Huh, so that's happened. So going legit under corporate sponsorship? Or recruited to go legit but is actually trappep into nefarious scheme?
BLASTER: Too Legit to Quit
acidlime
workers of the world unite
- Location
- Maine
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Who knows? Blaster surely doesn't.
- Location
- Canada
Yeah I agree that's what it looks like. Since this is a luther type of business I expect very entertaining shenanigans
Part 6
acidlime
workers of the world unite
- Location
- Maine
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
May 23rd, 2010
They gave me a shiv and said "you should kill him, but we get it if you don't. You're still clean." Clean, as if that described me in any way possible. I cornered Bog Rocket and put the knife under his chin and swore the man would die if he tried anything. He backed off, for now at least, and in doing so, made me a claimed man. The villains own me now, and beat the shit out of me as "initiation". I didn't get to write in this thing- YOU I suppose I'll refer to you as from now on, for a couple of days. You know who has shitty bedside manner? Prison doctors.
I dread going to the yard, but I'm now a member of a gang, so I better make the dutiful appearances expected of me.
I miss Koko.
Ned Nelson was sick and fucking tired of seeing his stupid fucking mask on the stupid fucking TV. So he unplugged it. He had let his crappy computer die, and wasn't bothering to charge it. He was just mildly depressed, and scared.
His whole life, he had fucked up. He made a non-lethal weapon you could wear on your hand and what did he do? Rob bodegas and shit like that until he got caught (not by a hero mind you, by cops. COPS.) He had a loving family, a somewhat promising future in electronic engineering, and what had he done? Fucked up so bad that his family cut ties, and got sent to prison for a nickel.
Swell. He really was an ace. He managed to fuck up trying to go legit into the real world, he had made himself a PROMISE he would never wear the suit again. He knew why then why he he hadn't just burned it like he'd planned, because he knew he'd want an out. The power of it made him feel too good.
So he had decided that living on the outside was too tough, and decided to rob a bank, maybe get shot, and he turned around and accidentally became a hero. He had never expected himself to be seen as a Jackpot, never expected himself to do anything heroic ever. He had always been looking out for numero uno, and this was where it got him.
He was a hero, he was a FUCKING HERO.
All those people back in prison, they must be gunning for his guts now. This fucking story went national for some goddamned reason, and here he was, depressed, and scared, and reading the Chronicles of Narnia in his shitty rat-hole apartment, dreading the next time he'd run out of the cheap swill he was eating.
As he lost himself in the pages of his favorite series as a kid, he lamented his fate.
"Oh Edmund," he sniffled as the siblings accepted their brother back into the fold. "If only it was that easy."
He missed his family, you know. The intention was never to hurt them or get caught, but he had managed to do both all the same. He had been adopted as a youth after his parents had died in a car crash. The family, the Tanakas, were Japanese, and had been extremely close friends with his family. He had been too young to remember his folks, but he always did wonder. Unlike the other kids who got adopted, he didn't have his adopted-family's name. They had kept 'Nelson' as a surname to honor their friends, but it only made Ned feel alienated. They had a biological daughter a few years after they adopted Ned, her name was Kokoro, but Ned had called her Koko for as long as he could remember.
They had shown up to the sentencing. He couldn't look them in the eye, he knew what a disappointment he had become. He was a guy who thought he was smarter than the countless people whose greatest professional calling was to catch people like him for trifling amounts to live on. How could he match that conviction?
He didn't even give that much of a shit about robbing banks, and bodegas, and whatever he could get his grubby fingers on. All he liked was the power and the agency. No one could tell 19-year-old Ned Nelson what to do, he was a man with power.
Power to do what? Apparently shoot lights and bring devastation to kind Japanese couples and their daughters.
He hadn't bothered trying to come back into the fold when he got out. He didn't want to know if they'd moved on, and Koko was about 16 now.
'Hey sis, I know I went to jail, but here's a reason for no one to ever want to visit your house again~ I hope you like unemployable free-loaders!' He wouldn't do that to them. He wouldn't.
That was even being generous. It assumed they wanted him back. They were devout Catholics after all, and he knew from experience that even though the big J was all about forgiveness and love, Catholics could be very much anti-that message.
As he wallowed, Hibiscus Jones was making her way to his apartment building, assured that she'd find her man. She began in her usual way, unzipping the top part of her leather jumpsuit and leaving the katana strapped to her bike. If any motherfucker messed with her bike, there'd be hell to pay, but that was besides the point. She put on her shades and walked in, throwing her long braids over her shoulder, and walking straight up to the older guy behind the register at the 7-11.
"Hey mister, I got a couple of questions for you." She said, slightly smooshing her boobs together in the alluring she had been taught. She thought back to her training briefly, and realized it was either this, or gratuitous torture. She silently hoped the man was at least some sort of pervert.
As soon as his eyes darted downwards, she grinned. No torture today.
Upstairs, Ned was just about at the part of the book where Aslan was revived, and he was seriously wondering if there was anything more badass than a lion telling a witch to sit down because he was there when the magic she was going to use to kill him was written.
He idly wondered if there was anything there for a cool line, and wandered over to his bathroom mirror.
"I was there when it was written." He said, looking as fierce as he could. "Why am I focusing on the facial aspect?" He wondered aloud. "I wear a mask."
This began his usual routine of making faces at himself in the mirror for amusement.
Downstairs, Hibiscus was making headway. Apparently the guy only ever paid in cash, and no one had made him as Ned Nelson yet. This was good for her. All she needed to do now was wait until the guy showed up to buy the stuff the cashier had told her about. Apparently the guy came in all the time and bought shit there.
"Who needs that much Spam?" She wondered as she sat on her bike. She had decided to avoid a direct confrontation for now. It was all about waiting for this fool to make a move. Then she'd be in the money.
Ned looked over at his supplies and sighed. He was almost out of Spam.
"This is a situation that needs remedying." He idly thought, and wondered if he really wanted to risk this. He hated the idea of someone seeing him, but he really needed to get out of the apartment. He was on his second read-through of these books and really needed to be social, lest he go more nuts than he was already in the process of becoming.
"Oh well." He thought to himself, and got his outside clothes on. "It's not like anyone knows I go here anyway."
