Author Topic: BURNISH  (Read 2648 times)

Rust

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BURNISH
« on: May 28, 2013, 10:34:12 PM »
The Catastrophe.

That's what we called it. A shining city on a hill, a home of heroes...brought low in a single, terrible day by some strange, new threat. And that blinding era of optimism and hope - was over.

He called himself Zellenlieter, a man with no history, no name, no face. Just a man with a plan, and a Organization to make it happen. He approached the corrupt of the city, the downtrodden and the power hungry, and promised them their shining moment if they would follow his plan. And it worked.

Mister Astonishing - the man of lightning - was forced to spread his electrical self too thin to stop a horde of warbots designed by the mad engineer Artisan. He saved the city, but there wasn't enough left of him to reconstitute his body.

Plant Gal - mistress of the gardens - was infected by a radioactive toxin developed by Mister Atrocity, Mister Astonishing's deranged double. She succumbed to sickness, but not before burying the radioactive menace deep in the earth.

Magnus the Mystic - Knower of the Unknown - faced off against his immortal nemesis, the Djinn Mexlon for the final time. Magnus succeeded in once again binding the wish granter inside a Obsidian Blade, but the battle left his mind destroyed beyond repair. His reward is a life time of bed pans and tube feedings.

Dynasty - The Armored Marvel - the twelfth of his family to wear the mantle...crushed up like a used soda can by a new threat, the malevolent Tungsten Titan.

Then there was Roger Dusfal. One of my oldest and dearest friends. The mysterious Night Raider. Betrayed by deceit chasing his oldest enemy Whipslash across the docks, when Vincent "Vinny" Chetti - The Monochrome Mobster and his chief Drug Dealer and head of Security Pandora opened fire on both of them from concealment. Whipslash met his end that night...but so did Roger.


When the dust settled, four of the cabal were incapacitated or dead, and that left four to rule the city. Chetti's criminal empire exploded as Pandora's drug "Key" became the hit new designer drug for the clubs and city youth. The Tungsten Titan rampaged seemingly without motive, just reveling in the carnage, and atop it all with the Organization contaminating the city's political landscape was the Zellenleiter. Mysterious, aloof Zellenleiter. The man who ordered my friends to die.


My name is Kevin McGann. I've known other names, some good and some bad. I used to be a hero, then for a time I was what in any conventional sense of the word would be a villain. A soldier for hire. I used my skills that had helped hundreds to maim and kill others for money. I'd clashed with the heroes - my friends - many times during those dark days. I was off on one such "campaign" when the Catastrophe struck.

Now, I've taken off my uniform. I owe Roger and the others - the members of the now-dead Security Legion. This city - this Colt - was our home. Sure she had her warts but she was beautiful all the same. I won't see her turn into a cesspool of violence and corruption.

Let Zellenleiter hear the rumblings - that the Leopard stalks the streets again. In part, that's true. But I'm not that man any longer. I'm not here for anything nobler then simple revenge. No, the nobility must come from others. It is they whom I stalk. They I shall find.

This city was golden once. I will find those I know must still be here - those who refuse to back down, those who refuse to let the darkness win. I will find those individuals and I will forge them, in the crucible of fire and pain, and mold them into a stronger force then what once stood here. I will take the golden ideal, and I will forge it anew. Burnished in the fires of falling tyrants and villains.

Let villains beware. The Security Legion shall be reborn!


This is the intro of my ongoing Fan Fiction series "Burnish", set in my own original universe. "The Catastrophe" was something I came up with for my own enjoyment and was playing out in City of Heroes when the servers shut down. Since then, I've been trying to give the story it's natural conclusion - not that all those who were lost return, but a new generation rises up and takes their place. I attempted to continue this story via Champions Online but the game structure just wasn't working for me, so I thus turn to a text based solution, as my artistry skills are appalling. I hope you enjoyed this introduction. It's a short and sweet history, but I think it hits the high points.
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Rust

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Encounter 01: Jumpstart
« Reply #1 on: May 31, 2013, 08:08:20 AM »
Colt, Suburbia

A quaint little house sitting on a quaint little street. The kind of place Norman Rockwell might have painted. And it's a good thing too, because paintings don't convey the heat and anger of the words erupting out of the house.

