Tin Gods

Hazard! - Issue #1
Day One

Every story has a beginning, and this one is no different…

A coffin is lowered down into the vacant hole as the burly funeral home attendants shovel dirt atop the vacant, wooden, box. Among the attendees are weeping friends and relatives, seated in white lawn chairs a few feet in front of the man made chasm. There is no priest, the only dirge for this departed soul is the tears of his loved ones and the brief speeches accompanying them. Finally, a tall man stands up and walks forward with a swagger that would make P. Diddy jealous. His hair is long and straight, expensive sunglasses cover his eyes and his fingers are emblazoned with tattoos, mostly letters and symbols, an outward facing bow imprinted in dark ink on his wrist. The man’s shoes brush against the grass audibly; the sobs of the crowd stop simultaneously the second he reaches the podium. He unbuttons his tux twice from the top, removes his sunglasses, and leans forward over the podium, collecting himself as he starts to speak, “Today we mourn the loss of a great man, a man who taught, or at least tried to teach me how to be a decent person. Michael Havok, was a man who believed in the good in others and that enlightenment through knowledge and discipline would unearth that good in us all. Each day he strived to make the world a better place, whether it was through putting an arrow through someone who deserved it or through passing on his knowledge to the next generation. My father was a great man…and I am not. But not even the greatest of men can be sent to correct the wrongs that I have made in my lifetime; his death was a testament to that as he died trying to clean up the mess that I have started, my late wife completed, and some accursed providence continued.”

He falls silent for a second as his piercing blue eyes stare viciously into those of a young man in the front row, a young man with long, shaggy, black hair, fire red eyes, and a horrible look that spells shame, regret, and disbelief as tears stream down his silent face.

The man continues, “Fifteen years earlier we have gathered here in this same place for the funeral of my beloved Melinda, who died in childbirth. And now…fifteen years later, we are gathered here again to mourn the death of a different loved one but one thing remains the same. I really regret the day our family, hell, our city, became exposed to this eventual and uncontrollable hazard.” The man falls silent but his eyes remain fixed on his son, the crowd slowly starts to clap, puzzled at the cryptic ending of the speech but touched by the man’s sadness. An older gentleman approaches the podium, the logo on his polo shirt reads Unity Pass Cemetery, and he produces an urn filled with black ash and gives it to the speaker. The speaker takes the urn and stares at it for a moment before stating, “As of now, I Eddie Jean Havok will be leaving Unity City. I will greatly miss all of you my dear friends but I am sure I’ll see you at Red Alert’s concerts when we tour through here in the summer. Take care…” Eddie ends, moving back down the aisle and taking a seat next to his son, the young man who caught the ire of his gaze, the same young man to whom he refused to speak or even look at for the remainder of the proceedings.

Time passes as the guests clear the hills and vacate the seats, only Matt Havok remains. His father left without a word and the rest of the crowd went with him on the way back to his big house, no doubt traveling by limo as usual. Matt stands up, he feels stiff, he hasn’t moved for what seems to have been hours. He wipes the tears from his face as he slowly walks over the patch of dirt under which his grandfather’s symbolic coffin lays. Kneeling down by the tombstone he examines the engraving, Here lies Michael Havok. Father, teacher, hero. a Sagittarius is carved under the letters, his bow pointed up towards the sky. “I’m sorry…” whispers Matt, “I couldn’t control it…I never could control it.” he brings a palm over his eyes as he leans over the tombstone, “You were the only one who tried to help, the only one who thought I could BE helped. Even I knew better…I knew and I still let this happen!” Matt yells, angrily shoving his fist into the earth, he stops for a few seconds, breathing heavily in between sobs, “I’m sorry gramps, dad’s right…it should’ve been me.” Matt’s mind flashes back to every time someone got too close to him, to every time his powers exploded out of his control, someone always suffered, and someone always will as long as they’re around him…

