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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.

>>6441369
A lot of QMs swear by Google Docs, I prefer the humble notepad.

"Fuck you up," the punch drunk Grenadier slurred, still trying to get up as the squad car idled up.

"The boys in blue, always on time," I said, "So much for those fancy new mechs Ixion gave the force, huh."

"Easy, smart ass," the cop hanging from the car window swung his way out, "Officer Gonzalez," he said, "And Officer Murphy." Irish and Latin but they shared the same square head, thin mustache and blunt mean expressions. 'Cop' was its own ethnicity. "You're wanted for questioning over a break in at that there Ixion building."

"Heard about that," I said, not giving more without a lawyer around.

Officer Gonzalez had a hand half towards his gun, eyeballing me and Grenadier. "He, uh, he safe to cuff?"

"Behind his back," I said, "Any liquid he can get into his hands he can turn into an explosive."

"These freaks," he said, shaking his head, "You uh, you mind getting him up for me?"

I obliged, not happily, holding Grenadier up so the cop could wrestle his arms back and get him cuffed.

"Not the first time for you, hey bucko?" Gonzalez said with a smirk for the super criminal.

"Eat shit, pig," he said.

"He's going to need a doctor, I broke his jaw," I said. The destruction our fight had wrought had left a trail up and down the street, "Paramedics on their way?"

With the street still clogged, I was starting to get worried.

"Sooner than you think!"

A voice from above. I tensed. The Chicago Protectors, levitating their way down via the powers of Gravitas. It was Liberty who had spoken, stern behind her domino mask. Still angry I'd given her the slip.

The only one missing was Barbaric. Nightshade was there, glowering like a thunderhead in his urban ninja fit, face hidden behind mask and goggles. Haymaker had the kind of 'are we going to have trouble here?' kinda smile. Gravitas looked ready to spit on me.

"The Ixion Pretenders, always late to the show," I said.

Nightshade jolted forward but Haymaker held them back with an over-sized hand. "I killed the giant, me!" Nightshade hissed. Most I'd heard him talk before, his voice had a husky quality that seemed familiar.

I looked from them to the cops. Officer Murphy was getting Grenadier into the back of the squad car but Gonzalez was flanking me, checking back to the corporate cape gang.

"Are you going to try to bring me in?" I said, "If Dodd is angry I broke his window, he should know I can always do worse."

"Mr Dodd would like a word, yeah," Haymaker said, "When you're ready. Now, if you want."

As fun as it was dropping Grenadier, this hadn't been a fun night, and a conversation with Julian Dodd seemed as unpleasant an end to the evening as I could think of. Still, the offer was worth considering.

>some other time
>I'll hear him out
>(write-in)

>>6441405
>I'll hear him out
Oh, is this about his secret super clone experimentation lab? Yeah we can chat.

>>6441369
>>6441405
>"I can barely go near his shitty building without gagging. If you guys have a phone I could talk on speaker, I'm not in the mood to go there after such a severe slander and what I, personally, would call a defamation campaign."

I'm putting a lot of big words, but I'm also feeling like giving half an answer and just say "I won't speak without my lawyer with me"

>>6441405
>>6441417
This. We can answer a phone call or meet publicly, but he’s not getting us in the human experimentation labs that easy.

>>6441405
>I'll hear him out.

Maybe todd has information on the location of the mad science bunker Dr Auken runs. That we could use to expose and end her parahuman experimention program

>>6441559
Tbh it would be pretty much like what happened with the Haitian, we're just taking care of his competence and he will only get more backing from the government. And if we crush Dodd before, the government will just swoop in and try to get the stone for Dr. Auken.

My bet would be on the latter, from a meta perspective, Dodd is already brain fucked by the eldritch artifact and it will surely try to just fight off the government if they make any move to take it. And if things are handled more pacifically and Dodd give the stone away, we can try and make another highway heist. Of course, the best outcome would be to figure out where the Stone is and take it, but before we even do that we have to figure out a way to hide it or lock it away. Maybe our wizard friend how to make a pocket dimension or something, but we have to have everything figured out by then.

>>6441417
+1

>>6441417
>>6441536
>>6441605
ok, locking that in.

and now I have the really annoying captchas. fun.

"Dodd wants to talk I'll take a phone call, but you're not getting me alone in that creepy ass building," I said, "Whatever he has to say. He's been coming at me with all kinds of slander, running a damn defamation campaign."

"You've been busting up his shit, kid, did you think he'd take it lying down?" Haymaker said.

"Enough palaver with this miscreant!" Gravitas interjected, "I say we take him by force!"

Nightshade started forward at that, only all too keen, while Haymaker tensed up, ready to go if he had to. I'll throw down if I need to.

"Easy big boys!" Liberty said, floating her way between us hands raised as peace maker, "There's been enough of a kerfuffle for one day, don't you think?"

Gravitas, half off his feet with the power of his gravity control, simmered down back to earth. "Perhaps," he said, "From the mouth of babes. As ever its the child that speaks the most sense."

"Calling me a babe, Gravitas? Careful or I'll tell HR," she was clearly joking from her wink but it flustered Gravitas all the same.

"Apologies, nothing was meant by that," Gravitas said.

"Anywho," Liberty turned back to me, "Mr Dodd isn't the supervillain you think he is. He just wants to clear the air between the two of you. And yeah, maybe keep you from breaking anymore windows." The earnestness in her big brown eyes told me she was being honest. Or that is, honest in her own beliefs about Dodd. A sparkling naivete that was at odds with the gang of cynics she had fallen in with.

"We'll get this guy down to the station, get him booked," the cop said, "Thanks for your help." The galling thing is he said that to the Protectors, not me. Jagoff.

"Let's clear the street so the paramedics can get through. Gravitas? Haymaker?" Liberty said.

The hulking bruiser in prison orange went to the task of clearing the debris. gravitas did the same, conducting it aside with a dramatic flair.

"Nightshade, the phone," Liberty said.

The sulking ninja produced one from out of their various pockets. She took it, looked for a number.

Before putting it to her ear she said, "I almost had you, you know." She held up her thumb and finger an inch apart, "This close."

"Yeah? And what do you think you were going to do when you caught me?" I said.

