing. This is one of those times where I wished a had a more video game-y inventory system where things just disappeared into an invisible sack to be retrieved at will.
...I'll ask airport security to hang onto it for me.
With a turn, my thrusters carried me from the ruins and I arced down and landed on the tarmac next to a group of gathered security officers. Malcolm was among them. "Hey, Cloud Guard! Nice work taking that thing out!"
The Chill came back, like a cloud of cold fog on a snowy day and it was coming from the first floor. "Get down and hold onto this for me."
As I handed him the crystal, the first floor opened and out poured laser fire. I returned that fire, taking out one, two, three aliens in quick succession as they took cover. Airport security did like wise, taking cover and firing on them, though with much less success.
I took off, heading for the massive opening the collapse had left for me on the top. Looking down, I recognized the bridge where the elevator was from earlier, the collapse had ripped the shaft right out, leaving me a fantastic perch from which to snipe aliens.
When I landed, I saw a mob of these things. There had to have been fifty of them, crowding around the entrance, taking shots. So, I re-cloaked myself and started taking shots. Immediately, it was confusion. Blaster bolts went up into the air throughout the structure, but few actually went in my direction.
At least, at first, as I approached taking out ten, the Chill started to get much stronger and I found myself leaping down from my perch as the swarm of bolts suddenly filled my position.
How did they-? Oh, they saw my muzzle flare. Right, that makes sense.
One of the aliens grabbed a cylindrical device and chucked it. From my lower vantage point, I saw a smoke screen had been deployed. Immediately, the aliens, with their garbled, distorted language, started running out of the factory at breakneck speed. One tripped and fell, leaving him an easy target I immediately shot, causing him to fall into a puddle.
I chased after them and...saw the aliens had made a mad dash for the airport, running through double doors to get inside. They were shooting at the security forces shooting at them as they retreated from one foxhole to another.
No! No, no, no, no! No, not in there! Not in the airport! Get back here! That's not – there's people in there! You can't go in there!
Crap!
I should've expected this. I should've known that when their base got compromised they'd just move but no, I was just thinking about how easy shooting fish in a barrel would be! Of all the idiotic strategic blunders I could've made it, it had to be that one!
Flying forward, I arrived at the double doors. They were transparent and the invaders started shooting at me, even though I was cloaked, their red bolts carving through the doors like hot knives through butter.
Taking cover out of their sight picture, I looked around and saw that they weren't shooting at me, there was a security officer behind me. With a single, great stride, I was at his side. It wasn't Malcolm, but given how many holes had been burned through his body by the storm of scarlet projectiles that he was dead.
I let out a deep breath.
This felt like my fault.
I'm the one who chased the aliens from their bunker and I'm the one who couldn't stop them from fleeing to the airport and then this guy chased after them and paid the price.
Yeah, I didn't tell him to chase after them, but the thought wouldn't have even crossed his mind if I was smart and made sure they stayed in their fish bowl as I started shooting. But if I don't keep it together, this death will be the first of many.
When I was going through here last time, I noticed that the windows were always open. Birds tended to fly in and out as they pleased and I even noticed an old lady feeding them birdseed as she sat on the bench.
So I'll just head up there since the front door is being guarded.
I flew up, my thrusters deactivated to avoid making noise and found one such window, propped open, giving me a good view into the terminal, looking at the large staircase going up where a trio of aliens were watching the entrance, each crouched behind cover, such as a pillar or stone plant base. No, four. I count a fourth one, on top of the stairs and aiming down sights.
Draw, fan the hammer, holster. All four were down.
Time to hunt down the rest.
---
Author's Note: The plot thickens! You know I initially wasn't going to use the whole 'structural vulnerabilities' idea to beat the aliens since it almost undermines the plot of the original episode; why infiltrate the factory if you can just take it apart from the outside. But then, I realized that I really enjoyed it and I didn't think Jacob would like going through an enemy installation if he didn't have to. So...here we are.
Not sure how the plot's going to change. In the original episode, the League was split into teams for the purpose of recovering that walnut-shaped crystal Jacob asked Malcolm to hold onto for the moment. Not entirely sure why, but I think it's because if you reverse the polarity on it, it does a cool blue-beam into the sky and destroys the storm clouds the aliens are trying to make.
I wasn't entirely sure when Batman got the time to create an ion-reversal gadget, but then after watching the show a few times, there's a time-skip implied in between his 'en-deadening' and the final confrontation, so that's when.
But if they don't have to go into the factory's...no, wait, I got it. We're good. Even answers my original question; why infiltrate the factories? I got an answer.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
---
The hail of blaster fire got much, much harder to avoid as I got closer to the smog factory. The walls of guns was extraordinarily angry with me in particular, as most of their destructive wrath was channeled into the sky. It was a pretty hairy, but a fun 'bullet-hell' segment that I honestly wasn't expecting to encounter nor navigate successfully in an RPG of all things. Even through my armor's temperature regulation, I could feel the heat of the bolts as they whizzed past me en masse.
It was fine with me, in all honesty. Down on the ground, airport security was getting it's licks in, avenging anyone whose lost their lives tonight. For me, I was only able to take a shot every now and again in between dodging and twirling around masses of fire, streaking through the air like demonic schools of flying fish.
I found an opening, a lull in fire as the aliens started diverting attention to the security forces on the ground. If I could feel the heat of their weapons fire through my suit, I could only imagine what the normal guys are going through. So, I drew my pistol and fanned the hammer. Ten shots, ten kills in short order.
Eyes up here, jerks.
The aliens looked back up at me and then they started to retreat, running back into the massive, alien structure pumping storm and smog into the air. I dove after them, only for the very entrance to shrink and disappear from view, leaving only a solid wall.
Alright, then.
Tempted to just rip a hole in the wall and chase after them, but I could do better.
I flew around to the giant heart on the first segment of this great factory, twin scarlet pumps with black veins pumping in an easy, steady cadence to create dark clouds to block the sky. Searching with my fingers, I couldn't find a seam where the pump met the walls of the structure.
Thought about just plunging a knife-hand straight into the pump and tearing it open that way, but I thought about what would happen if it was tougher than me. Broken fingers were not something I wanted to ever experience.
But I've got healing powers so, I'll just have to bite the bullet.
Waiting for this half to be collapsed and empty, I plunged a knife-hand into the pump, finding the wall to have the same consistency and feel of muscle fibers, almost like steak. It was thick enough that it took my whole hand to grip it in it's entirety. I pulled, pushing out from the air and tearing the entire pump out of the socket. When I was done, I tossed my prize down on the runway.
