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Various points around Midtown, Freedom City

9.45 AM, Tuesday, July 1st, 2014

 

A new month dawned. Despite the chaos in their lives, Freedom's millions mostly stuck to their routine, working to get through the day, to deal with their small problems and enjoy their small pleasures. In a lot of ways life hadn't changed much since the last century, except for one crucial shift...

 

On top of the Surland Insurance building on Liberty, ten stories up, Bae looked down at the street. Behind his fogged-up glasses he couldn't see it clearly, but he could make out the people below. A part of him regretted that anyone would have to see him hit the ground, but a darker, colder part of him was glad to have an audience. 'Maybe now,' he thought, arms spreading as he stepped into the abyss 'I'll be worth noticing. Not just some nobody'

 

By sheer chance, Stronghold saw the jumper start his plummet. There wasn't much time, but she could save him!

 


 

Abby hit the ground hard, howling in pain and clutching her elbow. Sitting up awkwardly, the young woman just dodged the follow-up kick, rolling ungainly away and slamming against the alley wall. Her crisp office-wear was useless in this kind of situation. Looking up at her tormentor, she mumbled out "Y'won't get me that ea-augh!" a second kick from the masked young man hit home, sending her sprawling and croaking back to the ground. In mid-flight, she caught a glimpse of her would-be rescuee, the younger girl with the short black hair, silent and terrified thanks to the powerful hand clamped over her mouth and the knife at her throat. Catching a glimpse of her as she passed on Allen St., she'd dropped everything and charged to the rescue.

 

"Jesus, woman," drawled the masked tough, taking out a much-used nightstick from his belt "you oughta leave this stuff to the real heroes, yaknowwhatim sayin'?"

 

'Maybe I can be...' thought Abigail furiously, scrabbling into a crouch and blowing the red hair out of her eyes as she focused on her attacker as he drew near 'I don't have to be worthless...'

 

No thought goes unheard, especially not when Miss Grue is around.

 


 

The door of the Go-Mart on the corner 40th and Foster burst open, letting in the gun-wielding middle-aged woman. "Alright, everyone down!" she hollered, firing a shot into the air for effect, one that sent the shocked passel of Freedonians inside obediently to the floor. Marching up to the teller, she gestured with the Beretta "You, call the cops, tell them I..." she glanced around, eyes wild before an idea struck "tell them I have hostages!  And I won't give them up until the government releases the Patriot formula!"

 

The teller stared at her blankly, nodded very slowly, and picked up the phone to relay the message as the graying woman's gun trembled near his heart.

 

Riff heard it all clear as day. The gunshot was a pretty clear giveaway, though. Really, no need to listen further after that.

 


 

Ted slumped onto the concrete bench on Allen St., clasping his head of tousled red hair in his hands as it dropped to his knees. 'I'm worthless, useless, can't do anything, I always screw up'

He looked up just in time to catch sight of Amelyth flying overhead...and his head slumped down again 'I'm nothing, I'm no good, I'm weak, I'm stupid, I'm nothing next to them...'

 

You didn't need to be a telepath to know the guy had a problem, but being made it easier to guess what the problem was.

 


 

Marsha stared at the painting on her easel. It was technically precise, a masterpiece. A glorious mimicry of the cityscape on Liberty, but forecast into some glorious future, metal and glass spires reaching for the heavens. Around them flew, walked or ricocheted a myriad of costumed characters, laughing at the silver paradise they were in. They burned with power, shone with health and youth. And were completely alone.

 

Adjusting her round  glasses, she sighed and relaxed into her fold-up chair, the lines on her face crinkling glumly. "This isn't our world anymore. It's theirs. I'm sure they'll be glad when we're all gone" she said aloud, the words catching the attention and raised eyebrows of a few passing Freedonians, but not getting any comment.

 

Rene de Saens was passing by, though, and art always wants critique.

 

 

 

 

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"Zut Alors! What a thing!"

 

The painting or the words? or both?

 

Rene took off his beret and wiped his brow. He might 'oft complain of being a helpless old man. The thing was, the latter part of the statement was true. His knees hurt after a long walk, and a long walk he had taken. The faintest gleam of sweat lay on his wrinkled brow, from exertion and the ache. 

 

He walked to Marsha's side and examined the painting. 

 

"Magnifique! I love ze colour, ze flare!" he said, waving his hand over the painting and not meeting her eyes. For now, he just stood by her, with her. 

