The eyebrows stretched upward on her forehead. Curious, and doubtful. She believed some of what he said. Roughly a third, maybe. Another one-third, she thought, he was just saving face. And the rest, mostly that pertaining to Ashley? He refused to address because even he couldn't deny it. Valentina didn't trust Grimmwald to hold to a deal any more than she trusted him to tell her the truth in any matter. Any more than she would've trusted herself, had she not known herself inside and out.
Still, hearing him out would help fill in the blanks on that which she had missed. That which she could use moving forward. So she made a show of openness and inclined her curiosity, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance while shaking her head, wearing the smirk of an amused companion. "So dramatic. Attention and affirmation. Go ahead, then. Tell me what you've got in mind."
Matching her smirk - her amusement - with his own, Kellan chuckled, "We're on a rooftop at midnight talking about a lot of bullshit, Red. It's been dramatic". Eyes closing shut and his smirk vanishing with a cool gust of wind, the Black Mirror fell silent. Slowly, an unnatural stillness crept into the air as he put his plan into motion. Turning round to meet eyes with her, Kellan held her gaze as though he were doing so with his own hand. "You're a well-connected girl", he paused, his tone colder and more measured, "Smart. Dangerous. The kind of girl who can find anyone for the right price. I want you to help me find someone... and something".
"The League of Shadows and it's leader. Find them for me. You don't need to kill anyone or do anything beyond that. Just find them and tell me where. Nothing more. Nothing less. And in return, I'll do something of your choosing - but - only within reason". Perhaps she would ask that he stop tormenting her? Reveal something about his motives? Something else? Who knew? No one but she.
For a time, Valentina seemed to freeze. All pretence faded and the whole of her expression showed the mental resources devoted almost entirely to processing the request. It was hard not to feel silly over all the time spent wondering over him, his actions, motives, and trying to land a candid encounter...and it'd all been leading to this?
"'Within reason.' Well isn't that awfully vague?" she said, stifling her laughter. "It's just as well, I guess, considering. Alright. Call off the search. The League is in New York. Its leader? You're looking at her."Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. However deadly he could be, it was just too hard to take him seriously with a request like that.
"Listen, I admire your dedication to the craft - that's probably the best you've told all night - but this is getting out of hand. An assassin's marketplace, the League of Shadows...you want me to lead you to El Dorado next?" Even more odd, she considered, he seemed to legitimately believe in what he said. Shrugging, she dropped veneer and said, frankly, "The League of Shadows is a myth. Conspiracy theory. If you were to talk to twelve different men and women, you'd probably get twelve different answers, all just as useless."
Although, in light of the reports about Gothic City awhile back, it was hard not to wonder...
Slowly, almost like paint drying, the smirk faded from the Horned Saint's face, vanishing with any and all trace that behind those ruby eyes was a person. It was empty. Eyes. Face. Just a void of something that was nothing as he held her gaze with eyes one could look into but fail to recognize that someone was there. He didn't move. Instead, he stood, completely motionless, his eyes failing to blink, his chest to heave as though he no longer breathed - as though he were never alive to begin with. In his mind, thoughts swirled, but in his gaze there was nothing. No intention, no expression, only a valley between mountains of safety and danger, a place where neither knowledge nor instinct were clear.
And as the air stilled as if held hostage by an eeriness that could not be seen - only felt - he vanished, disappearing into the shadows without ever taking a step. In Valentina's mind, his offer would linger forever until her curiosity either won, or till he drove her mad. She knew where he was. He was there. Everywhere. All the time. Ruining her life, toying with her luck, foiling her assassinations, torment from a mental war of attrition that grew more malicious till he either died from old age or she broke - and called out to him.
A white stretch limousine rolled through the city, as it had for nearly an hour in no discernible pattern. Walter's assistants tended the office and he was counted officially "on a business trip." Beside him, helping himself to the myriad beverages available in the refrigerator, Arthur Grimsrud gave an update of all notable happenings with HCI and its holdings in the recent past. A mundane affair with little in the way of new developments, until Grimsrud broached the matter of a returning personnel asset to the land of the living.
"So, she has...resurfaced."
"That's right. In Gothic, like she never left, at the doc's office."
"Well, in that case—"
"Actually, wait, tha's not true." Grimsrud flashed a smile at his own interjection, took a sip, then his expression turned dead serious with a hint of what could have been mistaken for genuine concern. "She's...different." Turning the envelope over in his hands, he passed it over. Walter reached a meaty hand inside and pulled a stack of paper-printed photographs.
She looked even paler than he'd remembered. Changes in her stature and the body composition were noted as he flipped through the stack, some remorse showing on his face. Remorse, then anger. "Sickening. Then we can be assured she did not simply go into hiding after the assault on the Nihonto Khan and none of this was of her own volition. I am almost certain this is his doing. In which case, she's escaped and he'll be back for her, orhe's playing at something."
"So you want me to reach out to her, extend our protection once more? If she's been through trauma, and she's vulnerable, nurturing personality like the doc's might turn her legit. Catchin' feelins, gettin' all attached."
"No," Walter said, sounding somewhat hurried. "Leave her be, for now. Whether she's fallen victim to the devil or some other sadist, it is not wholly unlikely that she could be compromised. We'll need time to...sort through her situation, before inserting her back into the rotation.