Some bits of fleshy pump remained in the socket, but on the inside were pipes going inward. The other pump had stopped working, having inflated and remained the way. I rocketed forward, bringing my fists together and stabbing through the steel walls of the pipe like a harpoon.
Immediately, I found myself in a darker structure. Twin aliens were inside and with startled yelps, they collapsed at seeing my arrival. Their amoebic faces betrayed no emotion to me and I started to believe that they expressed emotion or other communication in ways other than facial expressions.
The aliens reached inside their own chests and each pulled out a black and white rifle. They both aimed at me, the red lenses glowing with power.
Draw, shoot, shoot, holster. Both the aliens collapsed into oozing puddles of black and white goo, having lost the ability to hold themselves together. With them taken care of, I surveyed the room I had found myself in.
It was dark, with little natural lighting. The walls seemed to curve and wave as if they were made of out coral. Next to the exit I made in the pipe was a control panel. The interface was like nothing I had ever seen, circular with red, circular lights of various sizes dotting it like stars in a constellation.
It seemed more like an abstract art piece than a command console. I fiddled with it, pressed the lights and tried to run my fingers over it, but got nowhere. So, I carefully pinched and tore a hole in its chassis with my two index fingers, hopefully without breaking anything important, to see if looking at its internals would provide a hint as to how it functions.
Inside, I found a mess of wires and components. Alien in make and origin, obviously, looking more like wands and tentacles instead of electrical circuits. If I had to hazard a guess, the aliens have some psychic ability, but the actual nature of that psychic ability is beyond my understanding for now.
Not entirely sure how I can jury rig this console to work for me. Even if I could, how would I know what the console is supposed to do? I'm getting nowhere fast, time to move on.
Annoyed that I was no closer to cracking their technology than before, I stood up and placed my fingers on the console, trying to focus my telekinetic power into the console. I knelt back down, checking to see if any of the internals were doing anything...and they were! One of the wands was lighting up orange. On the console itself, one of the lights turned on.
But trying to move my fingers along the console did nothing and the wand stopped glowing.
Hm.
Okay, figuring out their technology was going to be a challenge. It can be done, though! Lots of questions just waiting to be answered. If I can figure out how their weapons change form, or how this factory was assembled from those tentacles, maybe I could apply that to the rest of my gear, which would make changing in and out of costume a literal breeze.
The Chill, that I just decided to name my danger sense, breezed across my skin through the wall behind me. I turned and drew my pistol right as it opened, letting a trio of aliens in to shoot me. Shot one, jumped up over their attacks and shot another as I landed and planted a solid kick in the third's torso.
I was shocked, though, when it literally deformed into a standing puddle and reformed on the outside of my kick. He aimed his rifle at my head, but I was faster and put it down with a head shot from my pistol.
What in the world? Was not expecting shape-shifting abilities.
I mean, they were amoebic, so it wasn't like it was impossible.
...why do I get the feeling that's going to be important later?
Anyway, fisticuffs are a bad idea. Need specialized weapons to deal with these things. Right now, that's my pistol and only my pistol. I'll have to figure out other weapons later.
Speaking of weapons, I knelt down and picked up one of their black rifles and examined it for a moment. It didn't have a visible trigger or any sights that I could identify. The weapon trembled for a moment in my hand before loudly and almost violently snapping into a dark ball with white veins covering its surface, broken up by the occasional red node.
Handy. I pocketed it for study and moved on.
The hole in the wall was still open, and walking through it brought me to a multi-layered maze of wavy catwalks and porous gantries. It was barely lit with a soft violet light, the source of which I couldn't identify but it seemed to course through the walls like thick, gooey blood.
However, I didn't have any trouble seeing the white, amoebic-humanoid aliens who I now strongly suspected were bio-luminescent as they took positions all around the room. I flew up, taking cover behind a support beam that reminded me of gum stretched between two fingers.
I engaged my cloaking device and flew up, leaving them to shoot the beam I had been taking cover behind to pieces. When they saw I wasn't there, some of them pointed down the hole in the wall where I had come from.
Sneak Check Success: 100/55.
Silently floating through the coral-like structure, I immediately ran into a problem when I had crested the top of a bridge. To the right was a large column with a control panel mounted on it. After a fed moments of observation, it opened up on all sides by itself, no visible seams or anything for the walls to slide into; it was as if the architecture warped to meet the needs of its occupants.
Out of the column walked a pair of the aliens, hefting black rifles, then the column shut, leaving no entrance. I could hear them speaking to each other in their language, which sounded like the syllables had been electronically mixed up and blended in nonsensical means. Down below, other aliens were moving in twos, moving quickly but carefully, their heads moving all around; they had started a search.
That was clearly the elevator to the second section. There was no way for me to open it, I had no idea if it really was just telekinetically operated or if there was a genetic lock on it too. The problem with stealth in real life is that you're on a timer. My cloak will only hold until someone notices my silhouette, which is faint, but there.
Biology Check Success: 100/25.
The aliens are speaking, so they aren't telepathic and they're holding their weapons, so they aren't telekinetic either. Which means their interfaces are keyed into their unique biology, likely some form of shape-shifting, and I don't have that key.
That means the quiet approach is out of the question. I looked down and around, circling the elevator shaft to get a count of how many aliens there were. Let's see...thirty. Thirty by my count and more are in the halls around the room. Okay. Well.
To make this easier on me, I needed to drive them out of their facility where I can deny them the home field advantage of magically changing and warping terrain. If I can't get anywhere through stealth, I'll have to handle this from the outside.
With no more reason to stick around here, I dove down and fled back through the wall I had come through and saw that a pair of aliens were currently using their hands to close the hole I made in the pipe somehow. It was like magic, they were massaging the pipes, their fingers pulsing like a heartbeat over the surface and the steel just closed on its own.
Wow.
Having forgone the quiet option, I just dove back through the pipe once again, ripping through steel like a bullet. I came face to face with the pump that was slowly starting to close up again as I dove through it.
Okay, well, the pump getting repaired seemed bad, but it wasn't going to matter in a second. I de-cloaked and rocketed up toward the structural support beams which were were a little thicker than my entire body, both of them. With a well placed kick put a dent and knocked some of the steel loose, which I grabbed and flew around the support, tearing out the steel and leaving a gap in the support, exposing a wet, spongy core. A kick toward the lower half knocked the support into two pieces, sending it to the ground.