 

"But tell me, why in all ze glory and spectacle, would you not want to be there, Madame?" he asked softly. "And if you go, then what is ze destination?"

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“Oh that would be me then wouldn’t it?â€


Despite the situation Daphne, Miss Grue, couldn’t help but strike a pose her black hair flowing in the breeze striking against her bright red skin.


“Long shot I know but would you consider stopping all this and explaining to me exactly what is going on?â€


Why do you always ask when you know the answer? They never know to stop such things.


What can I say I’m an optimist. And hey maybe one day they’ll actually listen.

 

She then took up a defensive pose ready for the inevitable attack but not looking to actively start trouble.

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Ameyth glanced down from yet another boring patrol flight and spied a McDonald's as her stomach grumbled slightly. It was kind of early for lunch, but considering she had left the house at six in the morning with only a bowl of cereal-mostly to avoid having to talk to her mother and brother about how her hero stuff was going-she was fairly hungry.

 

The heroine doubled back around and came to a smooth vertical landing just in front of the fastfood joint and stares a while at the guy who just seems to be moping a store front over. Well, she hadn't done her "good deed for the day" yet or something (she wishes sometimes she never mentioned that idea to her mom, it had become a regular daily conversation surprisingly fast) and she supposes this could count, besides you don't have to beat up baddies all the time to be a hero a few kind words or a simile is all it takes sometimes!

 

...or something like that.

 

 

Amelyth walks over to the guy and leans against the building, "Hey man, why the long face?"

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Stronghold, luckily, was flying by when she saw the guy jump.  Her reaction was immediate.  

 

Even if he might not thank her for this, she couldn't just let him die.  Couldn't let there be an end to any hope the guy still had, even if he didn't know it.  Things could always get better...

 

But only if he was alive to see it.  So, Stronghold imagined a mattress, large enough that he couldn't just roll off, and soft enough so that he wouldn't get hurt... then created it, in a blaze of orange light.  

 

As he landed, she floated up beside the construct, the young woman looking at him.  "Um... look, things are never that bad, and this is something you can't really... take back.  Might want to rethink it?"

Edited by horngeek
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Riff was floating high above, mind in deep thought as his mind went over the material for his next album in his mind. He snapped back to reality when the gunshot rang out, loud and clear to his superhearing along with the demands of the gun woman. He took a deep breath as he felt his sound barrier surround him just as he felt himself plummet to the ground.

 

He came to a sudden stopped and landed. Riff peered into the store, quickly noting. He approached cautiously, guitar at the ready as the automatic doors opened. "Normally in these sorts of situations I hear "Put the money in the bag" not "Grab hostages and demand the Government give me superpowers." The Guitar Genius said with a little levity as his voice. That vanished as he continued. "Seriously though. Put the gun down before you do something that you are really going to regret."

Edited by Darksider42
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GM

 

Rene

 

Startled by Rene's appearance, the young woman turned around sharply, observing with a frown Rene for a moment before answering "Well, what would I do there? What would anyone who's not super do there?" Returning to the glossy painting, she stared at it glumly "It's colorful, bright and full of promise. That's pretty far from anything we mortals have ever achieved. Even the ones who make like they're not super, they do things none of the rest of us ever could. Or they're freakishly smart and make the rest of us look like dumb apes."

 

"Wherever people like me are going, it isn't there. At best, we become like them; worst, we're just speedbumps on the way to their utopia."

 


 

Miss Grue

 

The taller mugger swiveled his head around "Huh? Who's theaaaaauuuuugh!" recoiling at the sight of the Gruen-free Guardian, he immediately took to his heels, racing down the alleyway and vaulting the chain-link fence in a single bound, soon vanishing around the corner as he raced pell-mell, driven by blind terror.

 

His comrade was, contrarywise, frozen. He stared in mounting horror at the alien in front of him, which gave the woman clutched in his arms the chance to knock away the knife, wriggle free and kick him in the shins, sending him toppling to the ground with a howl of pain. Grabbing up her purse from the dirty pavement she jogged off, pausing to give Miss Grue a hasty peck on the cheek and muttered "Thankssorrygottago" before she, too, vanished. For a few seconds, the alley was quiet besides the light whimpers of the remaining man.

 

"Mrrrrrrrrrrgh."

 

Abby looked up blearily, a stab of dull anger going through her brain as she slowly pieced together the superheroine standing in front of her "We really are useless, aren't we? Can't do a thing without you people getting involved..." glancing up, her eyes having fallen a little, she added bleakly "Thanks. I won't try that again."