The next day Matt finds himself asleep in his bed, still in his funeral clothes until he is rudely awakened with a stack of papers being thrown, slapped on his face, “Wake up.” He heeds the voice with a groan and awakens to find his father standing over him, “What’s going on?” he asked confusedly as uniformed men outside his room move large pieces of furniture out of the house, and his father replies, “I said at the funeral that I was leaving, the movers are already taking my stuff out to the trucks and that just leaves you kid…” Matt sits up and picks up the papers, “Apartment complex? What’s this for?” He looks up at Eddie who glares down at him, his tattooed arms at his sides and hands sitting at his pockets hooked by the thumbs, his torso barely covered by a half zipped leather vest as he looks down at Matt sternly, “You’re staying. I bought out that shit hole of an apartment building last week. There will be no neighbors, no managers, just you. That’s where you’ll be staying.” Matt looks at Eddie with a mixture of confusion and surprise, “What the hell…?” he manages to say in an almost shocked voice before Eddie cuts him off and continues, “I can’t deal with you, I can’t control you and honestly I’m fucking sick of you. People die because of you, people I care about and you can’t control your shit. I don’t see it getting any better, ever. It’s just going to keep happening, you’re a fucking curse and danger to everyone around you and I’m not going to be responsible for that. I’m disowning you, whatever happens to you or to others because of you is not my problem.”

Matt interrupts, “At least that’s what you’ll be telling yourself every night huh? Cowardly piece of human garbage. Mom always did say you turn your back when shit gets too real-”
Something snapped inside Eddie as he heard those words, with a quick punch straight to the forehead he interrupted Matt, “Don’t you ever talk about your mother you fucking worm! Who the fuck are you to open your mouth and criticize me when you can’t even handle yourself! Murderer! That’s all you’ll ever be. You’re an accident in more ways than one!” Eddie raged, he is clearly rattled; Matt has never seen him lose it like this. His father is usually calm, collected, and expels his anger in snide, venomous comments rather than loud yells. Matt looks back at his father, rubbing the spot on his forehead where he was hit, “Whatever, you may be right. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re afraid. You spineless piece of shit. I’m tired of living with your hate and criticism harping on me in the background; finally it’s all out in the open. Go fuck yourself; I’ll be just fine…” Matt walks out of the room, bashing his shoulder against his father’s side pugnaciously on the way out, Eddie growls after him. “That’s more that anyone can say for the people around you.” That day, Eddie Havok and his band Red Alert, played a farewell show in Madison Square Garden, attendance was through the roof and the crowd exploded into a frenzy more violent than any of their previous shows. People fought, people bled, Eddie raged furiously on stage, and the music did with him.

Days passed, Matt’s new home felt like a prison. He knew he could leave at any time but he didn’t, he was a recluse, a hermit living in the squalid apartment with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. It was torture of the deepest kind, no will, no goal, just lethargy, depression, and constant mental reminders of how you are your own worst enemy. Matt’s mind kept flashing back to that day, he and his grandfather had finished their regular exercise routine and it was time to focus on his powers. Things were going well, bolts of fire flew off hitting their mark, his aim was improving and Sagittarius was proud…until suddenly Matt fell to his knees, slumped over as his blood began to boil, his eyes turned a deeper shade of red as an aura of flames engulfed him. It was bad, worse than any other time this had happened thus far; he thought this was the end as fire propelled from his mouth. Fire emanated from him setting tree after tree on fire, the grasslands burned and the area was set to become ground zero, but Sagittarius didn’t flee. He called out to Matt, “Fight it! This is what we’ve been preparing for! You can’t let it control you Matt, you can’t!” he hurried to his grandson’s side, ready to apply the cooling pentagram to his forehead when suddenly Matt let out a horrible yell. Vicious flames erupted from the boy, a loud explosion was heard and the entire hundred foot area around him was caught in its wake, swallowed in a gigantic mushroom cloud. When Matt came to, he looked for his grandfather, “Gramps? Gramps?! Where are you?” he called out but nobody was there to answer, he looked and looked for what felt like hours, unwilling to accept his grandfather’s fate, but in the end his teacher was gone and so was his last hope of ever reigning in his savage powers…he collapsed there in the field, in shock, wrapped in his own arms as he sat there wideeyed and lost.