"Until then..." He spoke into a radio sitting beside him, "Enough, Timothy. Head for Gothic City." And back to Arthur, "Assemble as many of your legitimate employees as you can and place them on standby. Tell them there's an assignment coming up soon, and those willing and able to accommodate will be rewarded with more than twice their standard pay. But first, I've to make a few visits."
Without the Time Keeper's presence, Thunderstorm fails in her duty to save Susan O'Connor's life and a killer gets away. One of the burdens of this hammer wielding amazon is the fact she cannot be everywhere and save everyone. There will be, inevitably, someone who falls through the cracks. But time has changed because of the Time Keeper, but is it enough to save Susan's life?
For now, it is enough that Thunderstorm takes notice of the Time Keeper. Her hammer seems to hum with magic energy as it seems to sense another hammer nearby while Thunderstorm is out on patrol. She investigates, turning around in mid-air and flying to the location. What she sees is the last thing she ever expects. A tall man, just as tall as her, who is dressed like a viking. But the most eye catching thing is, the hammer that is beside him. It looks so much like her own.
This viking seems to be holding a man by the throat. A criminal perhaps? The sound of thunder rolls above as electricity sparks from Thunderstorm's eyes. She floats above them, pointing her hammer at the Time Keeper, voice powerful and commanding, "He some sort of criminal, Mr. Viking? If so, do you really think he deserves death by your hand?"
Questions to, hopefully, make the Time Keeper ponder her words. But just as a precaution, she won't let the other man go. Not until she has all the answers she seeks, not knowing that with that delay alone, the better chances Susan will end up living a longer life. Does the Time Keeper know of Thunderstorm, does he know of her heroics? Is she famous enough for him to know her name? Or she is a long forgotten hero of a time long since forgotten? A woman passed into the annals of of myth and legend?
As Thunderstorm waits for his response, her red cape billows behind her from the gusts of winds that have suddenly picked up. It seems the very air around her has come alive, frantically obeying her every command. Thunderstorm herself is a beautiful woman. Her muscles are very well defined, but not overly large. Blonde hair that almost looks like gold spun from the gods and a voice as sweet as the most lovely music, but also commanding respect. Knowingly or not, this woman also dresses like a viking and at one time, she was even confused for being Thor himself. Blue eyes as clear as the open blue sky during the day.
As the man tries running away, Thunderstorm summons a wall of lightning to deter him from going any further. He falls back, scrambling away. While the Time Keeper speaks to her, she keeps one wary eye on John with constant glances his way or watching him from the corner of her eye to make sure he doesn't attempt an escape again. By the time the time traveler finishes speaking, Thunderstorm is also on the ground and stands just as tall the man himself, both being 6'2". It was almost like looking into a mirror, except a reverse of gender.
"There are better ways to save a life than resorting to murder. If this man has done, or will do, what you say, then why not just break his legs? That way, he can't kill anyone else." At least, for a time. But who is to say he wouldn't try it a second time later on? "If this man dies, he won't ever learn his lesson not to kill someone else. He won't ever have the opportunity to change and become better."
Thunderstorm doesn't address the Time Keeper's statement about not being able to beat him with her hammer. She doesn't wish to face him in combat, but that is not because of any lack of bravery on her part. She simply sees no reason to resort to fist cuffs with a man she doesn't even know. He seems knowledgeable. A time traveler perhaps? He speaks like one. For a moment, she idly wonders if he is familiar with another time traveler by the name of Novastar.
Thunderstorm now looks down at the cowering John, wondering what to do with him. Times like this, she really wishes she had Shield-Maiden's lasso to force the truth from this man. Instead, she walks up to him and forces his back onto the ground before placing her hammer on his chest. No matter how hard John tries, he cannot get it off of him. "Your going to turn yourself into the police. If you've killed before in the past, your going to confess everything. If you don't, if you ever, EVER, kill anyone after tonight, you will NEVER find a moments peace for the rest of your life. Do you know why?"
John begs for Thunderstorm to get the hammer off of him. It's heavy! But Lara forces an answer out of him and he shakes his head. Now Thunderstorm answers, "Because I will never stop hunting you, EVER. For the rest of your life, you will be on the run until you die of fear or I find you. Then, I will rectify the mistake of letting you go. DON'T make me regret this. Because if I do, I'll resurrect anyone you kill and let them exact the justice you deserve. And don't think for a moment I can't do that because I can, and I WILL. Do you understand?" Her face gets right up close to his as fear itches itself across his face. John nods, then Thunderstorm lifts her hammer off his chest.
Thunderstorm grabs the man's arm, then looks at the Time Keeper, "You seem to be some kind of time traveler. So, if your capable, can you look into this man's future and know if what I have done will make him stop?" Because if it doesn't, then Thunderstorm knows the answer to what the Time Keeper said earlier, but she hopes it won't come to that. She hopes what she did will end up making all the difference in the world. And that was to show the Time Keeper that, perhaps, there are better ways of dealing with someone. But...if not, then Thunderstorm has a decision to make.
Nuts. No easy answers or an easy way out. But Thunderstorm is not surprised. Her life has been about hard decisions, why should this one be any different? Once upon a time, an entire universe died because she lacked the strength necessary to save it, so a friend had to die instead in order for a universe to live on. But at the end, it cost Thunderstorm everything.
