A Hero's Quickening (IC)

[Cubist]

Journal of Jay Nelson Xavier, excerpt from 6 January 2011 entry:

...Have I mentioned how much the [bg=black]xxxxxx[/bg] nanny-filter annoys me? Today? Anyway, moving right along:

Of course I'm scared! The same [bg=black]xxxxixx[/bg] thing which makes me a super-powered entity -- that being my Timeshift -- means I'm one [bg=black]xxxxxx[/bg] dangerous son of a [bg=black]xixxx[/bg]! I actually started to catalog all the different ways my speed would allow me to damage a normal person, but I gave up after the first 139, okay? How the [bg=black]xxxx[/bg] am I supposed to not be scared that I'll screw up and leave a bunch of people lying in puddles of their own blood? That's one pretty [bg=black]xxxxxx[/bg] unappetizing prospect, believe you me...

But Halstonne believes in me. Okay, maybe that's just what a shrink is supposed to do for his clients. But even so, as far as I can tell, he [bg=black]xxxxixx[/bg] well believes in me -- believes my fears on this point are groundless. And it has been more than seven calendar days since the last time I slipped up, even a tiny bit, in a practice session. So...

I've procrastinated long enough. Practiced, well, I don't think it's ever possible to practice 'enough', but I've got a not inadequate amount of practice under my belt.

I'm gonna do it. I'm finally going to do it. And may Kwan-Yin smile upon me.

---

With a momentary gust of disturbed air, a large spotted cat -- a cheetah -- appeared on the sidewalk in front of Freedom Hall. He stood on his hind legs, and if that posture caused him any discomfort, it didn't show on his face. That, plus the khaki vest he wore, signified to all onlookers that the feline was not an escaped zoo inmate.

The cheetah's name was Jubatus. At least, that's what he would have replied if anyone had asked him. But nobody did, in large part because he disappeared too quickly, after a couple of seconds' scanning the vicinity for any visible street crime; a mugging, a snatch-and-grab, anything. Some people would have advised Jubatus that it was a waste of time to look for such activity in the very shadow of Freedom Hall, the headquarters of a world-famous team of superheroes; Jubatus knew different, and the publicly-available crime statistics backed him up on this. It seemed that the missions of the City's world-famous hero team often took them to exotic locales far distant from their headquarters... and 'while the cat's away, the mice will play'. It was a gamble, of course, but a nontrivial number of criminals felt it was a bet worth making.

As it happened, there didn't seem to be any illegal activities within line-of-sight of Jubatus' position at this time. So the fastest cat alive sped off to the next stop on his pre-planned 'tour' of the City...

[Supercape]

"Hurry it up will ya?" muttered skinny Joe to his companion, "Fingers" Phil. The side road was, as far as they could tell, deserted, but you never could tell in Freedom City with all those superheroes flying around. The two crooks were dressed up in casual clothes, their handguns concealed out of sight. However, aside from the nervous loitering that the two displayed, the crowbar in Fingers' hand might have raised some suspicion.

"Just lookin' around, scouting out the target" muttered Fingers back, in an irritated and slightly anxious voice.

The joint they were casing was just some two bit low life bar, called "the Final Joint". Nothing overtly criminal, but full of hard drinkers and harder fists. And Knuckles O'Hagan, their boss, wanted some money for "protections". And Knuckles wasn't a man to be messed with. He kept his operations small, and had fingers everywhere, and he was small enough to be a pain for the police but fall under the radar from the superheroes of Freedom City. Besides, he was often clean himself.

Skinny Joe fingered the small package of explosives under his jacket. A little bit or arson would clean up the Arson. Heh, would probably be doing the cops a favour burning down the place.

[Cubist]

Jubatus sped through City Center, criss-crossing the streets in a pattern that would take him over every foot of street in the area with minimum back-tracking. He hadn't been entirely sure it was necessary to go that far, but... he was a perfectionist, after all. Better to look and not miss anything, than to not look and miss something.

