ArtificialIdiot
08-16-2006, 04:36 AM
This is just me, playing around with a rebooted version of my RPG universe that I'm planning to put into effect. :)
* * *
"Now, when most of us think of Superhumanity, we tend to think of chisel jawed muscle-men saving kittens from trees and pulling babies from burning buildings - However, a new documentary, airing on Channel Four this Friday, called 'Power and Responsibility' would have us all think again, as it exposes the seedier side of our spandex clad saviours."
She sat in a highly uncomfortable cream chair, surrounded by the most awfully lurid set designs she had ever seen. It made her head spin. Clashing oranges, purples, light blues, were all the order of the day here - The rule, not the exception as you would think they should be for a prime-time television talk show. It reminded her why she didn't own a TV, or why she, news bulletins aside, never usually appeared on one. But here she was, about to be broadcast to thousands of Britons across the country, not that it bothered her. That was nothing new. What did bother her was the people around her.
The two presenters sat almost opposite her, one a lank, dark-haired man the other a plump blonde haired woman. She sat quietly while the clip played, the clip in question being from this 'documentary'. A disgusting spin on the facts with a few downright lies sprinkled throughout for good measure, if she was any judge, it was an insult to a lot of good people who had died for this land. A lot of her friends. The other, the man, Richard she understood, leaned across to the man on her right, a hawk-faced balding gentleman with glasses that put her alter-ego's to shame. And she usually wore very thick glasses indeed. They shared a little joke between themselves, that only made her feel worse. The other man, the youngest of her companions, was a jumped up journalist who they claimed as a historian. He had hair as black as sin, slicked right back to make his forehead abnormally large. Eventually the clip finished, and the circus began.
"Shocking revelations indeed." Judy, the blonde, said sombrely. "With us now, to discuss the issues raised, are three superhero experts..."
"Super Heroic experts!" Put in Richard, it was all she could do not to groan.
"Only one of us, I'm afraid." Chuckled the man with the chiselled features, as he glared at her with a contempt that most people she'd put away in the past couldn't even muster.
"Super hero supremo Howard Jassarak, writer of the popular 'Hero Watch' column for the Lutonopolis Avenger." Howard nodded and gave a weak 'Hi' before she moved on to the next guest, plowing through the quips to get to the point. "Patrick Morrison, controversial author of a dozen best-sellers and one of the main producers behind Power and Responsibility."
"Pleasure to be here."
"And Icicle, mysterious hooded guardian of Lutonopolis." She gave a small wave and let her get back to the others. "Howard, the first real super hero appeared during the second World War, yes?"
"Well, the early history of super humans, it's, um, well, it's a muddy, clouded thing, really. There are people who'll argue that many biblical and mythological figures share, well, qualities that we generally associate with todays super heroes." He shifted further back in his seat and continued. "However, the recent outbreak, if you like, of super humans over the last twenty years... Again, many people would draw links with the growing prominence of Wescorp Industries..."
"Does it really matter who or what is to blame?!" Snorted Morrison. "They're here, they're a threat - What do we do about them?"
"That was something I was hoping to come onto..." Richard leans forward in his chair, hands steepled. "There's no question that there's a... Darker side to super humanity, I mean, we've seen it in the past, haven't we?"
"Countless times." Patrick confirmed. "Even those that we think are innocent, and generally doing the right thing, like our friend Icicle here, have quite a number of atrocities in their past, if one cares to research."
"That might be the case, but some of your proposed solutions are... Well, outrageous in the extreme."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Richard."
"Ok, lemme put it to you this way - In one of your books, you called for a mass extermination..."
"As a last resort!" He quickly interrupted. "And personally, I don't think that, if worst comes to worst, is an unreasonable statement to make. Of course, the best option would be to prevent us reaching that stage in the first place. It's why we need an immediate, government funded, registration programme. Once that's in place, I'd suggest segregating them from the rest of humanity - Perhaps building a reservation on the Isle of Man..."
"Oh course, that's, well, it's nonsense!" Exclaimed Howard. "I've studied super heroes, right? I was the first person in the UK to get a degree in Superiology, and I've spoke to... Well, thousands of supers since. And there are just some people... Well, super villains for example - You think they're going to turn themselves in because you ask nicely?"