With a light tap on his head, Thunderstorm knocks John clean out. She will inform the authorities he is here and she will see to it that John is either places in prison for confessed, would-be, murders or placed in an insane asylum. Perhaps none of those options, but to see a therapist instead. Lara hopes this day won't haunt her later, but if it does then she will carry out her threat to John. He will come to deeply regret any wrong decision he ends up making if he fails to reform his life.
"Yeah, I noticed that about us." She says in response to them looking alike. But somehow, she doubts he modeled himself after her and she knows for a fact she didn't model herself after him. She's never met him before today. Honestly, she has no clue where her hammer comes from. It's been a mystery for years, but she knows it's name. The hammer's name is Lightning Strike.
Now that John is making Z's, Thunderstorm wraps him up in a metal lamp post so he cannot escape when he wakes up later. With that done, Thunderstorm looks down at the Time Keeper's own hammer, then back to him. She has a feeling she won't be able to lift it, but she decides to humor him even though he didn't give her what she wanted. Lara walks over to his hammer, wraps her left hand around the handle and tries to lift it. Muscles bulge, veins pop to the surface of her skin, a grunt escapes her lips. The pavement beneath her even cracks from the strain. But it's no use. She cannot lift his hammer, she is not of his race.
Lightning Strike hums with otherworldly energy. Thunderstorm let's go of his hammer and looks at the Time Keeper with those deep blue eyes of hers, "I had a feeling I wouldn't be able lift your hammer. I'm just a normal person who found the hammer I'm holding. Where it comes from, I don't have any idea."
It's a good guess, perhaps it's true but perhaps not. Thunderstorm will find out the truth in due time. In the meantime, Lara decides to reveal a hidden truth that not many people know unless they know her in her civilian guise. "That's okay, I already have a twin." She says with a sort of half smirk.
Thunderstorm thinks of her identical twin sister, Sarah Jones. Unlike Thunderstorm, however, Sarah does not wield a hammer. But she does wield her own unique weapon called the Starblade.
A chuckle arises from John and Thunderstorm turns to look as the man raises his head, "Well, aren't you two the adorable couple. If you two aren't siblings, then you should get married."
"Shut up, no one was talking to you." Thunderstorm states matter of factly, slightly annoyed now that he is awake when he shouldn't be. But John continues speaking, his voice changing as well as his body.
"The one you knocked out is not home anymore." And then he changes into a huge, 8 foot tall, grey skinned monster with red glowing eyes. It's like a modern day Mr. Hyde decided to come out and play. Was this what killed Susan O'Conner? Was this why John disappeared into Australia in order to control the beast inside of him? Questions, questions.
Thunderstorm's eyes go wide, but then she clenches her jaw in stedfast determination as she throws his hammer. It misses, the beast snarls, "Ha! Missed!"
But then the beast suddenly lurches forward as it's head slams down when the hammer hits him from behind his head and comes back to Thunderstorm's hand. With an unholy roar, the beast charges at Thunderstorm with surprising speed and slams into her, pounding her face with his right hand like a jack hammer. With a mighty uppercut, Thunderstorm forces back the beast, but it barely stuns him as he grabs the heroine and grabs her and slams her into the pavement, tearing it up and driving her into the ground.
The beast turns and stares coldly at the Time Keeper, "You should have killed me while you had the chance." Then the beast charges at the Time Keeper as well, trying to hit him with a blow that can shatter a skyscraper. In the meantime, Thunderstorm crawls her way out of the hole in the ground and sees the monster charging at the Time Keeper.
As the beast begins to attack the Time Keeper, Thunderstorm is about to leap back into the fray when she sees that mighty hand face her, palm up. She stops short, wondering what his game plan is. It's not long before she learns the fate of three more victims, the third being a pregnant one. After two failed attempts, she would have had a son. Worse, on Christmas Eve. A time of year that is supposed to be about giving, a woman would lose her life to a monster. A son who also will die, never being given a chance to truly live.
As a former mother herself, Thunderstorm would give anything to have her daughter back, as well as her husband. She knows that is impossible because they are gone now, forever out of reach. If John Cabone had been an ordinary human, perhaps Thunderstorm's earlier threats would have made all the difference in the world. Maybe his future victims would never have died, including an unborn son. But the universe seems to love giving Lara a kick in the teeth because John just HAD to end up NOT being normal. As the Time Keeper locks eyes with Thunderstorm, he will see nothing but pure rage on her face. Not at him, but at John.
The thought of a mother being murdered while her son never being given the chance to live fills every fiber of Thunderstorm's body with seething hot rage that burns as hot as any star. The very sky seems to turn instantly dark and foreboding, clouds form in answer to their master, rain begins to fall in torrents as if they are crying for the deaths yet to happen. Lightning flashes and thunder rolls ominously, as if to spell the doom of this would-be murderer. Red like crimson, Thunderstorm's cape billows wildly in the gusting winds that have suddenly picked. Electricity dances from her eyes and coalesces around her hammer as she flexes her muscles, preparing for battle. The beast turns, staring down at Thunderstorm, unconcerned with the sudden change in weather, but that will change.