Oh, that's surprisingly easy. Good!
I flew to the next support and repeated the process. As the second support stopped working, I could hear the building start to creek. With screaming thrusters, I rocketed toward the central pillar, coming to one side and kicking it, causing it to dent. Driving my knee into it finally allowed the steel to come apart, giving me something to grip, and I did.
Flying around, stripping the steel like the plastic guard on the cap of a gallon of milk, I started to hear the steel creaking like a groaning titan who didn't feel so good anymore. Cracks started to emerge in the steel like a rapidly growing spider-web and bits were going flying. With screaming thrusters and a grin on my face, I rocketed up to the second floor on the opposite side and tackled it with a shoulder charge, trying to force it in the direction of the weakened supports.
Health: 99%.
My shoulder throbbed, but I got ready for another charge anyway and launched forward, the force of my impact against the steel, trying to push it instead of pierce through it rattled through my entire frame, causing my bones to shake, but I got up and got ready to do it again.
Health: 98%.
With a final, thunderous impact, the top floor with its non-functioning smoke-stacks toppled onto the first floor and then slid off to the left, landing onto the corpse of a walker, squishing it like curdled milk. The top floor itself broke in half, spilling most of its contents onto the runway.
Wincing at the volume of the impact, I dove down to get a closer, better look at the wreckage. The inside was filled with bridges and platforms, each broken with pieces raining to the floor. Dust clouds had filled the runway, making it difficult to see.
Carefully, I descended into the wreckage, my pistol at the ready. As the dust cleared, I got sight of my milky white targets. They had been thrown around by the collapse and were scrambling to get back to their feet, while the walls and floors were decorated with the black and white slime pools that were their fellows corpses. Some were already standing and had weapons, so they were my first targets. Draw, shoot, shoot…
As I fired on them, the aliens started to run. The only ones who avoided a surprise meeting with their maker are the ones who quickly found cover, but I circled around overhead, my jetpack carrying me screaming through the air like a falcon on crack.
I fanned the hammer of my blaster, firing on them even as they returned fire at me. Dodging the scarlet blasts was easy as the Chill warned me when they had drawn a bead on me and needed to duck or jump. By my count, there were twenty aliens on this floor
The second floor was obviously where a majority of the action happened. I found myself looking at some kind of stasis field with some kind of walnut-shaped crystal the size of my head floating in the center. The stasis field, a red energy bubble, flickered and died, leaving me to catch the crystal.
Well. This was obviously important. But I didn't have anywhere to store the thing. This is one of those times where I wished a had a more video game-y inventory system where things just disappeared into an invisible sack to be retrieved at will.
...I'll ask airport security to hang onto it for me.
With a turn, my thrusters carried me from the ruins and I arced down and landed on the tarmac next to a group of gathered security officers. Malcolm was among them. "Hey, Cloud Guard! Nice work taking that thing out!"
The Chill came back, like a cloud of cold fog on a snowy day and it was coming from the first floor. "Get down and hold onto this for me."
As I handed him the crystal, the first floor opened and out poured laser fire. I returned that fire, taking out one, two, three aliens in quick succession as they took cover. Airport security did like wise, taking cover and firing on them, though with much less success.
I took off, heading for the massive opening the collapse had left for me on the top. Looking down, I recognized the bridge where the elevator was from earlier, the collapse had ripped the shaft right out, leaving me a fantastic perch from which to snipe aliens.
When I landed, I saw a mob of these things. There had to have been fifty of them, crowding around the entrance, taking shots. So, I re-cloaked myself and started taking shots. Immediately, it was confusion. Blaster bolts went up into the air throughout the structure, but few actually went in my direction.
At least, at first, as I approached taking out ten, the Chill started to get much stronger and I found myself leaping down from my perch as the swarm of bolts suddenly filled my position.
How did they-? Oh, they saw my muzzle flare. Right, that makes sense.
One of the aliens grabbed a cylindrical device and chucked it. From my lower vantage point, I saw a smoke screen had been deployed. Immediately, the aliens, with their garbled, distorted language, started running out of the factory at breakneck speed. One tripped and fell, leaving him an easy target I immediately shot, causing him to fall into a puddle.
I chased after them and...saw the aliens had made a mad dash for the airport, running through double doors to get inside. They were shooting at the security forces shooting at them as they retreated from one foxhole to another.
No! No, no, no, no! No, not in there! Not in the airport! Get back here! That's not – there's people in there! You can't go in there!
Crap!
I should've expected this. I should've known that when their base got compromised they'd just move but no, I was just thinking about how easy shooting fish in a barrel would be! Of all the idiotic strategic blunders I could've made it, it had to be that one!
Flying forward, I arrived at the double doors. They were transparent and the invaders started shooting at me, even though I was cloaked, their red bolts carving through the doors like hot knives through butter.
Taking cover out of their sight picture, I looked around and saw that they weren't shooting at me, there was a security officer behind me. With a single, great stride, I was at his side. It wasn't Malcolm, but given how many holes had been burned through his body by the storm of scarlet projectiles that he was dead.
I let out a deep breath.
This felt like my fault.
I'm the one who chased the aliens from their bunker and I'm the one who couldn't stop them from fleeing to the airport and then this guy chased after them and paid the price.
Yeah, I didn't tell him to chase after them, but the thought wouldn't have even crossed his mind if I was smart and made sure they stayed in their fish bowl as I started shooting. But if I don't keep it together, this death will be the first of many.
When I was going through here last time, I noticed that the windows were always open. Birds tended to fly in and out as they pleased and I even noticed an old lady feeding them birdseed as she sat on the bench.
So I'll just head up there since the front door is being guarded.
I flew up, my thrusters deactivated to avoid making noise and found one such window, propped open, giving me a good view into the terminal, looking at the large staircase going up where a trio of aliens were watching the entrance, each crouched behind cover, such as a pillar or stone plant base. No, four. I count a fourth one, on top of the stairs and aiming down sights.
Draw, fan the hammer, holster. All four were down.
Time to hunt down the rest.
---
Author's Note: The plot thickens! You know I initially wasn't going to use the whole 'structural vulnerabilities' idea to beat the aliens since it almost undermines the plot of the original episode; why infiltrate the factory if you can just take it apart from the outside. But then, I realized that I really enjoyed it and I didn't think Jacob would like going through an enemy installation if he didn't have to. So...here we are.