They gave me a shiv and said "you should kill him, but we get it if you don't. You're still clean." Clean, as if that described me in any way possible. I cornered Bog Rocket and put the knife under his chin and swore the man would die if he tried anything. He backed off, for now at least, and in doing so, made me a claimed man. The villains own me now, and beat the shit out of me as "initiation". I didn't get to write in this thing- YOU I suppose I'll refer to you as from now on, for a couple of days. You know who has shitty bedside manner? Prison doctors.
I dread going to the yard, but I'm now a member of a gang, so I better make the dutiful appearances expected of me.
I miss Koko.
Ned Nelson was sick and fucking tired of seeing his stupid fucking mask on the stupid fucking TV. So he unplugged it. He had let his crappy computer die, and wasn't bothering to charge it. He was just mildly depressed, and scared.
His whole life, he had fucked up. He made a non-lethal weapon you could wear on your hand and what did he do? Rob bodegas and shit like that until he got caught (not by a hero mind you, by cops. COPS.) He had a loving family, a somewhat promising future in electronic engineering, and what had he done? Fucked up so bad that his family cut ties, and got sent to prison for a nickel.
Swell. He really was an ace. He managed to fuck up trying to go legit into the real world, he had made himself a PROMISE he would never wear the suit again. He knew why then why he he hadn't just burned it like he'd planned, because he knew he'd want an out. The power of it made him feel too good.
So he had decided that living on the outside was too tough, and decided to rob a bank, maybe get shot, and he turned around and accidentally became a hero. He had never expected himself to be seen as a Jackpot, never expected himself to do anything heroic ever. He had always been looking out for numero uno, and this was where it got him.
He was a hero, he was a FUCKING HERO.
All those people back in prison, they must be gunning for his guts now. This fucking story went national for some goddamned reason, and here he was, depressed, and scared, and reading the Chronicles of Narnia in his shitty rat-hole apartment, dreading the next time he'd run out of the cheap swill he was eating.
As he lost himself in the pages of his favorite series as a kid, he lamented his fate.
"Oh Edmund," he sniffled as the siblings accepted their brother back into the fold. "If only it was that easy."
He missed his family, you know. The intention was never to hurt them or get caught, but he had managed to do both all the same. He had been adopted as a youth after his parents had died in a car crash. The family, the Tanakas, were Japanese, and had been extremely close friends with his family. He had been too young to remember his folks, but he always did wonder. Unlike the other kids who got adopted, he didn't have his adopted-family's name. They had kept 'Nelson' as a surname to honor their friends, but it only made Ned feel alienated. They had a biological daughter a few years after they adopted Ned, her name was Kokoro, but Ned had called her Koko for as long as he could remember.
They had shown up to the sentencing. He couldn't look them in the eye, he knew what a disappointment he had become. He was a guy who thought he was smarter than the countless people whose greatest professional calling was to catch people like him for trifling amounts to live on. How could he match that conviction?
He didn't even give that much of a shit about robbing banks, and bodegas, and whatever he could get his grubby fingers on. All he liked was the power and the agency. No one could tell 19-year-old Ned Nelson what to do, he was a man with power.
Power to do what? Apparently shoot lights and bring devastation to kind Japanese couples and their daughters.
He hadn't bothered trying to come back into the fold when he got out. He didn't want to know if they'd moved on, and Koko was about 16 now.
'Hey sis, I know I went to jail, but here's a reason for no one to ever want to visit your house again~ I hope you like unemployable free-loaders!' He wouldn't do that to them. He wouldn't.
That was even being generous. It assumed they wanted him back. They were devout Catholics after all, and he knew from experience that even though the big J was all about forgiveness and love, Catholics could be very much anti-that message.
As he wallowed, Hibiscus Jones was making her way to his apartment building, assured that she'd find her man. She began in her usual way, unzipping the top part of her leather jumpsuit and leaving the katana strapped to her bike. If any motherfucker messed with her bike, there'd be hell to pay, but that was besides the point. She put on her shades and walked in, throwing her long braids over her shoulder, and walking straight up to the older guy behind the register at the 7-11.
"Hey mister, I got a couple of questions for you." She said, slightly smooshing her boobs together in the alluring she had been taught. She thought back to her training briefly, and realized it was either this, or gratuitous torture. She silently hoped the man was at least some sort of pervert.
As soon as his eyes darted downwards, she grinned. No torture today.
Upstairs, Ned was just about at the part of the book where Aslan was revived, and he was seriously wondering if there was anything more badass than a lion telling a witch to sit down because he was there when the magic she was going to use to kill him was written.
He idly wondered if there was anything there for a cool line, and wandered over to his bathroom mirror.
"I was there when it was written." He said, looking as fierce as he could. "Why am I focusing on the facial aspect?" He wondered aloud. "I wear a mask."
This began his usual routine of making faces at himself in the mirror for amusement.
Downstairs, Hibiscus was making headway. Apparently the guy only ever paid in cash, and no one had made him as Ned Nelson yet. This was good for her. All she needed to do now was wait until the guy showed up to buy the stuff the cashier had told her about. Apparently the guy came in all the time and bought shit there.
"Who needs that much Spam?" She wondered as she sat on her bike. She had decided to avoid a direct confrontation for now. It was all about waiting for this fool to make a move. Then she'd be in the money.
Ned looked over at his supplies and sighed. He was almost out of Spam.
"This is a situation that needs remedying." He idly thought, and wondered if he really wanted to risk this. He hated the idea of someone seeing him, but he really needed to get out of the apartment. He was on his second read-through of these books and really needed to be social, lest he go more nuts than he was already in the process of becoming.
"Oh well." He thought to himself, and got his outside clothes on. "It's not like anyone knows I go here anyway."
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Part 7
acidlime
workers of the world unite
- Location
- Maine
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
May 28th, 2010
There are four regular guys, the ones who hold court over all the rest of the convicted costumes. They all refer to each other (me included) as the aliases.
The four are Fortinbras, Deluge, Cueball, and Gurdis. Gurdis is a weird one, quiet, and huge. He has a power dampener, and a decidedly low IQ. It's actually kind of endearing how they treat him, like a big dumb lug with a good heart. He's not smart, but he's kind of nice. Apparently Gurdis is a name he came up with.
Deluge is a gadget guy, like me. The majority of costumes here are. He made some rig that controls water. Hella powerful, but he's assured me that he didn't do anything too bad with it. That's the story with most costumes here. Like me, they were active in Broadsburg and they just weren't bad enough dudes to get in to a Mega-Max prison.
