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Life and Light: Shadow-Force Reborn (Updated May 8, 2019)
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<blockquote data-quote="The Shadow" data-source="post: 4925072" data-attributes="member: 16760"><p><strong>2 - Bolt From the Blue</strong></p><p></p><p>[Another RP-heavy session, but with some action at the end. Enjoy!]</p><p></p><p>Jon stood in the base's vault, looking down at the Phantom's still form. The IV had been replaced by a feeding tube, but other than that he looked the same as ever - peacefully asleep, breathing smooth and gentle. He looked as if he might open those piercing blue eyes of his and quirk a smile up at him at any second. A variety of emotions fluttered their way through Jon's soul. "You always knew what to do. Always had a plan. Hard to believe we're the same age - you've done so much more than me. Come back to us, Mike." There was, of course, no response. Jon sighed and trudged up the stairs.</p><p></p><p>Saturday in the base, and he was trying not to mope while he waited on Bazooka and Brimstone. It wasn't working. The media had not been kind to him in the days since the news conference. He'd expected it from the <em>Post-Intelligencer</em>, which had never really taken him seriously; but the <em>Times</em> had usually cut him some slack. And the letter columns everywhere had been freaking out over Shadow-Force's dissolution. The <em>kindest</em> letter he'd seen had said, "We Seattlites have been spoiled in the super-team department the last fifteen years. Now we're back roughly to where we were before the Freedom Squad was formed. We should be grateful to still have one veteran hero patrolling the streets." (The veteran in question being Beta, of course...)</p><p></p><p>"Any changes, Alpha?" "I would have told you if there were." "Yeah." After another moody silence, Jon said, "You know, I've been wondering." "Yes?"</p><p></p><p>"What did Jessica do in between shooting me and leaving? I mean, it wouldn't make sense to shoot me if all she wanted to do was leave." "She ran to the Trophy Room and grabbed a disenchanted knife." "Huh? Disenchanted?" "Mystra assured us it had been." "Whose knife was that? Wait, I guess it wouldn't be Diabolus, I don't recall him using a knife... Ugh, that demonologist guy? Before my time?" "Seth-Amon, yes." "Wait, you mean the knife he used to, well, sacrifice people? Yuck!" "We prevented him from using it for that purpose, but yes." "What would she want with that thing? And how would she even think of it?" "I have no idea."</p><p></p><p>Jon sighed, dismissing the problem. "How're the plans coming for moving our stuff?" "I have narrowed it down to two or three options." "It'll probably take a month or so for Carlton to pull together their plans for this place, I'm guessing?" "Probably more like six weeks. I plan to be moved out at least fourteen days before then." "And Mike?" "I would imagine he will be moved relatively soon."</p><p></p><p>Jon changed the subject yet again. "I'm getting a lot better with my light-form." "That should be useful." "Not as much as you might think. Check it out." He shimmered, winking out for a moment and reappearing. "I've just patrolled the entire city. There's no crime going on - right this second."</p><p></p><p>"Ah. But you have no guarantee there won't be something a minute from now." "Exactly. Plus, when I do things this way, people don't see me flying around. They need to see their heroes." "That sounds accurate."</p><p></p><p>Jon frowned. "You sound a little 'off' today, Alpha. How're you holding up?" "I am an artificial intelligence. I am... fine." "Wait... Please don't be offended by this question." When there was no response, Jon asked hesitantly, "Are you saying you just fake emotions for the sake of humans?" "No. I am saying that I can suppress emotions that prove inconvenient." Jon sighed deeply. "Must be nice." "Yes."</p><p></p><p>"What about Beta? Is he OK?" "Beta's programming is not sophisticated enough to support complex emotions. He is fine." "Huh. That's a weird thought."</p><p></p><p>Alpha changed the subject smoothly. "We have received a letter from Shift, applying for membership on the team." "Shift?" "He applied for membership in the reserve team about the same time you did. He was rejected." "Well, that doesn't sound too encouraging." "It wasn't. We still have the tapes on file, if you wish." "Well, let's take a look..."</p><p></p><p>[The following is actually a vignette the GM got inspired to write up before the game. I think he really nailed Erebus' smartass attitude, and the Phantom's long-suffering tact. <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /> Naturally, from the security video Photon will only be able to see and hear what would be outwardly obvious. The events on tape would be a little more than a year old: ]</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>When the tape had finished playing, Jon said incredulously, "He actually SAID that? To EREBUS?" "Yes." "Wow. So much ego, for so little cause." "Yes. He does not seem likely to be useful." "You can say that again."</p><p></p><p>Alpha repeated obediently, "He does not seem likely to be useful." Jon paused, a little creeped out by that response. "Um, Alpha? Could you put a few more cycles into this conversation, please?" "As you wish." "What sort of contact info did he leave?" "A cell phone number." Jon face-palmed. "You have GOT to be kidding me." "No." "Even I know better than that."