"Just, hold on a..." One of the hosts, she was past caring which, attempted to steer the debate back on course, with little success.
"We're not going to ask nicely! The military, the police, the SAS if it's needed! We have them all..."
"Do you watch the news, Mr. Morrison?! We all know what happens to the military when they get involved..."
"Icicle!" She turned to face the plump blonde, leaving the other two no choice but to listen. "You've been a super hero for two years now..."
"Closer to three." She corrected.
"And what do you make of this? I mean, is there this 'dark side' that plagues your profession...?"
"Undoubtly. Heroes go bad. Some are just bad to start off with. But locking us all away on a small island won't solve this problem." She shifted in her seat again, an ache developing in the small of her back. These were worse than the various chairs she was forced to sit on at work. "As Howard said, villains are villains - What we need to do is look at the roots of the problems. Tackle the various mental problems and stresses of every day life that build up over the years, call for safer work practices and toxic waste disposal within our companies, search the homes of repeat offenders for blue prints of jet-propelled roller-blades or nuclear-powered battlesuits..."
"And what happens when they slip through the cracks, hm?" Demanded Patrick, his face so close to her that he could smell the rankness on his breath.
"It's exactly why we do what we do - Mopping up those that slip through the cracks."
"Then why hide behind masks? Surely if you're providing us all such a vital public service, the public has a right to know who's providing that service!"
"For the record, I don't wear a mask." She said. "But the reason we do, is to keep ourselves safe from people like you."
He didn't get a chance to reply, at that moment the host leapt in with a highly amusing anecdote involving Natalie West, a self-proclaimed 'action heroine'-cum-sex symbol-cum-promotional gimmick for Natwest building society, a lot of companies had them these days. Supposed super heroes, putting on a good show, parading around with a freshly 'saved' actor or actress, with a billion dollar smile and so much gushing emotion in their voice it makes you want to throw up. All in the name of truth, justice and Nike brand trainers - As they couldn't save the world without them! After that they played some archive footage of Ultimate saving a couple of orphans from a tower block, which was on fire and under attack from a stray dinosaur at the time - It's best not to ask. Once that was over, they announced that they had run out of time...
... More like a waste of time.
She couldn't escape into the greenroom quick enough, and even then she was itching to just get out. This was the thing she usually left to the more celebrity minded super heroes, the ones that thrived on attention. But this was important... People had to understand, they just had too. She promised when she arrived in England, she promised that she wouldn't let this land down the way she did her own. And if that meant a appearing on as many uncomfortable, futile daytime television programs as it took - She'd do it. She didn't have a choice.
"Gee, that was a whole lotta fun, huh?" Said Howard, as he took a seat beside her. "Good job public opinion's on our side, otherwise? Well, we'd have had two nutbars for the price of one."
"Hm..." She replied, it wasn't something she liked to think about. It could be the future, afterall.
"Great job out there, I mean in the interview, by the way. I mean, I know you don't usually do stuff like this, not that I'm a stalker or anything, I mean, I've followed you - For Hero Watch, like, Um, followed your activities, that is..." He took a deep breath and clamped his hands together. "Look, I'm starting this magazine... Sorry to be so forward, but y'know, I have to take every chance I get, my line of work."
"Go on..."
"Right, I'm starting this magazine, it's basically an expansion of Hero Watch. I just wanna... Well, bring the truth to the masses, really, y'know?" He slipped his fingers into the top pocket of his shirt and pulled out a packet of Molotov's. "Smoke? Oh... Sorry, that's a bit of a stupid question, isn't it?"
"Just a bit." She smiled. "That sounds... Noble enough to me. If you don't mind me asking, why do you care about us so much?"