Cueball is fucking scary. He used exploding pool balls as his gimmick, and he's still as crazy as that idea to this day. He says he used to be a pitcher in the minor leagues before he got drummed out for getting in a bar fight where he beat a guy to near-death with a pool ball. That's where he got his gimmick I guess.
Fortinbras is the best one, by far. He was a huge Shakespeare fan, and he apparently could hypnotize people when he recited the Bard. We have these long talks about Shakespeare, and he tells me to continue my education and offer to tutor me if I keep reading plays to discuss with him. I hope he doesn't try to fuck me, because that would ruin a potentially great relationship.
I'm reading one now- Troilus and Cressida, and I gotta say, Shakespeare sure likes cuckolding his protagonists. So much so that I think maybe he might've gotten off on it, but who knows? I'll talk with Fortinbras about it tomorrow.
Ned walked into the 7-11. He grabbed a bunch of necessities, noodles, eggs, something vaguely healthy looking to go into the back of his fridge, and Spam.
He liked Spam, ever since he was a kid. His Japanese parents were very much into the cooking of Asia, and he, in particular had become quite the fan of Korean food. It was canned, it didn't need anything to be able to be consumed, and if you cooked it right, it was pretty damned tasty.
So he bought it a lot. His blood pressure was probably a bit on the high side, but he was a former supervillain with occasional suicidal tendencies. He didn't really work out much, and he was probably going to get killed by some anti-hero fuck with a grudge in a year.
He grabbed all of his stuff and walked up front. The cashier had a dazed expression, and Ned wondered why for a moment before pulling out enough cash for the guy. He grabbed his bags and walked out, right into the doorway of his apartment.
"Mr. Nelson." Someone said from behind him, and he almost shat himself in terror. He wondered vaguely who this was going to end up being, an assassin? Worse? He eventually convinced himself to turn around.
He had been vaguely expecting a guy, with a gun, wearing a suit. Maybe with a facial scar.
But this...
This was a woman.
She was tall, taller than him. She was black, and had long braids running down the back of a too-tight jumpsuit that showed off her muscles, ample curves, and shone bright red in the daylight. She was smiling, and her eyes were hidden behind big sunglasses that looked like they belonged on a highway patrol officer rather than this statuesque woman.
Ned was instantly at a loss for words. "Hell," he thought. "If this is what being a hero means, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all!"
"I wish to discuss something with you." She said. "I assume you live upstairs?"
Ned then saw the katana. It was unmistakably the weapon of ancient Japan.
"Who are you?" He asked, suspiciously looking around. He was out of shape, but he wouldn't make it so easy for this would-be assassin. Hot or not, he wouldn't go out like a bitch.
"I'm just an interested party. I wanted to speak with the new hero, about some of his... financial acquisitions." Her grin hadn't changed, but Ned saw it in a whole new light. He had seen cats around his neighborhood that looked that same way at something small and moving that appeared in front of them. She was going to play with him, and he knew right there that he'd be lucky to get out of this encounter unscathed.
"Do..." He began, searching for words. What was he to do? This hero thing sucked eggs, but he knew now that it beat lying around in prison. What was he going to do? He thought hard, and all he could come up with was 'do whatever she says, numb-nuts'. "Do you want to come in?"
The woman's smile grew broader.
"I'd like that very much."
Upstairs, Ned's nerves hadn't calmed down, but he'd managed to palm a small emergency glove from a hidden box when he'd gone to put away his groceries. It was on and his hand was in his pocket.
"You can turn that off. I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to make a deal." She said. Ned was instantly confused, and he looked down to see if anything obvious was happening.
His stupid freaking pocket was glowing. This was what he got for switching from black skinny-jeans to khakis.
"If it's all the same to you, miss. I'd like to keep it on." Ned said, hesitantly.
"Fine. Keep it on, and don't call me Miss. My name is Hibiscus Jones." The woman had taken over his chair, and he begrudgingly sat on the bed.
"Okay 'Hibiscus Jones'." Ned said. "How do you know about the money?"
"I wasn't certain until just now. But I was pretty sure I saw your pockets full when you stood up." She said, smile beaming with assured pride.
"Motherf-" Ned began. "Are you kidding me?"
"Nope." She said, putting emphasis on the 'p' with a small pop. "But I'm very good at keeping secrets."
"What do you want?" Ned said, hand visibly out of his pocket and clenched into a fist. The soft glow illuminated his face with a sinister under light, and Hibiscus realized she was committing some sort of wild beast into captivity. She thought about stopping there, but this was too perfect. The plan was coming together all at once!
"Tell me something Mr. Nelson." She said. "What do you know about twitter?" Ned looked at her blankly.
"What the fuck is twitter?"
There are four regular guys, the ones who hold court over all the rest of the convicted costumes. They all refer to each other (me included) as the aliases.
The four are Fortinbras, Deluge, Cueball, and Gurdis. Gurdis is a weird one, quiet, and huge. He has a power dampener, and a decidedly low IQ. It's actually kind of endearing how they treat him, like a big dumb lug with a good heart. He's not smart, but he's kind of nice. Apparently Gurdis is a name he came up with.
Deluge is a gadget guy, like me. The majority of costumes here are. He made some rig that controls water. Hella powerful, but he's assured me that he didn't do anything too bad with it. That's the story with most costumes here. Like me, they were active in Broadsburg and they just weren't bad enough dudes to get in to a Mega-Max prison.
Cueball is fucking scary. He used exploding pool balls as his gimmick, and he's still as crazy as that idea to this day. He says he used to be a pitcher in the minor leagues before he got drummed out for getting in a bar fight where he beat a guy to near-death with a pool ball. That's where he got his gimmick I guess.
Fortinbras is the best one, by far. He was a huge Shakespeare fan, and he apparently could hypnotize people when he recited the Bard. We have these long talks about Shakespeare, and he tells me to continue my education and offer to tutor me if I keep reading plays to discuss with him. I hope he doesn't try to fuck me, because that would ruin a potentially great relationship.
I'm reading one now- Troilus and Cressida, and I gotta say, Shakespeare sure likes cuckolding his protagonists. So much so that I think maybe he might've gotten off on it, but who knows? I'll talk with Fortinbras about it tomorrow.
Ned walked into the 7-11. He grabbed a bunch of necessities, noodles, eggs, something vaguely healthy looking to go into the back of his fridge, and Spam.
