Post by Spellca on Dec 7, 2010 0:21:37 GMT -5
This is a original work of mine which is both a superhero storyline that uses symbolism to analyze social interactions while poking fun at some cliches seen in comics and other superhuman media.
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Prologue
Unknown
Unknown
July 18th, 2010
“Wake him up…” A man in a black suit said to another. “Do it.” The second man flipped up a clear plastic cover over a small red button. With a click, the button sunk down and a cry of agony was heard from the other room. “He’s awake.”
The cry was from a man who was strapped into a chair by handcuffs behind an off-white plastic table. Lining his spine was a series of pins connected to a generator in the wall. “Where am I?”
The first man pressed another button and spoke into a microphone. “Mister Johnson, tell us everything you know about that ‘Legion’ person and we will send you on your way.”
The restricted man sat on a white chair bound to the poorly painted wood by handcuffs. That off-white table set before him. A file folder was open showing a crudely written dossier for someone named ‘Legion’ – it included a picture that just showed a humanoid in a white and blue costume. “Legion? I just know he was a hero…but no one has seen him. Now, why am I here? Where am I? Who…?”
Another shock followed. “I will ask the questions, Mister Johnson. You will just answer them, understand?”
“I answered you…AGHHH!!” Another shock ripped up his spine.
“Do you understand, Mister Johnson? Look at the file, you know who he is. Tell us or we will make this much harder for you.”
“Alright, his name is Charles Lynn. He died in 2005 and that is why no one has seen Legion; he is dead.”
The first man removed his finger from the microphone button and turned to the second man who was already on a laptop computer. “Is he telling us the truth?”
“Not sure, Charles Lynn did die in 2005 and was buried by his family in Richmond, Virginia. But…” The distinct sound of a key being hit went off. “…there is a part of his story he didn’t cover up. Lynn was a powerful man in the business world and a formidable bastard in the Underworld – he guarded corrupt politicians and businessmen with a private gang of thugs. Lynn died of drowning; the details of which are left untold.”
“No gangster who pays for hired bodyguards could pull of the hero image…”
“Wait, man. This kills the story right here. I’ll bring it up on the projector.” A projector on the side of the room flickered on and an image of Lynn and the masked Legion displayed on the wall. “This is a still police released image of Legion taking on Lynn. This proves Lynn couldn’t have been Legion.”
The man cried out as the shock button was pressed again. “Fool me once Mister Johnson, shame on you. Fool me twice…and I’ll kill you. Legion tell me his name; now!”
“I don’t know! Please…just let me go, I have a wife and two kids. They need me.”
“And I need a name…everyone can win if you just answer my question.”
“I can’t answer what I don’t know.”
The microphone was turned off again. “What now? Shock him again or should we finish this?”
The second man sat silently for a moment. “He is telling the truth. He can’t know. He isn’t the right Johnson…the correct Johnson who was a superhero who worked with Legion but revealed himself at his retirement died last year of a heart attack. We have been interrogating an innocent man.”
“Ah…unfortunate.” The first man’s hand moved over a snub-nosed .357 Python revolver. He put a black stage mask over his face and walked into the room. “We will be letting you go, Mister Johnson. There was an unfortunate mix up. In the meantime, let’s chat. Have you ever been to the East River?”
Residence of David Miller
Staten Island, New York
July 20th, 2010
“This is Shepard Clinton of NY15 News. Police responded to a scene near the East River where a body was discovered earlier today. Tests still need to be done but preliminary observations, according to a coroner on the scene, point towards this man being an adult male shot in the head with some sort of firearm. With me is a spokesperson for the NYPD who will explain to us exactly what was found? Officer Clark, you have the field.”
“Thank you, Shepard. The body was found earlier today by a man walking his dog along the river. He called the police and the rest is history. Now if…”
The television turned off.
A man in a recliner placed the remote on the side table as his cell phone rang out. He answered it, “Hello?”
“David? It’s Jason…Jason Snyder?”
“Ah, Jason; I haven’t talked to you in months. How was Kenya?”