And right now, the fastest cat alive wasn't missing a pair of men, one of them carrying a crowbar, in an otherwise-deserted side street. And... yes, Jubatus caught the scents of metal, oil, and gunpowder; the two were armed. There was another scent he didn't recognize, but it wasn't pleasant. He'd have to watch out for whatever-it-might-be.

Jubatus set up four inconspicuous mini-cams for 360° coverage of the scene, and took a position behind the two men, on the opposite side of the alley. Only then did he decelerate to the speed at which normal humanity operated (or "downshift to a tempo of 1", as he liked to describe it privately). "Hi there!" Jubatus said, rather louder than necessary. He didn't like the way his 'voice' sounded, but in this case, the disquieting, inhuman tone and timbre would probably be helpful to his purpose. As would his inhuman appearance... "Is this a private party, or can anybody join?"

[Supercape]

Fingers Phil dropped the Crowbar in shock. It wasn't everyday you saw a creature from the island of Dr. Moreau, even in Freedom City.

"Holy Malony!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up in panic. "What the x$%*!"

Skinny Joe was equally shocked, but seemed to have more wits than his burly partner, and had pulled his Glock on Jubatus. Perhaps a more nervous, or more stupid thug, would have fired in a blind panic. Joe was no genuis, but appeared to have a few more wits about him than the average goon. Blindly firing at any strange creature in Freedom City was likely to give you a real bad headache. On the flip side, it could just as easily be a threat as a hero.

"You talk?" he asked, his gun wavering. "What are you?"

[Cubist]

"You talk?" Skinny Joe asked, his gun wavering. "What are you?"

"Yes, I talk," Jubatus affirmed. "I'm a carbon-based life-form, and I vote! Apart from that, I'm curious: You got a Concealed Carry license for that toy of yours?"

[Supercape]

"Shaw I have, man!" laughed Skinny Joe, trying to laugh the whole incident off. "Shaw I have. And I got a pets licence too. Say, have you got a licence for being a dawg? dont you need a muzzle of sumthin? haw haw haw!"

Fingers pulled on the sleeve of Joe, but to no avail, the man was guffawing and chuckling away. He was lucky as hell and he knew it - one more minute and he could have been charged breaking and entering.

[Cubist]

"You got a license? Great! How about you let me have a look at it?" Jubatus asked the one who'd pulled his gun. Pointing at the other one, Jube said, "And since I can smell the gun you're hiding, I'd like to see your Concealed Carry license, too."

The idiot was obviously not telling the truth; sadly, there were no criminal penalties attached to being an idiot. Not even a lying idiot. As soon as stupidity changed over to active defiance of the law... the both of them were toast.

[Supercape]

"Aw man, I forgot it!" laughed Skinny Joe. "It must be back at my... err... home, yes that's right, home. Awww, so sorry. Anyway, nice meeting you an' all, me and Fingers... I mean Phil here, we will just be continuin' on our little walk. Exercise is good for you."

Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Jube, he grabbed his companion and started slowly ambling away...

[Cubist]

"Wrong answer," Jubatus stated -- and then he upshifted, turned on the speed. Within a second or so, as measured by a clock, both of the thugs were prone on the pavement, with their wrists duct-taped together, and their ankles duct-taped to their wrists.

Back at normal speed, Jube put on a show for the benefit of his cameras: He gave both thugs an olfactorily-enhanced pat-down search, sniffing at them from head to toe, with running commentary.

The search of Thug 1, the guy who'd pulled his gun on Jubatus: "Cheap aftershave... Big Mac for lunch... Mitchum deodorant... here's where the residual scent of your gun is strongest..." Jube moved Thug 1's clothes around a little, so that his holster was plainly visible. "And there's a real interesting scent right here," the feline continued, pointing at a particular bulge under Thug 1's jacket. Jube pulled a small metal object from his vest and unfolded it into a set of long-handled tongs. This he used to cautiously grab hold of whatever-it-was... and he pulled Thug 1's bomb out into the light. "Well, well. What do you know. Crowbar, gun, and I guess the FCPD forensics boys can make the call on what this is."

