The Lamplighters Omnibus
- Thread starter ZerbanDaGreat
- Start date
- Original Superhero
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Check out the AnuBiteSite. You can see what questions he's answered this time - maybe he even got to one of yours? Plus you can have a chuckle at the people in the comments trying to figure out who could beat him in a fight.
eeeeexcellent.
eeeeexcellent.
- Location
- England
Oh hey this looks pretty rad.
[X] Check out the AnuBiteSite. You can see what questions he's answered this time - maybe he even got to one of yours? Plus you can have a chuckle at the people in the comments trying to figure out who could beat him in a fight.
[X] Check out the AnuBiteSite. You can see what questions he's answered this time - maybe he even got to one of yours? Plus you can have a chuckle at the people in the comments trying to figure out who could beat him in a fight.
This I can answer.
This was given, and in context it is the current date and time. So we're in 2042.
SoothingCoffee
Umumumu
- Location
- The Library
Oheyitsazerbanquest.
[X] Check out the AnuBiteSite. You can see what questions he's answered this time - maybe he even got to one of yours? Plus you can have a chuckle at the people in the comments trying to figure out who could beat him in a fight.
Some highly-muscled dog-man? I'm totes sold, dude.
[X] Check out the AnuBiteSite. You can see what questions he's answered this time - maybe he even got to one of yours? Plus you can have a chuckle at the people in the comments trying to figure out who could beat him in a fight.
Some highly-muscled dog-man? I'm totes sold, dude.
LaRed
Are you stupid or something
- Location
- Mou Ikkai hell
[X] Check out Shaw and his publicised movements. It's a well-known fact that the man is absolutely tireless, leaping from one press junket in one city to the next like a grasshopper on cocaine. There's human interest stuff in there too, which is the part you appreciate most. Maybe you can find a hint of when he'll be in City 32.
I wonder if he found Pepe Silvia.
I wonder if he found Pepe Silvia.
ZerbanDaGreat
Daemon Noble of D E M O G R A P H I C S
- Pronouns
- They/them
lamplighters has sadly been cancelled only one issue into its run
please understand
LaRed
Are you stupid or something
- Location
- Mou Ikkai hell
The Comics Code Authority has a set limit on buff dogmen pls understand
Lamplighters #2: New Age Of Heroes
ZerbanDaGreat
Daemon Noble of D E M O G R A P H I C S
- Pronouns
- They/them
Was there ever any contest? Anubis is and always has been the guy to follow - much to the consternation of many a well-paid marketing exec.
Tap-tap-tap-tap go your feet as you descend the many flights of stairs on autopilot, tunnel vision focusing in on your phone as you return to an old favourite. All artfully laid out in black and gold ever since he actually hired a web designer to do it right. The AnuBiteSite, your one-stop-shop, the one and only outlet in the world with official coverage of its first true superhero.
Well not technically. The FAQ pinned to the top of the page makes sure to spell that out. You near-compulsively reread it every time you visit in case a new one's added.
Anubis is certain that there must've been others affected by the initial wave of the Conjunction, he's just the one that won the superpower lottery and hit the spotlight first. With that much power, in that time of widespread chaos and panic and desperation, no wonder he did. He visited all the countries of the world with the kind of work ethic that'd make Santa blush.
Q: So if you were just busy in the initial wave, why didn't you say hi to all the cameras when things died down? Why stay so secretive?
A: You could say I'm just extremely camera-shy! Ha-ha! But in all seriousness I would prefer not to seek out the spotlight for my good deeds when I could be performing them instead. But make no mistake my loyal fans - I maintain a perfectly cordial relationship with SERAPH! Don't take my example as an excuse to go vigilante, now!
The first true hero, and the last true vigilante. Everyone else has been registered and SERAPH-sanctioned since '08. People like Shaw are downright common now. You push through the door and step out into the street, hunching in on yourself as you hit the chill air. Some half-hearted rainclouds start lightly dusting your hair in droplets. You scroll down further, turn left, and keep walking.
Q: What's your exact powerset? I want to use you in the SHRP game I run on Sundays but the official sourcebooks vary like nuts.
A: First of all I never licensed my likeness rights, so any sourcebook with me in it is hardly 'official'! I joke, I joke. The truth is I prefer not to speak in any great deal about my powers for a multitude of reasons, one of which being the risk of revealing a flaw that could be exploited for nefarious means. Besides, why not exercise your own imagination? No two fans seem to judge me equally - it's quite entertaining to see how many versions crop up, ha-ha!