“Could have been better. Listen, I am back in town…if you wanted to catch a drink and talk for a while.”
“No offense Jason, but you were never the drinking type in the past. Is everything alright?”
“Things change now and then, Dave. We can get into this when we talk. If you rather not go to a bar, I could stop by your house tomorrow.”
“Yeah…things change. I’ll be home tomorrow, stop by anytime.”
“Alright, I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
David stood up and walked over to an area of the room that had only what seemed like a security system box on the wall. He lifted up the white plastic cover and pressed five numbers: 6,0,1,5 and 8. The wall opened up revealing a secret “storage” room. In a case stood a blue and white costume held up by wire and a metal support frame. David lit up a cigarette and took a drag. “Things change…”
Chapter I: Things Have Changed…
Residence of David Miller
Staten Island, New York
July 21st, 2010
The doorbell rang and David let Jason, his guest, into his home. It was the first meeting in so many months between these two gentlemen. The last twenty or so hours have been full of thought and internal monologues pertaining to going back to work – putting the suit back on, tightening his belt and continuing his duties as a public servant. But, he wanted to do more and create a framework so his lessons could influence those down the line. He wanted a team, no; he wanted a coalition of those who know and those who seek.
Jason sat down on the coach before a manila folder over-stuffed with documents and other pages. “Open it.” David said as he sat down on the adjacent grey recliner.
The folder was filled with pages, documents, maps and photos pertaining to many heroes and other vigilantes. “Impressive but…how did you get all this information?”
“It is easy when you have the right connections.”
“Wait a second…some of this stuff is so detailed that you would have to know these people personally.”
“You could say that?” David chuckled. “It isn’t like I am Legion.”
Jason raised his eyebrow. “Really now?”
David rephrased his statement. “I am Legion and I want to start working again.”
Jason laughed. “Come on, Dave. Enough jokes.”
David got up walked over to that keypad on the wall and punched in the numbers. The wall opened up revealing that trademark blue-and-white suit. “Really. I am Legion.”
“Holy…talk about catching up.” Jason was completely dumbfounded and struggled to piece his words together. “But, why would you tell me?”
David pressed another button and closed up the wall. “You are my best friend, John. Someone needs to know who is flying around to help me take the stress off the job.”
“Fair enough, I guess it is time to tell you who I am.” Jason paused, most likely attempting to make sure everything he had to say is expressed correctly. “The Kenya trip wasn’t a vacation but rather a C.I.A. black operation to take out a weapon merchant by the name Sergi Kamorov.”
“So you are a C.I.A. agent?”
“Was an agent. If I may…?”
“Of course.”
“It failed. Sergi got a tip and got out of Kenya. But he left us a nice treat in a village. A dirty bomb…went off killing about 2,000. The C.I.A. was able to clean up and keep it from becoming an issue…but internally, my commanding officer decided to cut himself free by blaming me for the actions on the ground. I was swiftly cut from the agency; I lost medical coverage, my pension…everything gone in a flash. So, now I am back.”
“I’ll need a partner to help me with what I plan to do.”
“I am not being your sidekick, Dave.” Jason snarled.
“Not at all, I plan on building a coalition of old and new heroes. You can take up an alias and teach some of the rookies some special agent tricks of the trade.”
“Fine. So what is my name?”
“Pick one.”
“Rybat…it comes from RYBAT, a C.I.A. cryptonym for ‘sensitive information’.”
“Alright, then; so it begins.” David took the file folder in his grasp.
“One thing, Dave…” Jason said suddenly. “Why build a team?”
“Heroes come and go; many are murdered – killed in the line of duty. Someone needs to begin the processes of exchanging idea and pointing out that teamwork may have its advantages. I don’t want to just preserve innocent lives but also preserve the lives of those willing to risk everything for that innocence.”
“Wow that was pretty powerful stuff.”
“Thanks but we need to start planning this out. Those files are dossiers of possible recruits worldwide that I plan to bring together. I have been able to deduce numerous secret identities but others have still alluded me.”
