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"Actually Mr. Altman we were here looking for you." Hyperactive clenched his fist faster than a human eye should track before relaxing. It was helpful in keeping the situation under control. "I'm doing some research on my family and well, Mr. Guyst believes the trail leads right to you." 

 

"My name is Hyperactive." He flashed a quick smile. "My parents are Sunset Speedster and Mister October. Would you mind if we spoke somewhere private? For your benefit of course. The visor hides all my secrets." He added with a laugh.

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GM

 

"Hyperactive?" snarled Altman. "Your family..." his faced grimaced and then it became perfectly calm and still, as if a mask had been put on. 

 

"Yes..Hyperactive" he said calmly. "Of course. Of course. Yes, lets talk somewhere private" he said, with a waxy smile. "Although nowhere is private in Hollywood. Perhaps outdoors would be better?"

 

He lead Zyte and Hyperactive out of the Pumpathon like a zombie in a trance, before turning to them. The air was hot and sticky, cars trundled past. A few disinterested characters walked past. 

 

"The road is a private as you could care for round here" said Altman. "So speak freely. We can always say we are shooting a film ha..ha...ha..." he laughed like a hollow bone. 

 

"This is about my father, isn't it. Also known as the Parrot?" he asked. "I've known since I was a boy. I'm not surprised someone finally found out about him..."

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"Sorry about your father. I heard he was sick." He gave a once over of the man and also looked around. Yeah this guy was upset. "He had quite the impact on my family. Changed the whole way we worked. The Seasonal is a better place because of him. I suppose I wanted to thank him." 

 

Hyperactive gave another look over of the place before leaning against a building. "You don't like us. Do you?"

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GM

 

"I don't hate you, why would I?" answered Altman, his eyebrow twitching, his smile placid. 

 

"My father is sick...yes..." he twitched. "Perhaps we should go see him. Maybe you could..." he swallowed, dry and bitter. "Thank him?" he said, again even and placid. 

 

"He had a big impact on my life...he...was a failure, ultimately. He wanted fame and glory, that was all. And he succeeded in neither despite his gifts. No charisma they told him. So he tried to make his son into the star he was not. A gold star, he told me..." his eyes seemed to shine off into the distance and his face contorted into bitterness before once again becoming a mask of calm. 

 

"So here I am, trying to make it in Hollywood. I'm going to be a big star one day, I know it!" he said, determined. He punched a fist into a palm to emphasise the point. 

 

"I can meet you there. I need to huh...freshen up...first..." he explained, pointing to his sweaty gym gear. 

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Hyperactive turned to Zyte. 

"I don't know if it's years of hero work, or just how I would act in his shoes. I don't think we're safe walking in that nursing home." He looked over Zyte's crew. "I mean I'm not scared, I've gone toe to toe with the champion of death. But I don't like walking into traps. I'm gonna scout ahead, we can meet up there." 

 

"Did you know he would react like that? Had you spoken to him before?"

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GM

 

Zyte was frowning, stroking his goatee. "He looks crazy to me...I mean, I know a little psychology from college. Looks like he is strung tight, repressed rage. Dissociating, maybe..."

 

"I mean, yeah, crazy. And I say that working in Hollywood, so it must be damn crazy. Makes me doubly glad I have you around. I mean, he could beat me to a pulp..." he said. He did not, however, seem afraid. Or maybe Zyte was afraid, but boldness was second nature to him. 

 

A moment later

 

Hyperactive whizzed to the Gold Star nursing home. A quick scan made it plain that is was second rate, if that. A cheap arrangement for those with a little, but not much, money. 

 

A bored, disinterested receptionist brushed the potato chips off her blouse as Hyperactive entered. She wore too much make up, and dyed her hair a cheap peroxide blonde. 

 

"Oh lordy! A Superhero!" she said, trying to smarten up her act. 

 

"Welcome to the Gold Star Nursing home sir! What can we do for you?"

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"I'm here with some-" Hyperactive stopped. Friends was definitely the wrong word. "Associates. I'm here to see a Mr. Walter Altman. I was told by his son that he was a resident here." Hyperactive gave a quick smile. Fame was nice, he'd have to look into who the heroes out here were. It was weird getting recognized as a hero but not as him. The whole state of Texas knew Hyperactive: the Waco Streak, and Chicagoans knew Summer Son II or Hyperactive. And no one in Freedom ever pointed him out.

