Superheros idea revised
Apr. 13th, 2011 11:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drownedinlightI didn't like how that first one went, here's a take I think will be more like what I want in the end.
News Report:
Today, a National Government Research Facility in Washington D.C. was set on fire, allegedly by super villain Organo, as a distraction to steal valuable samples of research from the laboratories there. While no one was seriously injured in the blaze, it took fire fighters four hours to get the blaze fully under control, and the perpetrators have yet to be offended.
This is one of many events that have many wondering, “Where have the superheroes gone?” It has been over a month since the last sighting of Alcaeus and his compatriots who were often known to come to the rescue at many problems. They disappeared shortly after the biggest anti-superhero movement to hit the nation since nineteen fifty. But the event that many of the superhero protestors claimed would bring lower rates of crime, and few super villains, has only seen an increase in unlawful activity of any kind.
People are now wondering if the Superhero Collective is hiding at all, as now many of those who spear headed anti-superhero campaigns, and even the president have contacted the Collective with apologies and pleas to return to our world. As of yet, no response has been heard. But if the Collective will not return to help us, the last thought lingering in many of our minds is, “Who will?”
The coffee cup burst as Charlotte wrapped her fingers around it. Hot coffee and shards of glazed clay flew all across the kitchen, and all over her blouse.
“Dammit,” she swore. Charlotte bent, trying to pick up as many of the shards as she could so her roommate would not have to worry about stepping on them.
“Char?” Natalie called, “I heard a crash, are you all right?” Natalie strode forward to the entrance of their small kitchen, wearing only a night shirt and wet hair. “Oh, Jesus, Char, what is that, your third mug this month?” She tried to bend down and help, but Charlotte waved her away.
“Don’t you’ll cut yourself on something,” Charlotte said, looking up at her friend. “And it’s only the second, if you’re counting the ones I exploded. One of them I just dropped.” Natalie pressed down over her friend’s shoulder, and stepped in front of the sink, reaching inside of the cupboard underneath it for a dust pan and a small broom, and began sweeping up the area around her.
“So what was it this time that made you mad?” Natalie asked. Charlotte opened her mouth, but before she could say what she was thinking, Natalie amended herself, “All right, I’m sorry, I know it’s not only what makes you mad. What made you lose control?”
“The news,” Charlotte said. “I mean I just can’t believe after all the heat the Collective took when they were defending people while everyone kept saying how dangerous they were to the world, when they finally go away, people start begging them to come back. We barely lasted a month, Natalie, and now everyone’s worried about what they’re going to do now that the superheroes are gone.”
“You didn’t say they,” Natalie remarked, shifting around to see if she had swept the whole area around her. She handed the dustpan and the small broom to Charlotte. “Here, through this away for me, and then you can use the pan instead of your hands.”
“What do you mean, I said ‘we’ not ‘they?’” Charlotte asked, dumping the contents of the dust pan into the trash can. “Of course I said, ‘we!’ I’m human too, you know.”
“Super human,” Natalie reminded her as she poured her coffee. “You need to stop denying it Charlotte; I mean I think that might be while you lose control like this sometimes. It’s usually when the heroes come up on the news, or you’re thinking about your super strength and the idea overwhelms you.”
“Are you psychoanalyzing me?” Charlotte asked, sweeping up the rest of her chards.
“Maybe. I’m just saying for as long as I have known you, you’ve always liked maintaining control of yourself and your abilities, but you will periodically lose control of your strength,” Natalie said, taking a long gulp of coffee once she did. “Maybe if you exercised this strength and recognized it, instead of just trying to control it, you would have an easier time with it. That’s all I mean.” Charlotte huffed at the idea, while examining her blouse and pants, both dripping with coffee. “I’m serious though. What did you say about when your dad enrolled you in martial arts, how much it helped when you really started using it?”
“No, it helped because I learned how not to shatter someone’s scull when I punched them. Listen I need to do laundry, can I borrow some of your clothes?” Charlotte asked, motioning towards their rooms
“Yeah sure,” Natalie agreed, setting down her cup of coffee. “But just admit one thing for me, and I’ll stop playing psychologist with you.”