“Ok, so who did you intent to get first?”
“The hero who replaced me five years ago. Reach; Birth name of Ethan McCain, looks over New York City like I did; he is a young guy at about 23 who took on a classic look when I gave him the suit that he wears now to take the limits of his abilities. He will be my first recruit.” David said as he started to reflect on the power void that opened when he left.
“The file said he has a tendency to frequent your former lookout points. He clearly emulates you.” Jason said talking about what he had read.
“He had to. I retired unexpectedly and out of the blue following the passing of my father. I felt that the Legion persona I created was slowly drowning and consuming David Miller…especially when I missed his burial to stop a hostage situation. I needed time to mourn without bearing the weight of the city’s needs on my shoulders. I talked to him prior about stepping into a bigger role even got him a real suit that could take the limits of his powers. When I left he went into work full-time. He copies my past rituals out of respect and because he still idolizes me.”
“Then you should go seek him out. No?” Jason questioned.
“Soon enough, I need to close some loose ends and reopen some sealed foreign bank accounts. Early on money may be tight.”
“So, when will Legion actually fly again?” Jason jested.
“One week, should be enough time for both of us to prepare for the coming change.”
Jason stood up. “Alright Dave, I will take to you next week.”
“Alright, but remember never to bring this up over the phone; only in secure personal conversations.”
“Just like in the agency, goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Howland Hook Marine Terminal
Staten Island, New York
July 28th, 2010
“Move, move. That stretch freak might show up soon.” At that point a blue-suited fist flew out of the shadows like a ball on a tether and wailed that thug into a shipping crate.
The blue-clad elastic hero stretched his way out of the shadows and into the corridor of crates lit up by industrial lamps. Lashing his arms around like sweeping whips he brought down most of the immediate opposition. He constricted a crawling thug and dragged him before him “The Amulet of Montezuma, where is it?”
The man wheezed as he pointed up to a crane that swung a large container overhead. Suddenly the crane’s arm was pushed by a gust of wind, dropping the crate firmly on a large bed of other crates labeled from Beijing to Boston. Reach was about to head towards it but a great deal of suppressing fire started to pour at him from nearby thugs with firearms. His elastic form took the shots but there were just too many projectiles for him to move effectively towards his objective.
Another gust then blew them off their feet and another toppled nearby crates to corral them in a pen of steel so they couldn’t fight back affectively any further. Legion landed at Reach’s side with a gold chain in his hand, on the chain’s end at a rather large golden coin etched with Aztec symbols. “Never get over-confident, bullets may not hurt but they will keep you pinned down.”
“Dav…I mean Legion, your back for real?”
“Yes, you could say that. Take this back to the authorities and meet me under the Brooklyn Bridge in an hour. Understand?”
Reach took the amulet and nodded. “Ok.”
An hour later the two literally stood in the rafters beneath the bridge. A Port Authority officer rode by, stopped and shined up his flashlight but departed without a word seeing Legion floating and Reach twisted around metal bars – an obvious testament to who those men were.
“Why did you want to see me here, Legion?”
“I am building a coalition, Reach. I wanted to have the man who filled the shoes I left vacant on my side and involved from A to Z…and beyond.”
“Beyond?”
“Heroes aren’t permanent, Reach. I need a replacement if I fall.”
“Isn’t that a little morbid?”
“Retirement lets you see the world without a mask of latex – you see death in newsprint. Stupid kids with a month of karate lessons and a wooden baton found dead after challenging local gangs. Heroes die; Reach – new and legendary, young and old. I need someone to be there to fill a void of power again…just if…”
“I understand and accept. It would be an honor to be involved with any project involving your career and legacy. Consider me on board.”
A camera flashed from a nearby rooftop, Legion glanced to see a reporter standing there. “Good to hear, since TMZ will be speculating about two heroes under a bridge by the morning.”
The next morning pictures of Legion and Reach appeared everywhere from newsprint to tabloids to blogs. Headlines varied but the Daily News said: ‘Superhero Team-Up: Is More on the Way?’ David leaned back in his recliner, folded up the Daily News and chuckled. “More on the way? Just wait and see.”