Matt dwelled lifelessly in his apartment, replaying the events of that day in his mind over and over and over, “It was my fault…all my fault.” he said to himself. Gunshots were heard outside the building, nothing uncommon for such a neighborhood but the screams they produced were very close to home, “No! Leave him alone!” screeched a woman’s voice, the gunshots kept coming and a man’s dying screams were heard over their echo, the woman yelled, begged, and cried as the men outside desecrated her late husband’s corpse with a few more decorative bullet wounds. “Waste her.” said one of the men, and she ran, bolted towards the nearest door. Matt heard her footsteps, running, running, closer and closer causing him to stir from his own thoughts as he heard frantic knocks at his door followed by harsh pleas, “Help me! Please somebody! They’re going to kill me!” Matt opened the door to see a tall slender woman, in ragged office clothes, smeared makeup and a look of sheer terror on her face. He was confused, unsure of what to do…“Get inside…” he said, “They’re coming! They have guns you have to call the police!” she yelled as she ducked inside the dingy apartment building. Matt stepped outside as two men, armed with pistols came into the cul-de-sac from the one way street up the road, they wore ripped, baggy jeans and shirts with a curved symbol indicating their allegiance to the ITG gang, “Who this foo?” one of them said with a bandana over his mouth, “I dunno mang just get the bitch, smoke this foo too shit, they seent too much.” Matt looked inside for a moment and said to the woman, “The cops don’t come to this part of town, and neither should you…whatever happens don’t open this door.” the woman looked shocked as Matt closed the door and faced the two men.

Anger, unbridled anger is all that he felt in that moment, as he saw the bloodied corpse of a man behind the duo and thought back to the weeping woman. “Who does this? For what?! These people kill on purpose, not because they have no control, but because they can, they wreck lives and victimize those who can’t defend themselves. Cowards, I’m surrounded by cowards!” thought Matt as his right hand caught on fire, “Yo man what the fuck is this?!” yelled one of the thugs. Matt looked at them with disgust, his eyes alight and an anger that deepened his voice to an almost demonic tone as he raised his hand and brought his thumb to his middle finger, “Burn!” he growled snapping his fingers and unleashing an upwards pillar of flame from under the two gunmen. Their screams were loud but brief as their bodies turned to ash before his eyes and the guns reduced to puddles. Matt returned to the door and approached the distraught woman, leaning down to her, “They’re gone, now run, get out of here as fast as you can. Take 3rd all the way to Crescent then switch to Fallbrook until Washington, it’s the safest route out of this gang infested hell hole.” he said as he slumped down with his back resting on his bed, his palm over his face. The woman reached out a hand to him but was suddenly interrupted, “I said go!” barked Matt and the woman ran out the door only to pop her head back in seconds later, “You saved my life…” she said, thanking him and she burst into a sprint.

Matt laid there for a moment pondering what had just happened, he looked at his hands and it dawned on him that he had just saved a life by exterminating those who sought to end it. His hands were shaking, he was town between the feeling of guilt at having killed again and the feeling of having saved someone, he had never saved anyone before. He thought to himself “Maybe I am just dangerous, maybe people around me will continue to die. But if I can do some good, just some with the power I have, maybe I can make up for it before the death toll climbs to high.”

His resolve was shaky, he knew was no hero, and in fact held the supposed crusaders of justice in contempt, but either way, Matt decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. Upon searching some of the old boxes his father had shipped to the apartment building, he found old live sound equipment, costumes, pyrotechnic uniforms, face paint, and numerous stage clothes. “Nice” he said to himself as he pulled out an old black leather jacket, “Fireproof, heh. We’ll see.” chuckled Matt as he slipped on the vestment. Night had fallen and the moonlight shined brightly off the steel of Matt’s motorcycle as it zoomed with a roar into the deepest pits of Unity City’s slums…so not too far from his house. He parked around the corner, next to a small alley, taking the fire escape of the nearest building to the top of the roof to access a vantage point over the street. There he stood, looking down on the dark sidewalk a bit confused and hardly sure of what he was supposed to do, one doesn’t get into this overnight apparently. After a while Matt naturally began to feel rather stupid, standing on a roof now knowing what to look for, but it was then that he heard the sounds of metal on metal and a few voices chattering right in the alley.