 


 

Amelyth

 

At first the words didn't register 'We're useless it's pointless they're just gonna die I can't-' "Wait, what?" his head jerked up, and two bright blue eyes stared into Amelyth's. "I...well, it's just...you wouldn't get it!" he burst out angrily, hunching his legs up onto the bench, circling his knees with his arms and glowering at the young psionicist "What kinda problems do YOU have? You got a family to feed, know you're on the choppin' block at work? Maybe your brother is in the Mob and is getting all "Hey man, if you're not in, you're out", and you know he's gonna go for your kids first? What the Hell does somebody like YOU know about it?! You people think that everything's fine if you're fine! Just cause we're weak, you don't give a damn about us unless we make you feel bad!"

 

The coherent despair of a few seconds ago was replaced with an inferno of incoherent hostility, the man's cold eyes burning with helpless rage and on the verge of tears. He glared sheer hate at Amelyth for a second, then suddenly he shrank back, hiding his face against his knees again "I'm sorry" he whispered bleakly "I just...I don't know what to do. I can't...I can't do anything and it's still all my fault..."

 


 

Stronghold

 

The businessman crashed into the cushion of energy with a surprised "Ack!" bouncing a few times as he recovered from the very unexpected landing. Looking up blearily, he adjusted his glasses and peered at the flying ringbearer. "Good morning. No, it's not that bad, but the more there are of me, the more there are to waste time rescuing. This is a call to arms, I'd like to inspire others to follow my example and free you from our burden. Non-metas aren't exactly worth much in this world, you see. For the most part we just clutter up the world, eat up resources you could be using..." he stood up, straightening his immaculate suit unconsciously and smiling warmly at the young heroine with his round, well-fed face and half-hidden twinkling dark eyes "Really, it's no bother. Just let me jump, miss. I don't have any ties."

 


 

Riff

 

At first sight of the soundwave sentinel, the worn-looking woman whipped the gun around to point at him. "We all deserve powers!" she began hotly, eyes flashing "Why should they just go to the lucky or slimy government-?"

 

"Seriously though. Put the gun down before you do something that you are really going to regret."

At first the pistol stayed leveled at Riff, then the trembling arms let it drop until the deadly muzzle pointed at the floor. The woman's eyes lost their fire, and she looked away "I wasn't going to hurt anyone. I just wanted to...people shouldn't have to live at the mercy of supers. Why shouldn't I be stronger, faster? What's the difference between you and me, sonny?" she demanded bitterly, flicking a strand of gray hair out of her face "Why shouldn't we be on the same level?"

 

 

 

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"Ze march of time makes all things better? Maybe, maybe. I am old, and every day ze future seems slightly dimmer, ze past seems slightly brighter. But that is an old man speaking. If I was young, today would be the day of sun! enlightenment, liberty!" he spoke proudly. 

 

"Ze future you paint, golden is it not? Oui, this is ze future we dream of. And yet, your dream is, how shall I say, sour? For you, it is a sadness, a dream that cannot be clasped? It shines a light on you, and casts a shadow...ahhhh...tsk..." he shook his head. 

 

"Madame, tell me. What made you paint this picture, on this day? Have you ever dreamed so? Or has some pale light guided you to this vision? Non! Not just a vision, but a feeling!" he asked, his voice dropping to almost imperceptible levels. Still, he did not make eye contact with the woman, he just stared at the painting with her, a bend in his spine, curling up to make himself older and unintimidating. 

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Amelyth is silent for a few seconds, "...Well, you've got me pegged there I guess."

 

She sighs and takes a seat next to the guy (which must be an odd sight), "I don't got those kind of problems, but I've got my career and future and stuff to think about ya'know? I can't really make a career off of clawing bad guys in the face. I mean I've already sent out a billion job applications to every fast food joint I can think of..! But so have thousands of other people too. It's not like I'm some super genius who can just whip up something to play the stock market forever and never worry about money either!" The heroine throws her head back against the wall and continues ranting, "My mom's all 'be the best hero ever!' 'superhero harder!' 'with great power comes great responsibility!" crap like that ya'know...?"

 

Suddenly, she leans forward, "What, is all that crap you're taking about really happening to you? That's rough.

 

Um... want my help with all that? I mean I can't help about the job part, I'm kind of screwed on that too, but I could go punch up that gang for ya?" she asks uncertainly.

