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>>6435860

The door clicked behind him, it may as well have been the toll of a funeral bell. One of them came up now as he exited the blacked out meeting room, a bubbly blonde named Melodie.

"Mr Dodd, sir," she said, correcting her glasses. Cute almost, how she took her pretend job seriously, "We have a problem."

"The only problem you need to worry about, is the one in my-" he started to say with his greasy smirk.

"Hotspur," she said.

That killed his boner and his grin.

A bad day getting worse.

"What about the little prick?" he fired at her.

"He's in the building," she said, "Engaged with the Chicago Protectors."

'Engaged with', trying to be all formal. It would be adorable if he wasn't so goddamn fucked. He forced the grin back on his face.

"Wonderful, sure they can handle it," he said through clenched teeth. If that little asshole had found out about the Cereal Department...if that was why he was actually here. Fuck. That little fuck. Maybe it was time to find a more permanent solution for the super hero problem. No more playing nice. He was running out of time for 'nice'. "Get me a line to the mayor. Then freshen up, need you working over time tonight."

"Oh?" she gave a sassy little wink," Yes sir."

But his mind wasn't on that. No, not any more.

It was on that little asshole breaking his shit downstairs.

-

Haymaker's right hook hit about as hard as I'd ever been hit before. Stars popped in miniature supernovas across my vision as it sent me bouncing over a couple of desks, crashing last through a computer tower.

I'd achieved what I'd been trying to do though. Plugged in Remix's usb.

Her laugh in my ear, a childish giggle of delight, was near as sharp as the painful ringing as I rolled up to my feet, shattered computer board dripping off my shoulders.

"Don't fall for the flim-flam," Haymaker said, lowering his fists, "Kid's talking a load of shit."

But my lie had half the team looking out the window for the phantom enemy I told them I'd been fighting. Barbaric in the form of a terror bird blinked her avian eyes at the window, so was Uncle Karl and the security team.

"Let him try to escape gravity's well!" Gravitas said, beginning to lift off his feet in a flourish of his coattails.

I put up my fists, squaring up, ready to throw down.

My name's Hotspur, and I'm not scared of a fight.

>throw down with the Chicago Protectors, show them how a real hero fights
>I'd done what I needed to do, time to book
>write-in

(I forgot my old password)

>>6435867
>I'd done what I needed to do, time to book
Hotspur the concussed Zoroastrian. Kick a desk at them or something.

>>6435867
>>I'd done what I needed to do, time to book
Welcome back

>>6435867
>I'd done what I needed to do, time to book
Great to see this back! Been a while but I think with our goal achieved we have no reason to hang around? Plus we might be breaking the law?

>>6435867
>throw down with the Chicago Protectors, show them how a real hero fights
let's rumble
welcome back BP

>>6435892
>>6435898
>>6435913
locking that in

Objective complete. Remix had her in to the Ixion system, and could pilfer the info she needed to revive Ironclad. Time to dip.

My ears ringing, I looked to the windows. Smash my way out, take my chances. Better than throwing down with three parafolk and their private security back up. gravitas could control gravity, as demonstrated by his bout of levitation. He'd be the problem getting away. But Barbaric was a shapeshifter, and I'd seen her turn into birds before.

The main problem right now though was the hulking form of Haymaker, the parolee standing between me and the nightsky.

"Be a good kid and give up, Spur," he said, "We got you out numbered and out muscled."

"Give up? Man, you don't know how I roll," I said, shaking the last of the ringing out of my ears.

Fire burst through me, that hot pleasure rush of heat that was the power that gave me my abilities. Power enough to fight my way out of here.

I squared up for a second like I was going to throw down. He put up his dukes.

"Fine by me," he said.

Then I darted forward, and dropped into a slide, slipping past him and under a desk.

"He's going for the window!"

Uncle Karl barked the words. Above me the cover of the desk was flung away by an invisible hand. Gravitas.

"The pest won't escape my hand," he said, "No foot is swift enough to defy the grasp of gravity's fist."

For all his high faluting verbiage, he must have missed the part in school about the laws of velocity. Go fast enough, and nothing could stop you. And for me? The laws of physics can eat shit when it comes to me.

I ran, pelting for the window. Try and stop me. Just try.

>roll 3 x 1d100 +10 DC 50

Rolled 42 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>6436000

Rolled 25 (1d100)

>>6436000
Holy shit we're actually back

Rolled 39 (1d100)

>>6436000
Big money crit

>>6436019
>>6436027
>>6436030
Jobspur is so back. Good thing we didn't try to fight!

>>6436019
that's a pass!

Dad once told me a story about this guy in Canada called Gary Hoy. Lawyer type who worked in a high rise building, claimed the glass of the windows was unbreakable. Used to demonstrate that fact to new hires by taking a run at it. Every time he bounced off, getting a laugh out of how scared the interns got every time he banged off the glass.

Until one time the glass popped right out of the frame, and Mr Hoy took a tumble from the 24th floor. To his credit, he was right. The glass had been unbreakable. Unfortunately for Mr Hoy, he wasn't.

Dad told it as a dark joke - 'Don't run through 24th floor windows.'

Good advice.

Time to ignore it. Only this wasn't the 24th floor, this was the 75th.

Now I don't know the limits of Gravitas' powers, but I knew mine. I can run pretty damn fast. I ran fast as I could. Straight for the dark glass.

Uncle Karl's gun barked, the bullet plinking off the glass. Haymaker was shouting as the terror bird gave a shotgun like clap of its jaws, sprinting after me.

I ignored it all, seeing myself grow larger in the dark mirror, hurtling straight toward it, white fire glowing in my footsteps.

"Gotcha," Remix cackled in my ear right as I hit the glass.

With respect to Mr Hoy, the unbreakable glass shattered around my shoulders as I burst through, the chill night wind whipping up around me as I hurtled out into the dark sky. The only light was beneath me, the golden grid glow of Chicago set out around the river. Bullets hissed past.

"Gravity's fist my ass!" Haymaker roared.

I went hurtling across the night.

Something came hurtling out of the night alongside me. A sleek brunette missile with flaring pleated skirts.

Liberty, the girl scout of the goon squad, her pretty dimpled face tight in concentration.

I can hustle midair better than most, but I can't fly. Just leap tall buildings, with a good run up at least.

I made for the southern bank of the river while Liberty swooped at me, a pretty bird-of-prey looking to snatch me out of the air. There was no talking here, no way to shout back and forth over the rush of the wind and the sheer speed at which we were moving. Of all Ixion's hired goons, Liberty seemed the nicest and most sincere. But right now she meant serious business.

And even if she didn't mean me any real harm, the dull roar of the security mechs taking flight beneath us, flying in heavy graceless arcs as they struggled to keep up, most certainly did.

Slipping away from one threat to another, hurtling toward the hard concrete, shaking these tails would be a mite harder.

>nothing for it but to scrap, take out the mechs and the girl
>keep running, fast as they were they couldn't keep up with me

>>6436206
>nothing for it but to scrap, take out the mechs and the girl

>>6436206
>>keep running, fast as they were they couldn't keep up with me
Specially if we can use the buildings for cover

>>6436206
>keep running, fast as they were they couldn't keep up with me
I’m fine busting up some mechs but if Liberty is a good person better to avoid that fight.

>>6436206
>keep running, fast as they were they couldn't keep up with me
Narrow streets

>>6436302
>>6436293
>>6436282
Hotspur keeps running. locked in.

It’s been a minute, but does hotspur have more abilities beside super strength, toughness, speed, regen, flame sword, and binding vows that cook people if they break it?

>>6436384
he also has spirit vision (and maybe other powers yet to be discovered)

write up is taking a second due to wife

No time to brawl, I had to dip.

I hit the back of one of those security mechs on the way down, fleeting planting hard on the roof of its metal chassis, getting a look at the startled pilot in the cockpit, before kicking off and hurtling toward the city lights in the south. Liberty swooped after me, the sound of her a sharp whistle through the air.

She was faster than me in midflight, that was for sure, and tried snatching at the flapping hood of my jacket, but call me a bouncing flea because my trajectory was far from easy to track. My boots hit the cement roof off a building and I broke into a stumbling run before kicking off again.

Mid-leap I looked back and gave the girl a sharp salute. Bit of a smart ass move, it only doubled her frown into a concentrated snarl. This girl wasn't going to give up easy, even as the stumbling bumblebee flight of the mechs peeled off behind her, sticking to the perimeter of their billionaire boss' glass tower fortress.

The whistle of her speeding up behind me grew louder.

> roll 3 x 1d100 +10 DC 60

Rolled 77 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>6436401
Untied shoelace trip

Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>6436401

Rolled 65 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>6436401

>>6436396
>due to wife
congrats

>>6436401
>I hit the back of one of those security mechs on the way down, fleeting planting hard on the roof of its metal chassis, getting a look at the startled pilot in the cockpit
Oh shit they're piloted? I thought they were drones, nevermind busting them up unless we can do it without injuring the pilots.

