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Literature
Superhero story chapter 2
2
The police cruiser arrived at the station and Max and Ronnie were led through a corridor and left in a windowless room to wait. There was a table with three chairs in the middle of the room and a large mirror on the wall that Max had seen enough TV and movies to know to be a two way mirror.
Max took a seat and leaned back. If nothing else, the room was well air-conditioned which made it nice and cool. That was something.
Max had never actually been inside a police station before. He had been pretty well behaved and when he had gotten himself into trouble he had been detained by the Department of Supernatural Affairs which handled unruly, young wizards like his teenage self.
As far as he knew, he wasn't actually in trouble. They just wanted to clear some things up. This was a new experience for him. He was actually a bit excited, but only a little. If this was anything like the D.S.A., it would would involve a lot of talk and paperwork.
Max looked at Veronica. Judging by her reaction
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Literature
Superhero story chapter 1
Chapter 1
It was the summer of 1995. Nearly 30 years after the last superhero had retired. Prime City, the largest city in the United States was experiencing the greatest heatwave in decades. The suns rays were reflecting off of the rows of windows on the towering buildings of the business district and heat was rising from the asphalt which was crowded with people who weren't going to let a little heat get in their way and were hurrying to get where they were supposed to be while secretly wishing they could just find some shade and lie down for a while.
An armored truck was standing at the traffic lights. The driver was cursing under his breath and wondering why the damned light wasn't turning green already while sweat was dripping down his forehead and neck and soaking his uniform despite the AC being on full blast.
He had to take a break from his rage for a while when he heard the cocking of an automatic rifle at his side and a voice shouting at him. "GET OUT OF THE GOD DANM TRUCK, O
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Literature
busy night part 5
Busy Night Part 5
Reginald: *Steps out of the shadows* Not so fast!
Jaxon: *Looks to Reginald* Eh?
Reginald: *Looks at Dr. Blood* You don't grab one of my girls without paying the price!
Dr. Blood: And how much would this cost?
Reginald:*Walks up to Dr. Blood* For you, Good sir... *Grabs Blood's arm and leg and pull them off in a single motion* An arm and a leg!
There is no blood and Dr. Blood dosen't seem to be in pain.
Dr. Blood: *Falls backwards in shock*
Jaxon: *Surprised* That's interesting.
Bal: What? What'd he do?
Jaxon: I get it now. You used your Devil Fruit powers, didn't you Reginald?
Reginald: *Looks to Jaxon* Very perceptive. I ate the Mold Mold Fruit. I can mold anything I touch as if it were wet clay.
Dr. Blood: I'll get you for this, you bastard!
Reginald: Not if you want your limb back. *Holds up the leg* This will cost you 50 million. *Holds up the arm* This one will cost 100 million.
Jaxon: Objection. Reginald.
Reginald: *Looks to Jaxon* You stayed out of the fight b
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Literature
busy night part 4
Busy Night part 4
Jaxon: Greenbeard! *Carrying Cinnamon and heads over to them* Greenbeard! Are you alright!?
Greenbeard: Yeah *Sits up with a grunt* Nothing a drink and some stretching won't cure. *Grabs the wound on his shoulder* And probably some bandages.
Seeing it up close, Jaxon can see that the creature is larger than Greenbeard, covered in grey fur and has large bat-wings. It also appears to be wearing a fancy black suit.
Creature: *Gets up* *Spreads its wings and prepares to fly away*
Greenbeard: *Oh no, you don't! *Grabs its leg*
Creature: *Looks at Greenbeard and kicks him* Let go of me, you fool!
Jaxon: *Gently sets Cinnamon down* Item warp; Anchor Blade. *Summons his anchor blade in his hand and rests it on his shoulder* Hold it still, Greenbeard. I'll crown this creep!
Creature: *Looks to Jaxon* You think you can take me down that easily?
Jaxon recognizes the voice. It's Dr. Blood.
Dr. Blood: *Flaps his wings and rises into the air*
Greenbeard: *Still hanging onto Dr. Blo
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Literature
Busy night part 3
Busy night Part 3
They end up on the roof of a fancy restaurant.
They see a thin shape of a person silhouetted against the lights from the streets below.
This figure has its back turned to them and seems to be watching the sky.
Jaxon: *Looks down to the figure*
The figure dosen't seem to notice them.
Jaxon: ... *Breathes a bit* *Looks to Bhola and Greenbeard* *Waves to them to come over*
Greenbeard and Bhola go to Jaxon. Bhola's metal feet make a klink sound.
The figure jerks with surprise and spins around. It's a teenage girl with black hair and is dressed in all black.
Girl: *Glares at them* ...  *Pulls out two daggers*
Jaxon: ... Damn. We've been detected.
Girl: What are you doing here?!
Jaxon: ... Sight seeing. *Looks up* Look at the pretty stars.
Girl: *Eyes narrow* Don't play around with me. *Waves one of the daggers in the air* I'll cut you!
Jaxon: ... Ok, I'll ask nicely. Where's the girl you took?
Girl: What are you talking about? I told you not to play with me!
The winge
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Literature
Busy night part 2
Busy Night Part 2
They hear the sound of flapping wings from above.
Jaxon: *Looks up* Hm?
He spots a winged creature.
Creature: *Swoops down and grabs Cinnamon*
Jaxon only sees it up close for a split second, but is able to make out leathery wings, red eyes and a grin with sharp fangs.
Creature: *Flies off with Cinnamon*
Reginald: Hm? *Turns around* Cinnamon? *Looks around* Cinnamon?!
Jaxon: You won't believe me, but a bird-like thing took her.
Reginald: *Looks to Jaxon* You're right. I don't believe you. *Looks around* Cinnamon! Where are you?!
Greenbeard: Should we help him?
Bhola: It's his problem. Let him deal with it.
Greenbeard: What about Cinnamon?
Bhola: What about her?
Jaxon: Leave her, I guess. If my word's no good to him, it's his loss. *Walks away* Nocturnal, Bhola, Greenbeard. We're-
Nocturnal: *Points up* There she is.
Reginald: *Looks up* Hm...
The winged creature is flying towards the center of town.
Reginald: *Starts to follow it*
Jaxon: ... I think we're done here.
No
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Literature
Busy night part 1
Busy Night Part 1
The crew is woken up in the middle of the night by loud music and the sound of laughter.
Nocturnal: *Moans lightly and wakes* ... Hmm? *Looks around*
Jaxon: *Groans and wakes* What the hell...?
Bal: Urrrgh... I may be blind, but I ain't deaf! *Looks out his porthole window*
It appears that the ship next to them is hosting a very loud party.
Bhola: *Steps out of her cabin* What's going on? *Her hair is a mess*
Jaxon: *Looks out his window to the ship next door* ... God... Damn.
Nocturnal: *Knocks on Jaxon's door*
Jaxon: Come in.
Nocturnal: *Enters, dressed in her normal attire, without her hat and scarf* Captain Jaxon. Seems our neighbors are disturbing the peace.
Jaxon: ... Clearly.
Nocturnal: I propose we tell them to keep it down, otherwise we'll never be able to face Mr. Gold with our full rest.
Jaxon: ... I suppose so... *Yawns* ... Tell Bhola and Greenbeard to meet me up on deck.
Bhola: *Runs into Nocturnal* What's that racket?
Nocturnal: It appears that our neig
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2