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Prologue
Unknown
Unknown
July 18th, 2010
“Wake him up…” A man in a black suit said to another. “Do it.” The second man flipped up a clear plastic cover over a small red button. With a click, the button sunk down and a cry of agony was heard from the other room. “He’s awake.”
The cry was from a man who was strapped into a chair by handcuffs behind an off-white plastic table. Lining his spine was a series of pins connected to a generator in the wall. “Where am I?”
The first man pressed another button and spoke into a microphone. “Mister Johnson, tell us everything you know about that ‘Legion’ person and we will send you on your way.”
The restricted man sat on a white chair bound to the poorly painted wood by handcuffs. That off-white table set before him. A file folder was open showing a crudely written dossier for someone named ‘Legion’ – it included a picture that just showed a humanoid in a white and blue costume. “Legion? I just know he was a hero…but no one has seen him. Now, why am I here? Where am I? Who…?”
Another shock followed. “I will ask the questions, Mister Johnson. You will just answer them, understand?”
“I answered you…AGHHH!!” Another shock ripped up his spine.
“Do you understand, Mister Johnson? Look at the file, you know who he is. Tell us or we will make this much harder for you.”
“Alright, his name is Charles Lynn. He died in 2005 and that is why no one has seen Legion; he is dead.”
The first man removed his finger from the microphone button and turned to the second man who was already on a laptop computer. “Is he telling us the truth?”
“Not sure, Charles Lynn did die in 2005 and was buried by his family in Richmond, Virginia. But…” The distinct sound of a key being hit went off. “…there is a part of his story he didn’t cover up. Lynn was a powerful man in the business world and a formidable bastard in the Underworld – he guarded corrupt politicians and businessmen with a private gang of thugs. Lynn died of drowning; the details of which are left untold.”
“No gangster who pays for hired bodyguards could pull of the hero image…”
“Wait, man. This kills the story right here. I’ll bring it up on the projector.” A projector on the side of the room flickered on and an image of Lynn and the masked Legion displayed on the wall. “This is a still police released image of Legion taking on Lynn. This proves Lynn couldn’t have been Legion.”
The man cried out as the shock button was pressed again. “Fool me once Mister Johnson, shame on you. Fool me twice…and I’ll kill you. Legion tell me his name; now!”
“I don’t know! Please…just let me go, I have a wife and two kids. They need me.”
“And I need a name…everyone can win if you just answer my question.”
“I can’t answer what I don’t know.”
The microphone was turned off again. “What now? Shock him again or should we finish this?”
The second man sat silently for a moment. “He is telling the truth. He can’t know. He isn’t the right Johnson…the correct Johnson who was a superhero who worked with Legion but revealed himself at his retirement died last year of a heart attack. We have been interrogating an innocent man.”
“Ah…unfortunate.” The first man’s hand moved over a snub-nosed .357 Python revolver. He put a black stage mask over his face and walked into the room. “We will be letting you go, Mister Johnson. There was an unfortunate mix up. In the meantime, let’s chat. Have you ever been to the East River?”
Residence of David Miller
Staten Island, New York
July 20th, 2010
“This is Shepard Clinton of NY15 News. Police responded to a scene near the East River where a body was discovered earlier today. Tests still need to be done but preliminary observations, according to a coroner on the scene, point towards this man being an adult male shot in the head with some sort of firearm. With me is a spokesperson for the NYPD who will explain to us exactly what was found? Officer Clark, you have the field.”
“Thank you, Shepard. The body was found earlier today by a man walking his dog along the river. He called the police and the rest is history. Now if…”
The television turned off.
A man in a recliner placed the remote on the side table as his cell phone rang out. He answered it, “Hello?”
“David? It’s Jason…Jason Snyder?”
“Ah, Jason; I haven’t talked to you in months. How was Kenya?”
“Could have been better. Listen, I am back in town…if you wanted to catch a drink and talk for a while.”