She went a little red across the bridge of her nose. The phone rang. An ambulance, cars cleared by Gravitas, started to bounce its way up the broken street as frightened people started to emerge from their shelter, realizing that for now the threat was over.

"Mr Dodd, sir," she said, "Hotspur is willing to talk, but only by phone. Are you cool with...video call? Ok."

She hit a button and turned to me.

"It'll be a video call if that's cool," she said. I shrugged. She handed the phone to me.

Dodd was at a desk, looking tired. He wasn't alone. The two missing members of the Protectors, Barbaric and Ironsight, were with him. Both were in tuxedos. It made Barbaric a brawny kind of adrogynous while Ironsight looked ridiculous still wearing his army helmet. Dodd for his part had a suit jacket over a Mario shirt.

No one had told him nerdcore was dead, huh.

"Hotspur, hello!" Julian Dodd played at friendly, "No sign of the wonderful Ms Grant this time. How is she? I heard about her suspension. Let her know Ixion is always hiring. She'd make a wonderful secretary."

I grit my teeth.

"What do we have to talk about?" I asked.

"You don't like me," he said, "I don't know exactly what I did to offend you, but whatever it is, I'm sorry? Why not have a truce between us. Whatever you think my intentions are, all I'm trying to do is help."

With military grade psychopaths on his payroll and all the morally rotten science experiments, not counting the money going out to every anti-parafolk organization currently going, that seemed unlikely.

"You're treating me like some kind of gangster pushing dope," he said, "I'm an investor! Already we've made Chicago a boom town, and with the new data centers we're putting in, we'll be able to pave the streets with gold if we wanted to. Surely there are worse people you could be dealing with. Gang violence on the south side is getting pretty intense, and more supervillains keep cropping up. Why waste your energy going after me?"

There was something a bit strained about it all. His voice, his face. The man was stressed about something.

"Come on up to my apartment for a chat. See for yourself, I mean no harm. Don't trust me? That's fine. Bring a friend, bring two. My door is open, Hotspur, you don't have to kick it down. We could be friends, you and me. Partners even."

>You're a goddamn snake, Dodd (throw some of his crimes in his face)
>I'll think about it (why not humor him, just for a minute)
>No, I think I'll just keep breaking your windows
>write-in

>>6441669
This is just sad. Even for you. You have no clue what's really going on. You're just jamming things together that you don't understand and hoping to make some money or prestige off of it. You're a joke and even you're starting to see that. And if you actually understood what you were messing with you'd probably do even worse shit. So no. I think I'll just stop you.

>>6441669
>I'll think about it (why not humor him, just for a minute)
String along

>>6441669
>I'll think about it (why not humor him, just for a minute)
If nothing else it gets Ixion off our back for a bit. Who knows, maybe we can even make him see sense. I'm sure he doesn't want to see the Druj win.

As much as I want to throw his crimes in his face it'll let him know we know, and that'll let him prepare for what Ms Grant is putting together.

>>6441695
>>6441685
I'll lock that in while taking some of the stuff from the write-in

I thought about throwing all kinds of accusations in Dodd's smug face just to watch him squirms, but thought better of it. Play it smart, the way Ms Grant would. No need to tip my hand.

"I'll think about it," I said. It might get Ixion off my back for a bit at least, "You're meddling in forces you don't understand, Dodd. You have no clue what's really going on."

"Really? Something to talk about at least," he said, "Let me pencil you in for Saturday night. Meet me on the roof. Again, bring whoever you'd like. The charming Ms Grant or one of your hoodlum friends. Whatever makes you feel safe."

Saturday night was the night of the Haloween party. A party I wasn't allowed to miss if I valued my girls.

"11PM," I said, "Unless that's past your bed time."

His oily grin grew taut. "11PM. Sharp," he said, "See you there."

The video shut off. Liberty gave the phone back to Nightshade.

"A lot can be achieved through civil conversation," she said.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself," I said as the paramedics began to see to the people around us.

"We're not the bad guys here!" she called as I bounded out of there. Whatever. Not my scene. The cops had hauled off Grenadier and the paramedics were seeing to the rest. As far as I was concerned my job was done.

I got in late. Everyone had gone to bed but the tv was still on.

Miss Takanawa was reading the news "-distraction for a high end jewellry heist. Called 'The Knock-Out Gang'. Lead by a violent bankrobber known only as 'Knock Out', they have been responsible for robberies up across Illinois, with Chicago their latest target. Grenadier, real name Jonah Hayes, has refused to co-operate or name any of his accomplices, and remains in custody pending a trial. If his involvement with the Knock-Out Gang can be proved, he is expected to face a long stint in federal prison."

"In others news, five people have been killed in a gangland shooting on the south side. With reports of escalating violence, the police comissioner is urging calm as the police seek to crack down on this surge of gang related violence."

I switched off the tv. It was only ever bad news these days.

I had other things to consider. Like what to do about this situation with Ixion. I had at least one tangible lead, Dr Jian Wu. I could also try flexing on Dodd himself at this up coming meeting. Leaking to the press was also still an option, though maybe it gave the game away too early. And there was Pratfall too. She was an intern there in her civilian identity. I could still ask her to play the mole in Ixion.

I thought them over while downing a bowl of left over noodles. Taking down grenadier had spiked my appetite. After the noodles I chomped down a bar of chocolate, chased it with a glass of milk.

>Follow up on Dr Jian Wu
>Recruit Pratfall for help
>Call Talty Robinson and offer him the story
>Sit on it all until I could pressure Dodd himself

>>6441832
>Recruit Pratfall for help

>>6441832
If you wanna flex on Dodd why not call the super sexy onee san Priscilla Takanawa. If Dodd -does- throwdown we've brought a real hard hitter. Also we should maybe check up on her sister.

>>6441832
>Plan to wait until a day or two before the day the meeting is set, just stand menacingly in front of near until Dodd's superhero group comes up, and tell them we need to reschedule our meeting for other time.

I just wanna fuck with him, and how he's been acting is sketchy as fuck. I just wanna mess with him with that change of plans, and of course, have our Saturday free for our party. We literally don't need to see him THAT day, and it might end up in problems and fuck up our plans.