You stop at the traffic lights. You aren't waiting long. City 32 was planned from the ground up, and that includes its road and transit AI. Aside from that one cyberattack in '38 that turned all the lights red white and blue for ten minutes, everything's been smooth sailing. You cross with the crowd, and barely notice the bumps against your shoulders.
Q: Could you beat [insert hero here] in a fight?
A: I can't say I know or would care to think on it, ha-ha! I wouldn't think about it too hard, no matter what you might see in my licensed comics about red photonic crystals driving me into a bloodthirsty rage. I like the one with the black crystal splitting me into a good and evil twin that fight, though!
You pass your wallet over the gate sensor, and it parts to admit you with a beep. You shuffle through quick before the line behind you gets impatient. The benches on the platform are all full so you stand, nose still buried in your phone.
Q: How do you have licensed merch if nobody knows your legal name?
A: Put simply, I don't. To be specific, I have a gentleman's agreement with those producing works with my likeness. I support them fully if they use it responsibly. If not, I make my displeasure known.
Q: What, like, hovering menacingly in front of the office or throwing some company cars around?
A: What? No! I write an open letter of complaint and post it here on my site. You can read them all through the link in the sidebar.
Your train glides to a stop in front of you. You wait out the initial rush, staring blankly ahead, then slip in a few moments before the doors start closing. No seats available so you stand, shoulder against the drizzle-speckled glass of the opposite door, as the train starts back up again. It slips back out of the covered station, the car brightening in the cloud-muffled sun's rays as it flies west towards the bay.
Q: Forty years on and still going strong. How do you do it?
A: Hah, well, don't I feel old now. But to answer your question, the same way I've done it ever since the day I began. I do my best!
You watch the city pass you by. Your eyes glaze over all the banner ads, the bright colours of the multi-storey holograms standing out stark against the pristine white of the skyscrapers they're anchored to. A few little rounded white shapes flit past to and fro, delivery drones burdened by whatever it is they're ferrying around. The train turns a corner, giving you a clear look at the bay down main-street. At a glance it looks like they're finally done cleaning up the last of Tentacle-Dreads. The train rolls on, the placid water vanishing behind rows of skyscrapers.
You scroll down and see your question. You instantly feel butterflies in your stomach, simultaneously so elated you could dance and ashamed you'd react like that just because someone famous replied to a question on his website that just so happened to be yours. You make yourself settle down and start reading it. Trying not to think about how you phrased the questions because the other two dozen attempts were just as cringey. Savouring every word of Anubis' reply, imagining he's right there saying them to you.
Q: Do you think people get powers because they deserve them?
A: On a literal level, anyone can be born with powers these days - at an increasing rate, if the recent literature is to be believed. On a more metaphysical level I do not believe anyone 'deserves' anything they receive for being born. There is only what we do with them, and whatever opportunities arise from them.
P.S. If you want to join the hero industry and feel you missed your chance, don't fret! There are a myriad positions and opportunities waiting for the non-powered in both SERAPH and the civilian circuit.
You just stare down at your phone. You exhale through your nose. It comes out ragged, half sigh and half laugh. You don't know what you expected. You're embarrassed Anubis even wasted the time to reply.
The train doors ring in warning. You jolt into alertness, flinging yourself through the doorway before it closes, stumbling as you hit the platform. Your heart beats faster in your chest. Idiot. Had to go and space out on top of everything else.
There's a homeless man sitting against the wall just before the stairs, his arm around the grizzled old Bull-mastiff by his side. You stare intently at your smartphone and quicken your pace until you're down the stairs and back at street level in the heart of City 32.
Everything's more here. It's hotter in the light, colder in the shade. The cars are sleeker, go faster, purr louder. The crowds are bigger, so dense that somehow only a few people talking just magnifies into a dull roar. The buildings are grander, the lights are brighter, the ads jostle for more attention, the people are more glamorous. The new LA, just a two hour flight away from the old one, even if it gets a quarter of the sun. You pass a holo-ad beside you so tall even if you crane your neck you can't properly see it. You have to look back down again at the more modestly-sized companion at street level.
"Live the good life in the off-Sphere colonies! Submit your application now and you may just be one of the lucky 500 that gets to pioneer a whole new world! With new advances in inter-Sphere communication and corridor production technology, it's as safe and convenient as moving one suburb over! Enroll today!"
A city where anyone can reach for the stars, as literally as they'd like. A thousand that made it every square mile. Seventy thousand still trying, no matter how long the odds are. 'I can do it it', they say. 'I'm not like everyone else that comes to City 32. I'm not going to clean out my savings coming here, wait tables for a year and slink back home in disgrace. I can make it.'