An argument. A serious one. The instigator and the cause of which comes slamming out of the front door, awash by the raised voices of older individuals calling back from deeper in the abode.

It's the first time I've seen her since she was a out of diapers. A fit and trim female figure, with seemingly impossibly long legs. Even in loose fitting jeans and a tee shirt, it's clear to see she's built for sustained speed. Her face is marred by a harsh red coloration and her chocolate colored eyes are watery. The altercation within it seems, was about her...extra-curricular activities.

Aggressively snatching at her sandy blonde hair and pulling it up into a high ponytail, the girl - no, young woman as she's set to start college this fall - surprises me even more by yanking her tee shirt off in one solid motion - revealing a turquoise and powder blue body suit underneath.

Slipping out of her jeans, the woman stalks down the front porch of her parents' home and reaches under the second step to extract a pair of gloves and boots made of a glossy yellow material and seem almost comically oversized for her hands and feet. She then retrieves a pair of old pilot's goggles, spray painted the same yellow as her gloves and boots, and puts them on.

Walking away from her house at a steady speed, she leaves a clump of discarded clothing in her wake. By the time her father has managed to exit out onto the porch himself, calling after her, she's already down the block and turning away.

Then she begins to run.



Samantha "Sam" Derring was born different from those around her. She was born with a unnaturally high metabolism and she was born with extraordinarily developed muscles in her legs that continued to develop as she grew. Simply put, Sam is a mutant with the ability to move her body - and her legs in particular - at phenomenal speeds. Her record speed put her at just under 402 kilometers per hour - nearly 250 miles per hour at a full run. Her baseline speed of movement - both running and in general - is about half that. She moves quickly, but the trade off is her metabolism is a furnace that refuses to go out. "She still eats like a teenager" her parents often quip, and they don't seem to realize that she's going to be eating like a teenager for the rest of her life simply to keep the weight she's managed to acquire. Every ounce of excess fat is burned off nearly immediately, so in the special suit she helped design with her uncle she looked more like a malnourished, effeminate male then a female in the prime of her life. But that was (usually) fine with her. She just loved to run.

Like now. Uncle Carl - Carl Wayfair III also known as the armored hero Dynasty - had been dead for six months and her parents - Carl's sister and her husband - were deathly afraid Sam was going to join him if she continued the course she was on. But how could she not? The city was in the grip of fear from Zellenleiter and the Chetti Family, and the old heroes were gone. Someone had to step it up.

But her parents, bless their kind, simple souls, didn't want any of that for their daughter. They thought she should take a university application out of state and try to live a normal life. They didn't realize that the gifts she had been given demanded that they be used for the greater good.

She was still running, lost in thought, when the sun dipped low on the horizon and she entered one of the numerous, tree filled parks in the suburbia. Being lost in thought, she didn't even notice the man in black and yellow until he dropped out of the tree nearly in front of her.

She yelped in surprise and came to a sudden and abrupt halt. The special boots let her do that - it helped ground her momentum without causing her to snap every bone in her body, much like the specialized gloves kept her from shattering her hands when she went to punch a creep at the speed of a moving vehicle. But Sam wasn't thinking about any of that, all of her focus was on the man in front of her.

Stoic, a good inch or two above her despite her legs, with a physique that spoke of intense physical training. He wore a jumpsuit oily blue - nearly black - in color that seemed to almost be made out of a glossy metal with matte, thick plastic looking yellow armor pieces molded onto the suit like a carapace. On both hips sat built in, box like holsters with the handles of two hand guns peeking out, and a scabbard on the back spoke of a nearly four foot long sword. His gloved hands ended in silvery points that shone in the dim street lights - each digit encased in a tiny razor blade.