Not sure how the plot's going to change. In the original episode, the League was split into teams for the purpose of recovering that walnut-shaped crystal Jacob asked Malcolm to hold onto for the moment. Not entirely sure why, but I think it's because if you reverse the polarity on it, it does a cool blue-beam into the sky and destroys the storm clouds the aliens are trying to make.
I wasn't entirely sure when Batman got the time to create an ion-reversal gadget, but then after watching the show a few times, there's a time-skip implied in between his 'en-deadening' and the final confrontation, so that's when.
But if they don't have to go into the factory's...no, wait, I got it. We're good. Even answers my original question; why infiltrate the factories? I got an answer.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
Chapter 10 - Battle for the Airport
Fulcon
Working on a new project.
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The following is a fan-based work of fiction. Justice League and Justice League Unlimited are all owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros. Animation. Please support the official release.
---
It was at that moment that the door to the airport pushed open. The Chill was absent, but it took a moment to collect myself and not point my gun and shoot. It was Airport Security, soldiers marching in single file through the doors. Among them was Officer Brown, hefting my crystal.
"Hey, Cloud Guard," Officer Brown said, holding it up. "Can we stow this somewhere you can find it later? I got duties to get squared away."
I walked forward. "Is there a storage room?"
Also bursting through the doors was Devon and her camera man. "Cloud Guard! Can we get a comment on what it is you've asked Officer Brown to hold?"
...oh, the press drawing a bead on my loot-goblin tendencies is really bad. "It's an alien crystal and I found it at the heart of their factory. I'm convinced I can use it to undo the storm the factory made outside."
"What kind of facilities do you have that will allow you to study xenotechnology?" Devon asked before shoving that stupid microphone in my face as Officer Brown passed me the crystal and went off to join his squad.
An AI, advanced scanners and the best scientific skills you've ever seen. "No further comment, Ms. Smith."
I flew up the staircase, over airport security's heads. If I remember right, those necessary but obnoxious lines of scanners should be up this way, which includes the staff entrances.
Cloaking, I flew through the hall, I came to the auditorium with those necessary but obnoxious lines of scanners. And wouldn't you know it, there were aliens here. Four of them. Thumbing the hammer wasn't as fast as fanning it, but I was able to take them out before airport security reached the auditorium.
Where's the staff entrance? There!
Diving down, I holstered my pistol and opened the door with my free hand. Decloaking, I came to the same hallways I had found myself in when I first arrived at Sky Peak. This time, I took a little bit of time to explore and found a maintenance closet.
The closet was large, like a room unto itself, with shelves, multiple buckets on wheels, mops and other cleaning tools on racks. It even took a slight turn to the right and brought me to more shelves. At my feet was a box with a single spray bottle of cleaning solution. Perfect.
The crystal fit inside the box perfectly, and there was a roll of packing tape on one of the shelves which I used to seal the box shut. A black marker sourced from the same place let me draw an X on one of the sides. Then, I stuffed it in a corner with other boxes stacked on top of it, the X facing the wall to avoid attracting attention from the staff.
Okay, it's safe now.
Game, I hate that you made that quest. I really, really hate that you made that a quest. Makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when something secret like this becomes a quest.
Whatever, put it aside for now. We've got an airport to secure.
I left the maintenance closet and, after making sure no one was around to see, closed the door behind me. Re-cloaking, I flew over to the door that led back to the scanners, and opened it as softly and quietly as I could.
Sneak Check Success: 100/70.
The door could've been very loud if I wasn't smart enough turn the door handle super slowly to prevent the clicks from being audible and then turn it back manually to, again, prevent the clicks from being audible. I closed the door by turning the handle, pulling the nub inside the door to prevent it from snapping back into place as I closed the door.
Good thing I did, too, because Airport security was in the room, but they weren't looking at me. Trailing behind them was Devon and her camera man, where she was speaking to the camera and the angle of the camera was facing away from the door. Didn't need anyone to know where I had just set down my prize. At the moment of my triumph, I heard laser fire directly to my right. Past the scanners in the next room, a firefight was obviously taking place.
I flew over there, down the hall and to the right, where I saw airport security taking cover at each end of the entrance. Scarlet laser bolts where filling the entrance itself as the aliens were laying down suppressive fire.
Sticking close to the ceiling and waiting for the Chill to subside, I flew through the entrance, finding myself in the baggage claim. The aliens had taken shelter in the automatic transit system. The cars weren't moving for some reason, so the aliens were shooting at us from the cover of the car. Oh, and to make matters worse? They had hostages.
From my vantage point, I could see an overweight black woman, an old, frail white man and a Latina in the car, tied up and gagged with tape over their mouths. Not sure why they haven't tried to negotiate yet, but if this firefight kept up, we wouldn't be able to save them at all.
I de-cloaked before shooting this time to more easily aim with visible sights. Two head-shots at the aliens I could see was all it took to bring the firefight to a close.
...which was odd. Where were the rest of them?
Probably somewhere else in the baggage claim area? I mean, the place was huge, stretching out from one side to the other.
I dove down to the transit car and immediately, the Chill made itself known, hanging in the air like a snow frozen in time. Inside the car were seats built into the walls, leaving only a gap for the entrances on both sides. There were eight hostages, each tied up and thrown to the floor, gagged and tied up. The Chill had filled the car.
Something was very wrong.
The danger was omnipresent and I couldn't get a read on where it was. A bomb, maybe?
Immediately behind me, airport security arrived with their rifles, boots stepping in the puddles that were fallen invaders.
"Good shooting," Officer Brown beamed, patting me on the jetpack. "Man, Sky Peak's hit the jackpot with you, hasn't it?"
"Officer," I started, stopping myself from calling him Brown because as far as he knows, we haven't met yet. "Something's wrong. We need to get off the car."
"You got it," Pedro, their commanding officer said to me. "You heard him boys! Get these people off the car and on their way to safety! Move it!"
Some airport security stationed themselves outside of the car, standing guard. I could see Ms. Smith doing some more commentary on the battle for the airport. It was like that shark from before was back, swimming through the air and looking for something to consume.
Was it coming from the hostages?
I looked them over. All of them seemed perfectly normal, some older people, some younger people. The sexy Latina they had tied up would've been arousing if not for the fact that this was non-consensual and she had been in serious danger until we got here.
It couldn't be coming from the hostages, that's insane. They looked scared, relieved at security's presence, everything looked fine.
Then, the car doors shut and the transit started moving.
...oh crap.