You exhale another ragged sigh-laugh again. You feel like shit and you're hungry anyway. You hit the midway point of your journey in the park and veer off, heading to the isolated little cafe sitting right in the middle of all the green. Julian's Cafe & Bistro, occupying this squat, black conical sort of arrangement with a big wedge cut out to leave the seating open to the air. There's the typical kind of crowd, businessmen on their phones trying to ignore the tourists taking pictures of everything on their phones. You slip past both of them and order. It's easiest to spend money when you don't know how much you have left. It's Wil. E. Coyote rules, you won't fall unless you look down and see nothing in the bank.
You sit and look at the park while you wait for your order. There's other parks like it scattered thoughtfully around the city, but this is the one the real superfans care about. Named after the home-grown B-list team, the Cascadian Knights. More loyalty than any football team, and around a lot more consistently than the globetrotting A-listers too. You're not in the right place to see their statue but you can picture them just fine in your mind. Baron Blackflame, milk-pale under that hat and all that coat, still up for debate if he chooses to dress himself like that or his powers do it and he just has to own it. Duchess Rainshadow, always styled and elegant, taking a day off the rare times when the humidity dips too much. Blue Glass Raptor, one of the few guys bigger than Anubis, an immediately striking figure - and he provided the city plenty of his own glass so the statue could get his shade just right. People are always jostling to stand directly in the blue shadow for their photos. The plinth has a suspiciously empty quadrant, too. There isn't a person in the city that isn't watching and waiting with excitement to see Blue Glass Lad (hero name not official, not that it stops anyone) step up with his parents. You definitely didn't need to double-check the Gryphons class to remember he's graduating this year.
"... John?"
Is someone calling your name? You start to turn your head instinctively, but stop yourself. No, that can't be right. Nobody in this city knows your name. Not even your landlord. Must be somebody else.
"John Granville?"
Fuck.
You turn and look at the source of the voice. Caucasian, clean-shaven, nice dark grey business suit, crisp white shirt, conservative blue tie, golden brown hair neatly combed and styled. Midway through slipping his phone into his pocket.
"It's Michael, from school!"
ffffuuuuuucccccckkkkkk
"Hey!" you say full of faux-enthusiasm. Extremely glad he said his name because you'd completely forgotten. "What a coincidence heh uh, what's up, how're things?"
"Great, great! Mind if I join you?"
Yes a lot "No not at all!"
He sits down, the steel chair scraping across the concrete as he shuffles it back and forth into position. Your order comes a second later. You sit there, him with a coffee to go that isn't going anywhere any more, you with eggs Benedict and a chocolate milkshake. You stare him straight in the nose to make it look like you're making eye contact and strain every mental muscle you have not to start imagining what he must think of you. You surreptitiously adjust your hoodie so it doesn't look quite so shapeless.
"You're a hard man to find!" he says with a little laugh. "Was starting to think you'd dropped off the face of the earth!"
"Nah, heh, not really."
"But what happened to you? I understand you dropped out of school with health complications-"
"Yeah it was uhh... the shingles," you reply, casting your memory back as far as it'll go. "Really bad, super infectious and just absolutely disgusting. No way I could've finished the year like that."
"Yeah but that was-" don't say the number don't say the number "-five years ago."
Saying the number makes it real. Precisely five phantasmal anvils fall on your shoulders, a rickety arrangement seeking the slightest chance to tip you over and drive you into the ground. You fake a smile while you rack your brain for something to say.
"Well, yeah," you say. Your phrasing sounds like you're regurgitating every word like a bit of spoiled meat. "But I uh, I just went back and finished next year. Kept on trucking along, only a year behind. I'm in college now."
"Oh?" Michael seems interested. "Gotta be a good one if you're here."
This lie's easy, you've been jealously eyeing its online listing ever since you got here. "Yeah, 32-U." And it doesn't have a very imaginative name. "The hero industry course, actually. Wanna be as close to the ground on that whole thing as possible, y'know? Rub shoulders with the famous and powerful, haha."
"Oh? That's great to hear! I did that course too!" And he sounds so non-condescendingly happy about it too.
"Mhm?" You make a curious noise and get started on your eggs before they get too cold. This is good, this is fine. Let him talk about himself. Take the spotlight off you for a second so you can eat your goddamn brunch and stop feeling so queasy in your gut.
"Yeah! I got a job at McKinsey Advertising & Talent Management! I'm not exactly a high-power exec yet so I won't get invited to any cocaine and blowjob parties on the weekends, hahaha, but I'm getting there. I'm gonna sit in on the next meeting with the Cascadian Knights, might even get to meet them properly!"