Edited by ChrisClark13
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Riff sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was hoping this was not one of those idiots that were nostalgic for the Hot Zone incident. "Well...For starters." Riff began as he kept his eye on the older womans weapon. "You ran into a place filled with people with a loaded, LIVE weapon, took them hostage, threatened them and then started making demands that are unrealistic and kinda...you know, insane."

 

He took a moment to let that sink in. "Now think. Does that sound like the sort of person that should be running around with superpowers?"

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GM

 

Rene de Saens

 

Glancing sidelong at the old man, the younger woman began "Not all-" then shook her head vigorously and backpedaled "Sure, yeah. Just...came to me one night after Cap and Siren were on TV, they'd been helping out with that mudslide out in Washington. Suddenly I realized that supers...they just help us with our problems. They never have any of their own. It's like they come from somewhere else, somewhere better," resting her chin on her hands she gazed at the dazzling painting bleakly, "and what do we give them? Nothing compared to what we get in return."

 

"Been working on this one for a while. I don't do digital tools, so it's taken about...a month, on and off. A few hours each day." She smiled glumly "Marsha, by the way. You want it mister? The painting, I mean."

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Amelyth

 

After a brief study of the inauspiciously-dressed heroine, the young man's face twisted in wry amusement "Yeah, you don't 'sactly look like Daedalus. Ted, by the way" Glancing up and down the street at the people walking by (some of whom waved politely to Amelyth), he leaned a little closer and began softly and earnestly to explain.

 

"We meet every week or so at this Italian place, Sagrada Pizza, this time it's tomorrow. See, I'd tell him off, call him out on the **** he's putting me and my family though, but it's like..." his face screwed up, like someone trying to remember a name at a party "like every mornin' something's pulled all the fight out of me. And I live in Southside, so every day I wake up and see supers flyin' over the river. It just...it hits somethin' deep inside me."

 

Looking increasingly dubious as he enunciated each syllable in turn, Ted asked the teen girl "Could you, like, try and make that not happen? The fight-draining thing? Somehow? Please? I can probably take Marty if he tries anythin', though you're welcome to help out if it turns ugly."

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Riff

 

Her head drooping at the last, clinching words, the woman tossed aside the gun, jumping as it ht the floor with a clatter, turning to it and waiting fearfully for something to happen.

 

When nothing did, and she had recovered her dull spirits, her head turned slightly to Riff. "A considerable number of you people are crazy, or act like it. Besides, have you seen the sorts of things that want to destroy us all? At least a bit of a boost would put you heroes' minds at rest." The nearby patrons were mostly relaxing now that the crazy gunwoman no longer merited the 'gun' prefix, a few calls of "Thanks for the save, Riff!" or "Thanks for that, Breakdown!" rang out from near the beverage fridges.

 

"Want me to call the cops, Riff?" asked the cashier with a winning smile behind his thick beard.

 

"Yes, please do," the middle-aged woman muttered dully, staring at the floor  and fiddling with her bun "I may be useless next to our champions, but at least I'll be out of the way..."
 

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"Problems, problems. Of a different sort, maybe. How do ze English say? Ze grass is always greener on ze other side" replied Rene. 

 

"Life is not about getting what you want. It is about wanting what you have"

 

He paused, stroking his beard and feeling sad for a moment. It was not as if the young woman did not have a point, after all. Her perception was bleak, but not mad. 

 

"It is indeed a strange age we live in. One that challenges our spirit. But, I do fancy this painting captures ze essence of it. Marsha, you have me moved. Yes, I would like the painting, it has a power. But can I deprive you of it?"

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 Amelyth tilts her head as she thinks, "Um... sounds like depression?" She sighs as she thinks a little harder, "Maybe I could ah... how you'd say.... 'take a peek'? I can ah, look into minds. Kind of like mind reading." Her wings rise with her shoulders as she shrugs and she stretches her lips in a sort-of smile. "Just a thought, but maybe I could like, peer into your subconscious and see what's going on with it? You don't have to if you don't want to I mean!
 
Just, I can do that if you'd want." Uncertainty rings out through her voice as she tries to make it seem like she's forcing him any.

 

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Amelyth

 

"What, you're like the Scarab? Messing with the astral plane and stuff?" Ted frowned, eying the draconically-themed psychic with renewed unease. From the way he kept glancing away at the other people passing by, the skyscrapers rearing above, and the cars rumbling past in an unending stream it was clear that he wasn't too sure one way or the other. "Pretty sure it isn't depression. I thought that too at first. Took some pills the doc suggested...didn't do a thing."