He liked Spam, ever since he was a kid. His Japanese parents were very much into the cooking of Asia, and he, in particular had become quite the fan of Korean food. It was canned, it didn't need anything to be able to be consumed, and if you cooked it right, it was pretty damned tasty.
So he bought it a lot. His blood pressure was probably a bit on the high side, but he was a former supervillain with occasional suicidal tendencies. He didn't really work out much, and he was probably going to get killed by some anti-hero fuck with a grudge in a year.
He grabbed all of his stuff and walked up front. The cashier had a dazed expression, and Ned wondered why for a moment before pulling out enough cash for the guy. He grabbed his bags and walked out, right into the doorway of his apartment.
"Mr. Nelson." Someone said from behind him, and he almost shat himself in terror. He wondered vaguely who this was going to end up being, an assassin? Worse? He eventually convinced himself to turn around.
He had been vaguely expecting a guy, with a gun, wearing a suit. Maybe with a facial scar.
But this...
This was a woman.
She was tall, taller than him. She was black, and had long braids running down the back of a too-tight jumpsuit that showed off her muscles, ample curves, and shone bright red in the daylight. She was smiling, and her eyes were hidden behind big sunglasses that looked like they belonged on a highway patrol officer rather than this statuesque woman.
Ned was instantly at a loss for words. "Hell," he thought. "If this is what being a hero means, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all!"
"I wish to discuss something with you." She said. "I assume you live upstairs?"
Ned then saw the katana. It was unmistakably the weapon of ancient Japan.
"Who are you?" He asked, suspiciously looking around. He was out of shape, but he wouldn't make it so easy for this would-be assassin. Hot or not, he wouldn't go out like a bitch.
"I'm just an interested party. I wanted to speak with the new hero, about some of his... financial acquisitions." Her grin hadn't changed, but Ned saw it in a whole new light. He had seen cats around his neighborhood that looked that same way at something small and moving that appeared in front of them. She was going to play with him, and he knew right there that he'd be lucky to get out of this encounter unscathed.
"Do..." He began, searching for words. What was he to do? This hero thing sucked eggs, but he knew now that it beat lying around in prison. What was he going to do? He thought hard, and all he could come up with was 'do whatever she says, numb-nuts'. "Do you want to come in?"
The woman's smile grew broader.
"I'd like that very much."
Upstairs, Ned's nerves hadn't calmed down, but he'd managed to palm a small emergency glove from a hidden box when he'd gone to put away his groceries. It was on and his hand was in his pocket.
"You can turn that off. I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to make a deal." She said. Ned was instantly confused, and he looked down to see if anything obvious was happening.
His stupid freaking pocket was glowing. This was what he got for switching from black skinny-jeans to khakis.
"If it's all the same to you, miss. I'd like to keep it on." Ned said, hesitantly.
"Fine. Keep it on, and don't call me Miss. My name is Hibiscus Jones." The woman had taken over his chair, and he begrudgingly sat on the bed.
"Okay 'Hibiscus Jones'." Ned said. "How do you know about the money?"
"I wasn't certain until just now. But I was pretty sure I saw your pockets full when you stood up." She said, smile beaming with assured pride.
"Motherf-" Ned began. "Are you kidding me?"
"Nope." She said, putting emphasis on the 'p' with a small pop. "But I'm very good at keeping secrets."
"What do you want?" Ned said, hand visibly out of his pocket and clenched into a fist. The soft glow illuminated his face with a sinister under light, and Hibiscus realized she was committing some sort of wild beast into captivity. She thought about stopping there, but this was too perfect. The plan was coming together all at once!
"Tell me something Mr. Nelson." She said. "What do you know about twitter?" Ned looked at her blankly.
"What the fuck is twitter?"
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I just found myself thinking of this as of last week or so actually, but also found myself forgotting the title and names of everyone, so nice to see the thread come back to life.
Part 8
acidlime
workers of the world unite
- Location
- Maine
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
May 30th, 2010
I finished Troilus and Cressida. I told Fortinbras I liked it, and he gave me a weird look. We didn't touch on that, but it occurred to me that I would be a fool to trust him implicitly. He's in here, after all. Maybe he'll cut me if I tell him I think A Midsummer Night's Dream is a bit overplayed.
It takes a lot of brainpower to keep myself in reality here. I can't trust anyone, I can't rely on anyone, and I can't believe I haven't been here a month yet. They finally showed me the jobs we're allowed to do, and I saw a jar of Luminol on a shelf in one of the industrial workshops we "get" to work for a few pennies every hour.
There's another thing I have to worry about too, it's the staff. The warden runs this place with an iron fist. I do NOT want to Shawshank myself while I'm here, I don't know which one of my few gang-mates is a Morgan Freeman type, and I think I'd end up as that guy that hangs himself outside before I'd be Andy DuFresne.
I'm beginning to suspect that biding my time and working the system for every drop I can get might be my best option. I thought laying low would work, and it got me caught in a shower with a rapist who I had to threaten to stab to death.
I'd prefer to emerge as not a murderer, all things being equal.
Ned was agape. Hibiscus had requested he charge his crappy computer and load up a website called Twitter. It was like every dumbass with a computer had an opportunity to voice their shitty opinions. He was unsure as to how he'd missed this site before he'd gone to jail.
"What's going on? Why does everyone give a shit?" He asked the woman leaning over his shoulder.
"Have you been watching the news?" Hibiscus asked, and he shook his head.
"Have I missed much?" Ned asked, and Hibiscus let out a low whistle.
"How much do you know about the Grey Rock breakout?" She asked him, and he started.
"East Alcatraz had a breakout?" Ned was shocked. He had heard stories in the clink about East Alcatraz. It was a hell for criminal elements who had the juice or the notoriety to get heavier sentences than himself. The heavy hitters, people who fought actual superheroes. "What's that got to do with me?"
"You ever heard of Kitty-Cat?" Hibiscus asked, and Ned nodded slowly.
"He's that cat burglar who fights Marathon, right?"
Hibiscus took over the keyboard from behind Ned's back, and he was very conscious of what was touching him. He hadn't been with someone before prison, and that hadn't changed exactly. Ned was still very inexperienced around women, and now a stunning one was squished up to his back.
As she typed, he tried to think about something innocuous and non-sexual while he was sitting there. Like robots, or his super-suit. Or her. Or her in his super-suit, he had some drawings of the design that illustrated the needs for tight fabric, and...