“Fine,” Charlotte sighed, turning back to her. “What is it?”
“You need to tell yourself that you have been wondering about if you should step up and help take the place of the Superhero Collective. Because I can see your gears turning, and you have been thinking about it.” Charlotte stared down Natalie’s pointed finger and sighed again.
“Fine, I have been thinking about it. It doesn’t mean I’m going to do it, but I have been thinking about it,” Charlotte admitted. “Now will you please let me change? I’m nearly late.”
“Go for it superwoman,” Natalie said with a smile. “And I can go about my day knowing I got Charlotte Oros to admit something about herself.” Her smile only grew when Charlotte flipped her the bird.
As quickly as she could, Charlotte rummaged through Natalie’s drawers, pulling on a pair of black jeans and a black blouse, before rushing back out into the main area of the apartment. “Charlotte, it’s nearly Spring.”
“You can never go wrong with black, and I am running late,” Charlotte said, slipping on a pair of shoes, and grabbing her bag. “You know you have a better build than me, I just need to get out the door.”
“Not better, just different!” Natalie protested, waving as Charlotte ran out the door. “Have a good day, Char! I’ll see you tonight.”
Charlotte found her roommates words echoing over and over in her head until she wanted to hit something and make it burst into small little fragments. She did not want to be angry with Natalie, especially since Natalie had done nothing wrong, but she just felt like her friend didn’t get it sometimes. And well, that was not Natalie’s fault either, because how could she get it? Natalie was completely human, and could not understand what it was like to be that kind of different, where a single move you make could hurt someone. It was something Charlotte had had to live with her entire life. And after seeing what had happened to the Superhero Collective when they had announced their abilities to the world, it had been discouraging to come out and say that she too had powers and abilities beyond comprehension.
She hopped to have classes take her mind off of it, but all three of them were canceled due to the professors having either relatives or colleagues affected by the fire, or being asked to go and help recover samples. So the most Charlotte could do was sit in the library and mope while she tried to do homework. Finally, she decided to pack up and head home early, maybe finding something around the apartment to take her mind off of it. And hopefully, Natalie would be out and about, so she could avoid talking some more.
But as she walked down the sidewalk, nothing but her strength would cross her mind. Until the squad of cop cars sped by her, followed by a fire truck, towards a plume of smoke rising in the sky.
Charlotte heard her heart in her ears, and decided to turn off her brain as she began to run, and did not stop running, speeding past people toward the cloud of smoke. When she arrived at the warehouse where the cars were stationed, the police had already formed a wide arc and were pushing people back, asking them to vacate the scene. Most milled about, but stepped back, allowing the fire crews to spray the spouts of water onto the building.
She tried to stay as close as she could, without getting onto the police’s radar when she heard one of the officers mention,
“Organo’s still in there.”
“First responders haven’t called in since then either,” said one of the others. Their faces shifted to frowns as they looked at one another, and Charlotte ran for the alleys to cut around to the back of the building.
The doors in the back of the ware house were hot to the touch, but did not burn her as she opened them to some smoldering flames, which grew with the introduction of air. She stomped them out, raising ash and dust into the air as she did, and began to sneak further in, behind charred crates and broken class. The scene she came upon was not one she had expected.
One officer, lay on the ground, knocked out probably by one of Organo’s plants, the other had his hands raised in the air, while Organo trained a gun on him.
“That’s the sad part of industrialism,” Organo said, cocking the gun. “You think things like this will beat the very forces of nature.” Charlotte ran, but not fast enough to stop the bullet from piercing the officer’s gut. But she arrive just in time to punch the satisfied look off of Organo’s face. He roared around a mouth full of blood, “Who the fuck are you?”