The search of Thug 2, the other guy: "Cheap aftershave, different brand... chocolate milkshake, huh? ... Irish Spring deodorant soap... a gun. And gosh, the gun-scent is strongest right here!" Careful not to make physical contact with the weapon, Jube manipulated Thug 2's layers of cloth until the concealed gun was fully exposed to view, and used his tongs to pull it out of its holster.

"I'm done here. Time to turn you two over to the proper authorities."

And Jubatus returned to fast-time. Operating at super-speed, he retrieved his cameras; used his tongs to return the guns, foul-smelling package, and crowbar to their respective custodians; and transferred each thug directly to the nearest FCPD precinct house (a two-pass operation, since even with the gravity-weakening effect of his Timeshift, Jube just didn't have strength enough to manage carrying both thugs at the same time), neither passing 'Go' nor collecting $200.

After dropping off the first thug, Jubatus paused only long enough to attract someone's attention and say, "Excuse me, but I've got another surprise package to deliver here," after which he re-united both thugs. Then the fastest cat alive stuck around to cooperate with the police...

[Supercape]

Later...

After the legalities had been processed, Jube continued on his patrol through the streets of Freedom City.

He soon past a convoy of screaming sirens. Police, fire, and ambulance. They had circled what looked like a metalwork plant, with smoke pouring out of several buildings.

"Help! Help!" screamed the slightly rotund manager. "I have three men still in there! our new equipment is faulty, and we had an explosion - its chemical engineering works, and the fumes overpowered them! you have to help!"

[Cubist]

Later...

After the legalities had been processed, Jube continued on his patrol through the streets of Freedom City.

He soon past a convoy of screaming sirens. Police, fire, and ambulance. They had circled what looked like a metalwork plant, with smoke pouring out of several buildings.

"Help! Help!" screamed the slightly rotund manager. "I have three men still in there! our new equipment is faulty, and we had an explosion - its chemical engineering works, and the fumes overpowered them! you have to help!"

Interesting—the fat guy doesn't seem to have noticed that I'm not human, was the first, fleeting thought which flashed through Jubatus' mind. "Three men trapped in a chemical inferno, check. What's your best guess on their current location? Got a floor plan on you that I can look at?"

Sadly, the manager didn't have a floor plan immediately at hand; Jubatus hadn't expected him to, but the question had been worth asking regardless. The instant it became clear to the speedster that he'd have to do his own reconnaissance, he upshifted to a tempo of 40 -- that is, forty times faster than normal -- and got to work.

First: Eye and ear protection. A blazing inferno was none too comfortable on human senses, and Jube suspected that his current set of sensory organs might be even more strongly affected. Thus, he wore his goggles and ear shields

Second: Lung protection. After a short internal debate, Jube decided he'd use his rebreather unit, not his gas mask. Since the situation was a fire in a chemical plant, God only knew what sort of crazy hazardous molecules were floating around in the local air. All the cheetah knew was that three men had been incapacitated by those molecules, so he wasn't willing to take a chance on whether or not the gas mask would actually filter those molecules out.

Third: Protection from the flames. If his fur ignited, Jubatus didn't want to think about the consequences… Jube wasn't sure how much good his pocket-sized fire extinguisher might do, but having the thing at hand had to be better than not having it at hand, right?

He circled the building once, the better to build a mental map of the danger zone within which the inferno blazed. He was acutely aware of how inadequate that mental map was, but time—even upshifted Time!—was short, and something was better than nothing.

And within less than a second after he left the chemical plant's manager, Jubatus entered the burning industrial building…

[Supercape]

The manager of the plant had seen stranger looking heroes in his time, but not many. And it was not his day to be picky. He was glad of any help, and glad that it was a hero rather than an equally esoteric and strange looking villain that had stopped to save the day.