 

"Does that name sound familiar? And can we see him today?" Hyperactive asked.

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GM

 

"Walter Altman?" said the receptionist. "Why, nobody ever visi...I mean, sure, of course. One of our customers!"

 

She got up and lead the way. "I mean, very respectable man. Had a stroke a year ago, poor man. But here at Gold Star nursing home, we give the very best of care!" she said. As she strolled through the depressing corridors of the establishment, it was evident to even a non-medical eye that the care was "adequate" at best. 

 

"Here he is, in the common room..."

 

And in said common room were a pair of half asleep nurses waiting for their shift to end, plus a half dozen elderly infirm residents, with various physical ailments and, in a few cases, dementia. A TV was blazing at top volume in the corner, some cheap cable show. 

 

Walter Altman was in a wheelchair, slumped to one side, but alert. His eyes widened as he saw Hyperactive approach. He was terribly frail, thin, and had left sided paralysis from what must have been a major stroke. 

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"Mister Altman? My name is Hyperactive, I think you knew my parents. And my uncle. Mr. October, Sunset Speedster, and Condor." Hyperactive's voice was slow and deliberate. He made sure that he was heard and understood. He passed a small coin through his fingers and smiled. "I was hoping you and I could well talk. You changed my life, a lot of lives really." 

 

Yeah if mom was here she'd be all over Parrot. Guy beat Condor, and honestly Mom and Dad, at the peak of their power. Probably why he left such an impression. I am not surprised he's not happy to see me. I look like Condor. And like a hero. Which hey, recognition is nice.

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GM

 

The Parrot spoke slowly, finding it difficult to articulate words post - stroke. 

 

"Who are you...Hyperactive, you say?" he said, his voice faint. "The son of...ah...."

 

He paused. There was anger and bitterness in his eyes. 

 

"They ruined me, you know. I could have been...so much more. Famous! I had...talents..." he said, wistfully, turning his eyes around the sad scene. "And now look at me...waiting to die. No legacy...huh...even my Son...no legacy there. My boy, what I put him through, chasing my dreams"

 

He became more bitter and angry still, tears falling. 

 

"Every child disappoints there parents. This is the...unspoken truth" he whispered. "We...seek immortality of sorts, through them, and at the end of the day...we are dust and they are not us, but something else..." 

 

"So what do you want to talk to a helpless old failed man like me for?" he said, more animated, more cruel. 

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"Well sir." Hyperactive knelt in front of him. He assumed a humble position. "I wanted to talk about your legacy actually." Hyperactive gave a quick glance around. He hoped Zyte was around. Or he'd have to fake sincerity for a camera later. 

 

"My parents have trained fourteen heroes, all of whom were poor and at risk of becoming villains. One of whom is the daughter of Drone Master. She's like a little sister to me. They did that in the hope that no one with talent like yours would slip through the cracks. Give them a chance at greatness on the right side of the law." 

 

"You changed me too. This costume is an homage to my teacher and an honorary uncle, Condor. More green." Hyperactive chuckled, it was true. Condor's Armor slid over a skin tight suit like Hyperactive's, all black though. The helmet was near identical, Condor's swooped out a little more to give the impression of a beak. "You were on a very short list, people who had eluded Condor. It was an actual list. One of seven. An impressive feat. You were the one he most wanted to find." 

 

"You do have a legacy, the city is different and anyone who asks, they know it's because of you Parrot." Hyperactive shrugged. "I know how your son feels too. Never living up to it. I changed name and colors and went a thousand miles away because I never felt my parents were proud of me. Your son is still an Altman, that's quite the endorsement."

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GM

 

Hyperactive could hear, from outside, a car arriving in a brusque manner. Squealing tyres. It sounded like a bad action movie. 

 

Altman pondered Hyperactive words. Despite his sour soul, he was not unmoved. "You...do speak kind words, boy" he muttered, so faintly. 

 

"But I wonder, was it my agency or your parents that changed the world?" he asked, not sure of the answer himself. 

 

"It is hard for an old man to ponder such things. But it is all an old man can do, whilst waiting to draw his last.." he explained, looking as much tired and sad as bitter and angry, now. 