“Does it matter?” she asked, punching him in the gut, before she back handed him. He screamed, and his plants came to his aid, but Charlotte ripped through them as if they were tissue paper. She came close enough to wrap her fingers around his throat, making sure he could not breathe above the smoke. When he fell limp, Charlotte awoke from a stupor and stared at her hands, bending to check for a pulse. It was faint beneath his skin, but it still beat blood through his veins.
The strangled cry of the police officer drew her attention up. She raced to him, pressing her hand over the gunshot wound.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“That doesn’t matter,” she said. “How do I call for help, you need medical attention.”
“Radio,” he said, pointing to his shoulder. “Too hard!” he gasped. Charlotte let up the pressure of her hand, and reached for the radio. She pressed the button on the top to let her speak, but felt unsure of what to say. “Help…”
“Organo down inside warehouse, perimeter is safe to close. Two officers in need of medical attention,” she said rambling into the radio. She waited until she heard voices at the front of the warehouse to shout, “Over here!” and tried to run off through the back way, but the man grabbed onto her.
“What’s your name?” he asked. He gripped her so tightly, she did not know how to make him stop without hurting him.
“Who’s in there?!” came a shout.
“It’s Atalanta,” she said. “My name is Atalanta, now please let me go!” she shouted. The officer released her and she ran for the back entrance, never looking back.
When she entered the apartment, she realized a few things. One, she had worn her back the enter time. Two, she was covered almost complete in ash. Three, her hands were drenched in blood. Fourth, her shoes had melted off of her feet. And fifth, she made a good choice to room with Natalie, who was on her faster than she could close the door.
“Are you okay, mentally, physically?” Natalie asked, as she pulled back, searching Charlotte’s face for untold answers.
“Physically, I’m fine,” Charlotte said, lifting her back off her shoulder. “Mentally, I will be, I just need to let it all sink in. And I need a shower.”
“Well would you mind explaining why you gave the man a name?” Natalie asked. “When I said work out your deal with your super strength, I didn’t mean go save two cops from a super psychopath!”
“Atalanta was the first name I could think of that wasn’t my own,” Charlotte said. “And right now, Nat, I really just need a shower.” Without another word, Charlotte slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, sinking to the floor when she did.
News Report:
Today, a National Government Research Facility in Washington D.C. was set on fire, allegedly by super villain Organo, as a distraction to steal valuable samples of research from the laboratories there. While no one was seriously injured in the blaze, it took fire fighters four hours to get the blaze fully under control, and the perpetrators have yet to be offended.
This is one of many events that have many wondering, “Where have the superheroes gone?” It has been over a month since the last sighting of Alcaeus and his compatriots who were often known to come to the rescue at many problems. They disappeared shortly after the biggest anti-superhero movement to hit the nation since nineteen fifty. But the event that many of the superhero protestors claimed would bring lower rates of crime, and few super villains, has only seen an increase in unlawful activity of any kind.
People are now wondering if the Superhero Collective is hiding at all, as now many of those who spear headed anti-superhero campaigns, and even the president have contacted the Collective with apologies and pleas to return to our world. As of yet, no response has been heard. But if the Collective will not return to help us, the last thought lingering in many of our minds is, “Who will?”
The coffee cup burst as Charlotte wrapped her fingers around it. Hot coffee and shards of glazed clay flew all across the kitchen, and all over her blouse.
“Dammit,” she swore. Charlotte bent, trying to pick up as many of the shards as she could so her roommate would not have to worry about stepping on them.
“Char?” Natalie called, “I heard a crash, are you all right?” Natalie strode forward to the entrance of their small kitchen, wearing only a night shirt and wet hair. “Oh, Jesus, Char, what is that, your third mug this month?” She tried to bend down and help, but Charlotte waved her away.
“Don’t you’ll cut yourself on something,” Charlotte said, looking up at her friend. “And it’s only the second, if you’re counting the ones I exploded. One of them I just dropped.” Natalie pressed down over her friend’s shoulder, and stepped in front of the sink, reaching inside of the cupboard underneath it for a dust pan and a small broom, and began sweeping up the area around her.