Plus, if we mess more with Dodd, even with a shitty meeting like that, is going to take control away from him and make him more sloppy and lazy for whatever he's planning. He surely thought of whatever bullshit robot or mutant to use against us, to trap us or whatever, maybe hire some super assassin to just deal with us, if we just mess with him and pull the rug from below him, that's enough to get a one up. Bonus points if we just stay all Saturday like a civilian and we don't show up at all for them to mess with us

>>6441832
>Recruit Pratfall for help

>>6441832
>Saturday night was the night of the Haloween party. A party I wasn't allowed to miss if I valued my girls.
Schedule conflicts are our most consistent curse.

>Recruit Pratfall for help
Dr. Wu might be loyal enough to Ixion to report any initial attempts, we might need to get some dirt on him first.

>>6442102
>>6442078
>>6441870
locking in 'recruit Pratfall' while taking notes from the write-ins.

keep in mind I do try to take any kind of write-in into account so long as it doesn't contradict the prevailing consensus, even if its just as snippets of dialogue or internal thoughts, so never hesitate to add flavor to your votes

It was time to get some inside eyes on what was going on there. I'd hesitated to ask Pratfall before, she took her internship pretty seriously, but the stakes were too high and I'm sure she had her own concerns about exactly what Ixion was up to. In her day life the capering, quiping, bubbly Pratfall was the stoic bordering on grim college student Xiang Fei, studying biochemistry at University of Chicago. As I understood it her family took academics extremely seriously, and had celebrated her internship with as prestigious a company as Ixion.

Risking that was asking a lot from her.

Still, it had to be asked.

I thought about clocking off to bed and handling this all tomorrow night, but time wasn't my friend. Scheduling conflicts were my real curse. If I wasn't busting heads on the street, I was at school. If I wasn't at school I was at boxing class. If I wasn't at boxing I was at jiu jutsu practice. If I wasn't there it was basketball. And if it wasn't there it was my midnight sword lessons with Baby-Giel Kusanagi.

And everyone wondered why I didn't play video games. It was a wonder I was averaging a B+ at school. Sometimes I could kill for Dane's powers. I'd get a lot more done not having to sleep.

I had a good idea where Pratfall would be. She'd started dating this guy who worked as a bartender at an outlaw motorcycle club called 'Kelly's Bar'. They knew me there too, that outlaw club being the Stunt Crew MC. And that bar tender. Well. If you could believe his stores he was a genuine sasquatch. Not a 'bigfoot', oh no. Bigfoot was a bad word. A sasquatch come down out of Washington State to see what all the fuss was in Chicago.

Now he was a bartender and part time enforcer for Sullivan's outlaw biker gang. And for some wild reason had snared Pratfall in the bargain.

When I came down on Kelly's Bar, the music was down low and Yeti (he'd been christened Yeti by his outlaw biker buddies) was dumping bags of trash out the back into the dumpster. He smelled me, big nostrils flaring.

I half believed his stories. Yeti was bigger than seven feet tall and brawny on top, with a bald dome and the rest of him covered in a shaggy Chewbacca pelt. When he grinned he showed oversized square teeth. Pratfall said all sasquatches were vegans, couldn't eat meat. What did they eat? I'd asked. 'Mostly yams.'

"Howdy-doody Hotspur," he said, friendly enough, cleaning his hands on his smock. He was a decent guy, I don't know what he was doing with the Stunt Crew assholes. "You looking to beat the heck out of Sullivan? Only I don't think he's in the mood for getting any more limbs broken."

"Your boss is off the hook tonight," I said, landing on the dumpster, "I'm looking for Pratfall. Seen her?"

"Oh sure," he said, "She's inside right now. Singing."

Singing? I couldn't hear it from out here.

"Come on in, I'll pour you a drink," he said, opening the back door.

As a patented skull buster of criminals and supervillains, Yeti's laidback approach still took me by surprise. He took nothing personally. "We're like wolves an' deer I figure," he said, "Wolves just bein' wolves, deer just bein' deer. No helping it, so why be an asshole, yeah?"

We went in the back. I don't know how comfortable I was with Pratfall spending as much time as she was around the Stunt Crew MC. But I heard her singing in a fake bad kind of way.

Out in the main floor, dressed in her red and black jester's motley with her jester's crown bobbing in time to the music, Pratfall sang in a fake bad way while pulling goofy dance moves.

"My little buttercup, has the sweetest smile!" she sang.

A crew of half-drunk bikers crowded at the foot of the stage, cheering her on.

I'll say this for the Stunt Crew MC, they were the only gang in Chicago that didn't have sharp ethnic lines. White guys, black guys, Asians, latinos. You could find whoever in their ranks. They were a very diverse crew of violent sociopaths. Right now they were woopin' and hollerin' for Pratfall. Respectfully of course, on account of the grinning sasquatch behind the bar.

Yeti beamed at the sight of the slender woman in tight motley parading up and down the stage.

"Isn't she great?" he said.

Pratfall hadn't noticed me just yet.

"Dear little buttercup, won't you stay a while!"

Pratfall did a cart wheel that ended with her fumbling with a sqwuak and landing on her shoulders. All part of the act. She popped up into a hand stand than on to her feet.

"Come with me where moonbeams paint the sky!"

Her powers were based on building up concussive energy in her body. Every step, every bump, every accidental bang of her hip against the chair, was actually just charging it up. She could unleash it in a show of immense strength. I'd seen her knock a mutant behemoth out cold with one punch. Don't know if it made her invulnerable, but she didn't bruise easy.

She gave me a playful wave as she kept tripping, literally and figuratively, through the song.

As she did, the king of the outlaws himself appeared on the mezinnine overhead. Sullivan, in a white suit, smoking half a joint, with his bleached-blonde Japanese bodyguard and lover Baby Girl with him. She wore her biker leathers, jacket unzipped to show a black leather bikini top and a sweaty tight belly, with her sword at her hip.

Sullivan noticed me and frowned. I shrugged, trying to tell him I wasn't here for him, as Yeti set a beer at my elbow.

"On the house, hoss," he said.

It was still a few more years before I could get a legal drink, but even if they knew that I doubt a bar like this would care.

Just as Pratfall was done with her song, the doors opened.