 

"You can't go in there....." heard Hyperactive, a call from the reception area. Along with the marching of feet...

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That doesn't sound good. Hyperactive thought as he heard the sound of squealing tires. He looked over towards the door.

 

"It is both. You and my parents." Hyperactive said. It was true. His parents had done the leg work, but it might never have happened without Parrot. 

 

"It sounds like someone needs some help outside. I'll be right back Mr. Altman." Hyperactive stood up and ran through the door, leaving it closed. Perks of being a Speedster. He had phased straight through the door. 

 

"Need some help?" He asked the receptionist before surveying the situation. He let his mind speed all the way up so that he could tackle the situation. 

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GM

 

There were four of them. They looked like action stars. Or rather, the kind of goons one saw in action films. They were dressed in leather jackets, t shirrts, jeans, sneakers. A few tattoos, a few more piercings. 

 

And guns. Yes, they were carrying guns. Snub nosed machine pistols that looked pretty neat. Of course, they were also functional, in that they spat out bullets. 

 

"Where is he?" demanded the first, pointing his gun at a petrified nurse. 

 

"What the hell?" gulped the second, pulling his gun up towards Hyperactive. The groups nerve, previously strong, dissolved at the sight of a superhero. 

 

"He ain't bulletproof..." volunteered the third...

 

"We hope..." prayed the fourth. 

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"You should put those away and we can have a nice talk. I don't actually enjoy handing out whoopings." Especially not in a nursing home with probably very very thin walls. "Bulletproof? Nah. I'm Hyperactive, Windy City Warrior, Waco Streak, etcétera etcétera etcétera. Look those bullets aren't actually fast enough to hit me. You're way better off running." Hyperactive flipped his coin. It was always nice to do the whole, beat en down before the coin hit the ground thing. "I'll give you a head start." 

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GM

 

"Wha...?"

 

"But...?"

 

"How...?"

 

Came three voices, infused with panic, confusion, fear, and even a hint of bravado. 

 

"Don't you move man, or I'll blow..."

 

Came the fourth voice, the thug holding his pistol to the nurses head. The poor nurse - a small, tired looking woman, probably working two jobs to fund her acting classes, screamed. Clearly at this point no acting classes were required. Perhaps the experience, if not destined to traumatise her, might lead to a well of experience she could draw on for future C-list, straight-to-DVD horror films. Time will surely tell. 

 

But right now, time was in flux, and Hyperactive was moving even as the coil fell...

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"There goes your head start." Slow. The world was really truly slow. Almost beautiful and surreal. Hyperactive all but strolled over to the man aiming at the nurse. With a quick tap Hyperactive felt the kinetic energy flow from the man into him. He felt the buzz as the man froze. He wouldn't feel a thing. He was in effect not moving even on the subatomic level. Hyperactive pulled out his phone and placed it in the nurse's hand setting it to record a video. Hey he had to vlog his Hollywood exploits!

 

Hyperactive stepped past the last three thugs as the bullets erupted at where he had been standing. Hyperactive shook his head. He gave three quick taps on their shoulders. Then he turned and aimed a 720 jump turn roundhouse st the thug's face. Yeah Condor or Orion would have called it frivolous, but it was actually necessary. Had to leave an impression. 

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GM

 

The thug flew away like a rag doll, flying through the large window entrances of the Gold Star retirement home in a shower of glass, landing on the road outside, out stone cold. 

 

The last two standing thugs looked at each other, and decided, based on adrenaline rather than logic, to run. 

 

In fairness, they were fleet of foot and agile. Not that they could hope to outrun Hyperactive, but they made headway, jumping into the road. 

 

At this time, Ztye, Zane! and Michelle had pulled up in an open car, with Zane! driving, Michelle groaning, and Zyte wittering on about something awesome. Probably himself. 

 

"Awesome!" he yelled as he caught the action. His speed with a camera was not to be taken lightly. In the blink of an eye, he was filming everything. 

 

The two thugs leapt on to the quad-bikes they had left outside the Gold Star. 

 

"Quad Bikes! Awesome!" yelled Zyte, pumping his fist in the air. 

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Hyperactive made a smooth turn as he watched the two men go running then riding away. Hyperactive leveled an arm at one of the thugs. His arm became a blur sending a twister over at the first rider. The wind howled and swept up as he aimed to snare a rider.