The building was now full of smoke which was acrid and choking. Even with his rebreather, Jube felt the air (or rather, lack of it). It was fortunate that the industrial building had been built well, with good ventilation and large rooms.

With his uncanny speed, it was only a matter of moments before the three men, all barely conscious, were found, next to the burning equipment. A ring of fire encircled them all.

"H...help..." croaked one of the men, before passing out.

[Cubist]

...it was only a matter of moments before the three men, all barely conscious, were found, next to the burning equipment. A ring of fire encircled them all.

"H...help..." croaked one of the men, before passing out.

The Timeshift messed with Jubatus' hearing and vision -- when he upshifted, all sounds got transposed lower, to longer wavelengths; similarly, all colors shifted towards the infrared end of the spectrum. At this particular moment, he was running at a tempo of 40, so he was seeing by far ultraviolet wavelengths, and hearing in the high ultrasonic range. Jubatus had learned to deal with it early on, but even now, there were times when these sensory shifts just felt wrong to him. And moving through a chemical plant filled with toxic smoke was definitely one of those times...

Didn't matter. He'd reached the target, and rather sooner than he'd expected to. All three men were in the same location, which was good. None of the three was moving -- but since the cheetah was currently operating 40 times faster than normal, this was only to be expected. If any of them were trying to say something, those words were inaudible to Jubatus, his Timeshift having transposed them down more than five octaves, far beneath the low end of his ears' frequency range.

For all Jubatus knew or could tell, they might be dead. But dead or alive, he wasn't about to leave their bodies here to be consumed in exotic fire.

The fastest cat alive spent thirty seconds of his time (less than one second, by the clock) examining the tableau -- the ring of fire, what objects were actually burning, and so on -- before formulating a plan of action.

Step one: Gather four doors from nearby rooms, using his Swiss army knife to take them off their hinges.

Step two: Create a six-foot gap in the ring of fire, a gap whose location he'd chosen based on what he'd seen while he examined the scene. Breaking the ring of fire shouldn't be difficult; he'd spray his fire extinguisher at the base of the flames in the area that would become his gap, and then, since he couldn't spare the time it would take for the flames over the extinguished bits to dissipate, he'd use one of his two doors like an oversized paddle, sweeping the actual flames aside. Only one side of the door would directly touch the flames (and therefore be contaminated by whatever toxic combustion by-products might be in said flames), he'd make sure of that.

Step three: Move the three victims outside, where the air was clean and the paramedic were already on hand. It'd have to be a three-pass operation, as Jubatus didn't think he could handle more than one adult at a time. Since the cheetah couldn't tell how badly injured the victims were, he planned to disturb their bodies as little as possible. Specifically, he'd raise each man (as gently and evenly as he could manage!) a few inches off the ground; slip one of his three remaining doors under them, effectively serving as an impromptu gurney; do the actual moving-outside thing; and once outside, carefully deposit them on an unoccupied real gurney (assuming one was available) or else a reasonably clear patch of land near an ambulance.

That was the plan, anyway. Jubatus was keenly aware that no battle plan ever survived contact with the enemy, and as far as he was concerned, the dratted inferno counted as an 'enemy' for purposes of that aphorism...

[Supercape]

The best laid plans...

...sometimes go according to plan!

With lightning speed, combined with brains and agility, the plan could hardly fail. True, the smoke and chemicals went through his lungs, and caused tears to stream down his eyes, the heat was intense and nearly unbearable, but the execution was surefire and safe.

In mere moments (at least from the perspective of normal humans), the three injured men were outside, all coughing and spluttering.

"Oh thankyou... errr.... Sir...." said the manager, realising he had no idea of who Jube was, or indeed what gender "he" was. "Another new hero of Freedom City? What do we call you? Whizz-cat? Speed-Lion?"

[Cubist]

"Oh thankyou... errr.... Sir...." said the manager, realising he had no idea of who Jube was, or indeed what gender "he" was. "Another new hero of Freedom City? What do we call you? Whizz-cat? Speed-Lion?"