>>6436402
>>6436417
>>6436423
Far better rolls than I remember us ever having.

>>6436402
success!

I hit the ground of the south bank riverwalk and dropped. She overshot me, rocketing ahead, having to pull up fast to keep from slamming into a wall. I had to admire her manouvres, it was like watching Semper Fi without the dip pit of disgust.

My next leap up had me landing on a roof of corrugated iron, hitting it with a loud shotgun bang. Looking up into the dark, I saw Liberty swoop around, just a dart of white in the darkness.

Would she just give up already? I wasn't even cloose to tired, I could go all night. No way was she catching me. Particularly when I stopped bounding from rooftop to rooftop and dropped into the streets, hooking off a lamp post and throwing myself at a street sign. Cutting slick airial moves was easy in an open sky, down in the streets, with the people? Good luck.

Like ever there were still people out, even if the crowds were thin. Chicago got like that. I landed at an intersection, cutting glances up above to see if I was still being followed. She was up there, distant and looking for me.

A thunderclap off to one side had Thunderchild port in, crouched on the top of a traffic light.

"Ay yo, you really don't know how to stick to a plan," he said, "You get that kid her in?"

"From the way she be cacklin', sounds like it," I said. I'd muted the ear piece just to concentrate. She laughed like a cartoon witch with even less warmth.

"Now she's going to what, revive Ironclad after that fuck up with the terrorists?"

"She said so," I said, "We'll see."

Had to keep moving for now. The little dot that was Liberty above started turning. Maybe she'd finally picked me out.

"You want a ride back to the Farm, or...?" Thunderchild offered.

His porting was definitely harder to track than my human flea act, but heading straight back to the Farm had its own risks. Ixion would be gunning for me hard now, if they hadn't been before.

>ask for a ride out to Humbdolt Park, head home
>ask for a ride back to the Farm, check in with Remix
>ask for a ride out to somewhere else, to lay low (write in where/who to lay low with)

>>6436615
>ask for a ride out to Humbdolt Park, head home

*humboldt

my typos haven't changed at least

>>6436619
It’s the cte finally catching up with hotspur
>fleeting planting hard

I yearn for an 'edit post' button

>>6436615
>ask for a ride back to the Farm, check in with Remix

>>6436615
>ask for a ride back to the Farm, check in with Remix
They can’t track teleportation, so they’d find us when we left and track it back to the farm. We just need Thunder to port us back out and we should be safe.

>>6436615
>>ask for a ride back to the Farm, check in with Remix

>>6436672
>>6436695
>>6436818
locking that in. Heading back to the Farm.

"Let's go back to the Farm," I said. The sooner this was all finished the better.

Thunderchild grabbed my collar, and around us that vaccuum pull dragged in, ending in a thunderclap explosion. It was a zig-zagging route back to the parafolk community Queen Rat had built on the outskirts of Chicago, but it was faster than driving. We ported in near the pond, well past midnight. Thunderchild's teleporting wasn't subtle, and the few people up gave us disgruntled looks as we settled on the wet grass.

From the pond the fin of Shark was barely visible, a dark blade in the night. It stirred a minute but the colossal guardian of the Farm knew who we were and remained in his abode.

Out the front of Remix's workshop Dane was waiting. My former classmate wasn't happy to see me.

"Anyone follow you?" he asked.

"Follow me? Not happening," Thunderchild said, "But it wouldn't take them many guesses to figure out where we are."

"Great," he said, "Last thing we need is the mayor's strapped up mechs kicking down our door with a warrant." Always an optimist, that Dane. "Talk has it the president plans to set up camps, and the soon to be governor is all for it. Really wants to clamp down on the 'paranormal disturbances'. Now here you are giving them more ammunition."

"They can try, but they won't want the smoke," Thunderchild said, meaning every word. He'd spent some time in the DPA's blacksite, and had no intention of ever going back.

"Whatever happens, right now we have other problems," I said, walking past to see Remix, ignoring Dane's glare.

I found the girl chortling in front of her scratch built computer, tapping away.

"Nice, nice, nice," she said, "Oh they are way further behind than I thought, but yes, this is good."

"Got what you need to wake up sleeping beauty?" I said.

"Uh?" her grunt at being interrupted was short and ugly, "Oh you get me that micro-processor I asked for? No? Oh that's right, you just did half the job and ran."

I grit my teeth. "Bit hard to do when I had their pet super team on my ass," I said, "Got you into their systems at least."

"Sure, yeah, make excuses," she said, "No, but even without the chip this, oh this is going to speed everything up! And they aren't going to get rid of me this time. Hep-C up in this bitch. They'll need to wipe their data centers just to keep me out."

Then she started cackling again. "I knew he was fucking lying!" she pointed to her screen, "What a loser."

"What's it?" I said, leaning over.

"Fake gamer, he's a goddamn fake gamer, here's the proof!" she jabbed at the computer screen, "See? He's been paying a bot farm in Indonesia to grind out his Diablo runs!"

That sounded like a whole lot of who gives a fuck, but it mattered to Remix. The girl's eyes were shining.

"Don't tell me you had me plug in that usb just to prove Julian Dodd is cheating at video games," I said.

>>6437215

"No! Ah, no not just that," she said, "I wanted a little peek into their AI program, see how far along it is. Ha! It's mostly just some genAI bullshit they're dressing up as AGI for investors, but there's something here could really give Lincoln a software boost."

I'd like to pretend I knew what she was talking about, but spending my free time busting heads in alleyways left me a bit behind on the latest updates on corporate existential terror.

Her robot buddy though turned his head at the mention of his name, sitting up in the corner. A bright smiling emoji lit up his computer screen face.

"Huh, well, that's interesting," she said, tapping away, "Oh that's veeery interesting. Really fills in the blanks on that stuff we lifted from their little gala. It's a bit jargony but it looks as if our Ixion friends have decided to dabble a little in human cloning. Not illegal in Illinois as far as I can tell, but pretty ethically dubious."

"Okay, but Ironclad though," I said, thinking about the man currently in a deep coma after getting pincunshioned on my behalf. Id bet money Ixion had their fingers in many ethically dubious pies.

Remix sighed, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a syringe. It had an unsettling red liquid floating inside it. "Jab him with this," she said.

"And this is?" I asked.

"A cocktail of adrenaline, amphetamine and other things you don't want to know about," she said, "Plunge it into his heart and I can guarantee you he'll wake up."

"You had this the whole time, didn't you?"

Can't say I found her smirk endearing. She sat back against her computer desk. "The deal was I wake up your buddy in exchange for a microprocessor," she said, "I currently have no microprocessor. I could have just told you to go fuck yourself."

Could have, maybe should have. I was tired and not in the mood for being jerked around. But she wasn't wrong about the microchip or whatever it was. Once the fighting started I'd forgotten all about it.

I shook the syringe. Right in the heart, huh?

"People make to much out of human biology," Remix said, "It's just organic machinery. There's nothing deep about it. Just a bunch of rotting meat powered by electrical impulses. As easy to hack as any computer." She spat as if to demonstrate something. Weird kid.

She eyed me up. "I don't need a thank you," she said.

>Maybe I had messed up a bit. Thank you, Remix
>and she wasn't going to get one out of me
>(write-in)

>>6437216
>Maybe I had messed up a bit. Thank you, Remix
>Ask if there's any long-term health effect Ironclad should watch out for.
Heart cancer.

>>6437216
>Maybe I had messed up a bit. Thank you, Remix
Totally forgot about the chip. Our bad.

>Just a bunch of rotting meat powered by electrical impulses.
Uh, our meat doesn’t rot until we die, right? Right?

>>6437216
>Maybe I had messed up a bit. Thank you, Remix

>>6437216
>Maybe I had messed up a bit. Thank you, Remix

>>6437231
>Uh, our meat doesn’t rot until we die, right? Right?

Actually she's right, all bodies are in a constant cycle of replication and decay.

Organisms just use enmzeys to digest and absorb the nutrients from Dead cells and after its printed replacements.

After 5 years pretty much all of a person's cells have died off, been eaten and replaced.

>>6437383
>>6437237
>>6437231
>>6437221
locking that in

>>6435860
Oh shit you arent dead? I'll have to check the old chapters again.

>>6437545
Got work in the morning, looking forward to seeing where this goes, glad you ain't dead, congrats on the wife

"You're right, I messed up. Thank you, Remix," I said, "You really came through for me."

"I said I don't need a thank you!" she spat back, a little pink in the cheeks.

I held up the vial again. "This won't have any nasty side effects, will it? Last thing Ironclad needs is a case of heart disease or something."

She shrugged. "Hell if I know, I'm not a doctor," she said, "My powers, you know, I jus' know how to make the thing, can't tell you the ins and outs of 'em."

Reassuring. I put it in a pouch at my belt, nice and safe. So I can jumpstart his heart and get him up and around, risking some kind of nasty side effect, or leave him catnapping for who knew how long. But I didn't go through all that trouble just to doubt Remix at the last hurdle.