The police cruiser arrived at the station and Max and Ronnie were led through a corridor and left in a windowless room to wait. There was a table with three chairs in the middle of the room and a large mirror on the wall that Max had seen enough TV and movies to know to be a two way mirror.

Max took a seat and leaned back. If nothing else, the room was well air-conditioned which made it nice and cool. That was something.

Max had never actually been inside a police station before. He had been pretty well behaved and when he had gotten himself into trouble he had been detained by the Department of Supernatural Affairs which handled unruly, young wizards like his teenage self.

As far as he knew, he wasn't actually in trouble. They just wanted to clear some things up. This was a new experience for him. He was actually a bit excited, but only a little. If this was anything like the D.S.A., it would would involve a lot of talk and paperwork.

Max looked at Veronica. Judging by her reaction at the scene of the incident, she was more familiar with this kind of thing, at least more familiar that he was.

He felt, he needed to lighten the mood. "Do you come here often?" he asked with an impish smirk, that disappeared the instant he realized how cheesy that had sounded.

The last time Ronnie could honestly recall going to a police station, it'd been with her father. The typical showing her around, under the pretense he was giving a talk and wanted her to be there in case her mother called, so she'd be prepared in case a situation like this happened. He might not have been the most attentive parent in the world, but he sure knew how to plan for any situation life might've thrown her way.

When she had been to a police station for...less than admirable acts, she'd been nineteen, and it was more by proxy than genuine law breaking. A noise complaint from a party she and her best friend, Georgina Spaces, had been throwing in a suburban area. When you were planned to become the next superhero, a criminal record wasn't the most ideal thing to hand out to the public.

Sure, some of the greats - Piranha, Ms Magick, Checkmate - were notorious for coming from bad backgrounds in the prime day of costumed crime fighting, but now things were different. A lot different. If superheroes were going to come back, people with squeaky clean reputations were required, not a bunch of delinquents straight out of juvi. Being a rebel used to be a sign of status a sign of glamour - in some areas, like music or film, it still was - but the new superheroes would ideally need to be squeaky clean. Wholesome. Upstanding people of moral fiber.

The man sitting beside her seemed to tick all the boxes in that respect. Then again, if you were a Guardian of some sort, running around like a wild jackass would surely get you in a spot of trouble with whoever you were answering to. Magical Guardian seemed like a higher status symbol than even being your every day person with powers who ran around in a tightly fitting costume.

Part of her wanted to question him about it.

She'd done some basic reading into magic when she'd began her formal training with her powers, at Dad's not-too-subtle 'suggestion'. Ms. Magik had been the former Guardian during the 60s, she'd known that, but there hadn't been much to go on based on the resources even her father had compiled. Had there been another Guardian in between her and Maximilian, or was he the next one? Did you become Guardian when the last one died or was it a little less macabre than that? So many questions, but she didn't want to appear mistrusting.

Maximilian's remark made the corners of Ronnie's lips turn upwards slightly as she turned to him, hoping she wasn't looking too pathetically amused.

"I don't recall coming here much. You use jokes to lighten the mood often?"

Okay. In no way was her remark any less corny than some people might've seen his as.

Max chuckled. "Okay. I deserved that."

"I'm just a bit out of my comfort zone right now." he admitted, a bit embarrassed.

It was only natural to be a bit uneasy when in an unfamiliar situation, no matter how trivial.

He could very easily walk out of there if he really wanted to. And there wouldn't be much anyone at the station would be able to do to stop him. All he needed to to was last down the door and subdue anyone who got in his way. If he wanted to get really nasty, he could drain the life out of them or set them on fire.

But that kind of stuff would get him into actual trouble. It didn't matter if you were the most powerful wizard in the world. The D.S.A. had specialized teams for dealing with renegade wizards. He had been part of one of those teams while he was climbing the rankings.

They had called him Dr. Powers, on account of him always being so serious about the his work.

He was brought back to reality by the muffled sound of arguing coming from behind the two-way mirror. It wen't quiet for a while.

Max snapped to attention in his chair when the door suddenly opened.

Ronnie wanted to reach over and pat his shoulder at that moment - a display of comfort that hopefully wouldn't come across as strangely intimate or embarassing, but the sudden creak of the door being opened made her jump a little. Truth be told she'd been more absorbed in trying to invent whatever the best way of reassuring him would be without coming across as patronizing.

To her surprise it was a lone woman who walked into the room instead of a pair of detectives.