"The name" -- a short spasm of coughing -- "the name is Jubatus. And yes, I" -- cough -- "am male. Got any decontamination facilities I could" -- cough -- "use?"

[Supercape]

"Of course, Sir... I mean, Jube!" replied the Manager, wondering in his open jawed admiration if the hero shouldn't have had a big "J" in spandex on his chest, or if he was "Jube-man" - and, for that matter, wondering what "Jube" meant. Must be Latin for speed he concluded.

The medical facility was aided and augmented by the paramedics on site, who also attended to the men that Jube had rescued. They went through the small but usable rooms together, being sprayed by all manner of chemicals that were none to pleasant to touch or nose (especially Jube's enhanced olfactory senses).

The men, still weak, and suffering from smoke inhalation, were only too keen to shake Jubes hand, or paw.

"Thank you, sir! Godbless you! If it wasn't for you, we would be toast! you are a true hero of Freedom, risking your life like that!"

[Cubist]

'Whizz-cat'? 'Speed-lion'? Thank Thoth I didn't consult him when I was picking my hero-name, the feline speedster mused in the privacy of his own skull...

Decontamination was every bit as noisome as Jubatus had feared it would be. It was also every bit as necessary -- unless, of course, he was willing to find out the hard way what those toxins would do to his hybrid cheetah/human metabolism. Not an option, in other words. As for the men he'd rescued, it hadn't even occurred to him that he and they might go through decontamination together...

The men, still weak, and suffering from smoke inhalation, were only too keen to shake Jubes hand, or paw.

"Thank you, sir! Godbless you! If it wasn't for you, we would be toast! you are a true hero of Freedom, risking your life like that!"

Jubatus returned their grateful smiles as he shook hands. "Thanks." He wasn't sure why his transformation had left his facial musculature mostly intact; since it had, he could smile properly, which he did now. "I was just passing through, and didn't have anything better to do, so..."

[Supercape]

As the four men... well, three men, and one man-cat hybrid, left the vaguely offensive fumes of the decontamination chamber and the scrubbing of the HAZMAT professionals, a small crowd had gathered outside of workers, passers by, and even a television crew. Cheers and applause hit Jube as they caught sight of him.

Before he could quite register it all, a microphone was thrust in his face with the uncanny speed of the media, who seemed to obey laws other than the physical ones that bound most men when it came to getting a story.

"A few words for the camera?" was the non-question, before the young female reporter started her piece to camera.

"I'm here with Freedom Cities newest hero! responsible for saving three men from this burning steel works! Say hello to the purr-fect new cape in town.... Whizz-cat!"

"So, sir, we all want to thank you for your heroic efforts today. Tell us your story!"

Meanwhile, camera's flashed as the three rescued men stood in various poses around Jube shaking his Paws, and in one case, at the cameraman's insistence, tail.

[Cubist]

As the four men... well, three men, and one man-cat hybrid... left the vaguely offensive fumes of the decontamination chamber and the scrubbing of the HAZMAT professionals, a small crowd had gathered outside of workers, passers by, and even a television crew. Cheers and applause hit Jube as they caught sight of him.

It was madness -- but the cheetah really ought to have expected something like it. Life-threatening industrial accidents were newsworthy, and the time he'd just spent in cleanup had obviously been sufficient to let various interested people arrive here...

Before he could quite register it all, a microphone was thrust in his face with the uncanny speed of the media, who seemed to obey laws other than the physical ones that bound most men when it came to getting a story.

"A few words for the camera?" was the non-question, before the young female reporter started her piece to camera.

"I'm here with Freedom Cities newest hero! responsible for saving three men from this burning steel works! Say hello to the purr-fect new cape in town.... Whizz-cat!"