“No offense Jason, but you were never the drinking type in the past. Is everything alright?”
“Things change now and then, Dave. We can get into this when we talk. If you rather not go to a bar, I could stop by your house tomorrow.”
“Yeah…things change. I’ll be home tomorrow, stop by anytime.”
“Alright, I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
David stood up and walked over to an area of the room that had only what seemed like a security system box on the wall. He lifted up the white plastic cover and pressed five numbers: 6,0,1,5 and 8. The wall opened up revealing a secret “storage” room. In a case stood a blue and white costume held up by wire and a metal support frame. David lit up a cigarette and took a drag. “Things change…”
Chapter I: Things Have Changed…
Residence of David Miller
Staten Island, New York
July 21st, 2010
The doorbell rang and David let Jason, his guest, into his home. It was the first meeting in so many months between these two gentlemen. The last twenty or so hours have been full of thought and internal monologues pertaining to going back to work – putting the suit back on, tightening his belt and continuing his duties as a public servant. But, he wanted to do more and create a framework so his lessons could influence those down the line. He wanted a team, no; he wanted a coalition of those who know and those who seek.
Jason sat down on the coach before a manila folder over-stuffed with documents and other pages. “Open it.” David said as he sat down on the adjacent grey recliner.
The folder was filled with pages, documents, maps and photos pertaining to many heroes and other vigilantes. “Impressive but…how did you get all this information?”
“It is easy when you have the right connections.”
“Wait a second…some of this stuff is so detailed that you would have to know these people personally.”
“You could say that?” David chuckled. “It isn’t like I am Legion.”
Jason raised his eyebrow. “Really now?”
David rephrased his statement. “I am Legion and I want to start working again.”
Jason laughed. “Come on, Dave. Enough jokes.”
David got up walked over to that keypad on the wall and punched in the numbers. The wall opened up revealing that trademark blue-and-white suit. “Really. I am Legion.”
“Holy…talk about catching up.” Jason was completely dumbfounded and struggled to piece his words together. “But, why would you tell me?”
David pressed another button and closed up the wall. “You are my best friend, John. Someone needs to know who is flying around to help me take the stress off the job.”
“Fair enough, I guess it is time to tell you who I am.” Jason paused, most likely attempting to make sure everything he had to say is expressed correctly. “The Kenya trip wasn’t a vacation but rather a C.I.A. black operation to take out a weapon merchant by the name Sergi Kamorov.”
“So you are a C.I.A. agent?”
“Was an agent. If I may…?”
“Of course.”
“It failed. Sergi got a tip and got out of Kenya. But he left us a nice treat in a village. A dirty bomb…went off killing about 2,000. The C.I.A. was able to clean up and keep it from becoming an issue…but internally, my commanding officer decided to cut himself free by blaming me for the actions on the ground. I was swiftly cut from the agency; I lost medical coverage, my pension…everything gone in a flash. So, now I am back.”
“I’ll need a partner to help me with what I plan to do.”
“I am not being your sidekick, Dave.” Jason snarled.
“Not at all, I plan on building a coalition of old and new heroes. You can take up an alias and teach some of the rookies some special agent tricks of the trade.”
“Fine. So what is my name?”
“Pick one.”
“Rybat…it comes from RYBAT, a C.I.A. cryptonym for ‘sensitive information’.”
“Alright, then; so it begins.” David took the file folder in his grasp.
“One thing, Dave…” Jason said suddenly. “Why build a team?”
“Heroes come and go; many are murdered – killed in the line of duty. Someone needs to begin the processes of exchanging idea and pointing out that teamwork may have its advantages. I don’t want to just preserve innocent lives but also preserve the lives of those willing to risk everything for that innocence.”
“Wow that was pretty powerful stuff.”
“Thanks but we need to start planning this out. Those files are dossiers of possible recruits worldwide that I plan to bring together. I have been able to deduce numerous secret identities but others have still alluded me.”
“Ok, so who did you intent to get first?”