He wore a yellow with a blue-black stripe scarf around his neck that descended nearly to the backs of his knees, and his face with narrow and severe, flanked by a hair style that looked like it came from the 90s - parted straight down the middle, with blonde hair spilling down both sides to his chin. His eyes were an intense, emerald green.

Samantha Derring stood in shock, her mouth slightly open, as she added the detail missing. Namely, she didn't see the man's face in her head - she saw the oily blue-black, metal like head covering that encased his head, with the yellow domino mask around his eyes that flared off into points that gave the vaguest impression of the ears of a feline.

A outfit and face that the citizenry of Colt knew too well. Knew well...and were ashamed and terrified of.

"Leopard..." Samantha breathed. "...KILLER Leopard..."

The man's mouth twitched in a smile. "I used to be called that - called both of those, actually. But I prefer my given name at the moment, Kevin McGann. And I know all about you, Sam."

Samantha shifted her body weight slightly. It gave the impression she was about to bolt, but Kevin hadn't been a career soldier and mercenary without knowing when someone was going to break and run...and when they were about to attack. His palms itched for his pistols, but he dared not draw them now.

"I know you were Carl's favorite niece and he had high hopes for you and your abilities." Kevin said instead. "I know that your parents are terrified for you and your safety and want you to go to college out of state to get you away from the city as fast as you can. And I know you yourself want to make a stand and get some justice for your uncle's murder."

"You know a lot." Samantha said after a long pause. "So, what? Chetti have my place bugged? Or are you working for Zellenleiter?"

"Neither, actually." Kevin remarked smoothly. Inside his gloves, his palms were damp. "You aren't the only one looking to do some good in the wake of the Catastrophe."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, I'll bet. I can't seem to recall a time when you and Uncle Carl weren't butting heads over something or another. To say nothing of that time at the Trade Expo where you put Uncle Carl in the hospital for over a month."

Kevin winced at the biting tone. "I was a different man back then."

"I'll bet." Sam said, but her stance shifted and eased out of her combat posture. "I'm sure you are going to try to woo me with stories about my Uncle, make me open up and trust you so you can do...whatever. But whatever you are trying to sell here, jack...I aint buying."

"Not even a chance to see the Legion rebuilt?"

Samantha surprised both of them with a genuine laugh. "Rebuild the Legion? You? You were a founding member, but the sheer gall...no. No. I'm not going to be a part of a team that walks on the backs of fallen greats. Nevermind the fact Zellenleiter, the Organization, and the Mobster would be on you and your fan club in a day if they learned of its existence. Thanks for the offer, I guess, but I think that Jumpstart's going to run solo for now."

She was gone almost before Kevin could register she'd moved. He tried to think of something, anything, to call out after her with, but the words died a bitter death on his tongue as he realized how true her words rang.
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Rust

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Interlude: Sinister Dealings
« Reply #2 on: June 07, 2013, 05:01:20 AM »
Professor Charles Bannister walked the muted, off white hallway.

Pudgy, Mid-50s, Balding with brown hair quickly giving way to gray, Bannister really did not feel like making his rounds this evening. His...session...earlier hit a snag - literally - and the barb was still digging into the flesh under his left shoulder blade. But there simply was no time to remove it before the start of his shift and as chief psychologist at an Institute for the Criminally Insane, one didn't just call in sick without good reason.

Still, there was no reason it should hurt as bad as it did. He'd taken some Key to dull the pain but it was still there, a low throbbing ache beating in tempo to the chants and shouts from the inmates.

...chants and shouts? The ward was soundproofed.

Professor Bannister collapsed, convulsing, blood spilling out of his ears and mouth as the deafening roar overtook his senses. Unbeknownst to the good Professor, he was a latent telepath. And it seems that his latent ability has flared to life at the worst possible time. Professor Bannister's first taste of another mind...and he is surrounded by the criminally insane.