She could only assume the woman wasn't a member of the station herself as she had a badge hanging from her neck which implied some sort of clearance had been granted. The woman was older than most of the officers Ronnie had viewed when they'd been escorted into the station, late fifties being the best guess. Her black hair was cut short and she was dressed modestly in a maroon colored jumper and black jeans, a pair of black boots covering her feet which echoed as she walked.

There was a similarity to the confident posture she held as she entered the room, even more so when she smiled easily at the two of them. Ronnie could swear she'd seen that smile somewhere before. Somewhere like television, or maybe on a poster. The walk the woman used was the walk you'd imagine seeing on some sort of actress or former dancer; effortlessly graceful and smooth.

Her dark eyes flickered between the two young people as she took her seat, the smile never fading as she glanced between them, taking out something from her pocket and placing it in front of Ronnie and Maximilian.

C.O.W.S. was the first thing Ronnie's eyes were drawn to on the badge.

"Good afternoon, both of you." The woman nodded politely, smile still ever present. Her voice held a Scottish accent to it - not overpowering her pronunciation, but one that definitely hadn't faded over time. "I'm Agent Marlene McKafry from C.O.W.S. The Covent Organization for World Security. You might have heard of me at some point before, but that was under my other name. Yellow Scorpion."

Max's eyes went wide "Yellow Scorpion?" he said breathlessly. Of course, he had heard of Yellow Scorpion. What young man hadn't?

He had had a poster of her on his bedroom wall when he was a teenager. He had fantasized about her and now she was standing right in front of him and addressing him directly. She was older, but it was definitively her. It was all he could do not to blush from embarrassment.

Pull yourself together, man! You're the magical guardian, act like it! Max thought to himself as he desperately tried to focus on the matter at hand.

He took a deep breath, clasped his hands on the table and looked at her with a neutral expression. "And to what do we owe the pleasure?" he asked with the most dignified tone he could muster.

Ronnie's eyes briefly flickered to her companion, for lack of better words - it was good to know someone else was feeling slightly starstruck, if the awe she knew was radiating off her was anything to go by.

Yellow Scorpion was one of the names you grew up hearing about, even if Ronnie had been born around the time the superheros were coming to an end.

The aviator glasses, tight yellow costume which was fitted perfectly, dark hair wound into bunches; when Ronnie was a teenager she could still recall the Halloween when that'd been the popular costume at school (even if only a few people had actually pulled it off). She'd been the first superhero sex symbol that'd been accepted by the mainstream. It was hard to not feel slightly overwhelmed sitting across from her when the woman practically radiated charisma and esteem - two things Ronnie would admit she hadn't quite mastered.

That easy coyness she'd been famed for remained as her smile broadened.

"I'm afraid the pleasure is all mine, Mr Powers," Agent McKafry aka Yellow Scorpion laughed gently - a soft wind chime sound Ronnie'd heard on so many interviews, be it TV or radio. "For a start I'll relieve you both of any possible worries by informing you you're not going to be convicted of anything, and no charges are being brought up against you. It seems a tad ridiculous when a couple years ago you'd have been met with applause."

Agent McKafry paused briefly to reach down into the bag Ronnie had barely registered she'd been carrying and pulled out a sleek beige file - the sort you saw in spy movies whenever they were getting briefed. A mixture of anxiety and excitement flared up in her chest as her eyes fixed upon it.

"Times have once again been changing. It appears that although superheroes are a thing of the past, supervillains are beginning to make a comeback. We've had reports of illegal experiments, smuggling rackets and varying groups being formed over the past few years. People who want to break the law in broad daylight are getting their confidence back, and C.OW.S., despite some initial stubbornness from its political allies, have decided that superheroes need to be reemployed."

You could have heard a pin drop the room went so silent then, as Marlene McKafry's smile flourished into amusement. Her wedding ring glinted as she folded her arms, leaning forward on the desk and those big dark eyes - famed for making even Captain Might crumble - flickered between them both again.

"As you've both likely guessed, you two have been chosen for this program."

Max lost his composure again. "What..?" he asked slowly.

That was a lot to drop in so mines lap all of the sudden. He had never actually thought of being a superhero. It hadn't been an option until now.

Could he even balance being a superhero with his duties as the Magical Guardian? Ms. Magick had managed it by being more of an independent magic consultant rather that an actual full member of any superhero team. She would only be called in when some magic based problem popped up that couldn't be solved by conventional means.

Max had a feeling that this C.O.W.S. agency were looking for more of an commitment than that. But he had to admit that he was incredibly curious to see where this would lead.

He glanced over at Veronica. The decision would be easy for her. She was already a self proclaimed superhero with a costume and everything. As far as he understood it, her entire life had been leading up to this very moment.

Max knew that if he decline, he would most likely spend the rest of his life wondering about what could have been.

He made his decision.

"I'm listening." he said, trying to act cool while being a conflicted wreck on the inside.

Ronnie had a horrible feeling her father had somehow instigated this. If someone so much as breathed the word 'superhero', Dr. Almera was all over it like a rash. He'd been awfully quiet recently - far less demanding and strict than she was used to - which had initially seemed like a blessing until she'd realised there would be a catch. When her father was busy, there was always a catch, and it usually found a way of looping back round to her.

It all seemed like a fairytale now.

Her father would stop seeing her as another one of his successes, maybe actually as a daughter. She'd finally have some of his respect, and more importantly, affection. She'd prove herself worthy of all the attention he'd received for her creation. But, with an internal sigh, Ronnie knew this wasn't the case.

Twenty-six years of life had taught her that her father never tended to be happy with what people did, even himself. The best thing to do though would be to make lemonade out the lemon that'd just appeared. Carve out a much needed identity for her - not just keep contributing to her father's overly-indulged ego. People needed to see her for who she was, what she could possibly provide. Not just another one of Zachary Almera's test tube babies - her only distinction being she was the 'successful one'.

"It's nothing too drastic at the moment." Agent McKafry explained. "C.O.W.S. have come to believe there is some sort of corruption going on within the heart of Prime City, something beyond the control of even the police force. It's something that can't easily be addressed and that means we need specialists. People with unique abilities beyond reading codes and encrypting files all day long. We need people capable of tackling this action quickly and effectively."