“So what was it this time that made you mad?” Natalie asked. Charlotte opened her mouth, but before she could say what she was thinking, Natalie amended herself, “All right, I’m sorry, I know it’s not only what makes you mad. What made you lose control?”
“The news,” Charlotte said. “I mean I just can’t believe after all the heat the Collective took when they were defending people while everyone kept saying how dangerous they were to the world, when they finally go away, people start begging them to come back. We barely lasted a month, Natalie, and now everyone’s worried about what they’re going to do now that the superheroes are gone.”
“You didn’t say they,” Natalie remarked, shifting around to see if she had swept the whole area around her. She handed the dustpan and the small broom to Charlotte. “Here, through this away for me, and then you can use the pan instead of your hands.”
“What do you mean, I said ‘we’ not ‘they?’” Charlotte asked, dumping the contents of the dust pan into the trash can. “Of course I said, ‘we!’ I’m human too, you know.”
“Super human,” Natalie reminded her as she poured her coffee. “You need to stop denying it Charlotte; I mean I think that might be while you lose control like this sometimes. It’s usually when the heroes come up on the news, or you’re thinking about your super strength and the idea overwhelms you.”
“Are you psychoanalyzing me?” Charlotte asked, sweeping up the rest of her chards.
“Maybe. I’m just saying for as long as I have known you, you’ve always liked maintaining control of yourself and your abilities, but you will periodically lose control of your strength,” Natalie said, taking a long gulp of coffee once she did. “Maybe if you exercised this strength and recognized it, instead of just trying to control it, you would have an easier time with it. That’s all I mean.” Charlotte huffed at the idea, while examining her blouse and pants, both dripping with coffee. “I’m serious though. What did you say about when your dad enrolled you in martial arts, how much it helped when you really started using it?”
“No, it helped because I learned how not to shatter someone’s scull when I punched them. Listen I need to do laundry, can I borrow some of your clothes?” Charlotte asked, motioning towards their rooms
“Yeah sure,” Natalie agreed, setting down her cup of coffee. “But just admit one thing for me, and I’ll stop playing psychologist with you.”
“Fine,” Charlotte sighed, turning back to her. “What is it?”
“You need to tell yourself that you have been wondering about if you should step up and help take the place of the Superhero Collective. Because I can see your gears turning, and you have been thinking about it.” Charlotte stared down Natalie’s pointed finger and sighed again.
“Fine, I have been thinking about it. It doesn’t mean I’m going to do it, but I have been thinking about it,” Charlotte admitted. “Now will you please let me change? I’m nearly late.”
“Go for it superwoman,” Natalie said with a smile. “And I can go about my day knowing I got Charlotte Oros to admit something about herself.” Her smile only grew when Charlotte flipped her the bird.
As quickly as she could, Charlotte rummaged through Natalie’s drawers, pulling on a pair of black jeans and a black blouse, before rushing back out into the main area of the apartment. “Charlotte, it’s nearly Spring.”
“You can never go wrong with black, and I am running late,” Charlotte said, slipping on a pair of shoes, and grabbing her bag. “You know you have a better build than me, I just need to get out the door.”
“Not better, just different!” Natalie protested, waving as Charlotte ran out the door. “Have a good day, Char! I’ll see you tonight.”
Charlotte found her roommates words echoing over and over in her head until she wanted to hit something and make it burst into small little fragments. She did not want to be angry with Natalie, especially since Natalie had done nothing wrong, but she just felt like her friend didn’t get it sometimes. And well, that was not Natalie’s fault either, because how could she get it? Natalie was completely human, and could not understand what it was like to be that kind of different, where a single move you make could hurt someone. It was something Charlotte had had to live with her entire life. And after seeing what had happened to the Superhero Collective when they had announced their abilities to the world, it had been discouraging to come out and say that she too had powers and abilities beyond comprehension.
