vignette One Year Later - November/December 2024 Vignette

[Tiffany Korta]

Freedom League Building, Freedom City
On-screen appears a mature, well-dressed woman, who, for some, looks almost like the spitting image of the actress who played Lady Liberty in the 1970s. Behind her is the archive of books and other materials stored deep in the heart of the League's headquarters.

 

“Hello there! Part of our remit here is to preserve the memories of deeds of all superheroes, not just those of the League. To that end we’d like to collect records of your actions, but not those of regular superheroes (we have enough of those in everyday life).

 

In what we’re calling the One Year Later initiative, we want you to provide a record of holidays, both public and private. The format you use is up to you, but we can provide a near-undetectable camera drone that will capture footage that perfectly hides your and your loved one’s identity.

 

This initiative runs from January 2024 to 2025, and you’ll have final approval of what can be released to the public and what is kept for future generations…”

 

 

With this time of year being one full of various celebrations rather than pick one we’re allowing you to choose all of them!

 

• You can choose a single holiday, a small sample or as many holidays as you wish. These can be public holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas etc, or private ones, Birthdays, Marriages etc, or a mix of both.
• The format can be in the form of diary entries, videos or written blogs, or in the site's regular story format.
• Bad things can happen, but remember to keep things within the site's NC-13 rules.

 

Your submission should be submitted to Freedom League Headquarters no later than January 7^th 2025!

 

(As a reminder, vignettes follow the same general rules as posts in terms of content, player character limits, and so on. You may have only one vignette per player character. Each vignette should be at least one page (~500 words) in length; if posted in your thread counts at the end of the month, it is worth 1pp for the associated character. An especially long vignette, 1000 words or more, may be worth up to 2pp. Multiple players can collaborate on a single vignette - we recommend Google Docs for this, it's very useful - but the vignette should be about one page per participating player.)

[Supercape]

Lament in

 

From dusk to dawn: The Journals of Luther LeGrasse

 

October 31^st, All Hallows Eve

 

Midnight:

 

The sun has finally set, and the stars are out. Clear skies, clear stars. I wish my head was clearer; too much Liquor at the club. Playing Jazz with friends, all dressed up as witches, ghouls and zombies. It was fun, much joy was had.

 

How sour it is that I had to keep the mindless horror fed. Oh we had fun, but the creature was hungry, and I must always keep it fed. The joy was muted, like hearing music from the next room, or with pillows against your head.

 

Still, it was better that than feed of the children who marched and danced through the streets demanding candy.

 

How I envy those simple days.

 

But enough. I no longer know if these moments of melancholia are mine or the entities. But for now the beast is fed, and I can be myself.

 

If I could find some deserving soul, some thug, some crook, one of those reprehensible members of society that stick to it like a parasitic wart, then I will feed him to the Void.

 

Sometimes, I wonder if there is a creature that feeds on misery. How would that suit me? Solace in the cosmic balance of things, or resentment that I was fed the crap side of the scales?

 

01:00

The last of the trick or treaters. Too old to be trick or treating. Punks dressed up for the night, drinking, pretending to be kids. I gave them some candy, they wanted drink. I told them to get lost. Spooked ‘em, just a little. Enough to give them a bad nights sleep, maybe some night terrors. Well, they stayed up late and were drunk. I ain’t got time for punks.

 

0200

I took to wandering the streets. The night had that kind of heat that clung to your skin and stained your clothes. I stay up late most nights, playing music, drinking, or wandering. You don’t see me before midday, most days. But tonight its one of those nights where no amount of liquor, no amount of soft music or counting sheep is going to get me to sleep. It’s the kind of day when doubt creeps into your bones. Who am I? Do I deserve love, happiness, anything? It’s the kind of night where all the masks we put on get ripped off. When all the paint we put on ourselves to kid ourselves we are good people get stripped off. Maybe the moon and stars make us see what we are really like. Damn, I have read enough astrology to know I don’t believe a word of it.

 

I got to thinking, maybe this melancholia is just the beast inside, feeding on my soul – whatever that is. Sometimes, I don’t even notice its hungry, it just kind of creeps on you, like a ninja. Maybe that gnawing empty stomach is there so often, I just get used to it. Maybe I don’t want to notice it, try to block it out with the stage or the notes of a trumpet. But I always get to notice it – trouble is, sometimes I notice it too late.

 

So I got to wandering the dirty, or dirtier, parts of the street. Plenty of fools still out, but I’m not looking for fools. I’m looking for the rats who feed on fools.