Elsewhere, a stylish red sports car stopped in front of one of the tallest high rises in Colt. Putting the vehicle in park, a valet smartly steps up to open the driver's door, but the Valet is not prepared for what awaits him. A tall woman of over six feet with several inches to spare - not counting the stiletto heels, wearing a 80s style jacket - you know the ones, with the huge shoulder pads - of bright cherry red and skin tight black leather pants. Her deep Carmel colored hair spilled elegantly down her back and her bright cherry red lips parted in a wide smile for the valet.

But that wasn't the most defining feature. No, the most defining feature to the woman who exited the vehicle was the right side of her face - forehead and eye to cheekbone - was dominated by a porcelain white mask. Scar tissue along the outer edge and the creamy white eye that stared out from the mask - nearly becoming part of the mask itself, in truth - told the story of why it was there. The Valet stood, dumbfounded. It wasn't every night you got to see one of the three most powerful people in Colt.

The woman continued to smile as she handed over the keys to the vehicle and a small ziplock bag filled with a light, flaky red powder.

"My treat." The woman remarked. "Park the car and go enjoy."

The Valet smiled and entered the vehicle. Within seconds, the woman saw it vanish into a parking garage beneath the building just as another vehicle - this one an antique 1930s roadster of a polished black finish - pull up. As the driver exited the vehicle, the dome light revealed the interior to be rich, white leather. The driver - a brute of a man - held up a hand as another valet approached. The man illuminated in the back seat turned his head at the altercation, then opened the door for himself and stepped out.

Vincent "Vinny" Chetti. The head of the Chetti Crime Family and defacto mayor of the city of Colt. Known in the papers and to his enemies as The Monochrome Mobster. Chetti was a severe case of albinism, with skin so white it practically shined like pearls. Embracing his unique image at a young age, Chetti quickly took to wearing black clothing to accent the color of his skin, make him look paler then he was. Gifted with a head of nearly white blonde hair, the look was definitely set in stone.

Tonight he wore a three piece suit and a pair of aviator sunglasses - black of course. As he looked at the woman standing on the curve before him, he gave a curt nod.

"Pandora." Chetti remarked.

Lily Pandora, Chetti's second in command and the literal drug queen of Colt, smiled brilliantly at Chetti. "Vincent. What a pleasant surprise. I take it since you're here and not up at the top floor I can guess it wasn't you who called me over?"

"Got it in one." Chetti smiled humorlessly. "I suppose we should see what our illustrious lord and master wants now."

With that, the two entered the building, side by side.


Elsewhere, Professor Bannister felt himself being stirred from his self-induced slumber by a burly orderly.

Not yet. Not yet. Want to sleep. Need to listen some more.

The Orderly heard the voice, but didn't see the speaker. He whipped around in a circle, and then saw it. It was hanging off the rafters by a single chain link burrowed under its left shoulder blade. It wore a tattered lab coat, soaked in blood, and a broad brimmed red hat, still dripping with a fresh kill. Strapped across it's bare, emaciated chest, were three leather cords that had nails driven into them. Fresh blood oozed through the cords. And the face...that terrible face. That eyeless, grotesquely grinning face.

"Don't you hear the song?" The hideous maw asked the Orderly before opening its mouth impossibly wide, revealing to the Orderly the image of Professor Bannister, leashed and chained, being whipped over and over by metal chains with sharp steel ends. As the Orderly stared through the macabre scene, the image of Bannister looked up through the maw and gazed at the Orderly.

His eyes blazed green fire. The Orderly screamed.

In the empty hallway, Bannister still lay, prone and comatose, blood caked around his ears and the sides of his mouth. The Orderly, in comparison, had drug himself clear across the hallway with two gaping wounds where his eyes had been. The only sound in the hallway were his own ragged sobs. The Orderly couldn't hear the inmates in their cells, all chanting a single phrase over and over again.