"Noble? Y'think?" He grinned. "Thanks... That's pretty... Well, wow. As to why I care... Well, back when I was a kid - And that's going back awhile, I was a big fan of comics. Not like the comics we have today, I'm talking Superman! The Fantastic Four! All that, none of them are in print anymore. I was about seven, when I got my first, and I wanted to be just like them. I wanted to fly. I wanted to brenchpress cars. I just... It's why I love you guys so much. I mean, when I must have been fifteen when the boom happened... And... I just can't... It was the complete domination of fantasy over reality, you know? It was as if a tear in the fabric of time and space had been ripped open, and pure, one hundred percent imagination was seeping into the world. You, everyone like you, they're the champions of imagination - Something that well grounded, logical men like that Morrison can't ever understand. So they're afraid... Or they take advantage... And I guess that's my aim, to soothe people's fear and expose the people really giving you a bad name... Sounds kinda cheesy, doesn't it?"
"No... No, not at all." She flicked up the hood of her cloak, then glanced back towards him. "I'll... Consider it."
He quickly wrote down a contact number, she slipped it into her glove and left the studio. They usually insisted you stayed, probably so they could pat you on the back and claim what a 'great sucess' the show had been. She was in no mood. She stepped out onto the streets of London, a place she hadn't visisted much during her time in England, it wasn't a city she was keen on, especially after settling in Lutonopolis. It was quite claustrophobic in comparison, and seemed to have a rather maze like quality. Maybe that was just her. Either way, she hailed a cab. It was a surreal, and awkward experience, super heroes don't ride in the back of taxis. They just don't. The driver eyed her curiously for a moment, asked her if she was going to a fancy dress party, she said she wasn't. He shrugged, and drove on.
"So... You're a super hero, huh?"
"Excuse me?" She asked, having spent the last ten minutes staring aimlessly out of the window at the slow moving traffic and not paying attention to much else.
"You save the world, yes?"
"I wouldn't really go that far. I just try and make a difference."
"Heh, good on you, I keep telling our Tommy, he's me son by the way, you gotta try and make a difference in the world. That's what I say to him. I say, d'ya think those fancy spandex clad men ever studied art? No, boy! You wanna do law... Or engineering... Things that matter."
She pulled her hood even tighter around her head, if only to hide the look of disdain on her face. She was reminded of what Howard had called her kind, Champions of Imagination. It struck her that the world could use another artist. Artists didn't have a habit of going insane and building death-rays. Eventually they arrived at Paddington, she paid for her fare and then ran straight to the ladies bathroom. She threw the door closed behind her, only to receive a curious glance from a woman washing her hands. She apologised, and lingered behind her, waiting for her to leave with an agonising impatience. After the world's longest exercise in personal hygiene, although she couldn't help but wonder if having a super hero stood over her shoulder was as much to blame as anything, she left. The super heroine quickly checked the other stalls for any remaining lingerers, then froze the door solid.
Like taxis, super heroes tended to avoid travelling on trains. Unless it was on top or in front of one. While she could manage a taxi, a train was just beyond her right now. While she wasn't big in London, the only Icicle most people are associated with lives inside their freezer, a super hero is still a super hero - And spandex had a habit of attracting unwanted attention. She'd never actually travelled on a train in uniform, but she'd heard enough horror stories to put her off for life. Instead, she slipped into one of the stalls and removed top of the cistern from a toilet marked as 'Out of Order'. She sighed with relief to find the water inside was still frozen solid, and nobody had attempted to chip it away.
She gratefully unzipped the back of her costume, removing her gloves before pulling it down to her waist. She brushed the ice with her fingers, shattering it into a million tiny pieces and picking her pre-stored clothes out from underneath. She got changed quickly, not relishing the feel of the cold, recently bleached tiles on her bare feet. Once dressed, she walked over to the nearest mirror, taking her hair and man-handling it into a tight bun. One pair of thick glasses and a smudge of red lipstick later, and, as if by magic, she was just another member of Jane public. Light blue blouse, charcoal grey skirt and sensible shoes - Who would ever expect her to be one of Lutonopolis' leading super heroes? She stuffed her costume into a reasonably large straw bag, unblocking the door, to find a queue of disgruntled, cross-legged women outside.
"Sorry about that, the door got jammed, and I couldn't open it alone..." She laughed humourlessly, before skulking off to the platform. And from there, it was just a hop onto a train, and then she'd be back home...