Thunderstorm wanted to see the best of humanity in this man and apparently it didn't exist. Lara hears a cry so loud it hurts even her ears before she realizes it's coming from her. A war cry, a cry of death and the bringer of doom. Before now, she held back but she doesn't hold back anymore. She unleashes her full fury as a former mother, a protector, and tonight, someone who will avenge those who were destined to die by this beast's unholy hands. The biggest lightning bolt the world has ever seen descends down upon the beast, electrocuting him with a voltage too high to even count. It didn't matter to Thunderstorm, all that matters is that this monster will never, EVER, hurt anyone ever again. With another war cry, she screams out again, never realizing she had this much lung power. Again, she strikes, again the beast twitches and shakes, face contorting in pain, skin finally bubbling. The monster falls to his hands and knees. At this point, Thunderstorm slams down her hammer on his head, then does it again and again and again until the beast stops moving, laying in a puddle of blood on the ground. He turns into a human again, strangely with tears in his eyes as he rolls over on his back.
Her rage abating just enough, Thunderstorm stares down at John Carbone as he utters words that Lara never expected to hear, "Thank you..." Then he coughs up blood and passes into the realm that is known only as death. It seems John himself may have been a victim but in the worse possible way. He became a monster that kills people while the man himself was helpless to act. It occurs to Thunderstorm just then that killing him was a mercy that he may have been thanking her for. Shaking from this revelation, Thunderstorm falls on her knees and uses her fingers to close the man's eyes. John's pain was gone now, his victims would never know their fates and would never know who saved them. She hopes they would now live happy and long lives as a single tear slides down Thunderstorm cheek.
It's early in the morning. Traffic cones moved into place with as much care as pieces on a chessboard, pushed by meticulous taps of a large boot. Four o'clock by most timekeeping standards. Earlier than most who go to work, and far earlier than the allotted construction zone workforce arrives. This isn't a Union job, however, and the company responsible for finishing the repairs to this bank had a clock to maintain. Most of the others would trickle in eventually, but it was always the same ever since the new guy came on.
People compared him to various book characters in jest, others found it impossible to imagine that someone like him could actually exist. Yet he was real, and got the task done despite any potential harassment from onlookers. He was about eight-foot-six, and weighed in the hundreds. Built almost like an oxen, with a shaven complexion and a short buzz-cut head of brown hair. He seemed young for his stated age of 43, especially when he took solid steel beams onto his back without equipment or entire pallets of concrete mix like he was a human forklift.
"Yeah we get it, you're a meta, but why are you so damn tall?" his coworkers often asked him. "Demigod or something? Doesn't that mean you're supposed to be off 'holier-than-thou-ing' somewhere?"
"I was just born this way," he retorted.
"You're putting some of us out of a job, you know. Making us look bad," others would say to him privately. "You think you're better than us or something?"
A shrug, more or less, was his go-to response. And it had been for the few days that it didn't get on his nerves. It would keep eating away at that patience though, the constant droning noise of complaints and impotent criticisms. They were just trying to get a rise out of him, he knew. It's not like they were clever or anything, moreso they were testing to see how far they could get with this newbie. Perhaps the opposite of clever, but that would be a conclusion they would come to in all eventuality.
He had come here to try and understand the culture of the planet he was stuck on for the foreseeable future. Humans seemed to rely on one of three things: food, money, and comradery. It wasn't all too different from his native Alastor, though there was a significantly higher focus on food and money. Humans were especially concerned with where money was going, how it was being handled on a daily basis.
So, when his first paycheck came, he decided to spend most of it as a 'thank you' to his coworkers. The most lucrative breakfast catering he could find, and almost his entire paycheck went into booking them for three days straight. Needless to say, even those who doubted his intentions before were rather stunned by this gesture. Now all the questions leveled against him consisted of how he would live on almost $200. He just shrugged at their comments.
"Job first, right? You all have families to feed."
In the middle of the brick paradise known as the Marcy Projects, amidst the fall stripped trees, Jordyn and a few others from around the way hung out atop the park's weathered bench while exchanging barbs, bars, and fantasized stories. A relatively mild December had blessed the city, postponing the hibernating tendencies of the Prince of Digital Deja-Vu. Still, he remained bundled in a navy blue McMurdo Parka and a red and blue Moosejaw beanie with yellow and white trim. Though far from synchronized, far from identically dressed, the crew still managed to project a certain uniformity through their eclectic street attire.
Meanwhile Jordyn's auburn colored Moc Toe 6IN boot rhythmically tapped and his body swayed as the crew spit freestyle disses back and forth, in what had become a daily routine regardless of location, regardless of the audience. "Hold up." the young hustler interrupted, ejecting himself off the bench with a subdued push-off into a light jog out around the housing development's rusted chain fence.
"Let me help ya I got you Ms. Carter."he said with a smile. Greeting the arthritic grandma with a bag of groceries under one arm and the handle of a baby filled stroller in the other. "Ah god bless ya child. God bless ya." Like everyone in the projects Ms. carter wore the daily strain of a have-not like a cheap spritz of perfume, but seldom showed it. A brave face for a brave woman. Raising her drug addicted daughter's child, his health; or lack there of, was a well known source of conversation around the block.