 

0300

My mood had been darkening all night, every step. Was it the Void, or myself. I’m a fool, I tell myself. A fool, a charlatan. The village idiot who charades as a court jester. I need applause to love myself, but even when I get it, some twisted part of me thinks it is sympathy or pity. Worse part of it is, I don’t know how much of this is the void, how much of it is me. What I do know is that I feel empty, hollowed out. A void.

 

So I got tramping through the bad parts of town, where skin is broken by drugs and knives. Needles crunch beneath my shoes. Yeah, this is a bad part of town. The worst, I would say. A couple of dealers try to sell me their wares. A couple of ladies try to sell me theirs. I ignore then all. Never been one to go down either road, not even when my mood is darkest. Its cold, filthy comfort, and I seen to many friends wrecked by vice.

 

0400

Its an hour till dawn. Maybe I can see a hazy glow on the horiszon, maybe I can’t. Hard to say – still plenty of Halloween lights on. Light, just another one of the banquet of pollution raining on the city. And here’s another. A couple of punks, lounging by a closed down bar, smoking cigarettes. I can tell straight away they aren’t up to no good. These aren’t just kids, you know the ones – huddled in groups, trying to look hard in front of their friends, harassing, intimidating. These are those kids grown up, hardened by real violence. One of them got a nasty scar on his cheek. These punks know violence. Know drugs, too, by the look of em.

 

Halloween. It’s a way getting your joy to dance with your fear. Leastways, that’s what its meant to be. I dunno, maybe we are so desperate to give children a happy life, we don’t teach ‘em how to master the real fears and pains of life. I just dunno. Maybe I’m just a bitter cynical fool.

 

Anyways, Halloween meant to bring joy to folks, at least for the most part. Takes some real dirty heart to mug someone on Halloween night. Its not meant to be a night for real fear.

These two, they straighten up as they see me. Maybe they think I’m an easy mark, or maybe a rich one. Probably both. They pretend to be brave, but that’s just an act. I should know, I act all the time. And they got that smell of desperation. Hollow cheeks, thin limbs. Been to long at injecting happy into their veins. Ain’t any happy left now, they just trying to stop it hurting so bad.

 

One pulled a knife, the other a pistol. Small, but it will do the job. At least, it would do the job on some regular guy. Not on me. Guy might as well as pulled out a feather duster. I been shot by larger calibre, gave me a big black bruise and set me on my backside. But not this time – this time I let the Void out, my skin black and tough like a sheet of plate mail. Reach out, suck out his joy, leave him quivering on the floor, the Void sated. The other drops his knife, but its too late – I do the same to him.

 

Goddamn – they ain’t going to forget that any day soon. And next Halloween they will be staying indoors.

 

It ain’t been the best of Halloweens. Like always, it’s a bad taste in my mouth. But the Void is sated, and there is always next year.

[Supercape]

Rev in

 

Fastest Birthday Ever

 

The heat made the air heavy, made the sweat ooze from every pore. This was the south, desert country. The sky above was crystal-blue, cloudless, flawless, lit by a blazing sun that parched everything in the air and on the ground, bar some Saguaro, some lizards, and the odd insect.

 

And Rev.

 

The cyborg – driver was dressed in as little as she could get away with and stay descent. A cut off sleeveless crop top, suitably ragged, some denim shorts, with a low-slung belt. A wide brimmed baseball cap, to shelter from the sun. Her belly was damp with sweat, but her shiny chrome limbs did not sweat at all. They had been well oiled, and glittered in the sun. Every now and then, a hiss could be heard from the energy dispersal systems embedded in the cybernetic systems. Rev didn’t get hot. Or cold, for that matter.

 

She half sat in her dune buggy, legs touching the ground. She could still feel the sand and cracked earth on her chrome soles and between her chrome toes. In her hand, she held a remote control, linked to a buzzing drone that hovered and swooped above.

 

She gave it a wave.

 

On the back of her dune buggy, a transmitter received the drone signal and broadcast. Rev was being streamed for a social media site.

 

“Hi everybody! I’m Lexa Venn, a.k.a. The rumbuctious rebel called Rev! And today is my birthday!”

 

The drone swooped once more, catching a paronmic view of the desert. A beautiful view, verging on bleak.

 

“I’m heading back to Freedom City later today. As long as my buggy hold’s out. You know, the normal drinks and dancing and loud music. Probably complaints from the neighbours and a police call. But that’s for later. Right now, its late morning and I’m going to have some birthday fun!”

 

She swept a chrome arm across the bleak and stunning desert. “Some desert fun!”

 

The drome stayed floating at low level, following Rev as she wandered around her dune buggy.

 

She kicked a huge tyre and gave a wink at the drone camera.