“Man, we told you we was coming back for your snitchin’ ass. Can’t talk when you got no teeth left punk.” said the tallest among them, clad in a hoodie one size too large, a crowbar in his hand, and a frightened looking youth, no older than thirteen pressed to a wall in front of him. “Yo just get crackin’ with it already man” chimed in the cohort to his right, a short character with a bit of a stocky build, “We got time. Ain’t no cops be coming ‘round these streets anyway. Ey Pudge, go stand lookout just in case.” replied the first man, gesturing to the large, pudgy mess next to him, who of course, obeyed with a nod. Suddenly, the fat man let out a yell that was cut off by a large six foot frame landing on him, knocking him to the floor. It was hard to see him at first but as he stepped off of Pudge’s back he came into the light, “Thanks for the landing tubs.” and there stood Matt, a look of contempt on his face at the sight of the thugs ambushing the kid, “Theres a warm spot on the ground right next to your friend here. Give him some company, he looks lonely…and fat, really, really, fat.” The leader of the group looks angrily at the new arrived interloper, losing sight of the kid just long enough for him to pull away and run. He watched the kid flee and turned to Matt enraged “Yo you must be a special kinda stupid if you think you leavin’ here alive foo.” with that he charges at Matt, gripping the crowbar tightly and swinging it at him viciously overhead. Matt scoffs and steps to the side, dodging the swing and elbowing the cohort in the face before punching his attacker in the stomach, following with a swift grapple, and tossing him on top of the knocked out Pudge. The stocky short man reels from the pain in his now broken nose, he seems to walk backwards as Matt advanced on their leader, his fist aglow with fire, “Ready to feel the heat scrub?” Matt remarked arrogantly as he started to feel a lurch deep within his stomach, a sickening feeling took over him, and caused him to yell out, “Fuck! Not now!” he leaned forward and belched loudly as a stream of flames come billowing from his mouth onto the ground in front of the astonished gangster. “Da fuck? You one of those heroes huh. Watchu gonna do hero? Throw up on me?” the gangster pulled out his gun, “Yo waste this foo Rocko” he declared to the stocky figure slowly coming up behind Matt and slamming him over the head with a brick. Blood started to trickle down his forehead, the pain in his stomach grew and grew, and then he heard the click of the smug gangster’s gun as the barrel was pointed at him, “Say good night chump” boasted the gangster as he started to pull on the trigger. “So that’s it?” thought Matt, “This is my first day doing this shit and I’m already gonna get myself wasted? Fuck. That. Noise!” with a roar of explosive energy, Matt’s body unleashed a wild explosion of furious fire, consuming everyone in the alley. The three thugs were instantly replaced by loud, fading screams, and dark, smudged, outlines.

Matt stumbled forward out of the alley and made his way over to his bike, slumping over it as he realized there was an immense pain not only in his stomach but in his shoulder too, “Well son of a bitch” he said as he looked over to see a bullet wound in his left shoulder, “Guess he actually shot me.” He leaned back on his motorcycle, pressed his back against the wall of the building, and pulled out a cigarette, snapping his finger to give it a light only to burn away half the stick. He drew in the smoke and looked displeased, “Well, at least the kid got away…more than I can say for those guys.” he thought to himself pensively, looking at the smudged outlines in the alley out of the corner of his eye. Matt shook his head, “Damn…” he dropped what was left of the cigarette and stomped it out. He turns the key and heard his bike’s engine roar as he made his way back home.

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Hazard's Log 2
Burning Stress

“Pentagrams, moon cycles, incantations, rites, offerings…fuck this!” A heavy tome, flies across the room, slamming into the poorly built wall of the shoddy apartment, leaving an indent where it had hit. Matt Havok sits on the untidy bed, blood stained papers and ashes laid out all over the covers. The floor is littered in empty bottles, mostly beer, but the occasional bottle of Jack can be spotted amongst the sea of brown and green glass. He lays his back against the wall and exhales deeply, reaching into his pocket and producing a cigarette, slightly bent out of shape from rolling around in the pocket for what could have been days. The thinly wrapped tobacco touches his lips as Hazard snaps his fingers, burning away half of the unfortunate cigarette in an instant as he looks down at it with disgust.