"Whasgood lil'man" Jordyn joked. Extending his hand for some dap while taking the baby's hand and fist bumping it. "How's he doing today?" By now he was fully invested. Crouched down with full focus on the underdeveloped baby. "Oh, you know Jordyn." she said not wanting to complain yet barely able to fight back the overwhelming dam of tears. "Here. I reached out to a couple people. Got him these." From out of his pocket The Hillside Highlight handed her an Ventolin inhaler and a Medrol dose pack. "The inhaler is for emergencies. It wont stop him from havin an attack but it will let him breathe when he does. The steroids should jump start his lungs. Jus follow the routine/prescription and he'll be iight."
"Your parents would be so proud of you." Pulling him close and kissing his cheek. He almost smiled with sarcastic theater. 'My parents - proud?' he thought. 'If she only knew' Their shared embrace was quick but meaningful. Jordyan saluted her and the baby in chorus with his walk off. Glancing to the street and the passing patrol car in an all to familiar exchange of unspoken hostility. Slipping his hands into both pockets, feeling the small assorted baggies of Konite just in case he needed to dash and ditch.
He greeted the usual cast of downtrodden characters on his way into and through the complex. Each one deserving a special exchange, a genuine interaction and more often then not an exchange of some sorts. Cash for information. Information for drugs. Drugs for more drugs. And so on. His keys hit the table before he began the sub-conscious act of locking his door from top to bottom and putting the remainder of his stash back in its secret place.
Clean, uncluttered and obsessively situated to maximize the limited space, his apartment was a retreat. A sanctum. And off to the side but always within view stood a propped up featureless half-body manikin sporting his late father's entire criminal costume.
Charred and damaged fabric just around the chest area was a reminder of the 'hero' who had killed him. Fried him with enough voltage to charge 60 cars over 60 days. For two years every night Jordyn went out in search of the perpetrator with little more then athletic talent, his father's mask, and a hoodie. Not the greatest costume. Not the greatest plan. But one day, one night, he would get his revenge. He would get his payback.
A new construction team is in town and operating in Harlem, the home of one John Henry Steele AKA Megavolt. He wasn't always Megavolt. Once upon a time, John had super strength and unbreakable skin. But times have changed and now he sports electric powers and his beloved wife controls the weather.
It amazes John just how much technology has advanced since his time. Not nearly as advanced as the aliens who abducted him into their war, though. He despises technology because it has a habit of robbing hard working men out of their jobs. The more advanced technology gets, the more automated everything is. But there is nothing John can do about it.
So why does John do it, why does he take it upon himself to play the hero and save the people around him? He often asks that himself. He helps the less fortunate, not because it's the right thing to do, but to be an example people look up to. To look up to him and copy him, to be better versions of themselves. To do his part on making society a better place, a safer place. Especially for those living in Harlem.
Over the years, Megavolt has been looked upon as Harlem's hero. An untiring Champion for justice. It's a never ending battle that he knows he won't win. So, he will pass on the torch to the next generation. He has two lovely children that he plans on training one day to be heroes like him. But they are both far too young to be heroes. Their powers haven't even manifested yet, but they do have the mutant-X gene so they will eventually powers.
For now, Megavolt looks at the construction going on down the street. One particular man grabs John's attention. He literally cannot be missed, standing well over 8 feet tall with muscles that would make Arnold Schwarzenegger drool with envy. An unusual sight and the man got constant attention from onlookers if they happened to walk by. John knows that man cannot be human, no human on Earth can be that tall and have the muscle mass that man possesses. But John is no judge. The man seems to work hard at his job and does a good job of it, too.
"Hey, Jake," one of Gadrak's coworkers nudged him as he passively ate his third egg sandwich of the morning. Upon entry through the atmosphere, the Iron Talon did a rudimentary scan of the area to best put together a kind of disguise for its only occupant, one it had grown accustomed to over their decade-long isolation from the devastated 1095th Expeditionary Fleet. 'Jacob' turned out to be one of the more popular names in the area, and Gadrak soon caught on that 'Jake' was a shortened version of it. Much like his Legionnaire comrades used to name him 'Gad' as they grew to know him.
He followed Carl's finger as he pointed at the figure looming overhead. Dark blue costume, emblazoned gold and white with the signs of a lightning streak. The 74th Legion? Thunder Bringers? No, couldn't be. Not here. 'Jake' gave the flying figure a wave.
"That's Megavolt, Jake, strongest man in Harlem. His wife is the strongest woman, but don't tell Jenny that," Carl joked, having showed Jake pictures of his fiance several times already. He was a proud man, even prouder of his family. "Think you can take him?"
'Jake' just shrugged. "Dunno," his gesture of greeting turned into one meant for Megavolt to take a break and come down to say 'hello'. Of course, that was all up to him.
There was a lot of food on the catering table left untouched after all.
Megavolt is not super strong, neither is his wife. And although a block away, he's spotted by the construction crew having a bit of lunch. Although his marriage to Stormcloud is public knowledge, no one knows their secret identities. Thank goodness for small mercies. Plus, Stormcloud is semi-retired these days to raise the kids.
Megavolt steps off the rooftop and electricity coalesces around his form as he floats over to the men having lunch. John looks at the men having lunch. No, hard working men taking a lunch break. This John can respect as he knows and appreciates hard working men, "You do good work, keep it up gentlemen." Words of encouragement always helps, but he isn't here to do their job. He won't take work away from like the machine tried years ago. A lifetime ago, it seems like.
John is a big man, nice and muscular who stands at a lofty 6'7". But next to Jake, he might as well look like a midget. But Megavolt is not intimidated, in fact he finds Jake fascinating. Although he greets all the men in turn, John's gaze eventually settles on the giant, "May I ask what your name is?"