Immediately, the ropes surrounding the hostages disappeared, and the Latina I had been trying not to admire punched the officer, who had been working to untie her, in the throat.
He was knocked on his back, legs kicking as he grasped at his throat with his hands. The car descended into chaos as the hostages turned out to be aliens who shape-shifted to lure us into a trap.
I deployed my laser. I said, I deployed my laser! Why won't it deploy?
With a frustrated growl, I holstered my blaster and actually deployed my laser, hitting the guy with a telekinetic field which reopened his throat, and then the Loh radiation fixed him up. Another guy had his arm snapped in half and I had to dodge around a grappling alien and officer to zap him and fix him up.
There was no way I would be able to use my blaster here. The car was too cramped and it would be way too easy to hit a friendly. But unfortunately, my maxed out melee skills were completely useless here because these things shrug off physical trauma like a fish shrugs off a squirt gun.
Well, almost useless. One of the aliens had lifted a security officer up, looking like he was about to rip his arm off, but a well placed kick to the stomach caused its body to deform and forced it to drop him.
Fists were flying all around and I had to alternate between running interference by disrupting the aliens amoebic bodies when it looked like they were gaining the upper hand and dodging around the melee to get a good angle on injured officers so I didn't accidentally zap an alien.
Airport security, however, was much more useful. Their gauntlets cracked with electricity with every swing and unlike my decidedly normal melee attacks, caused the aliens to cry out with distorted pain on every impact.
An officer's knee was kicked out. My telekinetic beam was able to throw the alien in question off of him, but slamming it into the wall did as little as I expected. A second later, the knee was straightened out and fixed up; you would never have known something was wrong.
As suddenly as it began, the final alien took an electrically charged fist to the head and splattered all over the floor and my boots.
I still felt the chill in the air, but it was significantly less present now.
"Great, these things are shapeshifters," Pedro said, taking his helmet off and wiping his brow, then replacing his helmet. "How long you think they've been infiltrating Earth?"
"I don't know, years maybe," Malcolm said. "Any ideas on where they came from?"
They were all looking at me. "I'm as much in the dark as anyone. What I do know is that we can win."
The Chill ramped up in intensity again, and I could see the transit car approaching an exit. "Take cover!"
I cloaked as security scrambled.
Sneak Check Success: 100/85.
When the car stopped and opened up, we came face to face with an alien firing line. From that firing line came a demand. "Step out of the car with your hands up and surrender. You will not be harmed."
A cursory examination revealed that the rest of the aliens were here, all with their weapons pointed directly at us. About thirty or so? Too many to take out before they could deal damage to me and while I could heal myself, fixing my armor was going to be an issue and time was of the essence.
"Fail to comply, and we'll detonate the bomb we've stowed on your transit car," the Alien continued, a sharp spike in cold confirming that they were telling the truth. "You have to the count of ten."
"They aren't lying," I whispered to them.
"One."
Malcolm hissed under his breath. "Damn."
"Two."
"Do what they say," Pedro said. "We'll trust Cloud Guard. Don't let us down, eh?"
"Three. Four."
"I got you," I assured them, the weight of the situation starting to pull down on my shoulders like a pack full of rocks.
"Five."
Pedro cleared his throat and stood up. "Okay! We're coming out!"
One by one, with their hands over their heads, each security officer walked out of the transit car. Behind them, I followed until I was out of the car, and then I walked off to the right. The group was shepherded off by a large armed escort and I followed, noting that about twelve of the aliens stayed behind to guard this part of the airport.
We went through a staff entrance, it being propped open by a door stop. After a few moments, we arrived at one of those meeting rooms with a large glass window. Very typical. On the inside, though? Not typical. There were these pods with people in them, like red sacs with black veins while the people themselves floated inside, their eyes closed like they were living a bad dream.
I recognized the people, actually! They were the disguises the aliens wore back in the transit car. Including the Latina, whose presence made me uncomfortable. Interesting, they need to capture people to take on their guises.
...which means I'm going to have to act soon.
Remaining outside the office, I watched as the alien commanded Pedro to stand in the empty, open sac.
There were six aliens in that office, two standing guard outside and four behind me watching the hallway intersection. Can I fire off twelve shots before they could fire on the hostages? We're about to find out.
I drew my pistol and fanned the hammer.
The six in the office went down in less than a second, then the two standing guard at the entrance. The chill warned me that I was about to get shot in the back, and I whirled to avoid their return fire, shooting four shots and only missing the one who dove behind cover instead of trying to hit a transparent target.
I leaped forward, staying in the air like a hovercraft as I crested the wall, taking another shot at the one who hid and then two more at the ones at the end of the hallway. Opposite them were four four more and I could see the ones left behind to guard the terminal outside were rushing for us.
Well, if they were going to bunch themselves up like that, I wasn't going to waste their kindness and generosity.
Shoot, shoot, shoot!
The four went down quickly, one of the shots pulling double duty and piercing two of them through. Turning on my thrusters, I rocketed out of the door and pulled sharply up, going too fast for them to follow and start shooting.
Some started taking cover behind pillars and railings, but I just circled around. I fired down on them like a storm of bullets, the red muzzle flare of my pistol being the only thing that would give me away. But by the time I needed to duck beneath a single, accurate shot, the aliens were down.
I landed and surveyed the battlefield. None of them were playing dead, and scorch marks from my attacks blackened the surfaces behind them. Took a deep breath, and turned to go find my erstwhile companions, decloaking as I went.
Winding up back at that meeting room, airport security had taken it upon themselves to get those people out of their sacs. The victims were unconscious and security was making sure they were alive.
I opened the door. "Hey, coast is clear. You should be free to grab your weapons now."
In spite of my well received declaration, this wasn't over. The quest hadn't updated, telling me that I had finished clearing the alien incursion from the airport, so we've got one single enemy remaining somewhere in this entire airport. We could be here for hours looking for the stupid thing and every second we waste is a second it could escape.
Man, I hate that!
"Thanks for the save," Malcolm said. "Hopefully we all make it through this, I owe you a drink."
"I appreciate the offer, but I don't drink," I said. The reason I didn't drink? Alcohol came with a stat penalty in addition to its buff and other drinks, like soda, had better buffs to begin with. Like root beer, which increased my effective stamina by fifteen percent. "Bad for flying, you know?"
He chuckled. "I hear you."
Pedro cleared his throat. "Alright, lets wrap this up. Now that we know these things can shape shift, I want all eyes peeled. Look for any more of these pods. Officer Brown, call for medical, I want these civilians out of my airport and away from the fighting."