He pauses to take a sip of his coffee. You deeply regret letting him speak. And existing in general if you're being honest. You swallow some egg, hollandaise sauce, ham and toast that goes down like a lump of lukewarm charcoal.
"Oh?" you say to sound interested. Which you are, technically. Just in the morbid sort of way.
"Mhm!" He swallows. There's still a little caramel-coloured foam on his top lip. He wipes it away with the thumb holding the coffee and continues. "Gotta be on my best behaviour at all times to impress my boss so, hah, it's not like it's sunshine and rainbows. Sweat like a pig in this suit sometimes. But it's not about all the little snags you hit on the road, y'know? It's all about persevering."
"Yeah..." You drop your eyes and focus on carving off another bite of your eggs before Michael can start any more conversation. Your knife-strokes err on the frantic side. Your heart's racing, are you sweating? This feels like a nightmare.
You hear dubstep blast from the pond. You jerk upright, brow furrowed, and turn to look.
There's a small tear hovering by the shore of the pond, frightening the family of ducks living there. And there's a monster squirming to get upright on the grassy slope, a screeching leathery nightmare wyvern with four wings and viciously hook-beaked skull, the empty sockets lit from within with burning scarlet light. It lifts off with a single quadruple-downbeat. The next one launches a visible wave of wind, tearing up grass and clods of earth. Met and cancelled by a burst of flashing neon lights and WUBWUBWUWUWUWUWUB.
The hero knows how to dress to be noticed. He's gone for a modern Spheretech armour aesthetic - maybe it's genuine? - covered all over in Tron-circuits and fluorescent wires that glow and pulse in time with his powers. The top half of his face is hidden behind an opaque visor, displaying a real-time waveform. From this distance you can practically see the exposed cocky grin. You know him on sight, whether that's your own fanboyism or good marketing on his part. He's the Drop Demon, graduating class of '41 and shooting straight for the top.
"SKREEEEEEEEEEE" the creature shrieks. Your ears ring, you clap your hands over them for some measure of merciful relief. DD's got to have some kind of noise-modulating tech in his helmet, he doesn't even flinch.
"And they say my music's just noise."
It lets out another ear-splitting cry paired with a beat of its many wings. DD throws his left hand straight out to the side, and with a blast of wubs and rippling concentric wings of shifting light, he goes skating out of the way. The passing wind and noise gouge a temporary furrow in the pond, disturbing the ducks with an angry HONK. DD masterfully controls the direction and thrust of his blast, swinging around in a near-perfect circle right behind the flying monster. It lets out a horrible alien squawk of its own, struggling to turn as fast as him. DD slaps both palms down on the grass, and a many-hued waveform erupts from the ground as sharp as a ski-jump. It scoops up the monster like a hand and flings it skyward. It turns this way and that, frantically beating its wings in an effort to right itself.
DD focuses twin blasts down at his feet, and soars high above the freakish wyvern. Cupping his hands, fingers curled slightly.
"Here comes the... drop!"
He thrusts his arms forward, twin blasts merging into one. WUBWUBWUBWUBWUBWUB goes his powers, drowning out even the creature's dying shrieks as a literal beam of light and sound hammers it down into the grass like a nail. Pinning it there, DD keeping himself aloft on the backblast, until even its faintest shrieks die out. He eases off on the juice, swinging his hands down to focus on setting himself down gently beside his kill. He puts his boot up on the eyeless skull and poses shamelessly.
"I've got a little time. Come get your autographs, first come first served! Don't worry about pens, I've got my own!"
The sound of chair legs scraping on the concrete is even worse than the weird wyvern's screams. It's like the whole cafe's uprooting to take him up on his offer. Like the only two people in earshot not moving are you and Michael. Your insides tear in two.
[ ] Get the fuck out there and sprint for your life to get Drop Demon's autograph before he leaves. Shame is temporary, an autograph lasts forever.
[ ] Play it cool. Try some veiled comments to gauge what Michael thinks. Maybe try to gussy up some of the trivia rolling around in your head as professional evaluation.
[ ] Play it ultra-cool. Completely ignore the bona-fide superhero within a hundred feet of you and eat your eggs before they get cold.
Tap-tap-tap-tap go your feet as you descend the many flights of stairs on autopilot, tunnel vision focusing in on your phone as you return to an old favourite. All artfully laid out in black and gold ever since he actually hired a web designer to do it right. The AnuBiteSite, your one-stop-shop, the one and only outlet in the world with official coverage of its first true superhero.
Well not technically. The FAQ pinned to the top of the page makes sure to spell that out. You near-compulsively reread it every time you visit in case a new one's added.