"Tight." He murmured to himself, a situation forming down to his south, before he was jolted back into reality.
"You right, it is pretty tight. You made a quick 60k." Hibiscus said, standing back up.
"What?" Ned said, back in reality.
"One of the goons in the bank was Kitty-Cat. There's a substantial reward for bringing him in because he was one of the 100 criminals who broke out of Grey Rock. You're a hero because you didn't take it, and people needed something inspirational. A former crook stopping a bank robbery and stopping one of the 100? That's a fucking storybook ending." She pointed to the screen. "When you didn't publicly show up, I made a Twitter posing as you, and rallied public support. You're a hero in the eye of the public. Now, I want to work together." She said.
"Doing what?" Ned asked.
"We go after the guys on the list, and go after the bounties on a few of the lower level players. These are high level rewards for work that you and I could do with our eyes closed. The lowest bounties hover around 40 to 50k, and the highest have a mil or more. But we don't need the highest, because for people like you and me, the low cash is enough to get us enough opportunity to do whatever we want. Start a future, keep on the path, whatever. I'll split each bounty with you." Hibiscus said, and smiled broadly. "We can even get that 60k for you. All we need to do is frame it like you need cash to live, and milk the tear ducts of the general populace like it was a cow's udders."
Ned was taken aback by what she had said. It was a very weird thing to say. "Milk the tear ducts of the general populace like it was a cow's udders." He repeated slowly. Hibiscus looked away and her face turned a shade darker.
"It's an idiom." She said, and Ned sensed there was some insecurity here.
"Okay." Ned's admittance that the saying was indeed, an idiom, seemed to restore Hibiscus back to her usual confidence. "What would you want me to do?"
"Well, initially, I thought you might just supply me with info, so I could go after them myself, but seeing this place, 5% of the take wouldn't be enough for you. So you investigate with me, and when we find them, we mix it up together and take them down. Dead or alive, we get a reward. We split it 55-45. I think that's fair, you being my employee and all."
"We'd have to bring them in alive." Ned quickly said. "I didn't get out of jail to go back right away because someone didn't believe my intentions are noble, and since they aren't, it's an even safer bet."
"Ah." Hibiscus exclaimed. "You don't want to go to jail again. That's why you decided to rob a bank the other day." She smiled triumphantly at her own point, pride in her cleverness was coursing through her, and Ned stared at her. This was a weird person, he thought. She seemed childish to a fault, but he could tell she was incredibly dangerous. Her whole body was always tense, her guard was never down. He had learned a technique in prison for judging if someone was trying to kill you. If you see they have a weapon, and their hands never reach for it, they're probably trying to let you forget they have it.
"Why wouldn't I just take the cash from stopping the robbery and dip out of here?" Ned said, finally taking a good look at the news story she had brought up. 'People's Hero Stops Bank Robbery'.
"I have two reasons. One, you're an ex-con who may have just salvaged his reputation in the public eye." Hibiscus pointed out, and Ned thought about it for a moment. She was right. He had the adoration of people now, whether or not they were actively supporting him, there were tons of things that had come out in support of him. He looked further at another tab Hibiscus had opened up on YouTube. There were news stories, episodes of satire news shows talking about him, and late night monologue bits. For a brief moment, he had become the popular culture, and he was very unsure as to if he wanted it. "Also, if you do try and do that, I'll just turn you in, after I find the cash in this place, or wherever you hid it, and believe me, I am the best at making people squeal. You'll talk. There'll be evidence, and the Ned Nelson redemption story will end there."
Ned got immediately angry. "So you're blackmailing me?"
"Black-fe-mailing, if you don't mind." She said, and her smile got wider. "I want to make a name for myself, you need some sort of future prospect before you end up killing yourself or back in jail. Believe me, you do not want to be a part of the recidivism rate. I'm doing you a favor."
"By strong-arming me into working for you?"
"Yeah!"
Ned was objectively trapped. He couldn't return the cash, that would ruin the story, his newly minted good rep was something he wasn't sure he wanted to get rid of yet. He hadnth thought about it, seriously.
So he began to.
He knew how to fight, he had his tech, and if they went after the low threats, the ones with the low bounties, it was a possibility that him and this intimidating woman would manage to succeed. If he said no, he may get away, but there wouldn't be any coming back to the city, and he needed something.
The real truth was, he had no real allies in villainy, no bonds, no friends, at least he didn't anymore. This was going to rile up bad guys, maybe even heavy hitters, and he knew there were fights in that potential path that were going to either end up with him doing things he was never capable of before or end up with him dying. But if he refused this woman, he'd return to jail having seen nothing of his reward for being dumb lucky, and he'd be another page in history dedicated to supervillains that had nothing significant happen to them. Not to mention he'd be on the shit-list of every baddie ever. He thought about what would happen to him if he didn't do something to stop himself from going to jail. He imagined what his Wikipedia page would say.
Blaster was a villain from Broadsburg, who could use a light based weapon. (Citation Needed) He died alone in jail after getting stabbed a zillion times. (Citation Needed)
What was there to be proud of in being a villain, anyway? He hadn't made any money, he hadn't been seen as some sort of misunderstood hero, except by weirdos on the internet, and he didn't even want that.
What did he have to lose, really? He was already broke, already had a criminal record, already was the lowest of the low, and now he had lucked into the situation of the century. This was as good as getting a golden ticket. Money for fighting people, and it was seen as a service in the public good. He had made a stupid mistake, robbed a bank, and hid out for days while the world decided he was the symbol of hope needed in a crisis, and now a frankly stunning woman was telling him she wanted to work with him in close proximity for the foreseeable future while they made money.
"I won't kill anyone." Ned finally said. "I won't. But, I'm not… unwilling to give this a try, I suppose. What do I have to lose?"
"That's the spirit, Ned!" Hibiscus said, gleefully. The two had officially begun their pact. "Forget about the bad part with the ultimatum, because this is going to be great. We're going to end up great friends and make a shitload of cash."
Ned hoped she was right, because he had to. This and everything in the story of his life would eventually end with him dying, and as far as he could see, this scenario had the greatest risk, and greatest reward. He might end up dead, but he had a chance to get some real cash to set up his next endeavors.
"-But we start tomorrow." Hibiscus said, and gave him a card with an address on it. "Be there at 8am. Don't be late." Then she was gone. Ned was alone once again.