... Back to Lutonopolis.
* * *
"Now, when most of us think of Superhumanity, we tend to think of chisel jawed muscle-men saving kittens from trees and pulling babies from burning buildings - However, a new documentary, airing on Channel Four this Friday, called 'Power and Responsibility' would have us all think again, as it exposes the seedier side of our spandex clad saviours."
She sat in a highly uncomfortable cream chair, surrounded by the most awfully lurid set designs she had ever seen. It made her head spin. Clashing oranges, purples, light blues, were all the order of the day here - The rule, not the exception as you would think they should be for a prime-time television talk show. It reminded her why she didn't own a TV, or why she, news bulletins aside, never usually appeared on one. But here she was, about to be broadcast to thousands of Britons across the country, not that it bothered her. That was nothing new. What did bother her was the people around her.
The two presenters sat almost opposite her, one a lank, dark-haired man the other a plump blonde haired woman. She sat quietly while the clip played, the clip in question being from this 'documentary'. A disgusting spin on the facts with a few downright lies sprinkled throughout for good measure, if she was any judge, it was an insult to a lot of good people who had died for this land. A lot of her friends. The other, the man, Richard she understood, leaned across to the man on her right, a hawk-faced balding gentleman with glasses that put her alter-ego's to shame. And she usually wore very thick glasses indeed. They shared a little joke between themselves, that only made her feel worse. The other man, the youngest of her companions, was a jumped up journalist who they claimed as a historian. He had hair as black as sin, slicked right back to make his forehead abnormally large. Eventually the clip finished, and the circus began.
"Shocking revelations indeed." Judy, the blonde, said sombrely. "With us now, to discuss the issues raised, are three superhero experts..."
"Super Heroic experts!" Put in Richard, it was all she could do not to groan.
"Only one of us, I'm afraid." Chuckled the man with the chiselled features, as he glared at her with a contempt that most people she'd put away in the past couldn't even muster.
"Super hero supremo Howard Jassarak, writer of the popular 'Hero Watch' column for the Lutonopolis Avenger." Howard nodded and gave a weak 'Hi' before she moved on to the next guest, plowing through the quips to get to the point. "Patrick Morrison, controversial author of a dozen best-sellers and one of the main producers behind Power and Responsibility."
"Pleasure to be here."
"And Icicle, mysterious hooded guardian of Lutonopolis." She gave a small wave and let her get back to the others. "Howard, the first real super hero appeared during the second World War, yes?"
"Well, the early history of super humans, it's, um, well, it's a muddy, clouded thing, really. There are people who'll argue that many biblical and mythological figures share, well, qualities that we generally associate with todays super heroes." He shifted further back in his seat and continued. "However, the recent outbreak, if you like, of super humans over the last twenty years... Again, many people would draw links with the growing prominence of Wescorp Industries..."
"Does it really matter who or what is to blame?!" Snorted Morrison. "They're here, they're a threat - What do we do about them?"
"That was something I was hoping to come onto..." Richard leans forward in his chair, hands steepled. "There's no question that there's a... Darker side to super humanity, I mean, we've seen it in the past, haven't we?"
"Countless times." Patrick confirmed. "Even those that we think are innocent, and generally doing the right thing, like our friend Icicle here, have quite a number of atrocities in their past, if one cares to research."
"That might be the case, but some of your proposed solutions are... Well, outrageous in the extreme."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Richard."
"Ok, lemme put it to you this way - In one of your books, you called for a mass extermination..."
"As a last resort!" He quickly interrupted. "And personally, I don't think that, if worst comes to worst, is an unreasonable statement to make. Of course, the best option would be to prevent us reaching that stage in the first place. It's why we need an immediate, government funded, registration programme. Once that's in place, I'd suggest segregating them from the rest of humanity - Perhaps building a reservation on the Isle of Man..."
"Oh course, that's, well, it's nonsense!" Exclaimed Howard. "I've studied super heroes, right? I was the first person in the UK to get a degree in Superiology, and I've spoke to... Well, thousands of supers since. And there are just some people... Well, super villains for example - You think they're going to turn themselves in because you ask nicely?"