Anubis is certain that there must've been others affected by the initial wave of the Conjunction, he's just the one that won the superpower lottery and hit the spotlight first. With that much power, in that time of widespread chaos and panic and desperation, no wonder he did. He visited all the countries of the world with the kind of work ethic that'd make Santa blush.
Q: So if you were just busy in the initial wave, why didn't you say hi to all the cameras when things died down? Why stay so secretive?
A: You could say I'm just extremely camera-shy! Ha-ha! But in all seriousness I would prefer not to seek out the spotlight for my good deeds when I could be performing them instead. But make no mistake my loyal fans - I maintain a perfectly cordial relationship with SERAPH! Don't take my example as an excuse to go vigilante, now!
The first true hero, and the last true vigilante. Everyone else has been registered and SERAPH-sanctioned since '08. People like Shaw are downright common now. You push through the door and step out into the street, hunching in on yourself as you hit the chill air. Some half-hearted rainclouds start lightly dusting your hair in droplets. You scroll down further, turn left, and keep walking.
Q: What's your exact powerset? I want to use you in the SHRP game I run on Sundays but the official sourcebooks vary like nuts.
A: First of all I never licensed my likeness rights, so any sourcebook with me in it is hardly 'official'! I joke, I joke. The truth is I prefer not to speak in any great deal about my powers for a multitude of reasons, one of which being the risk of revealing a flaw that could be exploited for nefarious means. Besides, why not exercise your own imagination? No two fans seem to judge me equally - it's quite entertaining to see how many versions crop up, ha-ha!
You stop at the traffic lights. You aren't waiting long. City 32 was planned from the ground up, and that includes its road and transit AI. Aside from that one cyberattack in '38 that turned all the lights red white and blue for ten minutes, everything's been smooth sailing. You cross with the crowd, and barely notice the bumps against your shoulders.
Q: Could you beat [insert hero here] in a fight?
A: I can't say I know or would care to think on it, ha-ha! I wouldn't think about it too hard, no matter what you might see in my licensed comics about red photonic crystals driving me into a bloodthirsty rage. I like the one with the black crystal splitting me into a good and evil twin that fight, though!
You pass your wallet over the gate sensor, and it parts to admit you with a beep. You shuffle through quick before the line behind you gets impatient. The benches on the platform are all full so you stand, nose still buried in your phone.
Q: How do you have licensed merch if nobody knows your legal name?
A: Put simply, I don't. To be specific, I have a gentleman's agreement with those producing works with my likeness. I support them fully if they use it responsibly. If not, I make my displeasure known.
Q: What, like, hovering menacingly in front of the office or throwing some company cars around?
A: What? No! I write an open letter of complaint and post it here on my site. You can read them all through the link in the sidebar.
Your train glides to a stop in front of you. You wait out the initial rush, staring blankly ahead, then slip in a few moments before the doors start closing. No seats available so you stand, shoulder against the drizzle-speckled glass of the opposite door, as the train starts back up again. It slips back out of the covered station, the car brightening in the cloud-muffled sun's rays as it flies west towards the bay.
Q: Forty years on and still going strong. How do you do it?
A: Hah, well, don't I feel old now. But to answer your question, the same way I've done it ever since the day I began. I do my best!
You watch the city pass you by. Your eyes glaze over all the banner ads, the bright colours of the multi-storey holograms standing out stark against the pristine white of the skyscrapers they're anchored to. A few little rounded white shapes flit past to and fro, delivery drones burdened by whatever it is they're ferrying around. The train turns a corner, giving you a clear look at the bay down main-street. At a glance it looks like they're finally done cleaning up the last of Tentacle-Dreads. The train rolls on, the placid water vanishing behind rows of skyscrapers.
You scroll down and see your question. You instantly feel butterflies in your stomach, simultaneously so elated you could dance and ashamed you'd react like that just because someone famous replied to a question on his website that just so happened to be yours. You make yourself settle down and start reading it. Trying not to think about how you phrased the questions because the other two dozen attempts were just as cringey. Savouring every word of Anubis' reply, imagining he's right there saying them to you.
Q: Do you think people get powers because they deserve them?
A: On a literal level, anyone can be born with powers these days - at an increasing rate, if the recent literature is to be believed. On a more metaphysical level I do not believe anyone 'deserves' anything they receive for being born. There is only what we do with them, and whatever opportunities arise from them.
P.S. If you want to join the hero industry and feel you missed your chance, don't fret! There are a myriad positions and opportunities waiting for the non-powered in both SERAPH and the civilian circuit.