I finished Troilus and Cressida. I told Fortinbras I liked it, and he gave me a weird look. We didn't touch on that, but it occurred to me that I would be a fool to trust him implicitly. He's in here, after all. Maybe he'll cut me if I tell him I think A Midsummer Night's Dream is a bit overplayed.
It takes a lot of brainpower to keep myself in reality here. I can't trust anyone, I can't rely on anyone, and I can't believe I haven't been here a month yet. They finally showed me the jobs we're allowed to do, and I saw a jar of Luminol on a shelf in one of the industrial workshops we "get" to work for a few pennies every hour.
There's another thing I have to worry about too, it's the staff. The warden runs this place with an iron fist. I do NOT want to Shawshank myself while I'm here, I don't know which one of my few gang-mates is a Morgan Freeman type, and I think I'd end up as that guy that hangs himself outside before I'd be Andy DuFresne.
I'm beginning to suspect that biding my time and working the system for every drop I can get might be my best option. I thought laying low would work, and it got me caught in a shower with a rapist who I had to threaten to stab to death.
I'd prefer to emerge as not a murderer, all things being equal.
Ned was agape. Hibiscus had requested he charge his crappy computer and load up a website called Twitter. It was like every dumbass with a computer had an opportunity to voice their shitty opinions. He was unsure as to how he'd missed this site before he'd gone to jail.
"What's going on? Why does everyone give a shit?" He asked the woman leaning over his shoulder.
"Have you been watching the news?" Hibiscus asked, and he shook his head.
"Have I missed much?" Ned asked, and Hibiscus let out a low whistle.
"How much do you know about the Grey Rock breakout?" She asked him, and he started.
"East Alcatraz had a breakout?" Ned was shocked. He had heard stories in the clink about East Alcatraz. It was a hell for criminal elements who had the juice or the notoriety to get heavier sentences than himself. The heavy hitters, people who fought actual superheroes. "What's that got to do with me?"
"You ever heard of Kitty-Cat?" Hibiscus asked, and Ned nodded slowly.
"He's that cat burglar who fights Marathon, right?"
Hibiscus took over the keyboard from behind Ned's back, and he was very conscious of what was touching him. He hadn't been with someone before prison, and that hadn't changed exactly. Ned was still very inexperienced around women, and now a stunning one was squished up to his back.
As she typed, he tried to think about something innocuous and non-sexual while he was sitting there. Like robots, or his super-suit. Or her. Or her in his super-suit, he had some drawings of the design that illustrated the needs for tight fabric, and...
"Tight." He murmured to himself, a situation forming down to his south, before he was jolted back into reality.
"You right, it is pretty tight. You made a quick 60k." Hibiscus said, standing back up.
"What?" Ned said, back in reality.
"One of the goons in the bank was Kitty-Cat. There's a substantial reward for bringing him in because he was one of the 100 criminals who broke out of Grey Rock. You're a hero because you didn't take it, and people needed something inspirational. A former crook stopping a bank robbery and stopping one of the 100? That's a fucking storybook ending." She pointed to the screen. "When you didn't publicly show up, I made a Twitter posing as you, and rallied public support. You're a hero in the eye of the public. Now, I want to work together." She said.
"Doing what?" Ned asked.
"We go after the guys on the list, and go after the bounties on a few of the lower level players. These are high level rewards for work that you and I could do with our eyes closed. The lowest bounties hover around 40 to 50k, and the highest have a mil or more. But we don't need the highest, because for people like you and me, the low cash is enough to get us enough opportunity to do whatever we want. Start a future, keep on the path, whatever. I'll split each bounty with you." Hibiscus said, and smiled broadly. "We can even get that 60k for you. All we need to do is frame it like you need cash to live, and milk the tear ducts of the general populace like it was a cow's udders."
Ned was taken aback by what she had said. It was a very weird thing to say. "Milk the tear ducts of the general populace like it was a cow's udders." He repeated slowly. Hibiscus looked away and her face turned a shade darker.
"It's an idiom." She said, and Ned sensed there was some insecurity here.
"Okay." Ned's admittance that the saying was indeed, an idiom, seemed to restore Hibiscus back to her usual confidence. "What would you want me to do?"
"Well, initially, I thought you might just supply me with info, so I could go after them myself, but seeing this place, 5% of the take wouldn't be enough for you. So you investigate with me, and when we find them, we mix it up together and take them down. Dead or alive, we get a reward. We split it 55-45. I think that's fair, you being my employee and all."
"We'd have to bring them in alive." Ned quickly said. "I didn't get out of jail to go back right away because someone didn't believe my intentions are noble, and since they aren't, it's an even safer bet."
"Ah." Hibiscus exclaimed. "You don't want to go to jail again. That's why you decided to rob a bank the other day." She smiled triumphantly at her own point, pride in her cleverness was coursing through her, and Ned stared at her. This was a weird person, he thought. She seemed childish to a fault, but he could tell she was incredibly dangerous. Her whole body was always tense, her guard was never down. He had learned a technique in prison for judging if someone was trying to kill you. If you see they have a weapon, and their hands never reach for it, they're probably trying to let you forget they have it.
"Why wouldn't I just take the cash from stopping the robbery and dip out of here?" Ned said, finally taking a good look at the news story she had brought up. 'People's Hero Stops Bank Robbery'.
"I have two reasons. One, you're an ex-con who may have just salvaged his reputation in the public eye." Hibiscus pointed out, and Ned thought about it for a moment. She was right. He had the adoration of people now, whether or not they were actively supporting him, there were tons of things that had come out in support of him. He looked further at another tab Hibiscus had opened up on YouTube. There were news stories, episodes of satire news shows talking about him, and late night monologue bits. For a brief moment, he had become the popular culture, and he was very unsure as to if he wanted it. "Also, if you do try and do that, I'll just turn you in, after I find the cash in this place, or wherever you hid it, and believe me, I am the best at making people squeal. You'll talk. There'll be evidence, and the Ned Nelson redemption story will end there."
Ned got immediately angry. "So you're blackmailing me?"
"Black-fe-mailing, if you don't mind." She said, and her smile got wider. "I want to make a name for myself, you need some sort of future prospect before you end up killing yourself or back in jail. Believe me, you do not want to be a part of the recidivism rate. I'm doing you a favor."
"By strong-arming me into working for you?"
"Yeah!"
Ned was objectively trapped. He couldn't return the cash, that would ruin the story, his newly minted good rep was something he wasn't sure he wanted to get rid of yet. He hadnth thought about it, seriously.