There aren't many people I consider bigger sons of bitches than Sullivan, but LeSean Duvall was up there. The haitian's right hand man, he hadn't come alone. A broad, short black guy in body armor and a bad attitude went in front of him, casting an eye around the bar with a hand to a heavy pistol at his belt. Behind came a couple of other thugs. One of them I knew, a sparring partner at the gym nicknamed Stink. It hurt to see a guy I considered a friend rolling with a thug like LeSean.

They clocked me right away. The bodyguard almost drew on me then and there, but LeSean held him off.

"Easy there, Bronco," he said, "If Hotspur meant us harm we'd be harmed already."

He was making a big assumption there, ol' LeSean

"Well if it ain't the king of the wild hundreds!" Sullivan called from above.

"Come to see the king of the outlaws, how you doin' Sullivan? Got time to talk?" he said, and giving me an uncomfortable glances added, "In private."

"Only a prince, the Old Man still runs this gang. Why don't you come on up," Sullivan said, "We got a lot to talk about."

LeSean tipped his head to me as he passed. The dandied up black man had added gold tips to his braids, and had diamonds in his ears. The man was doing well. "Thanks for clearing the board for us, Hotspur," he said, "The Haitian owes you one."

That was more grating than any insult he could have thrown at me. his bodyguard, Bronco, kept glaring as they went on up to join Sullivan.

I thought about maybe, just maybe, it couldn't hurt to smash up this joint. But I was here for other reasons. Pratfall came down from the stage looking flushed. She took the beer meant for me and downed it.

"Good early hours of the morning to you, ol' buddy!" she said, perky as ever, "What's got you out here on a school night?"

I was listening. I was also still eye-balling LeSean's entourage disappearing up into the mezennine.

>take her aside and bring up the Ixion job
>one sec Pratfall (go ruin LeSean's night)
>write-in

>>6442192
>take her aside and bring up the Ixion job
One fight at a time.
> Her powers were based on building up concussive energy in her body.
The true question is how much can be stored

>>6442192
>take her aside and bring up the Ixion job
But before that
>"Come here Pratfall, let's talk outside" and take the chance to go and maybe fuck up a tire or two out of LeSean's

>>6442192
>one sec Pratfall (go ruin LeSean's night)

>>6442192
>take her aside and bring up the Ixion job
Sullivan is a cool guy, he’ll ruin LeSeans night for us.

>>6442449
>>6442226
>>6442204
locked in

"I need a favor," I asked, "Can we talk outside?"

Curiosity piqued, she followed me out. LeSean's car was parked out front and for a second I thought about messing with it, but there was a driver waiting reading off a tablet. He eye-balled us both.

"We cool?" he said, "No trouble."

It would be nice to smash up his car or do something to ruin his night, but it wasn't worth the smoke when I had more urgent problems. We went down the side of the building, somewhere private.

"Hanging with an outlaw biker gang is a change of pace for you," I said.

"Oh, they're not all bad, and being around forces them to behave," she said, "Besides, its where Yeti works. He's a good guy."

"Yeah, he seems ok," I said.

"And you're not one to judge, getting private sword lessons from Baby Girl," she added, "Now come on, what's the sitch? You didn't hop your way down here to bust my balls about singing karaoke at my boyfriend's bar."

"Ixion Energy," I said, "What do you know about the Cereal Department?"

"Cereal Department?" she said. That perky bright face she wore as Pratfall flattened into the stoic mask of Xiang. "I work in the agricultural department but we're focused on vertical farming and drought resistant GMOs."

"It's nothing to do with grain," I said, "It's up on the 75th floor, and maybe has offices in the sub basements too. A Dr Jian Wu heads it."

"Jian Wu, you know, we don't all know each other Hotspur," she said, "But the name is familiar. I think, yeah, a couple weeks ago a girl came around without a pass looking for her dad. I think her name was something Wu. They wouldn't let her up to see him and he wouldn't come down. I only remember because she created a real scene. One of the security guards had to escort her out."

"Her name was something odd, not Chinese but a flower or something. Juniper or Blossom."

"Do you think you could find out more about what's going on in there?" I said, "Maybe snoop around the sub basements?"

Xiang was unimpressed. "I need this internship," she said, "Running around in costumes and fighting criminals is the right thing to do, but it doesn't pay the bills or make a career. Dodd's a bad guy and Ixion is dodgy, but it will look good on other applications and count for a bump in my college grades."

"Because that's what's important," I said, "School. Never mind what's going on out in the streets."

She flinched. Pratfall, the Pratfall I knew at least, was the court jester of Queen Rat's community. The jesting, joking girl who had shephereded frightened children through sewers to protect them from a violent militia. The kind of hero who would throw herself in front of a bus to protect a duckling.

Xiang was a different kind of person. The daughter of Chinese immigrants who had sacrificed everything to keep her in a safe home and get her into good schools. Who owed that sacrifice with her own strict discipline to see through their hopes for her.

"My parents..." she muttered, then shook her head. Xiang retreated and Pratfall emerged. "Ah, you're right on this one! Our brooding boyscout cuts to the truth again! Okay, I'll help. But just please don't ask too much. If I lose this internship my parents will be crushed!"

"We just need more dirt," I said, "Enough to bullseye Dodd. Ixion's more than just a dodgy company. They're doing some evil shit and they need to be stopped."

"So what do we need?" she said, "Just give the mission and your double agent is on the job."

>Find out more about Dr Wu and his team
>scope out the sub-basement where the clones are being kept
>(write-in)

(sorry this is so late, irl nonsense again)

>>6443006
>Find out more about Dr Wu and his team
Google

>>6443006
>Find out more about Dr Wu and his team

>>6443006
>Find out more about Dr Wu and his team
This one should be risk free for her. She can disguise it as genuine interest in his field.

>>6443006
>>Find out more about Dr Wu and his team
Seems like a safer option. It would be nice to get Pratfall some Remix toys for this kind of stuff.

>>6443018
>>6443126
>>6443224
>>6443237
let's go!

"The more we know about Dr Wu and his team, the better," I said, "If you can get close to him, get to know him. Find out what he's about."

"It's not really my department but I can try," she said, "There's some overlap between cloning and genetically modified food. Crispr. That kind of stuff."

"However you can do it," I said, "Whatever dirt you can find."

She cut a cute little salute. "On the job, boss!" Then she went back toward the bar. "If that's all though, I'm going to go back in."