Professor of Panic
Professor of Panic
Professor of Panic
Professor of Panic




((I'd intended this chapter to be longer, to detail Chetti and Pandora's meeting with the Zellenleiter, but I'm simply too tired tonight and I felt the need to get some kind of update out this week.))
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Rust

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Interlude: The Meeting
« Reply #3 on: June 14, 2013, 10:25:46 PM »
Lily Pandora, the Drug Queen of Colt, and Vincent "Vinny" Chetti (Known mostly as "The Monochrome Mobster") walked into the vast, cathedral like expanse of the lobby area of what was still formally called The Preservation Tower, a large municipal space with office space and board rooms as well as a memorial to World War II, and a ritzy shopping center.

More recently, the tower has come to be informally known as Injustice Hall, having been co-opted early on during the Catastrophe as the base of operations for The Organization.

They were everywhere. Unobtrusive, but still everywhere. Large, powerful individuals who wore knee length coats that buttoned up the right breast, a rich dark blue with golden yellow trim. White pants only peeked out at the knees, as almost as soon as the coat ended, the polished black combat boots began. The gloves they wore over their hands were also black, as were the combat helmets worn atop their heads. Strapped over the left shoulder was a powerful, chrome and gunmetal weapon that glowed near its base with a pale blue light.

The Organization made Chetti uneasy. Not only did they flaunt the fact their origins lay with mercenary militias, but their armament suggested a super-human supplier of either extra-terrestrial armament or experimental energy weaponry. Chetti had both at his disposal, of course, but not enough of it to arm every member of his criminal empire with it.

But what really made Chetti uneasy wasn't the weaponry or the uniforms. It was their faces. Or rather...the lack of them. Each member of The Organization concealed their face behind a wide goggled face shield, with likely built in filtration system. It happened only once during the criminal uprising of the city, but Chetti also knew that the wide goggles also had low light capability, because he'd seen a platoon garrisoning a street corner one night, and their eyes had glowed a unnatural pale white.

Between the face plates and the bulky, heavy coats (Which Chetti knew they called "Storm Coats"), the rank and file of the Organization was a faceless, genderless mass of bodies known collectively and individually as Armsmen.

Pandora and Chetti crossed to the center dias in the middle of the lobby. What once had been a help kiosk had been transformed into a security checkpoint. One Armsman sat behind a heavy oak desk while two others flanked him on either side, weapons out but pointed at the ground. Off the dias and to the left was a metal detector and gate leading towards the building's elevators, along with another Armsman, this one holding a gleaming stainless steel chain that connected to the collar of a huge mastiff laying on the floor, who lifted its head at the approach of the two.

"Mister Chetti, Madam Pandora - welcome." The Armsman behind the desk said at their approach. His voice was heavily distorted, another mark for the faceless Organization. The Armsman could have been a gawking teenage boy or a elderly matron, for all Chetti would know.

"The Zellenleiter has cleared you both for access to Floor Oh-Seven-Nine. A representative will meet you there to take you to him."

Pandora bestowed the guard a wide smile as he gestured them through, but Chetti did nothing but bestow the Armsman with a deep, deep frown. Prior to the Catastrophe, Chetti's non-profit front had owned The Preservation Tower. Now he had to be cleared access just to walk around his own building.

His own building he still paid property taxes on.

Chetti entered the elevator with Pandora to the sight of another Armsman, who dutifully waited until both were aboard before closing the doors, and then pushing the button to the 79th floor. No one but the Armsmen touched the elevator controls since their occupation of the building began.

Chetti fumed in silence and Pandora left him to it. Chetti liked Lily as a business partner. Drug trafficking was a old tradition in organized crime, but Chetti generally frowned upon it. But Lily's business was different. It wasn't as "grimy" as Cocaine or Meth - her concoctions skewed towards the more "designer"...pseudo-pharmicidicals, if you will. Her greatest breakthrough - Key - was a red, flaky powder that you mixed with water or beverage of your choice and was marketed to help "calm nerves". It was also highly addictive and gave a rush greater then the best energy drink on the market while improving mental focus...for as long as the effects lasted anyway. Then there was no discernible crash...but the user immediately wanted another "shot".