It was Dane waiting outside gave me my marching orders. "You should dip before the cops roll up," he said, "You hanging around is the last thing this place needs right now. Between the protestors and the government threating to Waco the place, a couple of corporate jackboots crashing in to find you won't help. Problems follow you like flies on shit."

He had a point. It felt like my old school friend wasn't ever going to like me, but that didn't make him wrong. And he had good reason for that dislike. Not just the obvious one of me hooking up with his ex. His powers seemed like someone else''s fantasy. Didn't need to sleep, didn't get tired, didn't need to eat, couldn't get hurt or die. Couldn't age. Think about it long enough and it became a nightmare.

We'd talked about it once. How long was forever? Dane was staring into infinity, eternally fifteen. It was a hard ride by any stretch of the imagination. The only upshot he'd ever given was that all the sleepless nights had left him the number one ranked Ibuki player in North America.

Not much of an upshot.

Before I could leave though, he grabbed my arm.

"And maybe leave the kid out of it," he said. The kid? Remix. Not the word I'd use to describe that foul mouthed callus of a girl. "She acts tough, like nothing bothers her. But that's just a front. The things she's been through..." He said that last bit with a dark knowledge that wasn't his to share.

I knew enough not to ask. I'd met her living in a rundown mall with just her scrapyard built robot buddy for company. No kid ended up living like that because she had a happy life.

"She deserves to be safe," he said, and left it at that.

It was something to think about. We called her a kid but really there was only a few years between us. But three years was a big difference at our age. Again, he wasn't wrong.

"See you around," I said.

"Not if I can help it," he replied.

I said my goodbyes to Thunderchild, which were a sight more positive.

"Call if you need another assist," he said, "Maybe we should get the others together and have a chat about this stuff."

"Maybe," I said.

But helping Ironclad came first.

>>6437707

Poor bastard got Boromir'd by a bow and arrow totting Humanity First psychopath. Sharp wood arrows so he'd been helpless against them. Hadn't killed him though, and word was his coma was as much a psychological thing as on account of blood loss. Either way, he was trussed up recovering in Cook County, getting the best quality care.

Man am I sick of hospitals. Been sick of them since before Mom died. I'd been seeing more than a few of late, though I'd check in with Doc Ramsey before going to any public hospital. Another guy that didn't much like me, but he was discreet.

Out at Cook County, the whole world was coming and going through its doors, even at bullshit hours like right now.

Ms Grant had sent me Ironclad's room. One with a view, and guards. Cops would be on his door on account of the attempt on his life, make sure no humanity First thug came around to finish the job.

I had no idea if the cops had been informed on my break in to the Ixion building, if they'd have it out for me or not. Either way this was not visiting hours.

Getting in to see him might carry some risks.

>go home, come back tomorrow during visiting hours as Eric Miller
>I was here now, just find his window and break-in
>write-in

I'm really out of practice writing. Part of why I came back to running this. Glad there are still some people who are interested in it. Once we wrap up the loose ends from last year I'll move on to bigger and more exciting stuff.

Also its wild to think I started this during covid. We'd probably be finished by now if it weren't for the hiatuses.

>>6437708
>go home, come back tomorrow during visiting hours as Eric Miller
I think hotspur should practice throwing pebbles

>>6437708
>write-in: Walk through the front door in your costume, make it clear to the staff and cops alike that Hotspur is going to be seeing his ally and he is not taking no for an answer.

I feel like with our general level of fame we should be able to intimidate the civilian staff and one or two cops.

>>6437708
>>go home, come back tomorrow during visiting hours as Eric Miller

>>6437708
>I was here now, just find his window and break-in
This feels like a risk to our secret identity

Rolled 2 (1d2)

I'm going to flip a coin on this

1 go home
2 break in to the hospital

or actually I'll just go for 1. the write-in has a pretty different tone to just voting to break in and I can't really combine the two. sorry for that post.

Hotspur will come back as Eric Miller tomorrow, for now he's heading home

Whatever Ironclad's condition, it could wait until morning. I had enough breaking and entering charges to deal with. And I fucking hate hospitals.

Dipping back to the neighborhood, I stashed my costume at the hideout before jogging home. Dad might know my secret identity, but bounding straight there in full costume was still less than subtle. I was trying to duck a whole surveillance state, didn't need to bring that heat through my window.

It was nearly three in the morning by the time I got back in.

Something about being out of costume, sneaking in late, made me feel almost like a normal teenager. Dad had left some Popeyes on the counter and boy did I need it, even choking down one of their dry ass biscuits. A shower and bed, that's what I needed.

But in the shower my thoughts churned. Ivy and Ayesha. I'd kissed Ayane. No, not me, that dick of a prince lurking in my head had kissed her. And not really 'her' but his own sister inside her. That freaky kind of cosmic incest made my guts squirm, even as the memory of the kiss was...maybe better than I'd like to remember.

Fuck. I don't know if I have a 'weakness' as such, but maybe girls is one of them. I was lucky to have what I'd got, luckier than most. What do they call it, a polycule? Two girls who like each other and like me too. But here I was fucking it up because a space prince had a freak out in a sewer.

Ayesha had taken it better. She seemed to have a head for this weirdness, even more than I did. But Ivy still hadn't messaged me back yet. I didn't know where we were.

Of all the things to worry about, when I knew there was a great evil out there coming to swallow up the world. The Druj and its legions. Whatever it was. And then there were the problems of the here and now. Ixion Energy. The DPA. The good doctor and her Project Cauldron. The Haitian and his gang swallowing up the city. And whoever won the next election was going to stamp their boot straight on the parafolk community because of all those jagoff supervillains running around.

And I was down on allies. Grit with a broken hand. Misfit shot. Ironclad in a coma.

It was all a lot to juggle.

Throw in Dad's upcoming wedding to Miss Flores and boy are times great.

I rinsed off, went to bed. Didn't fall asleep right away. Can you blame me?

"Knock knock."

She said it rather than knock. Miss Flores in the door to my room, leaning half in. She wore a faded oversized Rush shirt that left a lot of bare leg, her hair down past her shoulders, pitch black with that hint of curl at the ends.

"Heard you come in," she said, "Trouble sleeping?"

She leaned on the door frame, arms crossed. I sat up, a bit nervous.

>>6438040
Step-mom. That's what she was going to be soon. But she wasn't even thirty and I had to admit there were times seeing her still put that nervous crackle through my brain. Kinda like right now, with her standing in my bedroom door like half my school friends' fantasies.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked. The neck hole of her shirt, too loose to begin with, slipped a little down her shoulder. She self-conciously pulled it back up, letting out a nervous smile. "You know, we're going to be family soon. Real family. If you need to talk."

My English teacher, soon to be step-mom, and a big time crush. She knew my deal, or some of it. That I was Hotspur, at least.

"We can talk, Eric," she said, "Whenever you need to. We can talk and I can listen."

My heart thumped in my throat. There was a lot to talk about.

>Maybe she could help, tell her some of my troubles.
>Nah, not now. What could she say that could help?
>write-in

> But here I was fucking it up because a space prince had a freak out in a sewer.
Terrible Zoroastrian alien prince, I like the polycule being just 2. Tho in my hearts of hearts I wish it was just 1 and it was Misfit.
>>6438043
>Maybe she could help, tell her some of my troubles.
Alien prince and injured friends. Talking helps. I wonder what red wizard is doing right now.

>>6438043
>Maybe she could help, tell her some of my troubles.
It's so hard to juggle my two girlfriends stepmom...

>>6438043
Perhaps it should have been a Van Halen shirt lol
Eric just needs to clear his head.

>Maybe she could help, tell her some of my troubles.
I don't suppose theres anyone who can unite such a torn people as those in this city. Even with a uniting cause like absolute doom approaching. The only ones who might have such an experience would be the Prince and his sister-wife

If I remember the last time the Prince showed up he basically collapsed in on himself with the fear of death and the big bad (he rolled bad)

Can we really say anything that would resonate with a man like the Prince. I guess if someone else got the soul memories of his best buddy and we could find them that would be nice.

"It's been...tough, lately," I said, "I know I brought in that money, but outside that it's been tough."

"I can't imagine," she said, taking a seat on the egde of my bed.

The sound of my own voice, it sounded like whining and that made me wince. no one liked a whiner. "It's not just that it's been one thing after another," I said, "The stuff with, y'know, my girls. Girlfriends. Ah, I don't know what to call them." I really didn't Girlfriends sounded so...childish. Partners sounded stale. Lovers? Kinda old fashioned. There wasn't a word for it, not in English anyway, for the joyful agony just thinking about them put me through.

"Something I did...really upset Ivy."

She pursed her lips. Miss Flores had never really approved of us, though she'd never really said it out loud. No one really did, even if they accepted the irregularness of it all. People didn't need to understand.

"If I lose one of them I may as well be losing both of 'em," I said.