She raised an eyebrow at them then, leaning back in her chair and folding one leg over the other. How did she make it look so flawless? Was all Ronnie could think to ask.

"And we need people who can be presented positively to the public. Organisations to do with the government are never favored. As you've probably read, I started out in one, then was moved to the Guardians when people began mistrusting my old team. Judging by the incident today, the two of you are capable of stopping criminals, and with training, working not just together, but with selected others who've also come under our radar to help form this unit. I'm not expecting you both to want to sell toys or do commercials, but you've shown an ability to fight crime, and not just for personal gain. That's why we came to you instead of advertising."

Reaching out into the same bag, she pulled out two slips of paper, which undeniably mirrored contracts, albeit looking a little sparser.

"These aren't contracts. These are just consent forms."

"Consent?" Ronnie finally found her voice, although it came out a little shakier than she'd have liked. "Consent to what?"

"That you consent to working for C.O.W.S. as part of the new unit. You can sign them, but your signatures won't be held against you in any manner, I can promise that myself. I just need proof to the higher ups you genuinely want to be here. But I won't force either of you. It's all up to you two where you want to go from here."

Max picked up the form and quickly red through it. He red it a second time.

This whole situations was beginning to feel so surreal that he half suspected it to be a scenario put together by a demon, trying to trick him into signing away his soul. It even had his teenage crush there to tempt him.

Any misgivings he might have had were put to rest by a cursory examination of the document. Demonic contracts were always multiple pages long and very densely written, with labyrinthine sentence structures and lairs upon lairs of legal jargon. This was short and very straightforward.

`People who can be presented positively to the pubic´ she had said.

Max almost felt like laughing. Wizards hadn't had a positive public image for a long time. Too many necromancers raising armies of the dead, trying to conquer this or that. Too many cultists trying to open gateways to nightmarish dimensions full of unimaginable horrors, believing it would grant them ultimate power.

The only reason people tolerated wizards at all was because they were afraid of being turned into frogs. That and someone had to deal with all the ancient evils and curses that seemed to ooze out of the dark corners of the world, like dust from under the couch. Most of these had originally been caused by wizards, before eventually taken on lives of their own.

Then again, there had been a time, not to long ago when superheroes had enjoyed great popularity. If a new age of superheroes was on the horizon then this might be just what the wizard community needed to improve its image.

He put the paper back not the table and looked up at Agent McKafry.

"Do you have a pencil in that bag of yours?" he asked.

"Of course."

She already had two pencils in hand. Secret agents seemed to be every bit as efficiently practiced as Ronnie's father had mentioned to her when she'd asked him about Yellow Scorpion as a child. For a man who always seemed so harsh and critical, her father always spoke positively of the Global Guardians. Snake Man being his favorite. Her dad seemed to like the one's who were very work based, shock of all shocks.

Maximillion - okay, maybe she should switch to Max now, Ronnie was fairly sure that sounded friendlier - signing as well instilled some more confidence in her. Ronnie would've signed regardless, but it felt a little comforting knowing someone she knew even on the vaguest of levels was going to be accompanying her into this. Likewise, she hoped she'd be able to bring him some reassurance herself, even if she'd let him ask most of the questions.

As she signed, Ronnie couldn't help but let her mind drift back to the days when she'd pasted up superhero posters on her walls and stared at them adoringly.

There was a touch of irony having the new magical guardian sitting next to her. Ms. Magick had always been one of her favorites growing up; alongside Yellow Scorpion (oh the embarrassing irony) and American Angel. Part of her was expecting him to show up any second. The slight blush that'd hit her companions cheeks and the way his eyes had widened spoke volumes. This was definitely someone who'd fancied Yellow Scorpion growing up. Ronnie's own older brother had been no different. She'd been subjected to hours of Carlos bitching about why 'the hottest chick to ever wear spandex' had to be married.

Dad had always been bringing that up to.

You had to marry someone who complimented your image, that was why he'd picked her mother, a vet. They were both highly intelligent and that spoke volumes. According to the old man, Yellow Scorpion and Captain Might shouldn't have worked. Not being the most romantic man, she'd privately determined he had no right to criticise other people's relationships, as long as they were happy, but arguing was futile.

Maybe this would give her a chance to finally win though.

"So, what happens now?" Max asked as he signed.

He had seen the world of superheroes from the outside. He had no idea what to expect when stepping into it. Would he be assigned a superhero name? Would he have to wear a colorful costume or was that optional? Would they be alerted of crimes or would they be patrolling? Who were these others she mentioned? So many question, but they would most likely be answered in due time.

"Keep in mind that my responsibilities as magical guardian take president and I may be called away at a moments notice."

He would sometimes get panicked phone calls in the middle of the night about something terrible happening on the opposite side of the world and would have to hastily throw on some clothes and put together teleportation circle. This happened frequently enough for the people on the other side to know to have a cup of coffee ready for him when he teleported in. It still played hell with his sleep schedule though.
Chapter 1

It was the summer of 1995. Nearly 30 years after the last superhero had retired. Prime City, the largest city in the United States was experiencing the greatest heatwave in decades. The suns rays were reflecting off of the rows of windows on the towering buildings of the business district and heat was rising from the asphalt which was crowded with people who weren't going to let a little heat get in their way and were hurrying to get where they were supposed to be while secretly wishing they could just find some shade and lie down for a while.

An armored truck was standing at the traffic lights. The driver was cursing under his breath and wondering why the damned light wasn't turning green already while sweat was dripping down his forehead and neck and soaking his uniform despite the AC being on full blast.

He had to take a break from his rage for a while when he heard the cocking of an automatic rifle at his side and a voice shouting at him. "GET OUT OF THE GOD DANM TRUCK, OR I'LL BLOW YOUR GOD DAMN BRAINS OUT!!" it said with all the force and command it could muster.