Me, I needed some sleep. It was a school night, and a busy one at that. I was damn tired. Been a long week with a busy weekend coming up.

"Keep yourself safe, Pratfall," I said, "Too many of us are going down lately."

"Same to you, chief," she said, "We'd be in a real pickle without our number one slugger."

She skipped back in right as LeSean was coming out, talking with one of the Stunt Crew boys in his white leathers.

"Boss' knees don't bend easy," the biker said, "But he ain't stupid neither. Sullivan won't go head to head with the Haitian."

"There's the problem, Coye," LeSean said, "Haitian doesn't see it that way. A man who doesn't bend the knee to him he sees as an enemy, whatever he says his intentions are. Sullivan better figure that out fast or you'll all have trouble."

"Bodies in the streets helps no one," he said.

"Again, Haitian doesn't see it that way," he said. Seeing me skulking in the alley way, LeSean put a fingertip to his nose and smiled. "Let's get out of here. Waste of my time." His bodyguard, Bronco, opened the car door for the Haitian's right hand. The piled into the car, peeled off from the curb.

Too many problems to deal with all at once.

The next day started with pancakes. With Dad and Miss Flores expecting a kid, Dad had decided to play home maker more often, cooking big breakfasts to start the day. Fine by me. I heaped a stack and added chocolate source and whipped cream, my belly howling for food. As much as the balance between my powers and my hunger had evened out lately, a night like that still left a dead pit in my guts that only massive quantities of food could fix. Sugar, carbs, protein, all the good stuff my body burned through.

"Long night?" Dad said with just a hint of disapproval. As accepting as he was of my double life, it didn't mean he was happy with it. There would be no cartwheels from him over the latest villain taken down by Hotspur in the news. My fight with Grenadier was all over it, of course. The usual headlines about the growing menace of the 'paranormally afflicted'.

How much longer until the National Guard was sent in to 'Secure Chicago'? That was the current question going around. And add to it the gang violence. You'd think there were bodies on every street. Martial law was what the most hard core voices were demanding. Wonder how many people saying that also had 'Don't Tread On Me' tattoos.

My grunt was as good an answer as Dad was going to get, too set on eating.

A text. From Ivy.

Ivy - Talk tonight?

We were suppoed to meet after school. Figure this out before Halloween. Make up for the thing with Ayane.

Me - Yeah.

Ivy - Good. We need to talk.

Those words put a chill up my spine. The old cliche never meant anything good. That's what I'd been told anyway. That's what every tv show said. 'We need to talk'. Was I over thinking it? Ivy wasn't the sort to say anything but exactly what she meant. I was over thinking it.

Wasn't I?

I frowned at my phone as I got my school bag. Miss Flores got her car keys. She drove me in to school most days these days, awkward, quiet drives listening to whatever prog rock she had on her spotify. Today it was King Crimson.

School couldn't go by fast enough today. I had to get out. Talk to Ivy. Figure out exactly what she meant.

Until I did, it was a worse weight on my mind than any threat from Ixion.

Too many problems all at once.
-
(I'll be taking a break for the next couple of days to focus on some other work. But while I'm gone please feel free to discuss theories and plans. I do my best to encorporate discussed ideas into the narrative even if there hasn't been an explicit vote on it. I hope you guys have enjoyed the return so far. I considered starting with another small time skip but decided to just take up from where I'd left off. Hopefully the longer it goes the more people come back to the quest)

>>6443424
>discuss theories
Julian Dodd puts milk first then cereal in the bowl.

>>6443428
>implying he makes his own cereal
>implying he eats cereal at all
Dodd subsists upon a diet of pure adrenochrome.

I wonder how the space prince whose fused with Eric manged to hitchhike on the comsic space rock?

From the red wizard quest spirits (and im assuming ghosts are a type of spirit ) usually can only cross the gulf if they are called by either a wizard or messed up horrific Blood rituals.

But the super space Zorastrian needed neither to cross over.

Does the space rock shrink the distance between the spirit realm and the normal world?

>>6443424
Space Rock is full of souls and memories and mystic mumbo jumbo. Either the memories and visions drive the scientists insane, or they basically get possessed and its a war between two souls. I wonder if we could find whatever hospital has a bunch of them, maybe we could learn some more ancient destroyed planet lore. Also I guess a bunch of your employees getting driven insane would be bad PR.

Clones come out as drooling mutants unless they have souls. So are they keeping a chunk of rock available to the clone lab? Or do they fly some clone material over to the artic exposing it to the rock and then fly them back for more processing.

The really angry mentally unstable hero is a clone and hes got the soul of The Prince's best buddy, who is probably upset at the Prince for losing their world.

Unless its just some really weird mental conditioning that they want him ready to throw down with Hotspur in particular.

>>6443822
>The really angry mentally unstable hero is a clone and hes got the soul of The Prince's best buddy, who is probably upset at the Prince for losing their world.

>Unless its just some really weird mental conditioning that they want him ready to throw down with Hotspur in particular.

Maybe he's just fucked in the head like so many people granted comet powers. Just look at Grenadier.

>>6443822
>>6443826
I'm calling it now, the guy who has SUPERRoide Rage is going to be our school bully. After what happened in the camp and how much of a bootlicker he is, he got the magical superpower juice who fucked up his health somehow and made him more neurotic instead of psychotic

>>6443826
>Maybe he's just fucked in the head
What if Prince's Buddy just wants the smoke and is as reasonable as a classical hero

>>6444108
Gonna be real with you I don’t even remember Prince’s buddy

We met Ivy after school not far from her own. Her parents, after returning from Maui or Malibu or where ever it was they'd hid away while Ivy took care of her dying little sister, had pulled her out of our school and shoved her in a private academy far away from the problems of the poors or the presence of Ayesha. I think it was the embarassment of it. Of first abandoning their daughters only to come home to find Ivy starting a new life living with the Carvers, working to emancipate herself so that she never had to live under their roof again. Leaving her to watch Grace waste away with nothing but a housekeeper at home.

It had taken legal threats against the Carvers to get her back under their control. Not that those threats had much merit, but they had the money to throw at it until they got their way. Ivy had decided to spare the people who had taken her in the trauma, and had gone back to live with her birth parents.