Malcolm nodded. "Yes, sir."
He got on his radio, walking out of the office.
"Cloud Guard, we'd appreciate it if you stick with us for just a bit longer," Pedro continued, turning to me. "It's been a long night for all of us, but we've really appreciated your help and we could still use it."
"Hey, I'm here," I said, noting that my survival bars were all still green. Barely. No, the drink meter just turned yellow. "Is there a water fountain around here somewhere?"
"Yeah, there's one back out there," Pedro said, pointing to the terminal I had just cleared. "It's right on the left as you leave."
"Thank you," I said, walking out.
My helmet's front visor came apart at the center, letting me eat and drink without having to actually remove my helmet. The air felt cold against my lips and jaw as the vacuum seal over that part of my body was broken. The water fountain was still working, thankfully, I got my drink meter back to full. I found a vending machine and got myself some snacks to pump up my food meter. Nothing but a nap would recharge my sleep meter, though, so I wasn't in a position to do anything about that just yet.
As I finished the last chip in the bag, I closed my helmet, feeling the lower half of my face get warmer now that it was back under climate control.
"Excuse me?" I turned around and saw an old woman. She was slight, hunched over and clutching her purse to her chest. "Are you with security?"
"Working with them," I said, feeling some chill coming from her. But I didn't want to assume in case she was just one of those people who set off my danger sense for whatever reason. Because people like that do exist. I try to avoid associating with those people if I could help it, but some times...times like this happen.
She could be an alien, though. That was definitely weighing on my mind. "How can I help?
"I just need to get to safety," she said, her teeth chattering and she started sobbing and crying. "It was so horrible, first the meteorite hit then these awful things ran into the airport. I hid away in one of the rooms back there so they wouldn't get me."
"Well, the coast is almost clear now," I said, smiling and holding my hands together in front of me. "We'll get you to security and they'll take care of you, alright."
"Thank you," she said, sniffing. "Bless you."
Seriously, is she an alien? I'm wondering.
I brought her back to security. "Hey, we've got a civilian here to managed to hide from the aliens."
The officers were naturally very wary, just like I was.
"We'll take care of her," Pedro said, giving me a nod and her a compassionate look. "Ma'am, if you'll follow me."
Officer Malcolm Brown exited a room further down, laid eyes on the old woman and charged her, his fist cracking and snapping with electricity.
He was on her in moments. "How did you-" She screeched before Malcolm's fist turned her into a black and white puddle all over my armor. Gross!
Panting, he stood up straight. "I found another couple of pods. The real old lady's in one of them."
"Good work," Pedro said.
I sighed in relief. Using my telekinetic laser, I bundled the puddle up into a ball so I could take it back home for study. "I think that was it."
Our celebrations were cut short when the ground shook violently, like the fist of a titan had just slammed into the building because we were being too loud. I flew over to one of the windows and saw a flaming, smoking wreck of an airliner which had crashed onto the runway.
"...new plan," I said, looking around and seeing a small wastebasket with a plastic bag inside down on the floor. Flying down to it, I dumped the ooze inside and tied the bag up. "Be right back. Duty calls!"
I rocketed out an open window and toward the wreckage.
---
Author's Note: Man, this chapter was fun to write! Hopefully it was fun to read. Now that the aliens are dealt with, we can dive into one of the other things Cloud Guard's going to be doing; saving people and providing medical attention. And doing science to alien technology. That's fun too.
Chapter after next is when we finally meet the Justice League. Thanks everyone for your patience regarding this, I know twelve chapters of original character isn't quite everyone's cup of tea but I assure you, it will be worth it.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
---
It was at that moment that the door to the airport pushed open. The Chill was absent, but it took a moment to collect myself and not point my gun and shoot. It was Airport Security, soldiers marching in single file through the doors. Among them was Officer Brown, hefting my crystal.
"Hey, Cloud Guard," Officer Brown said, holding it up. "Can we stow this somewhere you can find it later? I got duties to get squared away."
I walked forward. "Is there a storage room?"
Also bursting through the doors was Devon and her camera man. "Cloud Guard! Can we get a comment on what it is you've asked Officer Brown to hold?"
...oh, the press drawing a bead on my loot-goblin tendencies is really bad. "It's an alien crystal and I found it at the heart of their factory. I'm convinced I can use it to undo the storm the factory made outside."
"What kind of facilities do you have that will allow you to study xenotechnology?" Devon asked before shoving that stupid microphone in my face as Officer Brown passed me the crystal and went off to join his squad.
An AI, advanced scanners and the best scientific skills you've ever seen. "No further comment, Ms. Smith."
I flew up the staircase, over airport security's heads. If I remember right, those necessary but obnoxious lines of scanners should be up this way, which includes the staff entrances.
Cloaking, I flew through the hall, I came to the auditorium with those necessary but obnoxious lines of scanners. And wouldn't you know it, there were aliens here. Four of them. Thumbing the hammer wasn't as fast as fanning it, but I was able to take them out before airport security reached the auditorium.
Where's the staff entrance? There!
Diving down, I holstered my pistol and opened the door with my free hand. Decloaking, I came to the same hallways I had found myself in when I first arrived at Sky Peak. This time, I took a little bit of time to explore and found a maintenance closet.
The closet was large, like a room unto itself, with shelves, multiple buckets on wheels, mops and other cleaning tools on racks. It even took a slight turn to the right and brought me to more shelves. At my feet was a box with a single spray bottle of cleaning solution. Perfect.
The crystal fit inside the box perfectly, and there was a roll of packing tape on one of the shelves which I used to seal the box shut. A black marker sourced from the same place let me draw an X on one of the sides. Then, I stuffed it in a corner with other boxes stacked on top of it, the X facing the wall to avoid attracting attention from the staff.
Okay, it's safe now.
Game, I hate that you made that quest. I really, really hate that you made that a quest. Makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when something secret like this becomes a quest.
Whatever, put it aside for now. We've got an airport to secure.
I left the maintenance closet and, after making sure no one was around to see, closed the door behind me. Re-cloaking, I flew over to the door that led back to the scanners, and opened it as softly and quietly as I could.
Sneak Check Success: 100/70.
The door could've been very loud if I wasn't smart enough turn the door handle super slowly to prevent the clicks from being audible and then turn it back manually to, again, prevent the clicks from being audible. I closed the door by turning the handle, pulling the nub inside the door to prevent it from snapping back into place as I closed the door.