You just stare down at your phone. You exhale through your nose. It comes out ragged, half sigh and half laugh. You don't know what you expected. You're embarrassed Anubis even wasted the time to reply.
The train doors ring in warning. You jolt into alertness, flinging yourself through the doorway before it closes, stumbling as you hit the platform. Your heart beats faster in your chest. Idiot. Had to go and space out on top of everything else.
There's a homeless man sitting against the wall just before the stairs, his arm around the grizzled old Bull-mastiff by his side. You stare intently at your smartphone and quicken your pace until you're down the stairs and back at street level in the heart of City 32.
Everything's more here. It's hotter in the light, colder in the shade. The cars are sleeker, go faster, purr louder. The crowds are bigger, so dense that somehow only a few people talking just magnifies into a dull roar. The buildings are grander, the lights are brighter, the ads jostle for more attention, the people are more glamorous. The new LA, just a two hour flight away from the old one, even if it gets a quarter of the sun. You pass a holo-ad beside you so tall even if you crane your neck you can't properly see it. You have to look back down again at the more modestly-sized companion at street level.
"Live the good life in the off-Sphere colonies! Submit your application now and you may just be one of the lucky 500 that gets to pioneer a whole new world! With new advances in inter-Sphere communication and corridor production technology, it's as safe and convenient as moving one suburb over! Enroll today!"
A city where anyone can reach for the stars, as literally as they'd like. A thousand that made it every square mile. Seventy thousand still trying, no matter how long the odds are. 'I can do it it', they say. 'I'm not like everyone else that comes to City 32. I'm not going to clean out my savings coming here, wait tables for a year and slink back home in disgrace. I can make it.'
You exhale another ragged sigh-laugh again. You feel like shit and you're hungry anyway. You hit the midway point of your journey in the park and veer off, heading to the isolated little cafe sitting right in the middle of all the green. Julian's Cafe & Bistro, occupying this squat, black conical sort of arrangement with a big wedge cut out to leave the seating open to the air. There's the typical kind of crowd, businessmen on their phones trying to ignore the tourists taking pictures of everything on their phones. You slip past both of them and order. It's easiest to spend money when you don't know how much you have left. It's Wil. E. Coyote rules, you won't fall unless you look down and see nothing in the bank.
You sit and look at the park while you wait for your order. There's other parks like it scattered thoughtfully around the city, but this is the one the real superfans care about. Named after the home-grown B-list team, the Cascadian Knights. More loyalty than any football team, and around a lot more consistently than the globetrotting A-listers too. You're not in the right place to see their statue but you can picture them just fine in your mind. Baron Blackflame, milk-pale under that hat and all that coat, still up for debate if he chooses to dress himself like that or his powers do it and he just has to own it. Duchess Rainshadow, always styled and elegant, taking a day off the rare times when the humidity dips too much. Blue Glass Raptor, one of the few guys bigger than Anubis, an immediately striking figure - and he provided the city plenty of his own glass so the statue could get his shade just right. People are always jostling to stand directly in the blue shadow for their photos. The plinth has a suspiciously empty quadrant, too. There isn't a person in the city that isn't watching and waiting with excitement to see Blue Glass Lad (hero name not official, not that it stops anyone) step up with his parents. You definitely didn't need to double-check the Gryphons class to remember he's graduating this year.
"... John?"
Is someone calling your name? You start to turn your head instinctively, but stop yourself. No, that can't be right. Nobody in this city knows your name. Not even your landlord. Must be somebody else.
"John Granville?"
Fuck.
You turn and look at the source of the voice. Caucasian, clean-shaven, nice dark grey business suit, crisp white shirt, conservative blue tie, golden brown hair neatly combed and styled. Midway through slipping his phone into his pocket.
"It's Michael, from school!"
ffffuuuuuucccccckkkkkk
"Hey!" you say full of faux-enthusiasm. Extremely glad he said his name because you'd completely forgotten. "What a coincidence heh uh, what's up, how're things?"
"Great, great! Mind if I join you?"
Yes a lot "No not at all!"
He sits down, the steel chair scraping across the concrete as he shuffles it back and forth into position. Your order comes a second later. You sit there, him with a coffee to go that isn't going anywhere any more, you with eggs Benedict and a chocolate milkshake. You stare him straight in the nose to make it look like you're making eye contact and strain every mental muscle you have not to start imagining what he must think of you. You surreptitiously adjust your hoodie so it doesn't look quite so shapeless.
"You're a hard man to find!" he says with a little laugh. "Was starting to think you'd dropped off the face of the earth!"
"Nah, heh, not really."
