One Day After Satellite Incident
Woodrow sat on a hill in full costume, speed-solving a ten-ton crate full of Rubik's cubes that he'd snatched from a Chinese dock. The completed ones rested in a messy pile behind him, thrown from over his shoulder the moment they were done. His helm was tuned in to air worldwide traffic, filtering for priority signals. The wind blew the grass around him as he sat with the cube in his hand, absentmindedly fidgeted with as he waited. After dropping one, he'd extend his fingers, using his inertial powers to pull another out of the busted crate and commence work.
Emergency, emergency - engine failure, engine fail-
He was fifty miles out before the cube hit the grass.
Thirty Minutes Later - San Francisco International Airport
In a truly daring display, Warpspeed had caught the falling plane and carried it all the way to its destination in San Francisco. Personally shaking the hands of each passenger after making sure they were uninjured, he played his part for the media, sticking around to smile for the cameras. He answered a slew of basic questions, leaving his gleaming helmet on and signing a few autographs. A humble shrug here, a smirk and a laugh there - all part of the game.
Long ago, Woody had thought that nothing in the great big universe mattered. Individual beings were smaller than dust compared to the stars, reproducing like ants, compelled to breed and fight by abject chemical reactions in their puny little brains. They'd live, and die, and it'd be over. Nothing would matter.
Well, that'd changed. If something mattered in the universe, it was Woodrow Watts. His little involuntary exile to planet Earth had originally seemed like a death sentence, even if it were only for a few months...but he'd decided to get used to it. Woody went with the flow. So what was the plan now? Simple. Make himself last. The ultimate transformation of man...into idea. He'd seen it before, on other planets - ideologies born of great Herculean feats, beings emulated for millennia. He could live for that.
So as the cameras continued flashing, he kept on modestly lowering his head, raising his hands to tell them to stop praising him so. He kept waiting for the inevitable opportunity, waiting, waiting...
Ah. There they are.
"Mister Warpspeed, we're with Chrysler-"
"Hey, this is Coca-Cola. Might you be interested in a promotional -"
"Hasbro here, how about a toyline?"
He suddenly looked stern, closing his eyes behind his helmet and shaking his head. He cut them off, taking one of the reporters' microphones.
"Listen. I want you guys to know...I'm not interested in your money. Your deals. I'm not a corporate sellout, like...I don't know...Night Warden, (@nightwarden17)" he said, pointing accusingly at the businessmen, then turning to a camera.
"You know how it is, folks. Whenever big money's involved, there's...say it with me...exploitation. Bottom line is, companies care about profit. No matter what they say, that's gonna extend to the hero business."
He stopped, pausing dramatically.
"Hero business."
He shook his head, pensively raising an eyebrow. They wouldn't see it behind the helmet, but the effect would be the same.
"I'm no company man. I do what I do because it's right. That's the way it ought to be. You know how much publicity this Jacob Chase is getting from his little deal with Mister Warden? Probably quite a bit. And you know, folks, that man, Night Warden, is now in Chase's back pocket. That's not heroism. That's corporate violence."
He took a deep breath.
"You know the kind of people those street vigilantes prey on? The mentally ill. The poor, who feel the need to steal to stay alive. People ravaged by drugs. Guys who have no opportunity...some would say because of the rich, like Jake Chase!"
A few gasps from the crowd. Woody smiled on the inside. Perfect.
"So...I don't want your money. I'm not here to prey on the unfortunate, just as vigilantes like Mister Warden do. I'm taking a stand against your money-machine. Superheroics and dollars? Come on. Those don't go together."
He shook his head again. A long pause.
"If Night Warden really cared, if these heroes really cared...they'd abandon the company payroll. Make it like old times. 'Fore businesses owned the streets. Owned our lives."
He handed the mic back. More clamor, more questions...but there was time for that later. He pointed to the camera.
"Don't worry, though, guys and gals. Warpspeed's here. And he only works...for you."
With that, he was off over the sea, leaving the crowd and crashed plane behind. He smiled, jetting upwards at a ninety-degree angle into the stratosphere.
Heh. I gotta get a crew together...
Log in to comment