Chetti had the FDA tied up in legal precedings, thus making Key technically legal and thus casting the net that much wider. By the time the FDA finally got court approval for a sample of Key, they would shift the active ingredients to be much more passive and Pandora (and Chetti) will have moved on to the next designer drug 'fad' they helped create.

The elevator dinged to the seventy ninth floor and they both got out, to be greeted by another security checkpoint - this one with sandbags and heavy .50 caliber gun emplacements - and a Armsman that stood out from the rest. His uniform was cut exactly the same way, but his left arm was a advanced prosthetic sheathed in gold metal. His face, unlike the others, was also uncovered...to a point. A heavily scarred lower face with wet, pinkish lips greeted them. The upper half of the face was obscured in a golden dome with two eye slits, one eye slit given over to a highly advanced tactical scope. Along the sides of the golden dome jutted two sweeping communications "wings". Pandora's smile immediately grew at the sight of him.

"Shazta!" She exclaimed, walking up to him quickly and embracing him. Michael Shazta had once been the premiere mercenary for hire in the world before Kevin McGann's fall from grace landed him the top spot. Shazta had butted heads with the Security Legion more times then anyone could have counted. When the Catastrophe rolled into Colt, Shazta was still employed by the one-time king of crime in the city Whipslash. When Whipslash died - cut down in the same barrage that killed Night Raider - Shazta had put up a fight at his estates for honor more then anything. When the Organization leveled the place with an artillery barrage from pieces smuggled in on cargo ships (Which Chetti was still trying to figure out how they got past inspections), Shazta had been pulled out of the rubble barely alive and offered a choice: Die then and there, or serve the Organization.

"Pandora, always good to see you girl." Shazta slurred out. Since the Catastrophe, Shazta had recovered mostly but his jaw was still made out of metal now. "And you, Mister Chetti."

Chetti gave the mercenary the briefest of nods.

"The Zellenleiter is waiting." Shazta gestured behind him. "If you will follow me?"

Chetti and Pandora followed Shazta towards one of the side boardrooms. He opened the door without knocking, marched in, and fired off a salute that would make any West Point instructor livid with envy. Chetti and Pandora followed him in a heartbeat later.

It was a typical non-descript board room offered by the Tower. White walls with faux-wood table tops and comfy (and cheap) leatherbound rolling chairs. The walls retained their usual generic corporate trappings - motivational posters and vague landscapes. The man sitting at the head of the table, with hardcopy folios and a tablet computer arrayed around him, was decidedly out of place.

The Zellenleiter was built like a tank - broad of shoulder and seeming to ripple with muscle even under the mass blanking effect of his own Storm Coat, which unlike his troopers, was a gleaming black leather. He wore golden tassels at the shoulders and a narrow strip of red fabric hung off his right shoulder as a parody of a cape. His pants were a rich red and his gloves and boots were the same polished black as the Armsmen. He even wore a matte black combat helmet like they did. But his face...a blood colored scarf or collar enveloped the lower half of his face. The upper half of his face he left uncovered, and his eyes were hard and green.

He stood - some ingrained courtesy built into the man, Chetti supposed. There was no other reason to stand when they entered...he was stronger then both of them and he knew it.

"Lily, Vincent. Thank you for coming." The voice issuing forth from the Zellenleiter was a rich, deep baritone. "There's only a few things I need to cover with you, but I figured I could impose my hospitality and get you both to join me for dinner."

"That would be lovely, thank you." Pandora replied for them, smiling richly. "And as always, it's nice to see you and your Organization are functioning perfectly well here in Colt."