Jake smiled honestly, his dirty hand reaching forward for a friendly embrace.
"Jacob Ford, good to meet ya,"
He almost inhaled the egg sandwich as he approached Megavolt, finding no more use in keeping it in his grasp. The handshake was short, strong but only implying something else beyond it rather than a crushing grip. He wanted to be friends, that much was certain.
"There's bacon, sausages, potatoes on the other table. Lunch will be here later, but come and walk with me,"
He pointed at a table laden with food, but that last part was only meant to become reality should Megavolt follow him - meal nonwithstanding. He marched up the makeshift lumber ramp to a higher level of concrete. The damage to the bank was substantial, but progress was staggering compared to their initial survey of the job only a few days prior. Huge chunks of stone were gutted from the inside, with columns having to be knocked down and repurposed rather than allow potential structural instability.
Jacob took a palette of dried concrete into his hands and lifted with his legs, jokingly adding a laugh to the spectacle. He was taking it to a work area on the other side of the bank, where the mixer was.
"So, what brings you here? Keeping up morale or just curiosity?"
"Good to meet ya too." John says in response as he grabs an apple and takes a bite even as he steps beside the giant to walk with him.
Then in response to Jacob, he gives a simple answer, "Both. People call me a hero, some even call me the hero of Harlem. Like it or not, I have that image for most people here. So, I like to mingle sometimes, inspire others and set a good example. Someone close to me had to convince me about that last part through many conversations."
Taking another bite of his apple, Megavolt does not mention the name of that person that is close to him, but he thoughts go to his beautiful wife. To maintain her secret identity as Jada Steele, she covers her white hair with a black wig and wears glasses. The woman is a stay at home mom, raising the kids but she does occasionally take off the wig and fight crime as her alter ego, Stormcloud.
Jacob nodded as he set down the many hundreds of pounds of concrete bags down on the ground, the wooden palette creaking a bit as he did so.
"Hey thanks Jake," Larson commented, shoveling the last bit of mixture out onto the leveling area. He instinctively went for the top bag, cutting it open with a screwdriver and dumping the contents into the mixer. He completed this two more times, grabbing a water hose and left it on until everything seemed level enough. Larson was terrible with measurements, but when it came to the rotations of the machine in front of him he almost seemed to go into a trance.
"Well, you seem to be doing a good job then," he gestured with a slight gesture of his head towards his coworkers that more or less gawked at Megavolt like he was a visiting celebrity or something.
"More or less curious about why you made a beeline towards me, though," he half-joked. "I take it I'm a big target, so it's understandable."
He had a large smile that betrayed some form of facial scarring, though at this stage it was only passingly noticeable.
John makes a brief glance at the ones gawking at him, but his real attention on Jake. He is used to all the stares, especially since he's been at this whole hero thing for a while now. He's even fought a war on an alien planet believe it or not. But not as Megavolt.
John does notice the facial scarring, assumes that this man had been in some scrapes. But he doesn't mention it, taking another bite of his apple instead. After swallowing that bite, he speaks again because he doesn't like to talk with his mouth full, "I know how it feels to be a target, but I don't mind. So long as it's me and not someone else."
But John is avoiding Jake's subtle curiosity. Why did he make a beeline for the giant? "I have never seen anyone so tall." He then whispers, "And that means your not from around here."
The Pre-Trial: Location "The Edge of the Multiverse"
The War of Kings (Blog coming later) left a power vacuum within the Court of Courts, her fellow multiverse governors murdered each other over the position of "High King" leaving the sole responsibility of judging the multiverse to her.
It seemed as if even Cosmic Beings were prone to trivial traits like jealousy and greed. Ishara marched through the halls of the court before pushing the doors open with a bit of fury.
The inhabitants of the library were forced to the floor, unable to stand in the presence of the High Queen's cosmic power. "I need to speak with the Head Liberian, everyone else you're dismissed" The High Queen stood patiently as the library begin to empty, eventually only the Librarian and She remained.
"As you know, my siblings killed one another, the laws of the multiverse direct us to fill their positions. Bring me all the knowledge you have on the universe that replaced prime." As she commanded the librarian walked off leaving the High Queen to herself.
Before the War of Kings halted their duties, the Universal Judges were watching the development of the nU, not long ago many residents of other universes begin to immigrate to it which wasn't allowed. Secondly, the Universal Lavalieres were discovered and many of them all in the same area--it was a reason for concern. Lastly, this specific universe drew concern from the High Queen as many of its host gods were killed. Though not Universal Gods, she needed to understand how these beings with that much power were being toppled.
After a few short minutes, the Librarian returned with hundreds if not thousands of books on the nU. All these books contained specific events, worlds, and dead people. It was strictly forbidden by the gods for anyone to read a book on a person that was still living, even the judges were not permitted. The gods believed it would make the judges susceptible to partiality. Still, learning about the nU would give her a better understanding of the world she prepared to travel too. "Set a course for this world. Earth to be exact, that seems to be where the most at-risk behavior is."
New York City
Down below she could tell their presence startled the humans, and why wouldn't it? The massive floating island in the sky cast a shadow over most of Manhattan, causing minor traffic accidents and drawing the attention of local news stations.