 

“Traditional, isn’t it? Kicking the tyres. Doesn’t do jack though. What, anyone think you can tell the quality of a tyre but booting it? No. Instead, you got to look…”

 

She squatted on her haunches, studying the wheel carefully. Pointing at the fresh grooves. “See? Brand new. Good traction. Inflated properly. Perfecto!”

 

The drone swooped away a little, as Rev walked around the buggy, pointing out this feature, or that, all with a grin of enthusiasm. Sometimes with a little dance, a little twerk, or a little “yeah!”

 

Eventually she climbed through the framework roof, and swung herself into the driver seat. Chrome hands gripped the wheel. The radio station clicked on, blasting out some metal beats and over enthusiastic DJ.

 

It had been timed. The DJ gave a shout out. “Happy Birthday to our hero of the day, Rev! Have a fast one, Rev, this one goes out to you!”

A ferocious jazz metal bass thundered through the desert air.

 

“That’s the spirit!” said Rev. “Now, here’s the fun part. I souped up this buggy pretty good. Got all the gadgets, fast, big wheels. Can handle off road like a champ. But you know, one thing I can do is REV!”

 

The charged mechaphage infection spread from her limbs into the vehicle. It grew, it crackled. The infection looked like a bodybuilder taking his own body weight in steroids. What was merely muscular became a bloated sack, more muscular still. Pipes, motors, axels – all where quivering, ready for action. And action they would see.

 

“Let’s see how well my baby holds it together!” said Rev to the drone camera. “After all, where’s the fun in knowing what’s going to happen?”

She paused, frowned, and turned to the camera again.

 

“Oh and don’t do this at home kids. This video etc etc blah blah safety first and all that stuff.”

 

She gave a cheeky wink.

 

“Right! Lets activate!”

 

Switches where switched, ignition ignited. The engine rumbled as if it was an army of jackhammers. Rev had to scream to the camera over the cacophony.

 

“SOUNDS LIKE WE GOT A WINNER, FOLKS!”

 

She took a breath in, gripped the wheel tighter. The pedal trembled under her chrome foot, begging to be pressed.

 

“JET. SET. GOOOOOOO!”

 

The engines rumbled, black acrid smoke flowed from pumped exhausts, the tyres grated against sand and grit, burning rubber – a disgusting smell that Rev loved. She loved it because she knew what was coming a fraction of a second later.

 

She released the brakes.

 

The buggy lurched forward like a kick to the gut. Its acceleration was hideous, enough to crack a neck – if you had a normal fleshy neck. Fortunately, Rev was prepared and had bolts of steel running down her cervical spine. She could take it.

 

And yet he face flattened, her hair whipped, and wind smashed on her face. Unpleasant yet euphoric. Het heart beat like a steam engine, trying to maintain pressure against the G-force. The world seemed to contract and expand in front of her.

 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!” she waved to the drone, leaving it in the dust.

 

The stream switched to the camera she had attached to the passenger sheet. It wobbled magnificently, but that only added to the whole experience. Speed!

 

The old analogue speed gauge went far into the red. Instead, Rev had an additional digital (and modified) speed gauge strapped to the dashboard, linked to sat – nav. 500mph, 1000mpg, more… the speed kept climbing up.

 

“WHEEEE!” she yelled to the camera, giving it a thumbs up. Her thumb tip gave a little one inch blue flame, her trademark.

 

A tinkle started in the engine. A tinkle that snowballed into a rattle. Something in the engine was coming loose.

 

“Oh… that doesn’t sound good…”

 

But did she pump the brakes, or lay off the gas?

 

NO WAY! This was Rev.

 

The digital speedometer reached an outstanding 2450 mph before the rattle become a rumble. Blue and orange flames and vile smoke started pouring from the engine.

 

“In fact… that looks bad…”

 

Then an axel broke. A wheel fell off, spinning off to the desert. A screech, a plume of sand and dirt. And then the vehicle simultaneously fell apart and went into a roll.

 

“AAAAAARGH! BEST. BIRTHDAY. EVER!” said Rev as the remains of the car chasis tumbled over and over. Rev lost count, but it was probably a dozen rolls.

 

And then it slid for another hundred yards, before coming to a stop.

 

“Well folks, that’s what we call fun, right?” said Rev to the camera. She pulled herself out of the wreckage, dusting herself off. She had come off pretty good. No broken almost-bones, just a few bruises, some ripped clothes, and he hair had kind of burnt off.

 

“No better was to start the birthday party, am I right?” she said, giving a rare double thumbs up, with two twin blue flames.

 

And with that, her jets roared from her feet, launching her into the sky and onwards to Freedom City.

Edited November 30 by Supercape