So he began to.
He knew how to fight, he had his tech, and if they went after the low threats, the ones with the low bounties, it was a possibility that him and this intimidating woman would manage to succeed. If he said no, he may get away, but there wouldn't be any coming back to the city, and he needed something.
The real truth was, he had no real allies in villainy, no bonds, no friends, at least he didn't anymore. This was going to rile up bad guys, maybe even heavy hitters, and he knew there were fights in that potential path that were going to either end up with him doing things he was never capable of before or end up with him dying. But if he refused this woman, he'd return to jail having seen nothing of his reward for being dumb lucky, and he'd be another page in history dedicated to supervillains that had nothing significant happen to them. Not to mention he'd be on the shit-list of every baddie ever. He thought about what would happen to him if he didn't do something to stop himself from going to jail. He imagined what his Wikipedia page would say.
Blaster was a villain from Broadsburg, who could use a light based weapon. (Citation Needed) He died alone in jail after getting stabbed a zillion times. (Citation Needed)
What was there to be proud of in being a villain, anyway? He hadn't made any money, he hadn't been seen as some sort of misunderstood hero, except by weirdos on the internet, and he didn't even want that.
What did he have to lose, really? He was already broke, already had a criminal record, already was the lowest of the low, and now he had lucked into the situation of the century. This was as good as getting a golden ticket. Money for fighting people, and it was seen as a service in the public good. He had made a stupid mistake, robbed a bank, and hid out for days while the world decided he was the symbol of hope needed in a crisis, and now a frankly stunning woman was telling him she wanted to work with him in close proximity for the foreseeable future while they made money.
"I won't kill anyone." Ned finally said. "I won't. But, I'm not… unwilling to give this a try, I suppose. What do I have to lose?"
"That's the spirit, Ned!" Hibiscus said, gleefully. The two had officially begun their pact. "Forget about the bad part with the ultimatum, because this is going to be great. We're going to end up great friends and make a shitload of cash."
Ned hoped she was right, because he had to. This and everything in the story of his life would eventually end with him dying, and as far as he could see, this scenario had the greatest risk, and greatest reward. He might end up dead, but he had a chance to get some real cash to set up his next endeavors.
"-But we start tomorrow." Hibiscus said, and gave him a card with an address on it. "Be there at 8am. Don't be late." Then she was gone. Ned was alone once again.
Last edited:
- Location
- LA Bossier
Glad to see this back. Kinda dig the new direction your going with, and I really wanna to see how far Ned can go.
acidlime
workers of the world unite
- Location
- Maine
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Thanks. This is the original idea, and I messed it up by adding the rich guy character. Hibiscus was to strong arm Ned and move him into the bulk of the story. I'm just glad I get to do what I wanted originally and still have an audience after I became disinterested when I realized I'd need to rewrite the whole shebang.
- Location
- LA Bossier
The rich dude wasn't a bad idea, but yeah feels better without.
acidlime
workers of the world unite
- Location
- Maine
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
No he wasn't, but I didn't have a good exit plan for him. I couldn't think of anything creative that would make him interesting without him eventually taking over the brunt of the plot points.
Part 9
acidlime
workers of the world unite
- Location
- Maine
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
June 4th, 2010
This is the beginning of Summer. Summer sucks in prison, it's too hot to write things down in this fucking journal, it'll save space for future records of misery. Just, you know, four more months of ridiculous heat.
Ned made his way through the streets. The address was very close, and as he weaved through the city streets, he eventually found the building he was looking for, a small warehouse tucked away between a couple of larger residences. There was a small sign above the door - Jones Private Superheroics.
The building was a dump. There were broken windows and the whole thing looked to be in disrepair. Then he went inside, and saw there was a second building within.
It looked like a huge japanese-style dojo, just within the confines of the building, it only had one floor, so he could see a metal staircase leading up to a section of rooms along the ceiling. At the entryway to these rooms was Hibiscus leaning against the doorframe, smiling down on him.
"Good to see you, Blaster." She said, gesturing inside. "Step into my office."
"Uh sure." Ned said, and scratched his head. "What's with the dojo?"
"Ah! It's my home-slash-training space. It's got a long and sordid past. But that's for later. Come on up." Hibiscus was dressed much more leisurely, in jeans and a hoodie, and Ned was sort of glad she owned regular clothes. It would be intimidating if he always had to see her in a leather bodysuit. Intimidating and distracting.
He walked up the metal steps, expecting them to be rickety, but they weren't. They were really firm, which was another odd anachronism. This whole place screamed "this is something big and you have no idea what's going on" but he shoved those feelings down.
He stepped into the room, and found himself in a pretty typical waiting area. There were some plants, a desk, a flatscreen was on showing local news, et cetera. Hibiscus walked ahead past that and into another room.
"What is this place?" Ned asked, and Hibiscus looked back and flashed him a million-watt smile.
"My office. Jones Private Superheroics Incorporated. We sell the work of heroes to a specific clientele. Or at least we would, if we had clientele."
"Specific clientele?" Ned was confused. "What's the market you're going for?"
"Rich people, corporations, other heroes, people who want to get some help, anyone really. We have a diverse payment structure that really opens up our business to anyone."
"How would that be profitable?" Ned looked at a small coffee machine in the corner, and loaded up a plastic coffee thing into it. It began to spit out coffee into a small cup that he put non-dairy creamer and sugar into.
"Well, I have no overhead, and I'm stupid rich." Hibiscus claimed.
"What?"
"Yeah, I own this building, and I'm the long-lost heir to a very prolific businessman." She shrugged. "Weird, huh?"
"Yeah, I think so." Ned said, sipping at his hot drink. "So why am I here?"
"Well, you have to file your paperwork, and then you will be an official employee of my company, and then we get to work."
"So this is a nine-to-five thing?" Ned joked, and Hibiscus quickly shook her head.
"Our hours are very fluid, Ned. We have a volatile market and a particular clientele, so hourly employment is very much a no-no. You'll be salaried, and then when we reach over a certain point in the day you make time and-a-half, and that's an hourly compensation thing, but this is very much not going to be a nine-to-five." Hibiscus began to count off her fingers. "We have full coverage of employees, medical, dental, 401k, an excellent bereavement package, we're insured out the ass. The premiums are big, but what am I going to with money that exceeds what I already do, you know? I like motorcycles and weaponry and that can only cost me so much."