Good thing I did, too, because Airport security was in the room, but they weren't looking at me. Trailing behind them was Devon and her camera man, where she was speaking to the camera and the angle of the camera was facing away from the door. Didn't need anyone to know where I had just set down my prize. At the moment of my triumph, I heard laser fire directly to my right. Past the scanners in the next room, a firefight was obviously taking place.
I flew over there, down the hall and to the right, where I saw airport security taking cover at each end of the entrance. Scarlet laser bolts where filling the entrance itself as the aliens were laying down suppressive fire.
Sticking close to the ceiling and waiting for the Chill to subside, I flew through the entrance, finding myself in the baggage claim. The aliens had taken shelter in the automatic transit system. The cars weren't moving for some reason, so the aliens were shooting at us from the cover of the car. Oh, and to make matters worse? They had hostages.
From my vantage point, I could see an overweight black woman, an old, frail white man and a Latina in the car, tied up and gagged with tape over their mouths. Not sure why they haven't tried to negotiate yet, but if this firefight kept up, we wouldn't be able to save them at all.
I de-cloaked before shooting this time to more easily aim with visible sights. Two head-shots at the aliens I could see was all it took to bring the firefight to a close.
...which was odd. Where were the rest of them?
Probably somewhere else in the baggage claim area? I mean, the place was huge, stretching out from one side to the other.
I dove down to the transit car and immediately, the Chill made itself known, hanging in the air like a snow frozen in time. Inside the car were seats built into the walls, leaving only a gap for the entrances on both sides. There were eight hostages, each tied up and thrown to the floor, gagged and tied up. The Chill had filled the car.
Something was very wrong.
The danger was omnipresent and I couldn't get a read on where it was. A bomb, maybe?
Immediately behind me, airport security arrived with their rifles, boots stepping in the puddles that were fallen invaders.
"Good shooting," Officer Brown beamed, patting me on the jetpack. "Man, Sky Peak's hit the jackpot with you, hasn't it?"
"Officer," I started, stopping myself from calling him Brown because as far as he knows, we haven't met yet. "Something's wrong. We need to get off the car."
"You got it," Pedro, their commanding officer said to me. "You heard him boys! Get these people off the car and on their way to safety! Move it!"
Some airport security stationed themselves outside of the car, standing guard. I could see Ms. Smith doing some more commentary on the battle for the airport. It was like that shark from before was back, swimming through the air and looking for something to consume.
Was it coming from the hostages?
I looked them over. All of them seemed perfectly normal, some older people, some younger people. The sexy Latina they had tied up would've been arousing if not for the fact that this was non-consensual and she had been in serious danger until we got here.
It couldn't be coming from the hostages, that's insane. They looked scared, relieved at security's presence, everything looked fine.
Then, the car doors shut and the transit started moving.
...oh crap.
Immediately, the ropes surrounding the hostages disappeared, and the Latina I had been trying not to admire punched the officer, who had been working to untie her, in the throat.
He was knocked on his back, legs kicking as he grasped at his throat with his hands. The car descended into chaos as the hostages turned out to be aliens who shape-shifted to lure us into a trap.
I deployed my laser. I said, I deployed my laser! Why won't it deploy?
With a frustrated growl, I holstered my blaster and actually deployed my laser, hitting the guy with a telekinetic field which reopened his throat, and then the Loh radiation fixed him up. Another guy had his arm snapped in half and I had to dodge around a grappling alien and officer to zap him and fix him up.
There was no way I would be able to use my blaster here. The car was too cramped and it would be way too easy to hit a friendly. But unfortunately, my maxed out melee skills were completely useless here because these things shrug off physical trauma like a fish shrugs off a squirt gun.
Well, almost useless. One of the aliens had lifted a security officer up, looking like he was about to rip his arm off, but a well placed kick to the stomach caused its body to deform and forced it to drop him.
Fists were flying all around and I had to alternate between running interference by disrupting the aliens amoebic bodies when it looked like they were gaining the upper hand and dodging around the melee to get a good angle on injured officers so I didn't accidentally zap an alien.
Airport security, however, was much more useful. Their gauntlets cracked with electricity with every swing and unlike my decidedly normal melee attacks, caused the aliens to cry out with distorted pain on every impact.
An officer's knee was kicked out. My telekinetic beam was able to throw the alien in question off of him, but slamming it into the wall did as little as I expected. A second later, the knee was straightened out and fixed up; you would never have known something was wrong.
As suddenly as it began, the final alien took an electrically charged fist to the head and splattered all over the floor and my boots.
I still felt the chill in the air, but it was significantly less present now.
"Great, these things are shapeshifters," Pedro said, taking his helmet off and wiping his brow, then replacing his helmet. "How long you think they've been infiltrating Earth?"
"I don't know, years maybe," Malcolm said. "Any ideas on where they came from?"
They were all looking at me. "I'm as much in the dark as anyone. What I do know is that we can win."
The Chill ramped up in intensity again, and I could see the transit car approaching an exit. "Take cover!"
I cloaked as security scrambled.
Sneak Check Success: 100/85.
When the car stopped and opened up, we came face to face with an alien firing line. From that firing line came a demand. "Step out of the car with your hands up and surrender. You will not be harmed."
A cursory examination revealed that the rest of the aliens were here, all with their weapons pointed directly at us. About thirty or so? Too many to take out before they could deal damage to me and while I could heal myself, fixing my armor was going to be an issue and time was of the essence.
"Fail to comply, and we'll detonate the bomb we've stowed on your transit car," the Alien continued, a sharp spike in cold confirming that they were telling the truth. "You have to the count of ten."
"They aren't lying," I whispered to them.
"One."
Malcolm hissed under his breath. "Damn."
"Two."
"Do what they say," Pedro said. "We'll trust Cloud Guard. Don't let us down, eh?"
"Three. Four."
"I got you," I assured them, the weight of the situation starting to pull down on my shoulders like a pack full of rocks.
"Five."
Pedro cleared his throat and stood up. "Okay! We're coming out!"
One by one, with their hands over their heads, each security officer walked out of the transit car. Behind them, I followed until I was out of the car, and then I walked off to the right. The group was shepherded off by a large armed escort and I followed, noting that about twelve of the aliens stayed behind to guard this part of the airport.
We went through a staff entrance, it being propped open by a door stop. After a few moments, we arrived at one of those meeting rooms with a large glass window. Very typical. On the inside, though? Not typical. There were these pods with people in them, like red sacs with black veins while the people themselves floated inside, their eyes closed like they were living a bad dream.