His hand trembles as he looks down at it, his mind flashing back over the recent events. The face of the thug he stopped not a week ago, charred, burnt to a crisp, still alive though but…sometimes dead is better. “He deserved it…” He mutters to himself, after all, anyone who would pull a gun on a mother and her child deserved to have seventy percent of his body coated in burns. The screams were the worst part, not the thug’s but the mother’s as she clutched her child and shielded him from the burst of fire that engulfed the offender, sputtering off his body as he writhed. The smoke travels down Matt’s throat, filling his lungs with that all too familiar taste of smoke and ash as his mind continues to wander, recalling the hellish screams of Tiburon’s cohorts as the flesh melted from their bones, leaving nothing but piles of ash in the wake of the fiery explosion that spanned a hundred foot radius in the outskirts of Unity High. “They were killing people…” coughed Matt, “Setting off bombs, shooting, killing…to find me. Well they got what they came for I guess.” His hand still trembling slightly as the sound of their screams echoed in his mind along with the screams of everyone else consumed by those wretched flames, two more voices to join in the perpetual cacophony that rings day and night within his head.

The wave of thoughts rushed onward as Matt’s hand grew even more unsteady, nearly dropping the cigarette as the memory of that sickening, horrible feeling entered his mind. Suddenly, he was there again, the robot let out it’s annoying, ear-piercing shriek, the disorientation was there along with a surge of anger, boiling as he found his footing, eyes ablaze with the determination to blow the pile of circuits to scrap. The fire burned inside of him and his rage began to consume him, the flames sputtering out of his body as his stomach turned and his vision became clouded in a red veil, “It could’ve been bad, real bad…” People had run out of their homes and onto the streets from the sound of earlier explosions, none close enough to see the raging, flaming mess, struggling to compose himself but, “They could’ve been hurt, they could’ve all been gone. innocent people.” contemplated Matt as the palm of his hand pressed against his forehead and ran down his face, the cigarette out and smoked to the filter. He remembers the rage and the vomiting feeling being almost too much but then it stopped, subsided, a little more quickly than usual. For a second he thought he had suppressed it as he had done many a time before but no, for when he got up he was greeted with the somewhat angelic figure of Nimrod.

Matt violently punches the wall behind him, “Pff as if I needed Moron’s help, bastard.” but then he remembered Nimrod’s words as the hunter conjured the thick tomes, “Dark one, you have a responsibility to yourself and those you seek to protect, to learn to control the powers raging inside you.” Matt slumps down in his bed recalling those words, his grandfather’s words, “You can’t let it control you Matt, if you let it control you you let it destroy everyone and everything you’re trying to protect.” and his father’s drunken words, “If it weren’t for you your mother would’ve still been around, you know? Ya little punk.” He sat there for a moment, thoughts raging in his head as his body suddenly engulfed in flames, an aura of fire involuntarily sprouting up around him, his eyes burning red, “No…” he utters quietly as the flames dissipate almost as quickly as they appeared. Matt plants his feet on the floor as he gets up off the bed and makes his way across the room, stepping over the clutter of glass bottles, ignoring them as they splinter and cut his feet, walking towards the heavy tome resting against the wall.

Matt bends down and firmly grasps it in his hand, bring it up and popping it open as his memory flashes back to the night before, a shrouded figure slitting his hand as his blood takes the shape of a mutilated cherub, his face covered by a Janus (Comedy/Tragedy) mask, Quarantine slashing Wild Ricochet with a blade of blood, blurred vision and babbling, confusion as the group’s minds were rattled by the masked figure. Matt picks up a bottle of Jack from among the remains of glass, gripping his tome angrily as his eyes light aflame, chugging down half a pint’s worth of whiskey before angrily muttering, “Hearth.” At that he throws the bottle across the room, shaping his fingers into the shape of a gun aimed at the hurling bottle, “Bang!” the bottle shatters instantly in a small explosion of fire as Matt smirks and flips to the next page of the tome.

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Hazard's Log
New Annoyances
p.

Started out like a good day. I got some food, fixed up the bike, hell I even did something useful and caught another scumbag pickpocket. Its kinda funny, I had just finished munching down a pack of Jolly Ranchers so as I was beating his face in I wondered how much it must suck for him to not have any usable teeth anymore. Maybe he choked on a few of them when I left him in the alley. I was kinda worried I’d killed him, he wasn’t moving for a bit and his face is, well…let’s just say he’s gonna be looking like a stranger in his own mother’s house from now on. His jacket fit me though, but I left the stolen wallets at the station, no problem.

p.