In the time it took them to teleport across the multiverse, Ishara had already absorbed the history of this universe, more importantly, this planet.
This small mud planet was seemingly the source of nearly every major conflict in the entire universe. They also seemed the most advanced at harnessing the gifts of the gods.
"I will go down below shortly, alert my Bailiff and The Executioner. The Pre-Trial for the nU was underway.
Hal Knight AKA Green Sentinel, space cop and protector of sector 2814. He lives in New York City, which is why he suits up in his black green and white when a massive city suddenly pops out of no where over the big apple.
As the protector of not only this sector of space, of Earth and also this city, Hal is obligated to respond to this emergency. Are they friends? Foes? So far, the city shows no signs of aggression. Yet. But that doesn't mean they won't. That is why Hal needs to establish communications and determine if they are friend or foe, then respond accordingly.
A green glow surrounds the emerald knight as he ascends into the sky like a messenger from on high. Hal flies to the floating city, the media reporting on that as soon as they see it and wonder what he is up to. They will know soon enough.
With a ring that can work wonders, Hal tries to open a com-link to the massive city, hoping they detect it so he can communicate with them. "Hello." Hal begins, always wishing he'd had something better to say then 'hello', but chatting with any race is never easy the first time. But that doesn't stop Hal from feeling he can do better.
"This is Green Sentinel of the Green Sentinel Corps. I'm hoping to establish communications and know your intentions for this city." Hal has no idea who these people are, but Sentinel would. The former protector of this city was recently promoted to be a Cop of the Multiverse.
"M'lady apparently, an emissary from the planet Earth is trying to make contact with us" the Librarian reported a bit winded. The news was enough to pull Ishara's mind from a book on New York City, this city had it's fair share of highs and lows.
"Ma'am shall I send out the Bailiff to force him away?" The Head Librarian asked preparing to send a mental link to Ishara's personal guard.
"No, I'll fix this myself" She retort pushing away from the table. It was much like a flash, boom the High Queen Ishara's movement from the table to the outside was much too fast for even the universal librarian.
On the outside, her cosmic presence in the sky darkened the once azure backdrop causing thunder to roll through the cumulonimbus clouds. Down below the mortals knee's yield unwillingly to her Divine Right as a child of the Gods of Creation and Destruction, it was their will that she was fulfilling today.
"Mortal." She said glancing around the massive metropolis known as New York City, millions of people crammed into this one city. One incurable disease and this entire city would be filled with lifeless husk--did these humans not think? During her long pause she took time to eye his choice of fashion, no doubt these Green Sentinels were some sort of peace keepers.
"I have come to do what my kind does. That is, cast judgement upon your universe." Throughout the entire ordeal the High Judge's facial expressions hadn't change. This wasn't personal, it was just her job.
"I will leave my Court Room here for now, the Ruling will be made after three phases. The Pre-Trial, The Trial and then finally judgement. You mortal, do you speak on behalf of the people on this planet.?"
@high_queen: (The Guardians of the Universe, who are the leaders of the Green Sentinel Corps, are aware of the multiverse. Because of that, they might know who your character is and what her job is too. But I wanna check with you first to see if your okay with that?)
@high_queen: (The Guardians of the Universe, who are the leaders of the Green Sentinel Corps, are aware of the multiverse. Because of that, they might know who your character is and what her job is too. But I wanna check with you first to see if your okay with that?)
Meanwhile, on the sentient planet of Mogu many light years away...
The Guardians of the Universe immediately detect the High Queen and her kind's presence in this universe and they go into a stir. They are aware of their kind and what they do. If they are here, their universe is now being put on trial. Which could mean a good thing or a very, very bad thing. One never knows with her kind. But they do what they must and there is very little the Guardians can do about it except respect their ways and laws. Still, the Guardian called Ganthor must not leave Hal Knight in ignorance. A meeting of minds between his brothers and sisters, then Ganthor is off to Earth in a hurry.
Earth...
Hal's ring picks up an extremely high concentration of cosmic energy coming from her. It must be so high as the ring picks it up automatically without his requesting a scan of her. The ring sparks, almost as if it's afraid of this mysterious being. Hal seems unperturbed, however as he remains cool headed. The words that come out of her mouth are automatically translated by his ring so that he understands her, should she be speaking in an alien language.
But before Hal gets the chance to respond to her question, Ganthor appears beside him. The best way to describe Ganthor is that he looks like a blue skinned midget with white hair and black & green robes, along with the same symbol on his chest as Hal has on his. Ganthor looks old, having been a alive for millennia. He golds his little blue hands and bows humbly before the High Queen, as well as respectfully. When Ganthor speaks, he does do so with respect to her high station, "Your Majesty. Please allow me to introduce myself, I am Ganthor of the Guardians of the Universe. It is an honor to meet you in person. This Green Sentinel is ignorant of your ways and does not know you. Please forgive his ignorance. I will quickly update him on the information he needs to know in order to answer your questions as he should. Please give us a few minutes."
Should the High Queen grant this time, Ganthor turns to Hal, looking rather grave. They communicate via telepathy and Hal goes from curiosity to determination, nodding in understanding. Then, when Hal is up to date on who this High Queen is and what her job entails, Hal respectfully bows to her and finally answers her question, "Earth is under my protection, as well hundreds of other worlds. Yes, I speak on behalf of the people of this planet. May I ask why you have come to put us on trial? And is there anything I can do to save this world?"