"Women aren't possessions, Eric," she said.

"I don't mean it like that!" I said, "I mean like...like...like lungs." I grabbed my chest for emphasis. "Like my own hands. A part of me. More than me. Deeper than that. Deeper than skin.Would you give up a lung, a hand?"

Did she know how much I meant it? With the fire of a holy vow I meant it. Or did she think I was just being a dramatic kid? Something tender in her face said she at least believed the emotion of my heart if not the facts of reality.

But that is not the way...

The prince within, his words not quite English but understandable to me. I grabbed my head to try and shut him up.

A heart that burns can burn the world...

"Shut up, shut the fuck up," I muttered under my breath.

"Eric?" that concerned face, a soft hand to my knee. Tender. Stirring. I jerked back from Miss Flores' hand. The prince that looked for a moment through my eyes say Miss Flores and a song never heard on Earth hummed in the back of my mind.

Would that we could watch this one dance in the White Fortress...

Chatty tonight. Shut the fuck up, I hissed. Could we talk like this? In my own head? He didn't reply if we could, but he did shut up.

"Are you ok?" a more somber look from her now. I'd never told her or Dad about the...the spirit inside me. The cosmic tick latched onto my soul. I didn't need them thinking I was just straight up crazy. Maybe I was. Maybe I was just straight up crazy. Consequence of my powers or one too many head knocks. CTE coming early for me.

"I'm ok," I said, not entirely convinced myself.

"Girl trouble," she said, "That's almost cute."

"If you want we can talk about how my best friend got shot in the chest and now she's holed up in hospital for who knows how long," I said, "My fault, that one. Or how I got another friend's arm crushed killing a mutant shapeshifter in the sewers. Or got someone else pin cushioned by a fascist with a bow and arrow."

"One thing after another," she said, "You weren't kidding."

That wasn't even half of it.

>>6438266
"Girl trouble though," she tapped her bottom lip, "Maybe that I can help with. What with being a girl myself."

"With a guy some people don't think you should be with," I said, "On account of the age gap. Not me though." Maybe it didn't hurt to remind her, we both needed some understanding.

"Please, I got the earful from my aunts in Monterrey," she said.

"You've been good for Dad," I said. More than good. Though I really didn't appreciate hearing the midnight moan of 'daddy' coming from their door. That I didn't say. No need to make it more awkward.

"He's been good for me," she said, flexing the hand with the engagement ring, "You have been too, Eric. Good for me. I know I'm not...and I'm not going to try to be...your mom or a mom or anything, uh...but you are family. We're family."

"So what did you do to make Ivy mad?"

I closed my eyes. "Technically? Technically nothing. Kinda. Well, that sewer mutant I mentioned. He'd kidnapped this girl and when I rescued her she...uh...well, I dunno." I could say it wasn't me or my fault, but guilt still hammered away, made worse by the lame excuses. "There was a kiss is all. A stupid moment that I regret. Nearly dying makes you do stupid things."

Her raised eyebrow didn't help. But her sigh softened her face. "Kids do dumb things," she said, "Even kids carrying the world on their shoulders. If she means as much to you as you've said, and she feels the same way, I'm sure you can make it up to her. My advice though? Don't do it again."

She got up from the bed.

"Romeo and Juliet," she said.

"Huh?" I said.

"Star crossed lovers, you know what that means 'star crossed'?"

"Like, destined, or something?"

Miss Flores shook her head. "Sort of, but not in a good way. When stars are crossed it means they're ill-omened. Headed for bad things. Because of a lack of forethought or just bad luck. It makes for good drama, but ends in tragedy."

"You think we're star-crossed, Ivy and me? Ayesha?" I said.

She didn't answer right away. "I hope not," she said, "And whose to say stars that are crossed can't one day align? If we know one thing Shakespeare didn't, its that stars move too."

"Huh." It was a thought.

"Does it help to talk?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Some."

At my door she looked back. "You can always talk to me. Any time you need me, Eric, for any reason. You can count on me. I'll be right down the hall." She had a smile that was easy to fall in love with. "Goodnight."

'G'night," I said.

The door closed. 'Right down the hall.' It was a nice thought.

I've always been curious about Hotspurs powers in relation to the other parahumans. Do they all come bundled with a personality from another dimension? Did Eric's powers just make him a potential good host for the prince? Would Eric have different powers if the prince wasn't bonded to him?

>>6438278
>Do they all come bundled with a personality from another dimension?
IIRC we're the only one (that we know of)

>>6438279
Hotspur and Ayane/Living Dead Girl

is there a good 4chan extension for Firefox? I'm currently posting on /qst/ cold turkey and its not great for running quests.

Next update will be up soon

>>6438282
Ah that’s right she’s our space princess sister

>>6438282
One thing that I really loved about this quest is how weird and esoteric Eric powers are, like truly, it has that kind of twist that just makes me keep theorizing and get invested.

My theory is that we need to get Jimmy, the mage to take a look on Dale. To literally see what's going on, because my biggest fear is that he ends up being turned into a type of Undead battery for Angra Mainyu or for Todd. Literally a single being able to repeal and reject Death, constantly, effortlessly, boundless living energy for Angra and Todd to consume and to empower everything for their Ill creations and creatures. Hell, I have the theory that Eric could summon the Spirit and either take Dale's immortality away or something, to literally cure him for some power up or just to find a way to "drain" his immortality. Hell, make Jimmy to show him magic, to use his own immortality to fuel his powers, and he might start to feel like a living, normal person again. Right now Dale is a huge, burning plot hole waiting for things to develop and see how wrong things get, since Day 1 I just couldn't believe he's just immortal for completely valid reasons and leave it at that.

Also I'm curious about Eric love life and how the Spirit and his powers interviene. Why didn't Mangy spirit aka Sister-Wife went to one of Eric girlfriends? Why was Eric already having visions of his Harem with his first girlfriend and the other girls, but not with other girls around him? Why are Eric current girlfriends so important and with so much weight for him? Is Eric powers just influencing the girls he gets romantically involved? Are they just naturally attracted to him and there's no influence from his powers? Are they retroactively Reincarnating as some of the Spirit's past harem?

>>6438282
>extension
Tampermonkey and adding 4chanx to it works pretty good and easy to setup

The needle worked quicker than I thought. But not in the way I expected.

Ironclad jolted upright, needle still stuck in his heart, thrashing. Foam flecked his mouth and his neck tensed so hard the veins bulged and his eyes, snapped open, burned bloodshot red.

Fuck me I just about pissed myself.

No nurse was around to witness it, and the cops had been slack in their guard duty (as parafolk weren't popular with the pigs after all) so I was glad for the lack of witnesses, but the damn thing did spike his vitals and there was a rush from the corridor.

The speckle of froth dripping down his chin started to slow, and his heavy, heaving chest started to settle as he stared straight ahead.

It was early morning. I'd caught the bus in, smuggling the needle in the inside pocket of my denim jacket. I still had school to get to. I had seen Ms Grant while slinking in, but out of costume she hadn't recognized me. She'd been in the cafteria, sleepless face bowed over a coffee with an uneaten sandwich.

It had given me freedom for this operation that I hadn't wasted.

The now awake Ironclad stared straight ahead, then dipped his gaze down to the needle sticking straight out of his chest.

"Fuck," he said, "Fuuuuuck."

His eyes snapped up to me.

"Good morning," I offered as a nurse crashed in, all the vitals of the patient suggesting he'd had a heart attack.

Ironclad clenched the needle in his hand and pulled it clean out of his chest, right out of his heart.

It was kinda hard core.

"You little fuck," he said. The nurse, seeing him sitting bolt upright in the bed, checked himself for a second, then glanced at me.

Time to go.

Whatever had been in Remix's vicious cocktail, it had done the trick. Here's hoping there were no grim side effects.

I ducked my head as I hurried out of Cook County.

Mission complete. That was one thing to chalk off the to-do list at least.

Which meant getting to school. And after that.

After that?

>Focus on fighting crime, commit to taking down the Haitian
>Humanity First hadn't up and disappeared, keep the focus on them
>Ixion would be gunning for me, maybe time to give them some of my attention
>Maybe what I really needed to do was chill for a minute, take some time for myself
>(write-in)

(don't make the write-in a 'do everything' button)

>>6438646
>Ixion would be gunning for me, maybe time to give them some of my attention

>>6438646
>Focus on fighting crime, commit to taking down the Haitian
Too much leeway, the more time they spend goofing around the harder it will be to deal with them

>>6438646
>>Focus on fighting crime, commit to taking down the Haitian

>>6438646
>Ixion would be gunning for me, maybe time to give them some of my attention.

We need to get back the magic space rock they took.

Since remix said that they started a cloning program, they clearly plan to use the stone's energy plus some dna samples they took from parahumans to start creating their own artificial clone parahuman soldiers. To keep up with that black site parahuman expirment site.

That's a lot more dangerous than the Haitian taking advantage of his missing rivals to sling some extra dope.