The Zellenleiter let out a snort. "And by "functioning perfectly well" you mean acting as the holy terror we are portrayed to be. Yes, all well and good. Our ongoing war with Colt's Police Department means there's still no active law enforcement on the streets but my Armsmen help keep petty crime down to tolerable levels."

Chetti's jaw clenched. At the time, it had seemed like a wonderful idea - employ the Organization against the Colt PD to keep them occupied and off balance. Chetti never even considered the fact Zellenleiter would then move the Organization into the PD's nominal duties.

"Still a sore spot, Vincent?" Zellenleiter asked, wryly. "Even you have to admit our jobs would be a lot harder if we had an unruly mob on our hands. Look at the Occupy Movement if you want proof of that."

"I didn't sign onto this agreement to chance one police department for another." Chetti finally spoke.

"And your people, by and large, are able to pursue your interests without interference." Zellenleiter locked his eyes on Chetti's and matched him, glare for glare. "When, that is, I am kept informed as to what your interests are."

Chetti took the point. He'd been testing the boundaries of the Organization for months. Each attempt had ended badly...for him.

"Now then." Zellenleiter replied briskly. "Onto the reasons I called you here today. Vincent, I've been hearing some noise from your sectors that your business is being disrupted by a super."

Chetti snorted. "Jumpstart. A nobody. She's stopped a few shake downs, probably thinks she's making a dent in my organization, but the only reason she hasn't had a bullet put between her eyes yet is because she's so fast. I've got my boys working on a way to negate her speed advantage. I'd say give it a week - two tops - and she'll be another dead Super to add to the pile."

Zellenleiter nodded. Giving the devil his due, Chetti had to admit Zellenleiter didn't push into their individual spheres of power often. It was more his way just to ensure a problem was being taken care of...or that Chetti was even aware of it. A lot of people, including in Chetti's own organization he had to admit, had taken the loss of the Supers hard. The prospect of a new champion rising up appealed to a lot of folks, thus meaning they'd keep quiet about it or deflect attention away. Chetti noticed the newsies especially kept mum about her, as if hoping by not drawing attention to herself she might succeed where the oldest super group in the city failed.

"Lily," Zellenleiter turned his attention to Pandora. "I've got a byproduct for your group. Gentleman by the name of Charles Bannister, Professor of Psychology at the local psych ward up the road."

Pandora frowned. "What does a Professor of Psychology have to do with me or my product?"

"Turns out the good Professor's gone native, you might say. Took a dose of Key and had a nasty flair up case of Telepathy...right in the middle of the "Criminally Insane" Ward."

Pandora winced in automatic reaction. One of the less publicized (By Chetti, anyway) side effects of Key was the slim possibility of unlocking a person's latent super human potential...hence the name "Key". If this Bannister was a latent psychic, then coming into his powers in the middle of a madhouse probably did the guy no favors.

"Turns out he's still in the psych ward." Zellenleiter responded to a question Pandora had fielded while Chetti was distracted. "That's all the police know, beyond the fact every individual in the place is chanting the same name over and over - "Professor of Panic". I need you to get an assessment team over there, ASAP. If we can use him, great but I don't want any nutter psis running around my city if we can help it."

Chetti's jaw tightened again. Zellenleiter had called Colt "My city" before, and each time it dug at Chetti. He'd been operating in this city since he was a boy, and for this upstart...

Chetti inhaled and exhaled slowly. What was done was done, and if he was going to be honest better to serve at Zellenleiter's right hand then be ground underneath him like Whipslash and Shazta had. Zellenleiter and Pandora kept talking, but Chetti discovered he was no longer really listening.
All that I'm after is a life filled with laughter

Rust

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Two Week Hiatus
« Reply #4 on: June 22, 2013, 03:43:48 AM »
Given issues at work, I'm lacking free time and motivation to work on this story. Unfortunately, the issues at work aren't going to be resolved any time soon, so we're looking at at least two weeks before I can get back around to this.

My apologies.
All that I'm after is a life filled with laughter