Ack! Somebody remind me to make a Christmas list, so I can leave Fat Boy off it, Jube thought to himself -- but he did not allow his annoyance to show up on his face. "Thanks, Ms., but the name is actually 'Jubatus'." Zeus, I hope I didn't just waste my breath. On the plus side, I'll be able to tell which news outlets are worth my time by noting which ones call me 'Whizz-cat', rather than 'Jubatus', when they run this report.

"So, sir, we all want to thank you for your heroic efforts today. Tell us your story!"

"You're welcome. Like I said, you can call me 'Jubatus' -- but you can also call me 'Jay Nelson Xavier'." Looking directly into the camera, Jube explained, "Seeing as how I look like this 24/7, I really can't see the point of even pretending to keep my identity secret." Then, he turned back to the reporter. "As for my story: To begin with, I was born at a very early age. Most of my life hasn't been anything that would be interesting to anyone beside myself. I don't know how I got the permanent fur coat, but it showed up in May of last year... and it wasn't until just recently that I figured out what the heck I was going to do with myself, now that I'm a cheetah/human hybrid critter..."

Meanwhile, camera's flashed as the three rescued men stood in various poses around Jube shaking his Paws, and in one case, at the cameraman's insistence, tail.

Note to self: Find out who that cameraman is working for, and make sure to add his employer to my list of 'news outlets' to never let myself be interviewed by.

[Supercape]

Meanwhile

No rest for the wicked...

The reporter shook her hair and listened in to her ear piece. "Hold on guys" she said, putting a hand up to her cameramen. "Just getting something breaking... some anarchists have broken into a munitions factory... threatening to bomb the place!"

One of the rescued men scratched his head. "That's odd" he muttered "I saw a group of punks outside this place just before it went up... I wonder..."

[Cubist]

Meanwhile

"Hold on guys" she said, putting a hand up to her cameramen. "Just getting something breaking... some anarchists have broken into a munitions factory... threatening to bomb the place!"

One of the rescued men scratched his head. "That's odd" he muttered "I saw a group of punks outside this place just before it went up... I wonder..."

"Right -- this press conference is over," Jubatus declared. To the man who'd just spoke, he quietly asked "What did they look like? And what did you overhear them say, if anything?"

[Supercape]

"I...I..i'm not sure" stuttered the man, suddenly aware of the glaring lights and the pressure of other peoples lives in his hands. He was still coughing which didn't help matters a lot.

"They looked like punks... street kids. Young, dressed up in leathers and chains. Maybe, like Hell's Angels or something. Seemed to have a leader though, big tough guy who was a bit older."

He paused "I dunno what they said, but they had some anarchy symbols painted on to their clothes, stuff like that... you know, the 'A', and 'down with the system!' that kind of stuff"

He started wringing his hands "that's about all I can remember. I didn't pay them a lot of attention, just thought they were kids, you know, hanging around..."

[Cubist]

It's unfortunate that the man didn't recall more, but any information was better than none... or at least that was the theory. Jubatus thanked the man. Then, turning to the reporter who first announced the attack on the munitions factory, the cheetah asks what specific location the anarchists are attacking; there aren't that many munitions factories in or around Freedom City, so Jube has a pretty good idea of where the anarchists have to be, but he'd still like to confirm the target before he starts running.

[Supercape]

"The anarchists have raided Hornbrass Munitions" explained the plucky reporter, who was already bustling her cameramen into the van ready for a speedy trip over the river to North Freedom. "It's only just broke. One of the security guards managed to broadcast a signal my station picked up, before it was... cut off..."

Hornbrass Munitions plant was at far North of the city, ostensibly in the Hanover region but practically on the very outskirts of the city, which was both prudent and fortunate. It would take even a police car with full sirens and full speed several minutes to reach, being about 4 miles from the current position.

[Cubist]

"The anarchists have raided Hornbrass Munitions, explained the plucky reporter..."

"Hornbrass, got it," Jubatus replied. "Thanks." And the fastest cat alive sped away to the site of the assault!

Once he arrived at the Hornbrass campus, Jubatus circled around the property to see where the anarchists were -- get some advance notice before running into an unknown situation.