Like I said, started out like a good day, then things got annoying. I got a real bad feeling in my stomach and it lead me to Jersey, big surprise. Followed it into some odd hideout, the cowards had to hide behind a few doors and to make this even more bothersome, some joker in a mask dropped out of the ceiling and just happened to land on me. Bastard brought a nice flood with him too, almost filled up the room. In the end he managed to stop being useless just long enough to dive underwater and open the safety hatch. As the water drained out of the room I realized I was stuck with this moron so I let him tag along.

p.

You’d think having one nuisance along with me would be trouble enough but then when we got into the main chamber of the hideout we were joined by two more losers. Anyway, I didn’t pay much attention to them since my gut started aching about the item being surgically implanted into some geezer on the operating table. The doc next to him seemed to be responsible, he went on a little rant and unleashed some bots all over the place. Jackass with the mask nearly died, think his name was Quarantine. Whatever I knew he was going to be a bother. I almost felt bad for him when I decided to send an explosion throughout the room to turn the robots into scrap, but hey he lived clap clap. I thought we were gonna have a problem when the doc disassembled and took control of the kid, but we took care of it without me having to light them both up. In the end Doc got away and the old man on the table turned into some sorta monster. I was ready to torch the thing but next thing I knew, we were ported out of there to Central Park’s basketball courts.

p.

Of course I left my bike in Jersey, and as we chased down the monster the tall prick decided to get a head start. I was stuck on foot and waiting for Quarantine and whats his face to finish fiddling with some oil tanker in the back. I wasn’t really paying attention, I just remember being kinda mad about not having my bike around and being to far away to set that monstrosity on fire. Anyway, the two idiots finished up and looks like they saved someone from the crashed tanker, guess they were doing something useful after all. Its probably for the best that I stayed away from there, if these damn flames decided to burst out randomly it could’ve been ugly.

p.

The twerp finally ported us to the monster and his butt buddy was already having a whack at him. Couldn’t let him have all the fun so I made the giant bastard a bit crispier. No civilians nearby, no tankers or gas stations, so no unfortunate surprises this time. Really, I was kinda proud of myself for a bit, my powers didn’t seem to flare up much today and I’m really surprised I didn’t randomly hit one of the new jerks while blasting that thing.

p.

After the fight, some assholes from C.A.P.E. arrived and took the monster away. After all that effort those pricks are just gonna roll in and take it away? I got a real bad feeling from whatever they implanted into that thing, an otherworldly feeling. But hey, a twist! That wasn’t really C.A.P.E. apparently and when the real guys showed up they weren’t too happy about what went down. The look on the guy’s face was priceless, he looked like a tomato ready to burst, man was he angry. “Nobody impersonates C.A.P.E.!” blah blah Haha. Then the jackass has the gall to ask us to find out whats going on and says to consider ourselves a team. A fuckin’ team can ya believe that? Whatever, I wanna know what that thing was and where it went so as far as I’m concerned these kids just better not get in my way. For their own sake…its been building up and as I speak my left hand is shaking. Its that feeling again, that feeling like something is going down whether I want it to or not.

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Honor's Journal - 5147 (Part 2)
Quis custodiet ipsos custodies

After being given our test assignment from the Savior Society to apprehend the super villain by the name Geovanni Reginald, code named Geode, my new acquaintances, Starforge, Delphi, and The Flying Fist, and I decided to make an attempt to contact Geode’s sister. Something about the warrant for his arrest seemed a little bland for someone to be called a “Super Villain,” as the only thing of note was the throwing of a bus, and we wished to investigate his arrest more thoroughly before we consigned him to a cell in some undisclosed location. We waited until she left the house and approached her out in the open near her apartment, not wanting to appear that we were threatening her or her family. We made it clear that we wished to speak with Geode. After some coaxing, she gave us a location where he would be hiding out.

We headed to the location, a construction site halted mid-build. We planned that Delphi would approach Geode on her own, but he told the rest of us to enter as well. After we attempted to convince him to turn himself in and receive a fair trial, he expressed a… let’s call it a lack of desire to cooperate. He attempted to ambush us, having preset this location with his sister as a place where his powers would be most capable. After a short scuffle, he escaped through the floor. We made chase but lost his trail. Downcast, we called off the search for the night and made our way back to our respective places of refuge to recover, planning to meet at Café Joe’s in the morning. At home, I found a message on my answering machine from my chemical supplier asking me about my uses for the chemicals that I had purchased: a hindrance but one that I can handle.