“The hero who replaced me five years ago. Reach; Birth name of Ethan McCain, looks over New York City like I did; he is a young guy at about 23 who took on a classic look when I gave him the suit that he wears now to take the limits of his abilities. He will be my first recruit.” David said as he started to reflect on the power void that opened when he left.
“The file said he has a tendency to frequent your former lookout points. He clearly emulates you.” Jason said talking about what he had read.
“He had to. I retired unexpectedly and out of the blue following the passing of my father. I felt that the Legion persona I created was slowly drowning and consuming David Miller…especially when I missed his burial to stop a hostage situation. I needed time to mourn without bearing the weight of the city’s needs on my shoulders. I talked to him prior about stepping into a bigger role even got him a real suit that could take the limits of his powers. When I left he went into work full-time. He copies my past rituals out of respect and because he still idolizes me.”
“Then you should go seek him out. No?” Jason questioned.
“Soon enough, I need to close some loose ends and reopen some sealed foreign bank accounts. Early on money may be tight.”
“So, when will Legion actually fly again?” Jason jested.
“One week, should be enough time for both of us to prepare for the coming change.”
Jason stood up. “Alright Dave, I will take to you next week.”
“Alright, but remember never to bring this up over the phone; only in secure personal conversations.”
“Just like in the agency, goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Howland Hook Marine Terminal
Staten Island, New York
July 28th, 2010
“Move, move. That stretch freak might show up soon.” At that point a blue-suited fist flew out of the shadows like a ball on a tether and wailed that thug into a shipping crate.
The blue-clad elastic hero stretched his way out of the shadows and into the corridor of crates lit up by industrial lamps. Lashing his arms around like sweeping whips he brought down most of the immediate opposition. He constricted a crawling thug and dragged him before him “The Amulet of Montezuma, where is it?”
The man wheezed as he pointed up to a crane that swung a large container overhead. Suddenly the crane’s arm was pushed by a gust of wind, dropping the crate firmly on a large bed of other crates labeled from Beijing to Boston. Reach was about to head towards it but a great deal of suppressing fire started to pour at him from nearby thugs with firearms. His elastic form took the shots but there were just too many projectiles for him to move effectively towards his objective.
Another gust then blew them off their feet and another toppled nearby crates to corral them in a pen of steel so they couldn’t fight back affectively any further. Legion landed at Reach’s side with a gold chain in his hand, on the chain’s end at a rather large golden coin etched with Aztec symbols. “Never get over-confident, bullets may not hurt but they will keep you pinned down.”
“Dav…I mean Legion, your back for real?”
“Yes, you could say that. Take this back to the authorities and meet me under the Brooklyn Bridge in an hour. Understand?”
Reach took the amulet and nodded. “Ok.”
An hour later the two literally stood in the rafters beneath the bridge. A Port Authority officer rode by, stopped and shined up his flashlight but departed without a word seeing Legion floating and Reach twisted around metal bars – an obvious testament to who those men were.
“Why did you want to see me here, Legion?”
“I am building a coalition, Reach. I wanted to have the man who filled the shoes I left vacant on my side and involved from A to Z…and beyond.”
“Beyond?”
“Heroes aren’t permanent, Reach. I need a replacement if I fall.”
“Isn’t that a little morbid?”
“Retirement lets you see the world without a mask of latex – you see death in newsprint. Stupid kids with a month of karate lessons and a wooden baton found dead after challenging local gangs. Heroes die; Reach – new and legendary, young and old. I need someone to be there to fill a void of power again…just if…”
“I understand and accept. It would be an honor to be involved with any project involving your career and legacy. Consider me on board.”
A camera flashed from a nearby rooftop, Legion glanced to see a reporter standing there. “Good to hear, since TMZ will be speculating about two heroes under a bridge by the morning.”
The next morning pictures of Legion and Reach appeared everywhere from newsprint to tabloids to blogs. Headlines varied but the Daily News said: ‘Superhero Team-Up: Is More on the Way?’ David leaned back in his recliner, folded up the Daily News and chuckled. “More on the way? Just wait and see.”