I recognized the people, actually! They were the disguises the aliens wore back in the transit car. Including the Latina, whose presence made me uncomfortable. Interesting, they need to capture people to take on their guises.
...which means I'm going to have to act soon.
Remaining outside the office, I watched as the alien commanded Pedro to stand in the empty, open sac.
There were six aliens in that office, two standing guard outside and four behind me watching the hallway intersection. Can I fire off twelve shots before they could fire on the hostages? We're about to find out.
I drew my pistol and fanned the hammer.
The six in the office went down in less than a second, then the two standing guard at the entrance. The chill warned me that I was about to get shot in the back, and I whirled to avoid their return fire, shooting four shots and only missing the one who dove behind cover instead of trying to hit a transparent target.
I leaped forward, staying in the air like a hovercraft as I crested the wall, taking another shot at the one who hid and then two more at the ones at the end of the hallway. Opposite them were four four more and I could see the ones left behind to guard the terminal outside were rushing for us.
Well, if they were going to bunch themselves up like that, I wasn't going to waste their kindness and generosity.
Shoot, shoot, shoot!
The four went down quickly, one of the shots pulling double duty and piercing two of them through. Turning on my thrusters, I rocketed out of the door and pulled sharply up, going too fast for them to follow and start shooting.
Some started taking cover behind pillars and railings, but I just circled around. I fired down on them like a storm of bullets, the red muzzle flare of my pistol being the only thing that would give me away. But by the time I needed to duck beneath a single, accurate shot, the aliens were down.
I landed and surveyed the battlefield. None of them were playing dead, and scorch marks from my attacks blackened the surfaces behind them. Took a deep breath, and turned to go find my erstwhile companions, decloaking as I went.
Winding up back at that meeting room, airport security had taken it upon themselves to get those people out of their sacs. The victims were unconscious and security was making sure they were alive.
I opened the door. "Hey, coast is clear. You should be free to grab your weapons now."
In spite of my well received declaration, this wasn't over. The quest hadn't updated, telling me that I had finished clearing the alien incursion from the airport, so we've got one single enemy remaining somewhere in this entire airport. We could be here for hours looking for the stupid thing and every second we waste is a second it could escape.
Man, I hate that!
"Thanks for the save," Malcolm said. "Hopefully we all make it through this, I owe you a drink."
"I appreciate the offer, but I don't drink," I said. The reason I didn't drink? Alcohol came with a stat penalty in addition to its buff and other drinks, like soda, had better buffs to begin with. Like root beer, which increased my effective stamina by fifteen percent. "Bad for flying, you know?"
He chuckled. "I hear you."
Pedro cleared his throat. "Alright, lets wrap this up. Now that we know these things can shape shift, I want all eyes peeled. Look for any more of these pods. Officer Brown, call for medical, I want these civilians out of my airport and away from the fighting."
Malcolm nodded. "Yes, sir."
He got on his radio, walking out of the office.
"Cloud Guard, we'd appreciate it if you stick with us for just a bit longer," Pedro continued, turning to me. "It's been a long night for all of us, but we've really appreciated your help and we could still use it."
"Hey, I'm here," I said, noting that my survival bars were all still green. Barely. No, the drink meter just turned yellow. "Is there a water fountain around here somewhere?"
"Yeah, there's one back out there," Pedro said, pointing to the terminal I had just cleared. "It's right on the left as you leave."
"Thank you," I said, walking out.
My helmet's front visor came apart at the center, letting me eat and drink without having to actually remove my helmet. The air felt cold against my lips and jaw as the vacuum seal over that part of my body was broken. The water fountain was still working, thankfully, I got my drink meter back to full. I found a vending machine and got myself some snacks to pump up my food meter. Nothing but a nap would recharge my sleep meter, though, so I wasn't in a position to do anything about that just yet.
As I finished the last chip in the bag, I closed my helmet, feeling the lower half of my face get warmer now that it was back under climate control.
"Excuse me?" I turned around and saw an old woman. She was slight, hunched over and clutching her purse to her chest. "Are you with security?"
"Working with them," I said, feeling some chill coming from her. But I didn't want to assume in case she was just one of those people who set off my danger sense for whatever reason. Because people like that do exist. I try to avoid associating with those people if I could help it, but some times...times like this happen.
She could be an alien, though. That was definitely weighing on my mind. "How can I help?
"I just need to get to safety," she said, her teeth chattering and she started sobbing and crying. "It was so horrible, first the meteorite hit then these awful things ran into the airport. I hid away in one of the rooms back there so they wouldn't get me."
"Well, the coast is almost clear now," I said, smiling and holding my hands together in front of me. "We'll get you to security and they'll take care of you, alright."
"Thank you," she said, sniffing. "Bless you."
Seriously, is she an alien? I'm wondering.
I brought her back to security. "Hey, we've got a civilian here to managed to hide from the aliens."
The officers were naturally very wary, just like I was.
"We'll take care of her," Pedro said, giving me a nod and her a compassionate look. "Ma'am, if you'll follow me."
Officer Malcolm Brown exited a room further down, laid eyes on the old woman and charged her, his fist cracking and snapping with electricity.
He was on her in moments. "How did you-" She screeched before Malcolm's fist turned her into a black and white puddle all over my armor. Gross!
Panting, he stood up straight. "I found another couple of pods. The real old lady's in one of them."
"Good work," Pedro said.
I sighed in relief. Using my telekinetic laser, I bundled the puddle up into a ball so I could take it back home for study. "I think that was it."
Our celebrations were cut short when the ground shook violently, like the fist of a titan had just slammed into the building because we were being too loud. I flew over to one of the windows and saw a flaming, smoking wreck of an airliner which had crashed onto the runway.
"...new plan," I said, looking around and seeing a small wastebasket with a plastic bag inside down on the floor. Flying down to it, I dumped the ooze inside and tied the bag up. "Be right back. Duty calls!"
I rocketed out an open window and toward the wreckage.
---
Author's Note: Man, this chapter was fun to write! Hopefully it was fun to read. Now that the aliens are dealt with, we can dive into one of the other things Cloud Guard's going to be doing; saving people and providing medical attention. And doing science to alien technology. That's fun too.
Chapter after next is when we finally meet the Justice League. Thanks everyone for your patience regarding this, I know twelve chapters of original character isn't quite everyone's cup of tea but I assure you, it will be worth it.
Until the next time!
~Fulcon
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