>>6438646
I'm changing my vote from >>6438753 to

>Ixion would be gunning for me, maybe time to give them some of my attention

>>6438646
>Maybe what I really needed to do was chill for a minute, take some time for myself

>>6438742
>>6438900
>>6438914
locking that in

Too many problems to handle at once. I had to trust the other caped crusaders of the city could handle the criminals, because right now my mind was fixed on Julian Dodd and Ixion Energy.

They had the Stone, I knew that even if I didn't really 'know' it. They were playing around with human cloning. I'd had a run in with their mutated behemoths already. Intuition said they were running experiments with it, trying to crack its secrets. Maybe to create a super soldier army or something? I don't know for sure, but it was bad news.

Dodd had his own official state sanctioned super team running his errands, living out of his tower, farming good PR by rescuing kittens from trees and breaking up bank robberies. They'd learned from the mistakes the DPA had made with Semper Fi, their wash out super-thug. I hadn't seen her around in a minute, which was a bit concerning considering she was the murderous kind of crazy.

Lot of problems there. Remix at least had some dirt on them. Maybe that was the angle to play. trash some of that PR? I don't know. I did most of my thinking on my feet, with my fists. Crash, bash, smash. But this wasn't some thug I could bust up and leave for the cops. This was a multinational corporation with deep political ties. Fuck, they were giving those Tactical Enhancement mechs straight to the cops, free of charge.

I'd seen those start to roll out in the Loop. A squat, brutal piece of armor sitting on its haunches with cops dressed up like riot squads standing around vaping next to it. The next level in law enforcement, all in response to the 'parafreak' menace. The world was turning into bad science fiction around us, all while a curtain of rain fell over the city.

Whatever else I had to do, I still had school. I got in late after the bell.

"-tried to kill Julian Dodd," it was Hunter speaking, hanging in the back of Math as I got in. Talking to Rufus and Tim, with Ben hanging around. The first string basketball team with one of the nerds hanging on.

"Man, nah," Rufus said, "Hotspur? Trying to kill Dodd? Doesn't make sense."

"They got it on film though," Hunter said, "It's all over social media. Hotspur breaking in, trashing the joint. Yo, Eric! You heard about Hotspur going villain?"

I took a seat. "Sorry, what's that now?"

"Hotspur got caught trying to kill Julian Dodd," Tim said, "Allegedly."

"They got a warrant out on him?" Rufus asked. Hunter shrugged. "Then who the fuck knows. All I know is, Hotspur saved people we know. He put his neck out everyday, so I'm not going to believe he's gone bad guy off the say so of some suit."

Hunter shrugged. "Hey man, I just thought it was interesting is all."

"People snap," Ben said, "Maybe he got sick of those corporate guys getting away with everything."

The back of my head burned with a rstrained rage, but I just nodded. "Who knows?"

>>6439094
"Knows what?" a half-familiar voice. The new girl, Peony, sat down with us, my girlfriend Ayesha just hanging back. Ayesha gave me a small wave and my heart skipped a beat.

Ayesha was in a preppy sort of look. Sweater vest and white pleated skirt with those tall home stitched stockings. She'd done her hair in short locs that framed her face like an afro-textured bob cut that was really fucking working for me. She came and stood next to me, and I really wished she'd slip onto my lap but just sat on the edge of my desk instead.

I swallowed a soft cough.

"What's the gossip?" Peony asked. Annie's cousin from Hong Kong. Or was it Taiwan? I didn't know her well, but she'd been making an active effort to get to know everyone.

"Hotspur," Ben said, trying to be subtle while inching closer to her.

"Ugh, super heroes," Peony rolled her eyes, "Like, what's the deal with Chicago and super heroes? I'm so sick of hearing about them."

"They aren't all heroes. Most are just everyday people trying to get by," Ayesha said.

"Right, okay, but are they though?" Peony said, "Don't answer. It's fine. I'm not one of those Community Vigilante people or whatever. You've got to admit though, some of them get pretty creepy."

"Some do, yeah," Ben said, "We had a guy at school develop powers, this one guy. Used them to stalk girls, he-"

"I'm right here, Benjamin," Ayesha fired at him. Ben blushed and shut up. I put a hand out to the small of her back, felt how tense she was. My finger tips must have done something because the tension eased as she relaxed back into the palm of my hand.

"They were saying Hotspur tried to kill Julian Dodd," I said.

"Did he?" Ayesha asked.

"Probably not," I said, flicking her a glance of rye understanding. The little smile she gave understood everything.

"I got to know, Eric," Peony said. I looked to her. "Why exactly do you dress like you work at a steel mill? All the denim. All your missing is a pair of timbs." It got a laugh from some of the guys.

"'Cause he's a good midwest boy," Ayesha said, her fingers finding my hair, "A proper old school hoosier."

"Okay Springsteen," Peony said.

"They get that way," Rufus said, looking a bit sick, "Careful they don't pull you into their weird thing."

"Careful yourself, Rufus," Ayesha said to him with just that little bit of fire. He opened his mouth to say something then thought better of it.

It wasn't cool getting looked at like that. But that's how it could get. Maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was something else, but a lot of people were not down with how we were. Whatever. Couldn't let it bother me.

We got through the next class, my mind burned by fractions after fractions, when we met in the cafteria, for now just me and Ayesha.

"I talked to Ivy," she said, collecting her vegan lunch.

"Yeah?"

"We'll meet about it on Friday night, if you're free," she said, "Best you be free."

"I'll be free," I said.

"And the other thing," she said, "What are you doing about the Ixion stuff?"

>Going to visit the Farm, meet up with Remix and gather more dirt from the Dodd files
>Dodd says I'm gunning for him? Might take a direct run, let him know I'm not scared
>Might try for an inside play. I know someone who works there. I'll talk to her (Xiang/Pratfall)
>write-in

(the captcha changes are fucking annoying)

>>6439097
What if we could get our uncle on our side?

>>6439102
that's fine as a write-in

>>6439102
uncle?

>>6439112
'Uncle' Karl is technically Eric's cousins' uncle. He's former military and an amputee, working as a security officer for Ixion Energy. He occasionally hangs out with Eric's dad and Eric has run into him as Hotspur in and around the Ixion building.

>>6439110
Well that's my vote then.

>>6439097
>>Going to visit the Farm, meet up with Remix and gather more dirt from the Dodd files
I think we need to know a little more before pursuing any insider recruitment

>>6439102
>Going to visit the Farm, meet up with Remix and gather more dirt from the Dodd files

>>6439147
>>6439126
locking that in

>>6439097
>Going to visit the Farm, meet up with Remix and gather more dirt from the Dodd files
Spiritual support for Remix

If Julian Dodd wanted to know just how annoying I can be, he was about to find out. Which meant getting all the dirt I could get on him and his company out of Remix's virus.

"He's not a problem I can just punch away," I explained to Ayesha. Of course, she understood that probably better than I did.

"Systems of power are hard to dismantle," she said, "Believe me, we've been trying." Her family were big in the 'struggle'. Part of that middle class pan-African movement, class concious types. She'd been brought up in the culture. "Fanon however makes a case that violence and only violence leads to liberation. Kwame Ture went so far to say there's no such thing as a bloodless revolution. The only question is if the blood that's shed is the blood of the opressed or the opressor."

"Right," I said, pretending I knew who either of those guys were. "So what, you think I should just rip the guy's head off or what?"

She pursed her lips as if she was seriously considering it. "More just saying that no matter what you do, people are going to get hurt. Whether them or us or someone else, the boot will drop on someone. And they have big boots."

Don't I know it. Ixion already had bodies to their name that no one knew about. The hunt for the stone had got a lot of people caught in the cross fire. I didn't like it being in their pocket, studying it, doing who knew what experiments with it. As bad as the gang violence was getting across the city, whatever they were doing with the stone scared me more.

"Do what you got to do," she said, "But you be at mine Friday night."

"Yes ma'am," I said.

We got through the school day. Someone asked if anyone had seen Zeke but no one had any clue. I had an idea, Ms Grant had him stashed in a safe house out in Cicero, but its not something I could tell people. Most were assuming he'd just dropped out. Maybe he had.

Not my problem right now. I bounced. Got to my hideout, got changed, and got myself out to the Farm.

Queen Rat's farm had become a real hub of parafolk community. It was the one safe place any of us were welcome, with enough muscle to keep the DPA and Humanity First out. Word has it they were making money now too, thanks to Arbor and Vibe turning a small plot of land into an agricultural output. Bougie rich people would pay a dime for good artesnal 'whole foods', even when it was put out by the freaks.

The protestors though were getting worse. A bunch camped out in RVs and tents right around the perimeter. None were going to risk storming the place, not with Shark now in residence, but the metaphorical pitch forks were out, not helped by the rhetoric coming out of the various political campaigns in the race for mayor. We'd segregated ourselves after one attack too many, but even that wasn't enough for some.