"Just, hold on a..." One of the hosts, she was past caring which, attempted to steer the debate back on course, with little success.
"We're not going to ask nicely! The military, the police, the SAS if it's needed! We have them all..."
"Do you watch the news, Mr. Morrison?! We all know what happens to the military when they get involved..."
"Icicle!" She turned to face the plump blonde, leaving the other two no choice but to listen. "You've been a super hero for two years now..."
"Closer to three." She corrected.
"And what do you make of this? I mean, is there this 'dark side' that plagues your profession...?"
"Undoubtly. Heroes go bad. Some are just bad to start off with. But locking us all away on a small island won't solve this problem." She shifted in her seat again, an ache developing in the small of her back. These were worse than the various chairs she was forced to sit on at work. "As Howard said, villains are villains - What we need to do is look at the roots of the problems. Tackle the various mental problems and stresses of every day life that build up over the years, call for safer work practices and toxic waste disposal within our companies, search the homes of repeat offenders for blue prints of jet-propelled roller-blades or nuclear-powered battlesuits..."
"And what happens when they slip through the cracks, hm?" Demanded Patrick, his face so close to her that he could smell the rankness on his breath.
"It's exactly why we do what we do - Mopping up those that slip through the cracks."
"Then why hide behind masks? Surely if you're providing us all such a vital public service, the public has a right to know who's providing that service!"
"For the record, I don't wear a mask." She said. "But the reason we do, is to keep ourselves safe from people like you."
He didn't get a chance to reply, at that moment the host leapt in with a highly amusing anecdote involving Natalie West, a self-proclaimed 'action heroine'-cum-sex symbol-cum-promotional gimmick for Natwest building society, a lot of companies had them these days. Supposed super heroes, putting on a good show, parading around with a freshly 'saved' actor or actress, with a billion dollar smile and so much gushing emotion in their voice it makes you want to throw up. All in the name of truth, justice and Nike brand trainers - As they couldn't save the world without them! After that they played some archive footage of Ultimate saving a couple of orphans from a tower block, which was on fire and under attack from a stray dinosaur at the time - It's best not to ask. Once that was over, they announced that they had run out of time...
... More like a waste of time.
She couldn't escape into the greenroom quick enough, and even then she was itching to just get out. This was the thing she usually left to the more celebrity minded super heroes, the ones that thrived on attention. But this was important... People had to understand, they just had too. She promised when she arrived in England, she promised that she wouldn't let this land down the way she did her own. And if that meant a appearing on as many uncomfortable, futile daytime television programs as it took - She'd do it. She didn't have a choice.
"Gee, that was a whole lotta fun, huh?" Said Howard, as he took a seat beside her. "Good job public opinion's on our side, otherwise? Well, we'd have had two nutbars for the price of one."
"Hm..." She replied, it wasn't something she liked to think about. It could be the future, afterall.
"Great job out there, I mean in the interview, by the way. I mean, I know you don't usually do stuff like this, not that I'm a stalker or anything, I mean, I've followed you - For Hero Watch, like, Um, followed your activities, that is..." He took a deep breath and clamped his hands together. "Look, I'm starting this magazine... Sorry to be so forward, but y'know, I have to take every chance I get, my line of work."
"Go on..."
"Right, I'm starting this magazine, it's basically an expansion of Hero Watch. I just wanna... Well, bring the truth to the masses, really, y'know?" He slipped his fingers into the top pocket of his shirt and pulled out a packet of Molotov's. "Smoke? Oh... Sorry, that's a bit of a stupid question, isn't it?"
"Just a bit." She smiled. "That sounds... Noble enough to me. If you don't mind me asking, why do you care about us so much?"