The driver turned his head, and sure enough, there was a masked man with a machine gun pointed at his head. He had two companions, also masked and armed. The driver raised his hands slowly, per his training for these kinds of situations and exited the vehicle calmly.
The tree masked men rushed into the truck, spammed the doors shut and sped away through the red light.

The driver looked on as they turned a corner and felt a bit sorry for the trio. As hot as he was, he could only imagine how uncomfortable they must be in their ski-masks, overalls and gloves.

The armored truck continued speeding, pushing other cars out of the way and up onto the sidewalks. People screamed and rushed out of the way.

It was the neon glare of a rapidly flashing orange light that resulted in Veronica being called down from the kitchen where she was talking on the phone to her brother into the basement - in other words the unofficial base of her operations. Usually the bad guys had a little bit more consideration when they wanted to rob a bank or whatnot; the hottest day of Prime City (at least for as long as she could remember after having moved there). She'd already thanked her dad for implementing the 'crime alarm'.

Days like this made the costume choice seem a little less ridiculous (if you could use those words).

Ronnie didn't consider herself a superhero - the term was a relic nowadays, one barely thrown about, unless someone was making a 'smart' remark - but it was no doubt what other people would call her. What other job description could you have for someone infused with alien DNA who ran around in a tight fitting costume stopping crimes before they could be properly committed? Vigilante made it sound a little too racy as far as she was concerned - guns tended to be her brothers department.

The bottom of her boots had undeniably been scuffed when she'd landed. In this job you went through shoes quicker than any other. Dropping down from over thirty feet above in the air tended to do that to the soles of even the most expensive footwear. There was a large dent in the hood of the car indicating the force had mainly been taken by the vehicle when she'd chose to make it her landing spot. Not quite practiced enough to total the entire front of the car yet.

Her hair was swirling around her head in the propulsion of air her own downward movements had caused. Even tied back behind her head in a ponytail it still swirled everywhere uncontrollably, palms sliding uncomfortably against the fabric of her gloves. Long, pure white and up to her elbows, matching the boots which stopped at her knees. That same pure white shade was present in simple strips against the otherwise lavender colour of her costume, top cut into what would casually be referred to as a 'boob tube', pants clipped high up, only just covering her stomach button.

The heat radiating off her hands - bursts of light energy - was making the stickiness of the day worser but she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, raising her eyebrows as her hands came to rest upon her waist, the air stilling a little.

Time to put on the best 'superhero' (for lack of better words) voice she could muster.

"Seems like an interesting way to spend the afternoon, huh kids?"

"HOLY SHIT! It's a superhero!" The driver shouted in shock.
"Don't be an idiot! There's no superheroes left!" the man next to him said.
"Then, what do you call that?!" the driver asked, gesturing the woman standing on the hood of the truck.
"Don't just stare at her, shoot her!" the man riding shotgun yelled at the other two.
"She's probably bulletproof." the driver said.
"You don't know that!" the man in the middle said, rolling his eyes. "I swear, I'm surrounded by amateurs!" he continue as he cocked his rifle, forgetting that he had already done so and letting an unused bullet fall out. He then barely took aim before pulling the trigger and unleashing a spray of bullets through the windscreen.

Maximillian stepped out of the convention center. His excuse had been that he wanted to see what all the commotion was about. The real reason was that he needed a break from all the stuck up wizards and so called magic experts who wanted to drag him into longwinded conversations about proper wizard etiquette and the role of wizards in the modern world. They didn't want his opinion. They just wanted the world's top ranked wizard to agree with them in order to validate their own opinions.

When he had accepted the position as magical guardian of the world he had been prepared to battle demons and evil wizards and horrors beyond mortal comprehension. No one had said anything about mandatory public appearances, but it was all there in the fine print.
Max sighed. There were far better uses for his time. For example, there was string of murders in France with possibly occult connections.
Damn! It was hot today. The black turtleneck that was now folded over his arm had been a bad choice.

It didn't take him long to spot the source of the ruckus. A woman in a strange, purple and white costume was standing on the partially collapsed hood of an armored truck. The front wheels were bend outwards in strange angles. His first thought was that she was robbing the truck. That was until he spotted the the masked men inside the truck.

There were gunshots and the windshield shattered. Max put the turtleneck back on. He would soon need it.

There was little options for what Ronnie could do. 'Bulletproof' was a bit of an overstatement.

Sure, she could survive gunshot wounds a lot easier than the average human being could; but the alien DNA wasn't so prominent it gave her an outright healing factor. An energy barricade was possible but she'd need to construct a bit one to dodge the array of lead spraying out the window which was now shattered beyond any form of protection for the men inside the car. Best option was to dodge and then hit whilst the man was either reloading or, once again, yelling at those with him.

As the torrent hurtled towards her, she jumped upwards, the push required denting the front of the car further to give her the spring she needed to get up high enough to escape long enough. Mid-air - a backflip was the only real option if she really wanted to not get hit (she'd only just about managed that after the first bullet had hurtled past where her ankle had formerly been placed) - her eyes flickered down towards the men in the vehicle whom, bar the shooter, were staring in not quite amazement, but more uncertain shock, bewilderment and horror.

The car hood groaned and sank back in further as she landed on it, a couple steps further back than she'd intended, but that could be let go for now. The gun was making a clicking noise which only promised the ammunition was needing to be reloaded, and the shooter (and evidently leader) was making a facial expression which was admittedly more than a little amusing.

Looked like someone had just bit into a lemon.

Steadying her left hand, Ronnie could feel the searing heat which promised light energy gathering at the tips of her fingers, clenching them into a fist as she aimed at the man's wrist. She had to be careful she didn't make the light too intense or she could irreparably damage his wrist, and even the bad guys were deserving of a little mercy. Especially when they were as low-level as these clowns.

The light beam erupted, pale gold tinted in colour and bright, shooting out Ronnie's closed fist and striking the man directly in the wrist. He let out a wail of pain and dropped the gun, a small thwack being heard from wherever it fell.