Put all the ones who couldn't hide in a camp, but how many 'invisible freaks' were there, hidden behind a plain face? And how many of them were time bombs waiting to take out whole neighborhoods?

It was hard to argue with that last point. We had our villains. We had our unfortunate types who just had no control over their powers. They were a danger to themselves and others. No point denying it.

But they were still people, and not animals. There were no easy answers to this problem.

I vaulted high over the protestor camp. Some pointed, some raised a shout. I ignored them, landing in the Farm right in front of Primal and Jenny-Four arms wrestling in the dirt.

"Hotspur!" the lion boy broke from the game in excitement, tail swishing.

"Hey kid," I said. Jenny grabbed him from behind in a four-armed hug.

A few came over out of curiosity. I was a familiar enough sight on the farm, but there were always new arrivals. Plenty of the people here weren't parafolk too, some were the mundane family members of afflicted kids, forced into exile to stay with their loved ones by a hostile community. One of those mundanes was playing a guitar, stopping mid-note as I arrived.

"Want to play?" Jenny asked, "We're training to be heroes!"

"Some other time," I said, heading for Remix's workshop.

Out the front of it was an unfamiliar face, a black guy with his phone out, having a conversation with the tree-man Arbor.

"Fascinating," he said, "My readers will be glad to know that. Conservation is a big issue right now." He turned from Arbor to see me striding up and nearly tripped on himself. "Lucky day! Hotspur, in the flesh!"

"Whose this jagoff?" I asked Arbor.

"Robinson," the man said before Arbor could reply, "Talty Robinson, with the Tribune. The Queen gave me permission to have a look around the place for an article I'm writing. Don't worry, its not a hit piece."

The name meant nothing to me. Only person I knew from the Tribune was a friend of Ms Grant's who'd covered Misfit and Thunderchild being framed and illegally detained. They'd taken Semper Fi's scalp on that one, and embarassed the DPA. This guy had a bright earnestness I didn't entirely trust.

"If you have a minute, I have questions," he said, "What do you think of the new superheroes emerging? Power Bomb in Indiana, Templar in Canada, others. Far as my research shows you were the first costumed hero to emerge after the explosion, but the number has been ticking up."

"Later, maybe," I said, "You seen Remix?"

Arbor gestured to her workshop. "The child been squirelled away all day," he said, "Not even eating. Just tickerin' on her robot."

"Robot?" Talty Robinson said.

I ignored him as I went in.

It was a dank atmosphere in the workshop. The frentic tick-tick-tick of a keyboard. A throbbing beat more sound than music playing. Empty monster cans crumpled on the floor.

Had she slept since I last saw her? She starred with bruised eyes at the glow of a computer screen. She didn't look up. I don't know if she'd even noticed me.

"Unlike some people," I said, "You do need to sleep sometime."

"Uh," she said.

"A shower couldn't hurt either."

"Uh," she said, then wrinkled her nose, "Ah fuck you!" She spun around in her chair. The kid was unkempt and exhausted, slouched in the folds of the old office chair. "Sleep is for pussies. Too mch to do. Too much to know."

"Maybe you could have Dane take over," I suggested, "He doesn't need sleep."

"The mother hen?" she said, "He'll just try to keep the real interesting shit from me."

"Is there anything interesting?" I asked.

"What's it to you if there is?" she had mercenary instincts, our Remix, "It's a lot of data to go through, a lot of who gives a shit stuff too. Fuck me if a lot of it isn't insurance related."

She swears too much, this kid.

"But you got the money, I got the info," she said, sly even while bone tired.

Lucky for her I currently did have money.

"What do you know?"

"If I tell you everything, how am I going to make some cash?" she said, "I don't care about being a do-gooder. Shit, I might just ask Ixion for a job. But it'll be ten grand, Hotspur, and I'll tell you any two things. That's a friends and family discount. Two for one deal. Otherwise this is going up on the dark web to the highest bidder."

>ask any two questions:
>ask about the cloning project
>ask about the mechs
>ask about personnel information
>ask for any hint about the stone
>(write-in)

File: Hotspur FanGen 08.jpg (87 KB, 512x768)

87 KB JPG

>>6439496
>>ask about the cloning project
>>ask about the mechs
our two main problems
also have some fan art of hotspur

I appreciate the sentment but I'm pretty anti generative AI. Part of it is not liking it as a concept but in other ways it's personal for having put friends of mine out of work.

>>6439496
>cloning project
Most damning
>stone
Most urgent

>>6439496
>Clones
>Stone
Don’t they understand!? If they clone the ice dude jobsour will get shanked five times over! And heavens forbid they clone jobspur! If they set jobspurs free it will be the end of all of us!

>>6439525
this. also I have a feeling remix will be do something about the drones herself

>>6439496
>ask about the cloning project
>ask for any hint about the stone

Also
>"I'm not going to spend another grand with you if I don't know how to get it back. Can you do some tech guru magic and give me a finance AI? Something that tells me what company shares to buy."

>>6439496
The personal information is pretty tempting. Could track a few scientists down for info plus any high admin types.
>>ask about the cloning project
Maybe she could still give us a project leaders name to follow up on.
>ask for any hint about the stone
If only Bulm- I mean Remix could make some kind of stone radar.

>(write-in)
Ask if she has a bug, a little spy listening device or some such, that we could slip on this Talty Robinson guy. Just a hunch.

>>6439708
bro she will definitely not do the write in

>>6439708
Voting against this write in. Why would she code up a finance AI and then give it to us for free and not use it herself? Asking would be an insult.

>>6439738
>>6439757
God forbid we ask for help to a friend

locking in asking about the cloning program and info about the stone

Ten grand was a good chunk of dough. Little did she know, I more than had it.

"Done," I said, "Tell me about the cloning project, then tell me what you can find out about the stone."

Remix gave a devillish chuckle, cracking open a fresh can of monster, slurping it down.

"Cloning," she said, "They've been looking into cloning for a minute. Way before this whole superhero shit kicked off. Something about 'building a better human'. Now I can go into the science, but since I barely understand it, you'd be lost too. Cut short it looks like some kind of climate thing to me. Make a human that can survive extreme heat, get by on less water, less food. And there's long digressions about sex. These guys are o-b-s-e-s-s-ed with sex. Making hot future people that can survive our too warm future, who are totally bangable as well. Following me?"

"Sure," I said. She tapped tapped tapped on her keyboard, flicking through files, eyes glowing with excitement.

"But they're getting exactly no where on this thing. Or they were. Turns out we're complex machines, us humans. All it takes to go from sci-fi future man to drooling retard is a quirk of a molecule. So instead of the next step of human evolution they've been producing down syndrome fetus people, then quietly flushing them down the toilet like a knocked up girl with a coat hanger."

"I've fought a couple of those guys, they pack a mean punch," I said.

Remix shook her head. "You're jumping ahead. Those behemoths only come later, after Ixion gets their hand on a new tool. A certain interstellar object, you get me. But on that cloning project. They've brought in a bunch of scientists from China to help. A Doctor Jian Wu. Name ring a bell? No? Actually an American, funnily enough, from Minesotta, but he was working in Hong Kong for DynaLabs, some commie science hub. But the commies are a bit stricter on the whole human cloning thing than we are so he got poached by Ixion."

"Part of the new 'Cereal Department'," she said, "Which handles a lot of stuff no one is supposed to know about. Even with all this access there's not much on it, but roads keep going back there."

"So this Dr Wu flies in to help them crack the case," I said.

"And. They. Did!" she swung around in her chair, getting real excited now, "All thanks to our brilliant new arrival and their recent acquisition. They start building clones that are, if not perfect, a damn sight more useful. Behemoths, big, ugly, monstrously strong, but unfortunately still so damn stupid. Poor impulse control. But its something, right? And they think, 'hey, human artillery to protect our apocalypse bunkers'. Start feeling out for interest."

"Do they get any?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Some, but I haven't gotten through all that yet. But what's more interesting is what happens next."

"What's that?"

"They made a workable clone!" she said, "One exactly as imagined. Strong, resilient, functional and doesn't drool into their soup. But there's still a problem here. Emotional regulation. So they have to keep a microchip in this thing's head to control it. Electroshock therapy. Bad dog!" Remix faked being electrocuted herself.

"It took them fifty tries, to get to what these documents call Subject 51. What's surprising is how quickly they got there, and that they're already putting together Subject 52. Dr Wu works fast. Breaks a lot of eggs in the process, but gets results."

"They keep them on ice in the sub basements," she said, "Restricted access. Like, five people know about it. Six, now that I'm telling you."

Pod people of the future. Great.

"And the stone?" I said.

"It's the key to all their recent advancements," she said, "Really ratcheted things up a notch. They have no idea really what the hell it is. But they are spending billions trying to figure it out."

A scientist I'd shown it to once had called it 'evil'. It's a vessel, or a door, or a key to a door. Not my thoughts. An arrow, launched.

"And is it in the sub basement too?" I said.