They were some of the worst people I knew. The uniform Ivy wore somewhat made up for it.

Pleated skirt, blazer, tall socks. She'd added to it a ball cap with the Bears logo. Waiting for us, leaning back on a chainlink fence.

Too cool. Always. But I knew better. We both knew better. The anxiety chewing away at her guts. The ground always shifting under her feet.

"So, a space princess infected this chick," Ivy said, "After she killed herself. She woke up in a morgue with your dead cat in her head."

"More or less," Ayesha said.

"And the space prince in your head is her brother," she said, "And her lover. Now that's some kind of kinky space magic going on."

"Believe me, its not my idea of fun," I said.

"And the two of you had a moment where the space Folger siblings took over and started macking on each other," she said, "Instead of it being, you know, just a hot moment after rescuing a cute girl from a psycho sewer monster. I've met Ayane, she goes to my school, she is cute."

"Do you really think I'm lying?" I said.

Ivy sighed. "No, of course I don't. It still hurt, though. I'm worried you'll take this...this whatever it is between the three of us as some kind of open relationship."

"That's not what we are," I said.

She gave me a serious, worried look. "You get a lot of attention, Eric, and not just when you're being a hero."

"He's a good looking boy, that's true," Ayesha said.

Now I blushed, not sure if any of that was true. Before coming to Chicago I never got much notice from anyone. I'd had to take my cousin Molly to a school dance once.

Ivy nodded to herself. "I forgive you," she said. Thank God. "It was all out of your control anyway. I just needed a second, you know, to process it."

"That's fair," I said.

"Because it sounds like complete bullshit," she added a long stare when she said that, which thankfully broke into a grin. "Was it a good kiss at least?"

"Don't answer that," Ayesha cautioned.

"Maybe I'll ask her," Ivy pretty much purred the words and my back went up.

"Please don't," I said, "She doesn't even know my real identity."

"No more kissing strange girls in sewers," she said, "I know how screwy your life can get, Eric, but I'm serious."

"Yes ma'am," I replied.

Ayesha clapped, glad for it to be resolved. I was too. All those concerns about Ivy breaking up our relationship seemed pretty silly now. "Okay, now we have more serious matters to get to," Ayesha said, "The Halloween party."

Halloween was the most important day of the year, at least in Ayesha's opinion. It was more sacred than Easter and more fun than Christmas. It mattered. The most holy day on the horror junky calendar.

"What do we need to talk about?" Ivy asked, "It's at Nasim's, right?"

"Costumes," Ayesha said, "We need costumes. Matching costumes, preferably."

Goddamn. Was it really that important? I had a lot on already.

>I don't think we need costumes, least of all matching ones
>whatever you think is best, Ayesha
>write-in costume ideas

>>6445177
beastie boys would be funny

>>6445177
>We should go as the Chicago Protectors, it’ll be ironic.

>>6445177
>whatever you think is best, Ayesha
I really can't think of matching costumes, maybe later I get some idea lol

>whatever you think is best, Ayesha

>>6445177
>write-in costume ideas
Don Quixote

>>6445203
>>6445250
locked in

"It's your rodeo, Ayesha," I said.

It had the effect of ice cream on a hot day, the delight that broke over her face.

"Oh-kay," she said, "Have either of you played Devil May Cry?"

I shook my head. Of course I knew about it, but I don't have the time for gaming.

"Ivy can be Trish, I'll be Lady and Eric will be Dante," Ayesha said.

"We have like, a day to get these costumes organized, you know," Ivy said.

Ayesha laughed. "Please, I've had this planned for months. Now we're going to go with Devil May Cry 5 because I know you don't like people seeing those scars on your stomach. I've ordered everything already though if you could pay me back? It wasn't cheap."

When I'm up half a million dollars, it wasn't a big deal. "Sure." It was just good to see her perky and excited about something.

"I thought about Resident Evil 5," she said, "Me as Sheva, you as Chris and Ivy as Jill, but I don't know. You just aren't the Chris type. Not big enough."

I nodded, having no idea what she was talking about.

"Let's meet at mine tomorrow to get changed," she said, "Then I'll drive us out to Nasim's. It'll be great. We can just forget about our troubles for a minute."

"That's cool," I said, "But I do have something pretty important afterwards."

"Oh yeah? What's that," Ayesha was none too pleased at the revelation.

"Julian Dodd wants to meet," I said, "And I told him I'd go, if only to tell him to go fuck himself to his face."

Momentarily unhappy, Ayesha sighed, nodded. She understood. If anyone could be counted on to understand, it was her.

"Fine, but you better make it up to me," she said.

"Always," I said.

It did get me thinking though. Going to meet Julian Dodd in the Ixion building alone probably wasn't the smartest idea. He was untrustworthy at best, down right scheming and treacherous. He might be planning just to off me then and there.

Back up would be good. He'd said it would be all right to bring someone. A lot of my friends were out with injuries. Misfit, Grit, Ironclad.

I still had people I could call on. The other members of Fire Watch, allies like Dusk. I don't know what good a guy like Dog Brother would do though.

>maybe I should just go alone
>no, taking friends was the smart move (write-in who to take other than Grit/Misfit/Ironclad, it can be more than one character)

>>6445383
>no, taking friends was the smart move (write-in who to take other than Grit/Misfit/Ironclad, it can be more than one character)
Thunderchild to teleport us out?

Dusk because she's super badass and also a reporter by day?

>>6445383
I wonder if he'd try to make it seem like Hotspurt broke in and tried to kill him as a PR stunt

>>6445383
Thunderchild. Good guy to have around. I do worry this is some kind of trap though.

>>6445383
I think I like Dusk and Thunderchild.

Seems like two other people would be a lot easier to teleport out.

Our buddy the Red Wizard, did he have any magic that is generally handy? Or was it a lot of astral projection, asking spirits for info, wards, and so on. Which could still be handy if he could call in a favor with a spirit to do spooky ghost stuff if shit hits the fan.

Rather than bringing him physically I wonder if he could hitch a ride spiritually. Help call on the Prince, or be eyes in the back of our head and look through walls, read their aura. Eric has had a few blackouts recently, maybe he can pilot the Hotspur-mobile in a pickle so to speak.