"Noble? Y'think?" He grinned. "Thanks... That's pretty... Well, wow. As to why I care... Well, back when I was a kid - And that's going back awhile, I was a big fan of comics. Not like the comics we have today, I'm talking Superman! The Fantastic Four! All that, none of them are in print anymore. I was about seven, when I got my first, and I wanted to be just like them. I wanted to fly. I wanted to brenchpress cars. I just... It's why I love you guys so much. I mean, when I must have been fifteen when the boom happened... And... I just can't... It was the complete domination of fantasy over reality, you know? It was as if a tear in the fabric of time and space had been ripped open, and pure, one hundred percent imagination was seeping into the world. You, everyone like you, they're the champions of imagination - Something that well grounded, logical men like that Morrison can't ever understand. So they're afraid... Or they take advantage... And I guess that's my aim, to soothe people's fear and expose the people really giving you a bad name... Sounds kinda cheesy, doesn't it?"
"No... No, not at all." She flicked up the hood of her cloak, then glanced back towards him. "I'll... Consider it."
He quickly wrote down a contact number, she slipped it into her glove and left the studio. They usually insisted you stayed, probably so they could pat you on the back and claim what a 'great sucess' the show had been. She was in no mood. She stepped out onto the streets of London, a place she hadn't visisted much during her time in England, it wasn't a city she was keen on, especially after settling in Lutonopolis. It was quite claustrophobic in comparison, and seemed to have a rather maze like quality. Maybe that was just her. Either way, she hailed a cab. It was a surreal, and awkward experience, super heroes don't ride in the back of taxis. They just don't. The driver eyed her curiously for a moment, asked her if she was going to a fancy dress party, she said she wasn't. He shrugged, and drove on.
"So... You're a super hero, huh?"
"Excuse me?" She asked, having spent the last ten minutes staring aimlessly out of the window at the slow moving traffic and not paying attention to much else.
"You save the world, yes?"
"I wouldn't really go that far. I just try and make a difference."
"Heh, good on you, I keep telling our Tommy, he's me son by the way, you gotta try and make a difference in the world. That's what I say to him. I say, d'ya think those fancy spandex clad men ever studied art? No, boy! You wanna do law... Or engineering... Things that matter."
She pulled her hood even tighter around her head, if only to hide the look of disdain on her face. She was reminded of what Howard had called her kind, Champions of Imagination. It struck her that the world could use another artist. Artists didn't have a habit of going insane and building death-rays. Eventually they arrived at Paddington, she paid for her fare and then ran straight to the ladies bathroom. She threw the door closed behind her, only to receive a curious glance from a woman washing her hands. She apologised, and lingered behind her, waiting for her to leave with an agonising impatience. After the world's longest exercise in personal hygiene, although she couldn't help but wonder if having a super hero stood over her shoulder was as much to blame as anything, she left. The super heroine quickly checked the other stalls for any remaining lingerers, then froze the door solid.
Like taxis, super heroes tended to avoid travelling on trains. Unless it was on top or in front of one. While she could manage a taxi, a train was just beyond her right now. While she wasn't big in London, the only Icicle most people are associated with lives inside their freezer, a super hero is still a super hero - And spandex had a habit of attracting unwanted attention. She'd never actually travelled on a train in uniform, but she'd heard enough horror stories to put her off for life. Instead, she slipped into one of the stalls and removed top of the cistern from a toilet marked as 'Out of Order'. She sighed with relief to find the water inside was still frozen solid, and nobody had attempted to chip it away.
She gratefully unzipped the back of her costume, removing her gloves before pulling it down to her waist. She brushed the ice with her fingers, shattering it into a million tiny pieces and picking her pre-stored clothes out from underneath. She got changed quickly, not relishing the feel of the cold, recently bleached tiles on her bare feet. Once dressed, she walked over to the nearest mirror, taking her hair and man-handling it into a tight bun. One pair of thick glasses and a smudge of red lipstick later, and, as if by magic, she was just another member of Jane public. Light blue blouse, charcoal grey skirt and sensible shoes - Who would ever expect her to be one of Lutonopolis' leading super heroes? She stuffed her costume into a reasonably large straw bag, unblocking the door, to find a queue of disgruntled, cross-legged women outside.
"Sorry about that, the door got jammed, and I couldn't open it alone..." She laughed humourlessly, before skulking off to the platform. And from there, it was just a hop onto a train, and then she'd be back home...
... Back to Lutonopolis.