We met the next morning at Café Joe’s and decided, after some debate, to visit Geode’s aunt, to see if we could maybe find another lead. We waited outside of their apartment for his sister to leave and knocked very politely on her door and she invited us in to talk about her nephew. Through our conversation with the senile old woman, we found 2 leads as to his potential whereabouts: a man named David and a warehouse on the docks. We decided to split up; Delphi and the Flying Fist would make a sweep for the warehouse while Starforge and I would search out David.

Our search for David led us to a camp in the forest north of the city where we knew he worked. When we arrived, an old groundskeeper met with us and gave up David’s number (personal note: suspicious, investigate further). We used the White Pages and found his address so that we could contact him in person. As we were making our way back to the city, Delphi sent us a mental message (?) that she had found Geode’s location. We met her on the dock and she went in alone again while we prepared to take action if necessary. She convinced Geode to come quietly and he told us his story of how he had been investigating a man by the name of Swift when he was marked as a super villain and sent into hiding. He gave us a Cubix on Swift and handed himself into our custody. We decided to have him do some public services which we would attempt to popularize while we tried to pull all of the strings we had in order to have C.A.P.E. use him for the good of the public. Finally, we grudgingly turned him in to C.A.P.E.

The next morning we found that all the work we had done for Geode had had no effect and that his works went unnoticed. I decided to still seek out David. I told him of Geode’s plight and he told me that his brother had been on the bus that Geode thrown. He had no sympathy for Geode and I left and joined the rest of the team on top of Justice Hall for our assessment by the Society.

We were teleported to their secret moon base and told with much pomp and circumstance that who you know is far more important than who you are or what you believe in. Delphi made a scene and we were “politely” escorted off of their base. When we returned to Justice Hall, Nimrod informed us of that not all of the members of the Savior Society are opposed to our way of thinking and gave us a gold communicator, though without instructions of when we should use it. The Flying Fist told us that since we had not been inducted into the Society that it was time for him to give up the mask, though he gave us his number in case of emergency (there is not giving up the mask, just putting it away). There is some corruption in C.A.P.E. and the Society and the emergency may be closer than we fear. I get the feeling that we are the only ones in a place to investigate. For who watches the watchmen.

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Starforge's Log
Episode 4: A New Hope

I can’t believe it….

I mean, I feel like I should be jumping up and down on my bed like a preteen girl invited to a Beibertron concert but honestly… I just feel numb. Terrified, really.

Guess I should get to the point: I have an opportunity to join the Savior Society.

You know, the thing I’ve been fantasizing about since they formed it? I remember reading Paradigm #4 when it first hit the stands. In the last pages of him standing over the wreckage of the secret cultist temple and declaring “The world needs to be saved… but not even I can save it alone.” and feeling my heart beat faster as I realized the implications. The greatest heroes the world has ever known, working together to save us all. Even though I had no idea that I’d grow up to be a hero, I wanted so hard to be at Paradigm’s side. But now that its here…

I have to wonder again if Vern was right. Am I really worthy of… any of this?

I’ll start at the beginning.

As you know, I’ve been spending a lot of time busting up a gun ring in Gannoth, keeping the weapons off the streets. Its good work. Not terribly challenging, but after Vern went Event Horizon and threatened to destroy the city unless I gave him my powers, I figured I deserved a break from the Super Villains of the area. Get in, beat the bad guys, call the cops, get out in time to catch six hours of sleep before class tomorrow.

But this time was different.

For one thing, there were hostages. I dropped right in on them, which was lucky. I freed them. Though one of the thugs almost managed to alert the others, I managed to pin him well enough.

But that’s where things got weird. As I went into the next room, I saw a woman wearing a cloak. She seemed to be a Hero too, but wasn’t particularly talkative

Then… the idiot showed up.

I had created a perfectly good, perfectly repairable hole in the wall. And he had to crash through and make his own. But he seemed pretty strong, so there’s that. We made short work of the thugs. And quickly found out that an old timer had beat us all there: the Flying Fist.

I could never really get into his title. I mean, its kinda a cool concept but its also… just a little creepy. I mean. His fists literally fly. On their own. and you can see the meat and bone and euhgh…..

It was about that time that the big league heroes started showing up…

(To Be Continued)

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