 

Suddenly he jumped to his feet "Ah, screw it! I'll take you up on it. Worst that can happen is you fail and I have a bad day with my brother. Again. I'm almost used to it anyway." Clapping his hands vigorously together, the Freedonian glanced quizzically at the junior psionicist "Soooo...how's this work? Should I be asleep for this, or what?"

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Rene

 

Shrugging noncommittally, Marsha started wrapping the painting in brown paper from a roll under her chair. It was quick work, and the woman did it with the unthinking speedy care of somebody very well-used to such work.

 

"You were right" she said at last, offering the package to Rene "It was a dream. Not that that's real important, right?" The artist smiled glumly "A lot of crazy stuff happens when our brains go shuffling through our memories and imagination. And I live in Freedom, so what's weird about seeing the place as full of nothing but supers? Not like they aren't the most interesting part, anyway. From what I've been reading the tech sector is the only place where we really excel. And that? Pretty much all supers, backed by supers or with superhuman help. My sister works at A.S.T.R.O. Labs, says they get the Atoms in there once a month to figure out some new wavelength none of the normies can even understand. It really is like we're from different worlds..."

 

She'd been staring into space during that brief speech, but as it finished she laughed it off, glancing half-nervously at the old man as she began packing up her easel and chair. "Sorry, but I gotta go. Family dinner, and my mom's nothing if not a high-stress kinda gal. Seriously, I feel sometimes like it'd make her happier if I just fell off a bridge so she couldn't be so disappointed in me. Marsha," she added, shaking the ancient Frenchman's hand before turning to go "but it's on the canvas too, so...whatever. Nice to meet you, hope to see you again." With that and an only partly-false smile, she wandered off into the crowds, soon vanishing amidst the mass of teeming humanity starting their day.

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Not sure how they keep mistaking me for Eddie. Warren thought as he heard the some of the store patrons speak. He nodded as he floated a few inches off the floor. "It sounds like you are having a bad day. The police will probably go easy on you."  Riff honestly could not think of anything else to say to the woman that would reassure her in any way. With that in mind, he waited for the police to appear. 

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Miss Grue gave a gentle smile and offered a hand to help the other woman up.

 

“Well it not a thing to be taken lightly, it can be a dangerous thing to do. But there’s nothing to say that you can help out you fellow humans. And hey you were doing fine without me honesty.â€

 

There was something just a little odd about this she knew that people didn’t like it much but she couldn’t help but touch her mind to find out what exactly was going through her mind. It was for her own good honest.

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Stronghold

 

The businessman crashed into the cushion of energy with a surprised "Ack!" bouncing a few times as he recovered from the very unexpected landing. Looking up blearily, he adjusted his glasses and peered at the flying ringbearer. "Good morning. No, it's not that bad, but the more there are of me, the more there are to waste time rescuing. This is a call to arms, I'd like to inspire others to follow my example and free you from our burden. Non-metas aren't exactly worth much in this world, you see. For the most part we just clutter up the world, eat up resources you could be using..." he stood up, straightening his immaculate suit unconsciously and smiling warmly at the young heroine with his round, well-fed face and half-hidden twinkling dark eyes "Really, it's no bother. Just let me jump, miss. I don't have any ties."

 

Stronghold paused for a second as what the businessman was saying sunk in.  "...what."

 

She looked at him in disbelief.  "Bur-"

 

Disbelief that was rapidly turning to almost anger.  "A BURDEN?"

 

Maybe not almost.  "You think you're a burden just because you don't have powers?  That anyone who doesn't have powers is a burden?  My parents?  My sister?  None of them have powers, and none of them are burdens, and they never will be!  On me, or anyone else!  And neither are you."

 

She looked at him, her anger starting to fade.  "Please.  Don't jump."

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"It was a dream. Not that that's real important, right?"

 

"I don't know. Dreams are very important" smiled Rene, sadly. 

 

 

 

From what I've been reading the tech sector is the only place where we really excel. And that? Pretty much all supers, backed by supers or with superhuman help. My sister works at A.S.T.R.O. Labs, says they get the Atoms in there once a month to figure out some new wavelength none of the normies can even understand. It really is like we're from different worlds...

 

"Everyone is from a different world. Their own" sighed Rene. "All that remains is to entwine them together"

 

"Fare well, Marsha. It is ze destiny of every parent to fail their child, and every child to fail their parent. Do not be sad about this sadness" he smiled. 