"Ha!" Remix laughed, "Hotspur, you think they have it somewhere that convenient? Best I can figure they have it stashed waaaay up in the middle of no where. Arctic Canada kinda no where. Lake within a lake."

I could just about smash something, hearing that.

"What they are doing," she said, "Is promising investors a chance for their own super powers. They think once they crack its secrets they can hand out tailor made super powers to whoever has the cash. They've already made billions off this promise. Kinda funny when those same people are bankrolling the anti-parafreak stuff, right? Dodd himself has chipped in to get that new governor elected."

"And can they?" I asked, "Can they give out super powers yet?"

Remix took a long slurp of her energy drink. Drained it dry. Then said, "Fuck no they can't" while chucking the empty can on the floor. "Maybe, after a decade of study, they might start to understand something about what it is and what it can do. But right now the thing is more a glorified battery. A spooky battery that seems to drive people around it mad. Oh they moved the damn thing up north for safety, not security. Scientists were starting to kill themselves, working on that project. Our holy mother, who gave us our powers, is one mean bitch."

Ominous, though Remix looked unbothered.

"And that's all I know right now about that," she said, "There are a lot of files to go through still."

It gave me some things to work on. A cloning project headed by a Dr Jian Wu. And I knew vaguely where the Stone was. It was a start at least. The question was, what was I going to do with that info?

>a leak to the press was a start, really put some mud in their eye
>maybe a more direct approach? confront Dodd directly
>I should be careful and get some help, call Ms Grant
>write-in

>>6440222
>I should be careful and get some help, call Ms Grant
Hotspur hothead

>>6440222
>I should be careful and get some help, call Ms Grant
Ms Grant probably has an axe to grind what with her magnetic hunk in a coma. That said I'm sure she could put together some kind of op to find and grab Dr Jian Wu.

How would we find the arctic stone lab. Ask our red mage buddy to astal project over to the arctic lol. Plane traffic in the area. Funky magic radiation. Maybe they bought an old lab from another government for 100 bucks.

>>6440222
>I should be careful and get some help, call Ms Grant
Press leaks won't look good after our recent break in and confronting Dodd won't get us anywhere even if we can pull it off.

>>6440222
>I should be careful and get some help, call Ms Grant
But anons, I DO have an idea that might help us out later in this whole case

>Ask Remix for the names of personnel that has been employed recently, transferred to whatever weird secret facility the stone is, and hopefully whoever scientists we know have tried to kill themselves when investigating the Stone.

There needs to be a paper trail of where Dodd finds these people, with who he talks with, and luckily some survivors from the fucked up space demon. We could also ask her for some proves about the millionaires and other people that are begging Dodd for the custom powers and other stuff

When we eventually leak all of this, we need to get the names down and know where to pin them down. Of course, we won't take down the whole Chinese multinational, but the more we can destroy Dodd public perception not only to the people in our city but for around the US, the better. We need to make sure the investors have to avoid him like a plague, maybe blackmail some other politicians, and ultimately show how this fucker is being given carte blanche to do their inhumane experiments while he gives the idea he's just a goofball vaping and still playing with some fidget spinner

>>6438185
> I guess if someone else got the soul memories of his best buddy and we could find them that would be nice.
That’d be a cool avenue to explore. Maybe red wizard could help

>>6440307
>>6440299
>>6440252
>>6440234
calling Ms Grant wins

"If you could put together a paper trail on where the Stone is exactly, it would be a big help," I said, "Personnel moving out to Canada, stuff like that. Where ever they are the people there still need to eat, right? Maybe short flight cargo manifests or something." This was me putting on my thinking cap. If I could narrow it down to a specific province or territory, big as the great White North was, it was at least a start.

"Sure, consider it part of the package," she said, "But you get it when I get my money, got it?"

"Right, sure," I said.

It was something. A lead. Even if it wasn't one I could follow up on right this minute. But the rest, about the cloning and all of that. I could do something with that. Still, going off half-cocked seemed risky. Tip my hand too soon and Dodd would have time to put up a wall of lawyers between him and consequences.

I knew how to fight, but this required help from someone who understood lawfare.

That brought only one person to mind. Madeliene Grant, currently suspended Deputy State Attorney. Together we'd taken down the Council of Crime, then bungled our run at the Humanity First Militia. I don't know if you'd call her a liaison or a patron to Fire Watch, but she'd helped put the team together and given us real targets to run at.

"Get some sleep, and have a shower," I told Remix, "And eat something with some protein in it."

"Bite my ass," she flipped me the bird as I ducked out of her workshop.

The reporter, Talty Robinson, was still floating around. He was trying and failing to get a word out of Boomer, the tight lipped old man with the super sonic voice. I shouldn't be talking to any reporters before I get my ducks in a row, but he broke from Boomer to hurry over to me.

"Mr Hotspur, sir, do you have a minute for that profile?" he said.

Jesus. Reporters. Never mind I'd promised an exclusive word with Priscilla Takanawa, who know one else knew was the lethal vigilante Dusk. They never took the shake off well.

"I got business, man, maybe later," I said.

"Take my card then," he flicked it out from his pocket. "It would do a lot of good, getting your own story out there. Julian Dodd has accused you of some pretty serious crimes. Lot of people have their axes out for you."

I took the card, making no promises. I had someone more important to talk to.

Getting out of there, I fired a text off to Ms Grant asking to meet. She sent an address, a Polish hotdog joint. I could stand a dog or two.

Bounding out that way, I found it closed, with Ms Grant waiting out the back in the door to the kitchen, one hand on the gun holstered at her belt.

Ms Grant looked like what lawyers only looked like on tv. Which is to say, too good looking to be real. Light dark skin with thick black hair around a sharp model's face, the good looks were some how only heightened by the sleepless bruising under her eyes. Even seeing me didn't relax the grip on her gun.

Couldn't blame her, plenty of people had taken a run at her over the years. Even her few friends in law enforcement had turned on her. She'd hired Ironclad as personal protection and he'd been pincushioned for his troubles. Who knew how many friends she had left.

Other than me.

"How's sleeping beauty?" I asked, meaning Ironclad.

"Awake," she said. There was some banging in the back of the kitchen, a few late night workers cleaning up after close. She stepped away from the door frame. "Not in great shape though. Won't be on his feet for a while. But he'll live." That was good. "You said you had something for me?"

I laid out everything I'd found on Dodd, the cloning project, the stone, my suspicions of murder-for-hire and other dastardly acts. When I was done all she did was level a tired frown.

"Details matter," she said, "Can this be corroborated?"

I nodded. "Direct leaks, straight from Ixion Energy," I said.

"Legally?" I didn't nod. She scoffed. "So this is what your little break in was about. Okay, its good stuff, and technically you're a private investigator to the State's Attorney office so it's semi-legal. But we can't give them an inch of deniability. If you want to go forward on this, what we really need is a whistle blower. A proper insider that can cut through the red tape."

"Yeah," I said without any confidence.

"Jian Wu, the doctor?" she said, "That sounds like a potential lead. If not him, someone on his team. Problem is I'm currently suspended pending a review. Turns out my bosses aren't happy about body counts. I can't help you out, not yet."

"Do you think you'll get your job back?" I said.

She shrugged. "Taking down the heads of the Outfit and Midwest Cartel all in one bust has earned me some favors, but you never know. We poked a hornets nest going after Humanity First and the Patriots. Now we're going after one of the richest men in the world."

"Russian dolls," I said, remembering something she'd told me once. Open up one you just found another inside.

"Got to keep the fire burning though," she said, more to herself. Her head snapped up, perfect jawline set. "Ok, here's what we do. Sit on this for a minute. Don't tell anyone. We need that insider. I'll find out more about this Dr Wu. This is a war, remember. Shoot off too soon and you might lose it."

"Got it," I said, "Though, I'm pretty tired of losing every battle."

"George Washington lost nearly every battle he ever fought," she said, "But we don't live in England now, do we?"

Fair point. "So I sit on it until you get back to me," I said, "Got to tell you, Ms Grant, I'm bad at sitting on my hands."

"Likewise," she said, "But trust me when I-"

Whatever she was going to say was cut off by the thump of a nearby explosion, the shockwave rattling the ground itself. Fire burst through me at the sound.

"The hell," she said.

My senses picked up. I could hear the distant sound of screaming, and mixed with it a mad cackle.

Time to move.

It was in the middle of the South Loop on Wabash Avenue I found him, standing on the ruins of a truck. He was dressed in military surplus, a black guy built like a whippet hound with a messy fro. He clapped his hands and smoke wreathed around his fingers.

There were people in the street not moving, while others around them started to run. The man was singing as the smoke rose up around his feet.

"Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules. Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these. But of all the world's brave heroes, there's none that can compare. With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadiers!"

He threw something like a baseball pitch. It was a sticky red substence that hit the front window of a Chipotle. The glass detonated, exploding into a deadly hail of shards on the people cowering inside.

Great. Another villain.