"You uh, might wanna put your hands up now."

The three men exchanged sheepish and nervous looks and slowly put up their hands and looked surprised and confused as they saw their breaths hanging in the air like mist. During all the excitement, no one had noticed that the temperature had dropped drastically.

"What the…?" the driver said. He clearly wanted to look around for the source but was afraid to take his eyes off the woman who had just totaled an armored truck and shot the gun out of his hand without using a gun herself.

Max was standing on the sidewalk, gathering up the heat from the surrounding air into a rippling ball in the palm of his hand. He converted into electricity and let it loose in in a glowing ark that went through the open door-window of the truck and shocked the three robbers.

They gave muffled screams through clenched teeth as their bodies jerked and twitched uncontrollably. Their eyes rolled back in their skulls and their bodies went limp.

"Are you all right?" Max asked as he slowly approached the truck. "Those things you did, they didn't look like any kind of magic I've seen before. Who are you?" he asked carefully.

Ronnie stared at him, on the cusp of dumb struck, for a couple of seconds before blinking hurriedly. Magic wasn't exactly something she was well acquainted with by any standards, even if she'd heard of it before vaguely. Mostly her dad mentioning things about it; but half the time the professor tended to bring up anything instead of confronting issues such as spending time with his children.

"Veronica Almera." Her voice didn't sound anywhere near as commanding as she wanted it to, but when confronted with someone who'd just shot electricity at the criminals she herself was in the middle of apprehending, it was a little hard to come across as overwhelmingly confident as you desired. "And yeah, I'm fine thanks. Just a bit of leg ache but landing like that tends to do so..." She smiled, trying to ignore how sheepish she knew it must've appeared. "And no that wasn't magic...it was something a bit different."

Explaining the alien DNA thing never was that much of a simple task. People either tended to stare at her like she was insane or just a flatout a liar, or they'd begin gushing about her father's work after figuring out who she just so happened to be the daughter of.

"My father is Dr. Zachary Almera; the one notorious for his xenobiology work into alien species. I guess a bit of his interest rubbed off on me, although in a bit of a different way..." She was still smiling, although she knew it was unlikely she was really impressing him by anyone's stretch of the imaginations. Stood next to him she felt more than a little needlessly over-dressed. This guy had managed to prove himself effective without the costume, or the over-the-top entrance. "Who are you?"

"I see." Max said and relaxed a little.
He had been worried that she had been some kind of demon or a fairy who had wandered into the city to cause trouble.

He had read about Earth's alliance with the Feyolie in history class and remembered the news reports about Dr. Zachary Almera and the hybrid experiments. But that had been over 20 years ago, so his memory of the subject was pretty fussy. After all, he had only been a little kid at the time. He made a mental note to look it up later.

So, this was the result of those experiments, he thought as he looked her up and down, hoping that she didn't take his wandering gaze the wrong way.
She looked normal enough, apart from her attire. She was actually quite attractive, but this was no time for such thoughts.

"My name is Maximilian Powers. I'm the current Magical Guardian." Max said trying to fill his voice with the authority of his station and mask the uncertainty of facing an unknown. Part of him wished she had been a demon. Max knew how to deal with demons.

"May I ask what you were doing?" he asked, gesturing towards the partially destroyed truck. He was fully aware that wizards weren't supposed to interfere with police matters either.

Right - magic.

Ronnie wasn't too educated were magic was concerned. Her father - although respectful of the art - tended to have little interest in it, which mainly stemmed from the fact he didn't have any possibility of mastering it. Zachary Almera only took interest with the things he could learn and master. The Magical Guardian was a title she had heard of though: a title that commanded fear and respect. Far more impressively than the man stood in front of her seemed to be interested in over-emphasising.

Truthfully, Ronnie had always imagined the Magical Guardian would reek of arrogance and have a thick aura of self-conceit. They weren't supposed to be polite or look like any other guy you'd meet at a university lecture. Big titles usually ended up producing big egos; but Maximilian Powers seemed to have little interest in crooning about his worth. Then again, considering he'd just electrocuted some criminals with what looked like minimum effort, the guy didn't exactly need to crow about everything he could do.

"It's hard to explain." She sighed sheepishly, running a hand through her tangling hair. "I guess you'd say I was...being a superhero."

Not exactly the most dignified thing to say to the Magical Guardian.

"My father's always said I should apply my powers to something; but honestly this is the thing he kept not so subtly hinting I should try out. He even developed the costume for me with the right materials so I didn't burn right through it when producing light energy. It's not exactly like I have much else to be doing. Art history degrees tend to not get you very far."

She was aware of how unimpressive this was all coming across as, but could only hope the Magical Guardian himself wouldn't be too unimpressed by her embarassing explanation as to what she was doing. He wasn't looking at her like she was either insane or deluded (yet) but she was waiting for it. The last person she'd explained this to had communicated easily just by eye contact that they were one step away from calling the police on her.

"You're a superhero?" Max asked, not quite sure how to react.
`Superhero´ Max thought. Considering her outfit and abilities, it really shouldn't have come as much of a surprise as it did. But there weren't supposed to be any superheroes left.

In truth, Max had always wanted to meet one. The last superhero retired the same year he was born, so he had never had a chance.
He had read the old news articles and books about the greats, Captain Might, Snake-Man, American Angel. They all seemed larger than life.

He tried to remember if it had been made illegal or if it was just frowned upon.
In any case, it felt like she had been doing something she shouldn't have, and what was worse, he had participated. It felt like that one time he had tried reefer in his teenage years.

But why did it feel wrong? They had stopped a robbery. That was a good thing.
Was public opinion affecting his judgement so strongly?
The sound of sirens came from around the corner.
Max fought his first impulse, which was to run back inside and hide in the convention-center, but he wan't a kid smoking reefer. He was the Magical Guardian.

Max stood his ground. He would deal with the situation like a responsible adult. A bead of sweat ran down his face. The heat had crept back into the area and the sweater was once again becoming unbearably stuffy. He pulled it over his head and waited for the police to arrive.