"But what happened to you? I understand you dropped out of school with health complications-"
"Yeah it was uhh... the shingles," you reply, casting your memory back as far as it'll go. "Really bad, super infectious and just absolutely disgusting. No way I could've finished the year like that."
"Yeah but that was-" don't say the number don't say the number "-five years ago."
Saying the number makes it real. Precisely five phantasmal anvils fall on your shoulders, a rickety arrangement seeking the slightest chance to tip you over and drive you into the ground. You fake a smile while you rack your brain for something to say.
"Well, yeah," you say. Your phrasing sounds like you're regurgitating every word like a bit of spoiled meat. "But I uh, I just went back and finished next year. Kept on trucking along, only a year behind. I'm in college now."
"Oh?" Michael seems interested. "Gotta be a good one if you're here."
This lie's easy, you've been jealously eyeing its online listing ever since you got here. "Yeah, 32-U." And it doesn't have a very imaginative name. "The hero industry course, actually. Wanna be as close to the ground on that whole thing as possible, y'know? Rub shoulders with the famous and powerful, haha."
"Oh? That's great to hear! I did that course too!" And he sounds so non-condescendingly happy about it too.
"Mhm?" You make a curious noise and get started on your eggs before they get too cold. This is good, this is fine. Let him talk about himself. Take the spotlight off you for a second so you can eat your goddamn brunch and stop feeling so queasy in your gut.
"Yeah! I got a job at McKinsey Advertising & Talent Management! I'm not exactly a high-power exec yet so I won't get invited to any cocaine and blowjob parties on the weekends, hahaha, but I'm getting there. I'm gonna sit in on the next meeting with the Cascadian Knights, might even get to meet them properly!"
He pauses to take a sip of his coffee. You deeply regret letting him speak. And existing in general if you're being honest. You swallow some egg, hollandaise sauce, ham and toast that goes down like a lump of lukewarm charcoal.
"Oh?" you say to sound interested. Which you are, technically. Just in the morbid sort of way.
"Mhm!" He swallows. There's still a little caramel-coloured foam on his top lip. He wipes it away with the thumb holding the coffee and continues. "Gotta be on my best behaviour at all times to impress my boss so, hah, it's not like it's sunshine and rainbows. Sweat like a pig in this suit sometimes. But it's not about all the little snags you hit on the road, y'know? It's all about persevering."
"Yeah..." You drop your eyes and focus on carving off another bite of your eggs before Michael can start any more conversation. Your knife-strokes err on the frantic side. Your heart's racing, are you sweating? This feels like a nightmare.
You hear dubstep blast from the pond. You jerk upright, brow furrowed, and turn to look.
There's a small tear hovering by the shore of the pond, frightening the family of ducks living there. And there's a monster squirming to get upright on the grassy slope, a screeching leathery nightmare wyvern with four wings and viciously hook-beaked skull, the empty sockets lit from within with burning scarlet light. It lifts off with a single quadruple-downbeat. The next one launches a visible wave of wind, tearing up grass and clods of earth. Met and cancelled by a burst of flashing neon lights and WUBWUBWUWUWUWUWUB.
The hero knows how to dress to be noticed. He's gone for a modern Spheretech armour aesthetic - maybe it's genuine? - covered all over in Tron-circuits and fluorescent wires that glow and pulse in time with his powers. The top half of his face is hidden behind an opaque visor, displaying a real-time waveform. From this distance you can practically see the exposed cocky grin. You know him on sight, whether that's your own fanboyism or good marketing on his part. He's the Drop Demon, graduating class of '41 and shooting straight for the top.
"SKREEEEEEEEEEE" the creature shrieks. Your ears ring, you clap your hands over them for some measure of merciful relief. DD's got to have some kind of noise-modulating tech in his helmet, he doesn't even flinch.
"And they say my music's just noise."
It lets out another ear-splitting cry paired with a beat of its many wings. DD throws his left hand straight out to the side, and with a blast of wubs and rippling concentric wings of shifting light, he goes skating out of the way. The passing wind and noise gouge a temporary furrow in the pond, disturbing the ducks with an angry HONK. DD masterfully controls the direction and thrust of his blast, swinging around in a near-perfect circle right behind the flying monster. It lets out a horrible alien squawk of its own, struggling to turn as fast as him. DD slaps both palms down on the grass, and a many-hued waveform erupts from the ground as sharp as a ski-jump. It scoops up the monster like a hand and flings it skyward. It turns this way and that, frantically beating its wings in an effort to right itself.
DD focuses twin blasts down at his feet, and soars high above the freakish wyvern. Cupping his hands, fingers curled slightly.