The powers are physical and spiritual in nature, so what if we could draw on Eric, the Prince, AND our buddy the Red Wizard? Bring Ayane's spirit along with us?

>>6445434
>>6445392
>>6445427
locking in Dusk and Thunderchild

Thunderchild would be good for a quick exit. If we needed to dip he'd get us out of there in a literal blink of the eye. For muscle I couldn't do much better than Dusk. She wasn't Fire Watch but she owed me for rescuing her sister from Flesh-Smith, and her instincts as a tv journalist would have her curious about anything to do with the misdeeds of Julian Dodd. The only potential problem was her lethal intent, she didn't play nice with the bad guys and had stacked a body count already.

Wouldn't know it from seeing her on the 6 o'clock news.

Speaking of her sister...

"Yo Ivy!" she waved from down a way, hanging a pig-faced kid who was a clear para-freak as you could think of. She wore the same private school uniform but wore pants instead of skirts, totting a skate board. The pig had one too. Ivy waved back.

I tried to look else where. Luckily the Japanese skater didn't come bouncing over.

"Caught your videos on youtube, cool shit!" she said. She left it at that though, going off with Pig waving goodbye.

"Oh man," Ivy groaned, "My old band mates have been uploading clips online. They want to get the band back together."

Ivy had been in a rock band, Blister, for a minute. Like everything else, her parents had scuttled it.

"You should," Ayesha said, "You guys were pretty good."

"They're putting together a show with Six Degrees, a winter tour all the way out to Milwaukee. No way my parents would sign off on it."

"Are you still writing music?" I asked.

Ivy blushed. "Maybe a song or two."

A car horn honked. This was the unwelcome arrival of Ivy's dad. Stephen King looking nerd hung out the car window, slapping the door of his car.

"Time to go," Ivy sighed, but before she did, and as much as a fuck you to her father as to show all was good, she darted in to put a kiss on. It didn't take long for it to get deep, or for me to grab her in soft places. When we were done she pinched my chin. Then, as a double fuck you to her dad, she turned and did the same to Ayesha. A long soft kiss that saw sliding tongues, that left a tremble in Ayesha's leg.

"I'll see you both tomorrow," Ivy said with a wink, swaggering off to join her red faced father stewing in the front seat.

I let out a deep cough held in the depths of my chest. Ayesha laced her hand into mine as we watched our girl leave, resting her head on my shoulder. "I'm glad that's sorted," she said, "I'm not ready for this to be over."

There was something in the way Ayesha spoke that was a bit troubling. I looked down at her face, worried behind her golden rimmed glasses. I wasn't either. The two of them were the only thing keeping me tethered to a world growing more and more insane. It made me think about Jimmy Green, the Red Wizard. What would he make of Julian Dodd, the Stone and everything going on with it? I should talk to him soon. He had a different perspective, and insights only an esoteric wizard could have. If I could get his eyes on the Stone itself, maybe it could answer more of my questions. Just what it is, what it could do, and why. What was its link to the Druj.

Hell, maybe he'd even have an answer for the dead prince burrowed into the back of my skull.

Problems for another day.

When Ayesha took me home we took the scenic route. When she dropped me off we were both flushed.

"I was thinking," she said, pulling up in front of my building. Marta was heading off to work. "If we're meant to be. The three of us."

"Uhn," I said, not up to much conversation after a vigorous drive home.

"You told me about a dream once. Three women with their prince. You said they were us, but not us?"

Those dreams. I hadn't had one in a while. Dreams of another place, another time, on a dying planet.

"Destiny," Ayesha said, "I hope it isn't destiny."

"Why's that?" I said, having not given it much thought myself.

"Because if its destiny it means we got no choice in the matter," she said, "Which is bullshit. I chose you. Both of you, and worked my butt off to make it happen."

"Oh really?"

She had a little sly grin on that. "Three brides for a warrior prince," she said, "It's all a little mythical."

"Destiny or not, I'm not giving either of you up," I said, "See you tomorrow."

We kissed goodbye. She kept an eye on me up to the door.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

Right now I still had to get through tonight.

>get some rest, can't keep burning the midnight oil
>head out for the night, remind the city I'm still out here
>(write-in)

>>6445463
>Don't go out tonight, stay at home
>Meditate to see what happens

We're not reaching for the prince or anything, just try it out to see what happens

>>6445463
>head out for the night, remind the city I'm still out here

>>6445488
+1

>>6445463
>get some rest, can't keep burning the midnight oil
We just took down the Grenadier, I'm sure the city hasn't forgotten us already.

>>6445504
>>6445488
locking in 'go home and meditate'

I went upstairs, not just to rest but to meditate. It was something I'd been toying with for a while, just contemplating more what this was all about. What I was doing, why I was doing it. What drove me. Not just my powers, but me. Someone had called me crazy once for doing what I was doing. Why waste my gifts on busting up hoods and fighting super villains when I could be doing something else.

It was the right thing to do? Someone had to do it? The cops were no good. The system didn't work. Everything was broken. But was I really trying to fix it, or just put bandaids on a bleeding artery?

These were the thoughts in my head when I went into the kitchen.

"Another heist," Dad was complaining, watching the tv. Carmen was making herself a smoothie, one of those wild cocktails my little sibling was demanding from her womb. "Those cops have all those scary new toys but they haven't stopped a damn thing with them. We see them down town on the construction site, stomping around block corners in their knock off ED-209s. Meanwhile this Knock Out chick and her gang of freaks keep knocking over banks."

"Didn't robbing banks go out of style in the 90s?" Carmen said over her shake.

"90s nostalgia is big right now," Dad sighed, "Hey kid, how was school?"

"Uhn," was my reply as I grabbed an apple out of the crisper.

"I heard a rumor from a guy on site," he said, "About this guy in his neighborhood who can reverse someone's age. Old guy down in Roseland. Charges about half a million. What do you think about your old man knocking a decade off his life, go back to being thirty?"

"No, I like my old man," Carmen said, coming to stand behind him, "And if that were true, why he still an old man? Wouldn't he reverse his age first?"

"Ha! Good point. Maybe his powers don't work that way?" he said, "I don't know, but it would be nice to lose some of the gray in my hair. Working construction stopped being fun years ago. Maybe I could go back to school or something."