"Come on out, rats!" he crowed, "Come face the Grenadier!"

Grenadier, huh. It was a better name than 'Degrees Kelvin' at least. Whatever name the jagoff gave himself, he was deadly.

What was it with these guys just flipping their shit and starting a rampage? Whatever. End of the day motives don't matter. Of all my problems, another para-psycho wasn't one I needed right now.

>study Grenadier for a minute, figure out his powers before moving in
>there were already bodies on the ground, take him down fast and hard
>(write-in)

>>6440430
>study Grenadier for a minute, figure out his powers before moving in
What are the odds this guy shows up here of all places? Could be a trap. Stay alert. He may not be the only threat.

>>6440430
He claps, he smokes up, he winds up for a throw, and what the stuff hits it explodes.

>>(write-in)
Make it rain. Go down there and rip open a fire hydrant. If the air is full of water droplets maybe he can't throw as well, and if he explodes something actually flammable we have water around. Put our foot on the spray to blast him with the full force of the hydrant lol.

>>6440430
>>6440441
This is a good analysis and plan. We could also tear off a car door or something to use as a shield.

Hopefully this doesn't go as bad as the Degrees Kelvin fight.

>>6440441
+1, hurl hydrant at Grenadier?

>>6440463
>>6440468
Love me environmental action, car door shield and hurl hydrant sound great.

>>6440485
>>6440468
>>6440463
>>6440441
>>6440437
sounds like a plan

Smoke rose from Grenadier's hands. A glob of something formed in his palms. Then he threw it, and what it hit blew up. Ok, that's something at least to go off.

Let's just see how explosive it would be when he was wet.

I looked for a fire hydrant. There's meant to be one on every street, right?

And there it was. Some asshole parked right in front of it.

Well it was that guy's unlucky day.

I bounded for it while Grenadier gave Wobash a new pothole.

"Oh shit, here we go, Hotspur!" the man in the military surplus called out, still standing on the wreck of a car in his desert boots.

It accord to me maybe this was half a trap. Draw me out with some super freak for an ambush. It was too well timed though. How'd they know I'd be in earshot once he started blowing up the place? Wasn't like I'm the only superhero around town either. Still, the man was making a big song and dance for his own amusement.

I ducked down behind the parked in fire hydrant, grabbed it by the trunk. It would take a lot of strength to rip this thing free, even by my standards. Fire pumped hot through my arms, I had to haul it hard, once, twice, before it started to rip free.

When it did it went up like a geyser, water exploding up into the air. Exploding with enough force to rock me back. I'd underestimated just how violent an erruption it would be.

"Funny, news didn't say anything about rain!" Grenadier said. I barely heard him over the torrent between us.

He clapped his hands and made that baseball pitch motion again as the water started to rain across the street.

Throwing it at me, I dived in time to avoid being hit, the detonation throwing up fragments of cement that dug into the back of my jacket. I rolled forward, hitting the rear wheel of a car. It was no fun dodging any of this asshole's sticky bombs. He stayed standing on the top of the trashed car even as the water from the burst hydrant started to drench him. He was eyeballing around, looking for me.

If it hadn't yet affected his powers, it had at least obscured where exactly I was. And the street was emptying, packed traffic at either end where people had abandoned their cars to find safety in the shelter of the buildings running up the street.

Good. Got to keep people safe.

Got to keep myself safe too.

I grabbed the door handle of the car I was hiding behind and the car alarm started to scream. Great, there goes my hiding spot. Not that I'd planned to be there for long.

I wrenched the door from its hinges, busting the lock in the process. I had seen how most bullets could zip straight through the standard car door, so I wasn't exactly planning on trusting it to stop whatever Grenadier threw at me, but any shield was better than nothing.

Hefting it up, I leapt onto the roof of the car, across from the now damp psychopath. He licked his lips and started rubbing his hands together again.

"The one and only Hotspur, holy shit," Grenadier said, "I'm going to make my rep today!"

The false rain of the burst fire hydrant washed down over the street, straming down the gutters in a gushing river. He fell into a half squat like a gunslinger in a western. Unconciously, I did the same.

"Let's roll the dice!" he said, and we moved as one.
-
>roll 3 x 1d00 +15 DC 50
(really sorry how late this post is, week end stuff got in the way)

Rolled 65 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>6440937
Watch this 1! Just capn America throw the door

Rolled 80 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>6440937

Rolled 24 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>6440937

With the fire inside me burning, the car door was light in my hands, so throwing it was no effort.

I threw it as I dove, like a frisbee, the edge of the door hissing in an arc toward grenadier. He leapt from the top of the car as well, throwing a glob of that sticky, explosive stuff he'd made. The door crunched into the wall behind him. The car beneath my feet rocked hard against the detonation, tipping onto its side. Boots squelched in the gully of water pouring from the fire hydrant.

Grenadier landed on his side, soaking his coat, kicking his way to his feet near frantic.

Me, I kept moving, rushing toward him. See how his powers worked when he was soaked.

"What, you think I-I'm made of gunpowder?" Grenadier stammered, "Bitch, you just gave me more fuel!"

He clapped his hands and smoke rose, and then slapped his palms into the wet cement.

What? Fuck! I jumped as a hissing crackle broke out beneath my feet, the streams of water for a moment turning into that strange jelly before kicking up in a ground cracking blast. I landed high on a streetlight. Rivets of earth and crumbling cement remained where I'd stood, running water eddying through it.

Grenadier stood in the smoke, looking pleased with himself.

"You're lucky I'm not trying to kill myself," he said, "Nitroglycerin. It's potent stuff. I can turn any liquid into it. My own sweat, water, hell a bottle of coca cola. I'm a one man demolition crew!"

He pumped a fist up at me. "So come on down, Hotspur, see if you can take on living dynamite!"

He didn't know me too well if he thought I wasn't ready to square up.

"What's the game here, just some reckless mayhem?" I said, standing tall on the streetlight, "Or do you have a buddy waiting to jump me? Someone from Ixion or the DPA?"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he said, clapping his hands together again, "Quit jawin' and throw down!"

"Done," I said, and dropped back off the streetlight as he flung another globe of nitroglycerine, right where I used to be.

I arced midair, landing in a crouch, and from a crouch lunged toward him fast as the wind could whistle. From the look of shock on his face it was faster than he expected. My left jab took him sound on the jaw and I heard a sweet pop as he dropped. But where he fell he scooped up a handful of water and flung it at me. Smoke rose from his palm and the water became that sticky jelly. I ducked away before it could spatter over me.

He rolled in the wet, pot shot explosions left behind him until he thumped against the under carriage of the over turned car. Our positions reversed.

Getting up he grabbed his jaw, spat a little blood, legs not entirely under him.

He clapped his hands together but I didn't wait. I leapt across the broken, wet street, knee first. Took him hard in the chest, drove him back into the car. He gave a hard, hurt cough, fell on his ass.

Tried scooping up some water again so I gave him a hard kick in the gut.

"Best not pick a fist fight when you're so fragile," I said as he wheezed. Grenadier. This guy was pissing me off. He'd blown up half a street for what. Ego? Street cred? Fun? Terrorized people, hurt them, maybe even killed them.

The high screech of sirens started errupting down the way. Good luck getting through the dense blockage of abandoned cars. A squad car came up the sidewalk, lights flashed, cop hanging out the passenger window trying to get a look around, barking into his radio.

Helicopters whooped somewhere overhead.

Grenadier tried getting back up.

We had a deal, me and the DPA, that any pararfolk got arrested went to a real prison, not that torture site they'd been running experiments out of. So far that had held true. If I let them take Grenadier they'd have him in cuffs and off to Statesville.

"You think I'm done?" Grenadier said through his broken jaw, "Fuck you, I'm not done."

Tried getting up, slipped. Yeah. He was done. Splashing at the water, trying to conjure up some blasting jelly to achieve I don't know what.

"Cut that out," I said.

"Hotspur!" the cop was yelling at me now, the squad car forced to a stop by the broken up road, "The hell did you do now? We got questions for you down the station!"

The real question was, did I wait to turn him over to the cops myself and handle their questions, or just dip now?

>wait and turn Grenadier over to the cops.
>dip, no way was I answering any questions without my lawyer
>write-in

>>6440992
>wait and turn Grenadier over to the cops.
this guy is still dangerous imo

>>6440992
>dip, no way was I answering any questions without my lawyer
If they’re close enough to talk to us they’re close enough to arrest this guy.

>>6440992
>wait and turn Grenadier over to the cops.
He’s going blow up, but Hotspur will likely be arrested for the whole tower break in

>>6440992
>wait and turn Grenadier over to the cops.

The cops only have one squad car with them since the roads are messed up. So I doubt they'll be brave enough to start a scene or anything.

>>6441200
>>6441056
>>6441009
locking that in

I've been dealing with internet outages all day and a couple hours ago lost a huge wall of text that left me fuming. Literally took me this long just to calm down over it. I really need to back up my writing.

Anyway, update soon.