"Here comes the... drop!"
He thrusts his arms forward, twin blasts merging into one. WUBWUBWUBWUBWUBWUB goes his powers, drowning out even the creature's dying shrieks as a literal beam of light and sound hammers it down into the grass like a nail. Pinning it there, DD keeping himself aloft on the backblast, until even its faintest shrieks die out. He eases off on the juice, swinging his hands down to focus on setting himself down gently beside his kill. He puts his boot up on the eyeless skull and poses shamelessly.
"I've got a little time. Come get your autographs, first come first served! Don't worry about pens, I've got my own!"
The sound of chair legs scraping on the concrete is even worse than the weird wyvern's screams. It's like the whole cafe's uprooting to take him up on his offer. Like the only two people in earshot not moving are you and Michael. Your insides tear in two.
[ ] Get the fuck out there and sprint for your life to get Drop Demon's autograph before he leaves. Shame is temporary, an autograph lasts forever.
[ ] Play it cool. Try some veiled comments to gauge what Michael thinks. Maybe try to gussy up some of the trivia rolling around in your head as professional evaluation.
[ ] Play it ultra-cool. Completely ignore the bona-fide superhero within a hundred feet of you and eat your eggs before they get cold.
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TenfoldShields
Lounging on a Hoard of Words
- Pronouns
- He/Him
i was so so wrong
this is a horror quest
[X] Play it cool. Try some veiled comments to gauge what Michael thinks. Maybe try to gussy up some of the trivia rolling around in your head as professional evaluation.
Serves two roles: a. some tangential worldbuilding, b. lets us recover a few floating scraps of ego.
LupineVolt
Now with 200% more Puns
- Location
- Michigan
[X] Play it cool. Try some veiled comments to gauge what Michael thinks. Maybe try to gussy up some of the trivia rolling around in your head as professional evaluation.
MAXIMUM FISHING ENGAGED
MAXIMUM FISHING ENGAGED
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[x] Get the fuck out there and sprint for your life to get Drop Demon's autograph before he leaves. Shame is temporary, an autograph lasts forever.
Man, our ego ain't shit. We're getting this thing dammit.
No, wait, addendum:
-[X] ask Michael if he wants one.
Man, our ego ain't shit. We're getting this thing dammit.
No, wait, addendum:
-[X] ask Michael if he wants one.
Nidhoggr
Suletta Permetta
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Dammit I hate lie-based plots, they're so stressful.
[X] Play it cool. Try some veiled comments to gauge what Michael thinks. Maybe try to gussy up some of the trivia rolling around in your head as professional evaluation.
LaRed
Are you stupid or something
- Location
- Mou Ikkai hell
[X] Get the fuck out there and sprint for your life to get Drop Demon's autograph before he leaves. Shame is temporary, an autograph lasts forever.
Let the fanboy indulge a little.
Or try at least since we aren't the Flash or Quicksilver. (Run Forrest Run!)
Let the fanboy indulge a little.
Or try at least since we aren't the Flash or Quicksilver. (Run Forrest Run!)
ConfusedPotato
Unverified Verifier
- Location
- Australia
[X] Get the fuck out there and sprint for your life to get Drop Demon's autograph before he leaves. Shame is temporary, an autograph lasts forever.
- Location
- Home
[X] Play it cool. Try some veiled comments to gauge what Michael thinks. Maybe try to gussy up some of the trivia rolling around in your head as professional evaluation.
- Location
- Moonbase
[X] Play it cool. Try some veiled comments to gauge what Michael thinks. Maybe try to gussy up some of the trivia rolling around in your head as professional evaluation.
- Location
- England
Hello future me in both senses of the word, how are you today?
[X] Play it cool. Try some veiled comments to gauge what Michael thinks. Maybe try to gussy up some of the trivia rolling around in your head as professional evaluation.
[X] Play it cool. Try some veiled comments to gauge what Michael thinks. Maybe try to gussy up some of the trivia rolling around in your head as professional evaluation.
shenron
Marengo crossing the Alps
Do we have any idea what year this is set in?
Oh shit, the worst thing about post-graduation. Meeting successful classmates afterwards.
[x] Get the fuck out there and sprint for your life to get Drop Demon's autograph before he leaves. Shame is temporary, an autograph lasts forever.
Oh shit, the worst thing about post-graduation. Meeting successful classmates afterwards.
[x] Get the fuck out there and sprint for your life to get Drop Demon's autograph before he leaves. Shame is temporary, an autograph lasts forever.
- Location
- England
As I say for the second time this page, yes we do.
This was given and in context it is clearly the current date and time.