 

Rene hefted the painting, enjoying its feel but not its weight. He was not a young man any more. 

 

"ASTRO labs? wavelength?" he was never a sceintist, and was not one now. Not that he was particularly slow of wit, he just had neither the aptitude or the inclination. He vaguely concluded something about some wireless Radio waves that must have been invented. 

 

He felt a vague pang of guilt. Was he one of these "Supers?" he was an unusual man, he realised. Was he disconnected from the fabric of humanity. 

 

That put him in a gruff mood. 

 

"Perhaps I should visit ze Astro Labs" he mumbled to himself, irritatedly, as he slowly walked back home. He decided to call a cab to save his knees.

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Amelyth began to reach an arm out tentatively, "Just relax and try to think about that feeling you get in the morning. It works better if you focus on what you want me to see." And sorry if I see anything you don't want me to see... she left that last part unspoken as to not give the guy reason to change his mind.

 

She took a deep breath and accessed the part of her powers that she rarely used considering she was technically a psychic, she always thought of herself as more of a... punchy type or something. She took another deep breath to clear her thoughts and reached out her hand to touch the man's brow.

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Riff

Upon learning of the situation at the convenience store, the police had already started to converge on it. It was with notable relief that the arriving officers took the woman into custody, their squad leader telling Riff "We've been hearing about something just like this happening recently. Not in this town, 'course, but that didn't make it any less dangerous. A gun's a fearsome thing if the owner's not thinking straight. Thanks for taking care of this, buddy! I'd have hated to deal with a hostage situation this early in the morning"

Tipping his hat back, the tanned, graying captain added "If you could drop by tonight so we can get your statement, that'd be great. Clear a whole lot of things up, 'specially if that thing about the 'Patriot formula' is true..."

With that, a handshake and a smile, the cruiser and it's morose passenger headed off for the precinct.

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Miss Grue

Looking incredulously at Daphne's face, Abby slow shook her head from side to side. "Nooo, not really. Most I was doing seemed to be getting my ass kicked. Dear god," getting unsteadily to her feet, Abby paused, gripping Miss Grue's shoulder vice-like "five years of martial-arts lessons, and I still get beat up. Thought knowing how you moved was supposed to make you better at fighting, not stay the same"

Brushing the hair away from her eyes and squinting at the street beyond the alley. Sighing glumly, the woman stopped to pick up a discarded purse and sunglasses case, sliding on the pair inside. While she did so, she kept up a constant stream of one-sided conversation "It's just crazy sometimes, you know? Like the world's slipping out of control, and if you try to grab on it just kicks you and your solution away, and if you just let things go on it's still your fault. I got into the insurance business to try and do something about the loss and pain in the world, but then every day and night me and my firm get stared in the face with how impotent we are." Jamming a pen into its holder with more than necessary violence, Abby turned back to Miss Grue "You ever have dreams about...not being super, miss? Sorry! I don't mean-but, all of mine are about nothing except what I could do if I had powers. And...every day I see what happens because I don't..."

As she spoke, she sounded less and less sure. By the last sentence her pausing, uncertain voice trailed off. Shrugging awkwardly, she got up and hurried off, calling back "Hey, if you have dream-powers, I wouldn't mind a check-up! Thanks, Star Girl!"

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Stronghold

"Well it's not like we produce or do much that you couldn't" the man pointed out blithely, sitting down against the raised edge of the platform with bizarre calm "not to mention the environmental, social and technological problems of supporting and defending such a vast, largely helpless population. If we could replace several thousand of me with a handful of you, for instance," he rapped the construct "then what's lost, really?"

He saw the expression on Haukea's face under the mask, and changed tack.

""I agree young lady, suicide isn't a good solution. But I'm stumped to come up with a more conclusive one! Even at the rate of current tech advancement, we're still mostly liabilities, distractions from your work defending the universe from evil."

That didn't do much good...

"Look, i just keep having dreams about all the good you supers could be doing if you weren't saddled with us. I've been feeling very depressed lately to be part of that problem, and decided that this," he pointed at the street below "was the wisest course. And it isn't psychic suggestion, I've had that happen to me before. This is all me, miss...?" Blinking in sudden embarrassment he added "Francis Bae. CEO of Surland Insurance, never mind the slogan. Our good hasn't been our clients since Nineteen Eighty...three? Yes, around then..."

Edited by Arichamus
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