</p><p></p><p>"You surely don't actually plan to call him." "Actually, yes, I do. I mean, sure, he's an arrogant kid... But like Bill said, I need to make connections. I have to start somewhere, and who knows, he might be useful someday." "I think you are being far too optimistic." "You're probably right, but it costs me almost nothing to talk to him. Think of it as a long-shot investment."</p><p></p><p>Alpha stated, "You can handle anything that comes up without him." "Why do you say that?" "Because I wish you to feel confident."</p><p></p><p>Jon was about to be creeped out all over again, when he caught the note of dry humor in Alpha's voice. He laughed despite himself and shook a fist fondly at Alpha's nearest camera. "Jerk. Anyway, dial the number if you would."</p><p></p><p>Soon there came a teenage voice over Alpha's speaker, "Hi, this is Steve." Jon said sweetly, "Oh, really? I was calling for Shift." "Oh, uh, just a second. He's not here right now." Click.</p><p></p><p>Jon chuckled. "Who's the phone registered to?" "Heh. A David Fitzpatrick." "So... Steven Fitzpatrick. What can you tell me?" "What do you want to know?" "How old is he?" "Eighteen. Just graduated from high school." "Oh, so he isn't underage after all - this year." "Nope." "Is he enrolled in college?" "Not that I can tell." "How'd he do in school?" "Grades were... mediocre." "Any sports?" "None of record."</p><p></p><p>"Sounds like a real winner... I guess I'm supposed to call back?" "If you insist." This time the phone was answered by a deeper voice - doubtless muffled somewhat by the mask. "Hi. I'm calling myself Mirror Mask now, I decided 'Shift' was pretty dumb." "All right... Mirror Mask. This is Photon." "Oh - the guy who got my job." "...I beg your pardon?" "They picked you instead of me." "...So they did. Anyway..." "I can't figure out why they took you over me. I mean, I wouldn't get myself shot like that." Jon gritted his teeth and bit back a retort - someday, someday, he would live down his first day as a hero.</p><p></p><p>Mirror Mask said, "So when do I start?" "Start what?" "I assume I've got the job." "It isn't a 'job'. We don't get paid a salary." "Well, I mean, I assume I'm on the team." "Actually, I wanted to meet with you to discuss it further. That's by no means a foregone conclusion." "What, so you're in charge now?" "Basically, yes." "That sucks. Well, let's get it out of the way. How about eight o'clock?" Photon kept his cool with difficulty. Since he was expecting Bazooka and Brimstone at 7, he said, "Six thirty would work better." "Oh. Just a second, let me check..." Alpha to Jon: "Five bucks says he's asking his parents." "No bet."</p><p></p><p>"OK, six-thirty is fine." "See you then." Alpha ended the call and asked, "Why are you doing this to yourself?" "Well... Like I said, we need to make connections. If I can't put up with an annoying kid, I'm not going to get very far in that department." "Oh, I get it. It's like the psychological equivalent of plunging your fists into hot oil to get ninja super-powers, or whatever." "...If you say so. Besides, he might yet be useful someday. Beggars can't be choosers." "Hope really does spring eternal, I see."</p><p></p><p>A little while later, Mirror Mask swaggered into the base as if he owned it. He was a bit taller than he'd been last year, but had the same nondescript build. Also the same garish, iridescent, dully-reflective mask - a disturbing, almost demonic visage twisted into a grimace. The thing was so grotesque it distracted from the simple black turtleneck and jeans he wore. Photon invited him to sit. "Good to meet you, Steve." "...Who's Steve?" "You are, I would think. That's how you answered your cell phone." "Oh. I, uh, gave you my buddy's number. He's the one who answered the phone the first time." "Ah. I see."</p><p></p><p>The young man, eager to change the subject, looked around and said, "Cool place. When do I move in?" "I beg your pardon? We don't live in the base." Mirror Mask seemed genuinely surprised. "Really? Why not?" "We have jobs and families to attend to." And lives, Jon forebore from saying. "Well, yeah, but isn't it cooler to hang out here?" Photon didn't even bother dignifying that with a response. Instead, he asked brightly, "So, how old are you now?" "Almost 20." Jon sent to Alpha via radio, <em>At least he's consistent in his lies.</em> "Are you in college?" "Nah." "Planning to enroll?" "Not right now. Don't have the money." "Taken any more karate?" "No. I, uh, haven't managed to." <em>Translation: Mom and Dad wouldn't pay for it any more.</em> Alpha just snrked over the airwaves.</p><p></p><p>"Have your powers developed any since we interviewed you last year?" Mirror Mask puffed up his chest. "Yeah! I'm super-strong now!" "Really." "Yeah, I can pick up guys of any size." "So, we're talking maybe 250 pounds then?" "Yeah, about that." Photon said skeptically, "I don't know that I would exactly call that 'super'-strength. There are weightlifters who..." "With one hand!" "Ah." "I'll prove it!" The lad did indeed manage to pick up a large desk with only a grunt of effort. Given his build, it did seem likely he'd need powers of some sort to do it, but...