 

As soon as he thought he had a good grip he whipped his arm sideways to try and send him flying into the other one. It would make for a great shot. If not, if those things could even hit Mach 10, well they'd still get caught by the Chicago Speedster.

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GM

 

One thug lifted of his quad bike, quite shocked. With a spin of air, and a spin of body, he slammed straight into the thug next to him, the both of them collapsing like domino's, groaning on the ground. 

 

"The amazing Hyperactive strikes again!" yelled Zyte, filming the whole thing. 

 

The threat was over, and Hyperactive was left with the conscious, or semi-conscious bodies of the four men, four quad bikes, and some scared witless nurses. One whom had already handed their notice in, saying they were moving to Alaska. 

 

Zyte was staying right where he was. His hand didn't leave the camera. 

 

Zane! approached the four men and squatted on his haunches, examining them. 

 

"Hey! I know these guys! They are a stunt crew, called the Smoking Wheels! Got a bit of a bad reputation. Blacklisted, from what I hear..."

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In a blur of movement Hyperactive brought the other two thugs over. Then in a flash he grabbed his still falling coin out of the air. He rushed over to the nurse still holding his phone, stopped, grabbed it from her hands. 

 

"Thank you miss." He smiled. "You might want to see if those bullets hit anyone. If so tell me and I can get them to a hospital faster than an ambulance. You're absolutely all right now, no one is going to hurt you." 

 

"Blacklisted? Why?" He looked over from Zane! at Zyte. "Your research turn up anything on anyone else in there who might have been well, worth killing. I mean why off Parrot? Old man doesn't even seem like he has the wealth to steal after killing him. Could be personal. But anyone I know with a beef is pretty dead." 

Edited by Kolohehonu
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GM

 

Zyte didn't stop filming, not for a second, and not now. 

 

Zane! answered the first questions. "The Smoking wheels, they had a reputation for...well....thuggery. A bunch of alpha males that drank too much, and smoked too much other stuff. I'm not talking cigarettes. Plenty of complaints from women on the set too, and a couple of other men. Plenty bad about them, but they didn't discriminate on sexual orientation" he said, uncharacteristically thoughtful. 

 

"Eventually, they became a liability. Good guys, I mean, they were a good stunt crew. But nobody would have them on set. Can't say I blame them either...."

 

Zyte interrupted, having contemplated the whole mess. "How do we know they were after the Parrot? and even if they were...how do we know they were out to kill him? Kidnap? Extort? Frighten?" he mused. 

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"Well we definitely do not know they are after Parrot." Hyperactive said as he got down low. "But let's see what this turns up." Hyperactive went through every pocket on these guys. It was as thorough a search as could be done in public. His body a blur as he went over every inch of them. 

 

 

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GM

 

Aside from a few clips of ammo, some money, some suspicious smokes, some mobile phones, and various trinkets, there was not much to be found.  

 

Except this: Violet Bloom: Agent

 

A stylish contact card that a couple of the Smoking Wheels' had on them. 

 

"Might have fast reflexes, but slow up top..." said Zane! on the discovery. 

 

"I know her. Ice queen Hollywood boss" said Zyte, almost spitting. "Produces a lot of action films. Wants to move into superhero adventures. She has tried to woo several superheroes over the years. All rather distasteful, if you ask me" he muttered. 

 

"But she has a lot of power and influence. I'd swallow the bad taste if I could get to work with her" he added, without shame. "She has her fingers in a hundred pies. Was she employing the Smoking Wheels? I wonder what for..." he wondered. 

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"Yeah I'd agree they seemed a bit-" Hyperactive paused and processed at super speed. "Rehearsed. Like they were acting. Even as they were pulling the job." Hyperactive took one of the phones and punched the number in. He didn't call just yet though. Something was off. 

 

"Distasteful? The movies, methods, or heroes?" Hyperactive asked Zyte. The guy had pretty good taste. Gaudy? Maybe. Over the top? Definitely. Showboat? Yep. But those last two were Hyperactive as well. He liked big personalities. 

 

"Well there's one really great way to find out if she hired them." Hyperactive called the number. "Hi can I speak to Miss Bloom?" 

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