She hopped to have classes take her mind off of it, but all three of them were canceled due to the professors having either relatives or colleagues affected by the fire, or being asked to go and help recover samples. So the most Charlotte could do was sit in the library and mope while she tried to do homework. Finally, she decided to pack up and head home early, maybe finding something around the apartment to take her mind off of it. And hopefully, Natalie would be out and about, so she could avoid talking some more.
But as she walked down the sidewalk, nothing but her strength would cross her mind. Until the squad of cop cars sped by her, followed by a fire truck, towards a plume of smoke rising in the sky.
Charlotte heard her heart in her ears, and decided to turn off her brain as she began to run, and did not stop running, speeding past people toward the cloud of smoke. When she arrived at the warehouse where the cars were stationed, the police had already formed a wide arc and were pushing people back, asking them to vacate the scene. Most milled about, but stepped back, allowing the fire crews to spray the spouts of water onto the building.
She tried to stay as close as she could, without getting onto the police’s radar when she heard one of the officers mention,
“Organo’s still in there.”
“First responders haven’t called in since then either,” said one of the others. Their faces shifted to frowns as they looked at one another, and Charlotte ran for the alleys to cut around to the back of the building.
The doors in the back of the ware house were hot to the touch, but did not burn her as she opened them to some smoldering flames, which grew with the introduction of air. She stomped them out, raising ash and dust into the air as she did, and began to sneak further in, behind charred crates and broken class. The scene she came upon was not one she had expected.
One officer, lay on the ground, knocked out probably by one of Organo’s plants, the other had his hands raised in the air, while Organo trained a gun on him.
“That’s the sad part of industrialism,” Organo said, cocking the gun. “You think things like this will beat the very forces of nature.” Charlotte ran, but not fast enough to stop the bullet from piercing the officer’s gut. But she arrive just in time to punch the satisfied look off of Organo’s face. He roared around a mouth full of blood, “Who the fuck are you?”
“Does it matter?” she asked, punching him in the gut, before she back handed him. He screamed, and his plants came to his aid, but Charlotte ripped through them as if they were tissue paper. She came close enough to wrap her fingers around his throat, making sure he could not breathe above the smoke. When he fell limp, Charlotte awoke from a stupor and stared at her hands, bending to check for a pulse. It was faint beneath his skin, but it still beat blood through his veins.
The strangled cry of the police officer drew her attention up. She raced to him, pressing her hand over the gunshot wound.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“That doesn’t matter,” she said. “How do I call for help, you need medical attention.”
“Radio,” he said, pointing to his shoulder. “Too hard!” he gasped. Charlotte let up the pressure of her hand, and reached for the radio. She pressed the button on the top to let her speak, but felt unsure of what to say. “Help…”
“Organo down inside warehouse, perimeter is safe to close. Two officers in need of medical attention,” she said rambling into the radio. She waited until she heard voices at the front of the warehouse to shout, “Over here!” and tried to run off through the back way, but the man grabbed onto her.
“What’s your name?” he asked. He gripped her so tightly, she did not know how to make him stop without hurting him.
“Who’s in there?!” came a shout.
“It’s Atalanta,” she said. “My name is Atalanta, now please let me go!” she shouted. The officer released her and she ran for the back entrance, never looking back.
When she entered the apartment, she realized a few things. One, she had worn her back the enter time. Two, she was covered almost complete in ash. Three, her hands were drenched in blood. Fourth, her shoes had melted off of her feet. And fifth, she made a good choice to room with Natalie, who was on her faster than she could close the door.
“Are you okay, mentally, physically?” Natalie asked, as she pulled back, searching Charlotte’s face for untold answers.
“Physically, I’m fine,” Charlotte said, lifting her back off her shoulder. “Mentally, I will be, I just need to let it all sink in. And I need a shower.”
“Well would you mind explaining why you gave the man a name?” Natalie asked. “When I said work out your deal with your super strength, I didn’t mean go save two cops from a super psychopath!”
“Atalanta was the first name I could think of that wasn’t my own,” Charlotte said. “And right now, Nat, I really just need a shower.” Without another word, Charlotte slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, sinking to the floor when she did.