He looked at Veronica to see what she was going to do. What kind of superhero was she?
Was she going to try to shake hands with the police, or would she flee the scene?

"I...wouldn't exactly say that." But what COULD she say in response?

Everything about her screamed superhero. The costume, the powers, the entire way she'd approached the situation. It broad casted superhero clearer than the old 'Crime Signal' that'd been used to draw the members of the Super Society out back before she was born. Most of the time it was something she'd been able to ignore - the looks she'd been given whenever she tried to 'do her job', as her dad liked to say. But stood in the presence of the Magical Guardian - who didn't exactly look overwhelmingly approving of what she'd decided to do.

Ronnie's hands felt like they were melting inside her gloves. She'd never exactly been looking for praise whenever she acted, but it still never felt a good feeling whenever someone had such a reaction to her. Dad had never particularly been too overjoyed whenever she succeeded - as far as he was concerned, everything needed to be improved upon - but she was used to his reactions. Maximilian Powers was a stranger, and somehow, his opinions were twice as potent as her father's had ever proven to be.

The heat was almost unbearable as the sound of sirens began to pound from where they were hurtling in the distance.

A confrontation with law enforcement had never been something she'd had to deal with before; most of the times she'd done what was known as the 'typical vigilante route' and just left after taking care of the situation. Talking to Maximilian had caused her to become too comfortable in this unknown environment, and now she was going to have to pay for it.

Still, she wasn't a superhero. She wasn't getting paid for this. Technically no laws (if they were even in place) were being broken. Her father wouldn't be pleased if she had to call him from a holding cell, but mentioning him usually got people's attention, and he would be more than willing to bail her out. She was his prized experiment - it was no secret amongst the family he'd readily do anything to make sure he could ensure she continued allowing him to study her powers. Wasn't exactly like she had much choice in the matter under these circumstances anyways.

Time to face the music.

It wasn't going to be pretty.

Two police cars sped on to the scene. They slowed to a crawl when the drivers caught sight of the dented truck and slowly came to a stop next to it.

Four police officers stepped out, looked around a bit uncertainty and began to incircle the truck with their guns drawn.

Two of them went to each side of it and aimed their guns through the door windows. "Don't move!" they shouted at the occupants. When they didn't get a reaction, one of them, with blond hair in a crew cut, carefully reached his hand through the window and poked the driver.

He checked the drivers pulse and turned to the others. "They're unconscious." he said casually. The others holstered their guns and stepped forward to inspect the truck more closely.

The oldest officer, a gray-haired man in his early fifties with a bushy mustache stepped up behind him and looked over the younger ones shoulder. "Call it in, Carlson." he commanded an officer with auburn hair, who went to the nearest police car and began speaking into the police radio.

The senior officer stepped in front of the truck and put his hand on the deformed hood. "This takes me back." he said with a sigh.

"What is it, North?" the blonde one asked.

"You're too young to have experienced it first hand, Wilde, but this is the telltale sign of a superhero. Happened all the time back in my day." North explained. "Tough, I haven't seen it in years…" his voice trailed off when he caught sight of Veronica, standing there in her colorful costume.

The other officers followed his gaze and immediately tensed up. They put their hands on their holsters, clearly not certain how to deal with the situation. How could they? No one had seen a superhero in decades.

"Hold your fire, boys!" North commanded. "I don't think she's dangerous." He took a few steps toward Veronica. "Care to explain this, Miss…?" he asked.

"Almera."

Ronnie was painfully aware how weak her voice sounded. She could hear her brother scolding her so loudly in her head it almost drowned out the sounds of the police officers around them. She wasn't a child anymore. She was twenty-six years old. She had half-alien DNA. She'd just stopped an armed robbery. It was a bitter irony.

A couple decades ago the police would've been talking to them about the pressures of the job, how they were both contributing something good to society. Hero worship wasn't the important part; it was the recognition that a bad situation had been stopped and, even in the smallest of ways, a little bit of good had been returned to a world which always seemed to be criticised for sinking lower and lower.

Ronnie was no stranger to some of the protests that'd occurred across the globe.

Paris, Beijing, Canberra, Budapest, Wellington, Amsterdam. Some countries seemed to want superheroes to be back as terror threats and nuclear arms were multiplying by the day. The debate had slowly been creeping back into mainstream society, which was why her father had been so convinced encouraging her to do this was a good idea. People's opinions were changing, and maybe with a good example or two, 'the superhero' (a now nostalgic term) could become a line of work once more.

There were dozens of stories. People born with inhuman abilities who weren't allowed to use them to the ultimate degree of usefulness. Most of the time, if you were born with a 'power', it was just a party trick or a quirk you could pull out at the high school reunion and impress your ever-disdainful peers with for a fleeting couple of moments. Everything about being 'different' seemed so futile and wasted now. Like no matter what it was worthless, and most importantly, pointless, to try and use your differences to the benefit of others.

"I'm Dr. Zachary Almera's daughter...and his most successful experiment."

She had a feeling that sentence was one she was going to be repeating for several hours now.

"I see." Officer North said with the voice of a parent listening to their child confessing to breaking a window. "Did you knock these men out?" he asked indicating towards the robbers.

"No. That was me." Max interjected and stepped forward.

"And you are?" North asked, clearly annoyed that the situation was becoming more complicated than it already was.

"Maximilian Powers. Magical Guardian." Max answered, not sure if he should try to sound official or apologetic and got stuck somewhere in between. "I reacted to the situation without really thinking."

North rolled his eyes "Wizards." he said derisively to the other officers who were setting up police tape around the truck.

An ambulance arrived and the paramedics took the still unconscious robbers out of the truck and carried them to the ambulance on stretchers.
A couple of news trucks pulled up and the news crews were taking pictures and setting up TV cameras and reporters were checking their hair and makeup before showtime.

"We're gonna need to take you two down to the station for questioning." Officer North said to Max and Ronnie.