"I can only imagine." Ned said. Inside the room she guided him to was a set of desks. They were facing each other, in an island sort of thing. "Is one of those desks for me?"
"Ned, sweetie." Hibiscus said, and then giggled. "You're a criminal I'm blackmailing. You're not at desk privileges yet. Or backstory privileges. Or really, any privileges. I'm a big believer in redemptions, though. There's always room to achieve and move up in this company."
"What's my title then." Ned said, annoyed. He was going to make another cup of coffee for that.
"We can start with "consultant", and then I might be willing to open up more if we mesh as a team. You and I will be apprehending some of the listers, that's what they're calling the masks that broke out, and we'll see where it goes." Hibiscus walked over to her desk and pulled out a sheaf of papers on a clipboard and a pen. "You fill these out in the waiting room, and we'll begin a series of preliminary tests to see how combat efficient you are."
"Fine." He said, and walked out. The papers were boring, but he filled them out completely. Ned was somber when they asked if he had a criminal past. Ironically, developing a pair of super gloves that shot lasers was not enough to secure an engineering job when you were a former supervillain. Even a recorded nonviolent supercriminal.
When Ned finished, he stood up and walked back into the room Hibiscus was in.
"Do you have your gloves?" She asked, and he nodded. "Well, get 'em on. We're going to fight." She walked into one of the three other doors lining her office and came back with a set of tonfa and a flail.
"I hope you like getting your ass kicked." She said, and Ned narrowed his eyes. If she thought he was a pushover, she was in for a surprise.
This is the beginning of Summer. Summer sucks in prison, it's too hot to write things down in this fucking journal, it'll save space for future records of misery. Just, you know, four more months of ridiculous heat.
Ned made his way through the streets. The address was very close, and as he weaved through the city streets, he eventually found the building he was looking for, a small warehouse tucked away between a couple of larger residences. There was a small sign above the door - Jones Private Superheroics.
The building was a dump. There were broken windows and the whole thing looked to be in disrepair. Then he went inside, and saw there was a second building within.
It looked like a huge japanese-style dojo, just within the confines of the building, it only had one floor, so he could see a metal staircase leading up to a section of rooms along the ceiling. At the entryway to these rooms was Hibiscus leaning against the doorframe, smiling down on him.
"Good to see you, Blaster." She said, gesturing inside. "Step into my office."
"Uh sure." Ned said, and scratched his head. "What's with the dojo?"
"Ah! It's my home-slash-training space. It's got a long and sordid past. But that's for later. Come on up." Hibiscus was dressed much more leisurely, in jeans and a hoodie, and Ned was sort of glad she owned regular clothes. It would be intimidating if he always had to see her in a leather bodysuit. Intimidating and distracting.
He walked up the metal steps, expecting them to be rickety, but they weren't. They were really firm, which was another odd anachronism. This whole place screamed "this is something big and you have no idea what's going on" but he shoved those feelings down.
He stepped into the room, and found himself in a pretty typical waiting area. There were some plants, a desk, a flatscreen was on showing local news, et cetera. Hibiscus walked ahead past that and into another room.
"What is this place?" Ned asked, and Hibiscus looked back and flashed him a million-watt smile.
"My office. Jones Private Superheroics Incorporated. We sell the work of heroes to a specific clientele. Or at least we would, if we had clientele."
"Specific clientele?" Ned was confused. "What's the market you're going for?"
"Rich people, corporations, other heroes, people who want to get some help, anyone really. We have a diverse payment structure that really opens up our business to anyone."
"How would that be profitable?" Ned looked at a small coffee machine in the corner, and loaded up a plastic coffee thing into it. It began to spit out coffee into a small cup that he put non-dairy creamer and sugar into.
"Well, I have no overhead, and I'm stupid rich." Hibiscus claimed.
"What?"
"Yeah, I own this building, and I'm the long-lost heir to a very prolific businessman." She shrugged. "Weird, huh?"
"Yeah, I think so." Ned said, sipping at his hot drink. "So why am I here?"
"Well, you have to file your paperwork, and then you will be an official employee of my company, and then we get to work."
"So this is a nine-to-five thing?" Ned joked, and Hibiscus quickly shook her head.
"Our hours are very fluid, Ned. We have a volatile market and a particular clientele, so hourly employment is very much a no-no. You'll be salaried, and then when we reach over a certain point in the day you make time and-a-half, and that's an hourly compensation thing, but this is very much not going to be a nine-to-five." Hibiscus began to count off her fingers. "We have full coverage of employees, medical, dental, 401k, an excellent bereavement package, we're insured out the ass. The premiums are big, but what am I going to with money that exceeds what I already do, you know? I like motorcycles and weaponry and that can only cost me so much."
"I can only imagine." Ned said. Inside the room she guided him to was a set of desks. They were facing each other, in an island sort of thing. "Is one of those desks for me?"
"Ned, sweetie." Hibiscus said, and then giggled. "You're a criminal I'm blackmailing. You're not at desk privileges yet. Or backstory privileges. Or really, any privileges. I'm a big believer in redemptions, though. There's always room to achieve and move up in this company."
"What's my title then." Ned said, annoyed. He was going to make another cup of coffee for that.
"We can start with "consultant", and then I might be willing to open up more if we mesh as a team. You and I will be apprehending some of the listers, that's what they're calling the masks that broke out, and we'll see where it goes." Hibiscus walked over to her desk and pulled out a sheaf of papers on a clipboard and a pen. "You fill these out in the waiting room, and we'll begin a series of preliminary tests to see how combat efficient you are."
"Fine." He said, and walked out. The papers were boring, but he filled them out completely. Ned was somber when they asked if he had a criminal past. Ironically, developing a pair of super gloves that shot lasers was not enough to secure an engineering job when you were a former supervillain. Even a recorded nonviolent supercriminal.
When Ned finished, he stood up and walked back into the room Hibiscus was in.
"Do you have your gloves?" She asked, and he nodded. "Well, get 'em on. We're going to fight." She walked into one of the three other doors lining her office and came back with a set of tonfa and a flail.
"I hope you like getting your ass kicked." She said, and Ned narrowed his eyes. If she thought he was a pushover, she was in for a surprise.
Last edited:
- Location
- LA Bossier
Nice, nice. Ol' Neds about to get beat up, but he might do better that expected. Can't wait for more.