I ate the apple. "It's all just stories," Carmen said, "And even if it is true, you're not throwing away our house deposit on some magic platic surgery."

"Fair," Dad conceded.

A guy who could reverse aging? That man'd be a billionaire before the end of the year. Might be something to look into, sus out if he's legit or just a story going around. For now though I had other things to do.

I went into my bedroom. Closed the door, the blinds. I sat by my bed. Closed my eyes. Looked inside myself. Meditation. Baby Girl Kusanagi had talked a bit about zen when we were training. Hebi-O-Korosu, the sword tradition of her clan, spoke a lot about an empty mind being one with everything. I don't know if I entirely understood it, but there were times when I turned on my power, when the fire was hottest, that I lost myself in it. Concious thought, emotion, everything fed into a blazing hot flame until all was the flame, until I was the flame. Living fire, a chemical reaction made physical.

Or something like that. It was hard to describe.

Meditation. I squeezed my eyes shut. My other sight was like meditation. Opening myself up to the unseen world through the fire.

I did that now. Opened my eyes to the dark, a flicker of fire burning inside.

Nothing seemed much different.

There was a glow on my windowsill. Cuniform wards, all dashes and arrows like video game commands. Wards of protection set by James Green after my run in with the lilitu, a seductive assassin of the Druj. The night hag. Void spawn. It had preyed on my fantasies and nearly killed me in the process. Right here in my own bedroom.

Thank God for the Red Wizard.

Its stink was still here though. Stink. Stench. I was fooling myself calling it that. Its smell was decadently sweet, with the heat of a hot shower. Lingering. Arousing. Venomous.

Ashavan. That was some of what I was. A warrior. Or the heir to a warrior. Serenae would know. The lost princess now stuck in Ayane's head the way her brother was stuck in mine. Brother-husband. Sister-wife. All that confusion. The necromancer knew me, the one stirring up Chicago's dead before Jimmy and I had driven him off. I worried about the necromancer, wondered when or if he'd ever return.

There were servants of the Druj here on Earth. They'd worked to eliminate the line of wizards over centuries, whittled their number down until only Jimmy was left. They were in places of power. Who knew who and how many. Maybe some served the Druj and didn't even know it.

Not by destiny I was chosen. Serenae had said that. Not by destiny but by choice. Running out to help Mrs Valdez, getting stabbed for the trouble, right as the Explosion turned the world upside down.

If not me, maybe it would have been someone else.

Wish it had been, sometimes. Or did I? I'd seen more than I ever wanted to see. Had lived more than most people ever would. And it didn't change the facts of the world we lived in. If it had been someone else got this power, this mantle, I'd still be living through it but as helpless as anyone. With the fire I could actually do something.

Or try to, at least.

Ashavan. What did that even mean? I was a warrior in a war I barely understood, the enemy half seen.

And the smell of the lilitu, made it seem so near.

I missed my cat.

I don't know if I was meditating or worrying. Dad ordered takeout either way and we ended the night with pizza and an old 90s action film.

"I'm going to take you to the bank, Senator Trent," Steven Segal drawled, "To the blood bank."

File: cosplay.jpg (25 KB, 546x310)

25 KB JPG

"And this, is your sword."

Ayesha handed me a styrofoam creation. It hung from the back of my red jacket. The plastic pistols went on the holsters at my hip. I adjusted the silver wig.

I looked like a fucking idiot.

We were at hers, much to her dad's annoyance, getting changed for the costume party. Ayesha had gone a step further than I expected into full on cosplay territory. Ivy wore what I could only describe as a corset tube top with tight black leather pants, while Ayesha was at least a bit more covered up in a sporty white jacket with contacts turning one eye blue, the other yellow.

"Can I leave the sword?" I asked. The guns felt like more than enough. It made Ayesha pout. I kept the sword.

When we went down Mr Carver was at the kitchen table eating soup.

"The hell are you supposed to be?" he said on seeing me.

"I don't know, sir," I said. The red jacket was just a bit too long on me.

He looked to Ayesha and then Ivy. His eyes narrowed on Ivy. "Give her your coat," he told me, "Girl shouldn't go out dressed like that at her age."

"It's just a costume, Dad," Ivy said a little sarcastic. Mr Carver got flustered on being called dad.

"I think she looks great," Ayesha said with a quick little slap on Ivy's ass. Mr Carver turned his attention deep on his soup. I turned my attention to the fridge door. Oh wow, coupons for Jewels. Half off paper towels. Might need to check that out.

Thankfully her mom had missed the show, but when we bumped into her out in the living room, Mrs Carver wasn't impressed either. She also wasn't alone. A few of Ayesha's cousins were in town, her dad's brother's kids. Two boys a little older than us, checking out colleges.

"Those are your costumes?" she said.

"Mom, I saw the Xzibit video you were in, don't judge," Ayesha said.

"Girl, I was twenty-one in that video," she replied, maybe a little too forcefully.

One of the cousins, the younger one, scoffed. "So it's true."

"What's that Eddie?" Ayesha said, pausing.

Eddie Carver looked me over, than Ivy. "Bed wenching for a pair of white folks," he said.

It sucked the air right out of the room and got Mrs Carver glaring at the boy gog-eyed. Ayesha's expression went dead blank. I mean, I didn't like the way he said it but it hit with the hammer of the n word. Maybe worse.

The older boy, Isaiah, caught his brother by the collar. "Sorry, Yeesha," he said, "This little idiot been on some hotep shit."

"Needs to be said," Eddie didn't shut up even when his brother gave him a scowl, "You got two proud black parents brought you up right, girl. We heard you'd been in some kind of situationship with a couple Aryan looking crackers but-"

"You are trying too hard, brother," Isaiah said, 'playfully' putting him in a headlock with just enough force to shut him up.

"I was going to suggest you take your cousins with you," Mrs Carver said, "Now I'm not sure its such a good idea."

Ayesha kept glaring at her cousin Eddie. It had been a minute since I'd seen her this angry.

Then she turned to me, forcing a smile. "What do you think, Eric? Ivy?" she said, "Should we let these guys tail along?"

>they can come, doesn't bother me
>maybe they should sit this one out
>(write-in)

>>6445715
>maybe they should sit this one out
if you weren't ayesha's family you'd be on the floor right now