There was no point complaining that it wasn't fair because Ronnie knew it was. She'd technically been ignoring the laws imposed where superheroics were concerned. Served both her and her father's egos for thinking this was ever going to end well. It felt awfully naive assuming this wouldn't have ended badly now; but maybe part of her had thrived off her father's approval more than she was willing to admit.

Only saving the world really seemed good enough for Zachary Almera.

"Alright." She nodded. There was no point resisting, and that'd just cause needless tension and conflict. Besides, she was in no position to begin dictating to anyone. Childhood insecurities had taught her all about the errors of over-estimating yourself. Then again, Carlos had gone through this process alongside her, which provided some form of comfort.

She nibbled her lip apprehensively as she turned her head towards Maximilian, folding her arms across her chest as he seemed to become aware of this and they made eye contact. "No magic trick to get yourself out of this?"

Okay. That joke wasn't the best.

"At least six that I can think of off the top of my head, but that would be unsporting." Max answered with a crooked smile.

He wasn't going to try anything. It would look pretty bad if the Magical Guardian started using his power to escape justice. Wizards had a bad enough public image as it was. Most people thought that wizards looked down on normal people and only cared about themselves.

Max wasn't going to pretend that there weren't wizards like that out there. He had met a few of them in the convention center he had left before getting himself into this mess.

Wizards like that was part of the reason why he had accepted the position in the first place. He had wanted to show everyone that no position of power instilled you to look down on others. So far his words seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. The high ranking wizards were set in their ways and not very open to new ideas.

It didn't matter to Max if he stayed at the convention or went to the police station. Both were equally tedious wastes of time as far as he was concerned.

The police officers led Max and Ronnie to a police car and placed them in the backseat. They hadn't bothered putting handcuffs on them. They had guessed that if Max and Ronnie wanted to make resistance or try to get away, then handcuffs wouldn't make much difference.

As the police car drove away, a TV crew were making their final preparations.

A female reporter with olive skin and long, black hair adjusted her bra and made sure she looked alright in side mirror of the news truck. She was wearing an open jacket in midnight blue with Chanel 5 stitched onto the breast pocket. Under it she was wearing a white shirt with several buttons undone to show some cleavage.

A heavy set man with a large TV camera on his shoulder waved to get her attention. "And we're live in three, two one."

The woman took a deep breath, raised a microphone to her mouth and looked into the camera.

"This is Salama Tamer, reporting from the scene of a daring daytime robbery that was thwarted by an unidentified woman in a violet costume and a man, who has been confirmed to be Maximilian Powers, the current Magical Guardian.
According to eyewitness accounts, the woman flew down from the sky and stopped the speeding armored truck with one hand. The Magical Guardian appeared out of thin air and aided her in subduing the robbers."

"That shit was crazy!" a man from the gathering crowd behind her shouted, creaky a bit too excited to be on television.

Salama managed to keep a straight face.
"The two were escorted away by Prime City's finest just moments ago.
Back to you Rob."

The image of Salama shrank into the corner, revealing a smiling man sitting in a news studio. The man had expertly styled brown hair and a smile made up of very large and blindingly white teeth. He was wearing a jacket and with shirt just like the Salma, but they were both button up and he was wearing a red tie.

"Thank you, Sahara" he said with a booming voice and a winning smile.
"Is this the beginning of a new age of heroes? Only time will tell. For now, this is Rob Miller of Channel 5 News, signing off."

A heavyset man in his 50s turned off the TV and groaned with frustration. That robbery was supposed to go off without a hitch. He had planned it perfectly, but he had failed to account for superheroes. There weren't supposed to be any. He ran his fingers through his dark, slicked back hair and leaned back in the wide leather couch.

A blonde woman half his age and weight walked up behind the couch and put her hands on his shoulders. She seemed to be wearing nothing but a silk bathrobe.
"What´s the matte, baby?" she asked as she began to rub his shoulders. "You seem tense."

"Not now, Charity!" the man grunted and shrugged her off.

"Whatever!" Charity said with a pout and slid onto the couch next to him and reached for a small purse on a mahogany living room table table. She produced a small mirror and a cylinder of white powder.

The hight price prostitute was becoming a bit to familiar. the man thought to himself. It was partly his own fault for paying her to stay in his apartment for weeks on end, so he could have her on hand. She was starting to act like thew were a real couple. He would have to get rid of her soon.

The man got up and walked to his home office. He would have to get rid those superheroes soon as well. One hero inspired others. They were like cockroaches. You had to get rid of them quickly or before you knew it, you'd be up to your neck in them.

He took a black book from his desk and called a number marked Pest Control.
Irina and QT color
A character for a project I'm doing with farrahddg.deviantart.com

Name: Irina Questo
Age: 12
Sex: Female
Nationality: Brazil
Aliases: I.Q.
Occupation: Inventor, Engineer, Mech pilot, Superhero

Irina is a child genius in world where superheroes existed from 1929-1966 before they were forced to retire do to a lack of public and government support.
Superheroes began to emerge again in the summer of 1995.
She was recruited into a superhero team after she invented Q.T. "Cutie" (Questo Tank).
The team was secretly supported by C.O.W.S. (Covent. Organization. for World. Security.)

Irina is a bit of a brat because she is used to getting special treatment because of her genius. She talks a lot and very quickly.
She gets annoyed when adults treat her like a child (even though she is a child). especially when the adult has a lower IQ than herself.

Even though Q.T. is just a walking tank with no intelligence, she will often talk to it as if it was a person. She is constantly looking for ways to upgrade it.
Loading...
Last Friday, my nose started dripping.
It dripped all the way through Saturday.
On Sunday, I got a fever and a headache and my nose was blocked.
Today, I've still got a fever, My nose goes back and fourth between dripping and blocked and I've got a cough.
What symptoms will I get tomorrow?

deviantID

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privateCancer
Beginns with an I
Artist | Hobbyist | Traditional Art
Finland
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