It's obvious Green Sentinel will give his life to save this world. But he is unsure as to why they are being put on trial. What have they done? Ganthor floats beside Green Sentinel, remaining silent for now, but he does keep his head bowed in respect to the Queen.
"Greetings Guardian" She said returning his formal greeting with the slight bow of the head. Though she didn't know him specifically, she'd heard of the "Guardians of the Universe" from other worlds within the multiverse. Another head nod permitted them time to speak without judgement, her lone eye shot down toward the New York City streets, another bow of her head gave them freedom from their previously bowed positions.
The Sentinels voice was powerful, strong and determined; in the face of a Multiverse God this man knew his worth impressing the High Queen.
"Dear Sentinel, just because I have come does not mean your world, or worlds. Are doomed. I am here to simply conduct and investigation into a few transactions that have given me reasons to believe there a multiple corridors to the multiverse opened here. I am not interested in your wars, or transgressions against one another. I am simply here to honor my parents by ensuring stability in the universes they create. Keep in mind young sentinel, I'm not just judging your Earth..." Her head turned from him to the Guardian floating next to him. "But the entire universe."
That's all she cared to explain to the sentinel for now, it was the main reason for her visit but there were some other things she'd only speak to a divine being about.
"Guardian..." She said addressing the being. "I wish to retire to my chambers, we have matters to discuss. If you will allow it I will explain it to your friend as well; I do not wish to disturb the balance of your universe with upper echelon dilemma's."
Ganthor does not, nor the other Guardians, considers himself 'divine', even if they happen to be extremely long lived and very powerful. They do not desire worship, merely to bring order to a chaotic universe. They accomplish this through their agents, the Green Sentinel Corps. The stalwart defenders of the universe for countless years.
The High Queen's words bring both comfort and a sense of unease to Hal Knight, but also a sense of something else. She is here to judge the universe? Somehow, Hal finds that unsettling. But he hides it well, determination increasing. Resolve. He has a job to do, just as this High Queen does. Every other need is to be set aside.
Ganthor senses that the High Queen is impressed with Hal, but he does not mention it to either of them. In the span he has known the Earth human, he has been impressed a great many times. Humans tend to have the most surprising capacity for such things. It is amusing to see Hal having that same effect on the High Queen and only through the simple act of a conversation between them.
With a quick glance towards Hal, Ganthor gives the High Queen a polite nod of his head, "As you desire, your Majesty. We do not know the way to your chambers, so if you would please show us the way? We will follow."
~Be mindful, Hal Knight. I am sure I do not need to remind you not to touch anything.~ Ganthor says telepathically to Hal.
Hal nods in understanding,
~Wouldn't dream of it. Thanks for letting me come along.~
~It is her you should thank.~ Ganthor says in reply in Hal's mind,
~Not just anyone gets a private audience with her, least of all a mortal. You are privileged.~
~Why are you letting me come along?~ Hal asks.
~Because you have proclaimed yourself the one who speaks for this planet. You are now involved in this. But enough. We will soon arrive in her chambers. My advice to you is, if she asks you any questions be truthful and honest. She knows more than either of us. She is here to do a job and we will give her our full cooperation to the best of our ability.~ Ganthor says telepathically to him.
Hal gives a subtle nod. If the High Queen leads them to her chambers, they both enter when she gives them leave to enter. Both keep their head bowed in respect.
Soon the world around them alter, and the Court of Courts encompassed them depositing them within the chambers of the High Queen. The chambers look like a typical room with many doors, each door leading to a specific area of the universe.
Two people stood silently to the rear of the room. The first was a hulking man standing at about 6 foot with blue eyes and blonde hair, he observed all the transactions in the chamber, and would only interfere if the Queen was attacked, or if she ordered him to do so. This was her Bailiff. The second was a black woman with white hair, light blue eyes; standing almost as tall as the Bailiff. This was the executioner she shared the same duties as the Bailiff.
The ignorant sentinel probably wouldn't know it, but the judging began the moment he made contact with her, something she was sure the Guardian would inform him of. First contact with a being such as the High Queen was often tricky, because most mortals automatically assumed she was malevolent.
With a swipe of her hand a sofa and table appeared with refreshments native to the human world, specific recipes she took from books on human culture.
"Guardian, there's no doubt in my mind that you are your sentinels can preserve the balance in this universe, but the corridors to the multiverse are a huge reason for my concern." She couldn't show them the books, because now that those people were in this universe, the events were still being recorded as a judge she could not glance at the books of those still living.
"The Universal Lavalieres are also a reason for concern, As you know the War of Kings ended the lives of my siblings, with the King and Queen absent I have used my power to veto to directly interfere in this universe. The amount of death caused already has forced me to believe they are a problem to this universe."
Ishara's Baliff pulled her seat out for her allowing her to sit as a desk that was crafted in the image of the multiverse. "For the first couple of days I shall simply observe events, people places. I have a specific list of people I intend to visit...these immigrants from other universes; then I shall turn my attention to the stone holders. I do not believe there will be a need for a trial, but I will cast judgement as deliver my findings."
"I am also looking for recruits for the open positions within the Universal Judges. I will select candidates from this universe; since my parents have seemingly blessed this place."
Log in to comment