</p><p></p><p>Photon asked, "How did you find out you can pick up people in particular?" "Oh, well, when I'm fighting guys, you know? I can even throw them!" "So you've been fighting crime on your own, then." "Sure! That's what superheroes do!" "Do you have any particular defenses against attack?" "I dodge and get out of the way!" "I see. Well, fighting supervillains isn't quite the same as fighting street toughs with knives and guns..." "Just knives so far, nobody's really shot at me yet." "Being shot at is a totally different thing," Photon warned him, "It's no laughing matter." "I guess you'd know, right? Sheesh, I can't believe they picked you."</p><p></p><p>Jon gritted his teeth and managed to say pleasantly, "Well, they did. What are you going to do when supervillains fire energy blasts at you?" "Like I said, dodge out of the way. How hard can it be?" "Harder than you think," Photon told him. Mirror Mask stood up. "Well, you fire blasts, right? Gimme your best shot!" Photon hesitated, knowing he could aim literally at the speed of light; Mask for his part saw fit to add, "Wimp!"</p><p></p><p>Manfully resisting the urge to punch a laser through the boy's torso, Photon let loose a low-wattage beam. Mirror Mask dodged, but still ended up with an inch-wide smoking hole in his turtleneck with angry red skin showing through. "OK, so you got me. Stings a little. But it's not so bad. I'm tough!" "That was a low-power blast." "Oh, c'mon. How bad can it be?"</p><p></p><p>"Pretty bad... Steve." "Stop calling me that!" "I don't like being lied to." "Whattaya mean?" "I know you're not 20." "Never said I was!" "Fine. I know you're not 19, either. You realize that when you called me with a cell phone, you handed me your name and address on a platter." After a pause, "I told you - it's my buddy." "Oh, I see. You give out your buddy's number so that when supervillains track it down, they kill your buddy instead of you. Your buddy who doesn't even have superpowers to protect himself." "Um."</p><p></p><p>Photon rose to his feet and said with dignity, "Well, it's been... interesting... talking with you, Mirror Mask." "So when do I start?" "If I feel I have need of your abilities, I'll be sure to let you know." "What, so you're not taking me?" "Not at this time, no." That set off a further storm of snarky protest, but Photon finally got him out the door. "OK, Alpha. I admit it. You were right. It did cost me something: Elevated blood pressure." Alpha said philosophically, "Hot oil hurts too. Soon, Grasshopper, you'll be tough enough to deal with the Silver Paladin." "Golly. Is he really that bad?" "Worse. His greatest power is super-annoyance."</p><p></p><p>Jon rolled his eyes and said, "Well... Beta and I had better map out a patrol plan." "He's still recharging. Wait until after Bazooka and Brimstone say goodbye?" "OK. ... It's not just our dear friend Steve, you know. I assume you've read the papers." "Yeah. That can't have been fun." "Nope."</p><p></p><p>Soon Bill and Liz arrived, popping in with the familiar smell of sulfur. After the initial greetings were out of the way, Jon told them, "You'd probably better see this." He handed Forestrike's letter to Brimstone. She raised an eyebrow, groaning at Forestrike's name. "It's your favorite person, honey." Bazooka took a look too. "Terrific. Jon, listen, if those three come to town, lie low. You're no match for them." Jon caught himself about to bridle (feeling uncomfortably like Mirror Mask) but only said, "I'll definitely bear that in mind."</p><p></p><p>Liz shook her head. "Not likely they will... Forestrike knows his limitations, and he also knows that he's classified as a terrorist now. He won't risk anything. Still... I'll be sure to set up a series of teleport coordinates on the way down to Phoenix." Bill asked Jon, "I suppose you just opened the letter right up, like he says?" "...Yes." The older man snorted. "Erebus would tear you a new one. That was pretty dumb."</p><p></p><p>Jon gritted out, "I wasn't exactly privy to the usual mail-opening procedure." (He'd never really received any mail, fan or otherwise.) Bill said coldly, "Erebus would've said it was common sense, and rapped you on the head." Jon took a breath, let it out. "I'll be more careful next time." Liz shot Bill a warning glance. "Well, the good news is that Forestrike is still making himself useful. Enjoying himself in the process, of course, but useful." Bazooka agreed, "He's never lied. His letters to the Phantom have always been on the level."</p><p></p><p>Jon: "Bill, he says straight up he lied to me once." "Oh, I don't doubt that at least one of his predictions is obscure to the point of near-uselessness. But it wouldn't give him the proper jollies to flat-out lie. It's too easy; he wants to demonstrate how clever he is." Liz nodded. "His last letter to Mike was in Shakespearean blank verse, and full of anagrams and acrostics. The one before that was in cipher." Jon pondered that, wheels turning. "Hmmm. Thanks, that actually does help. You know, there's one other thing in that letter that bothers me." "What's that?" Liz asked.</p><p></p><p>"That last line. 'You will need to save the world.' He doesn't say 'You will save the world,' or 'You need to save the world', or 'You must save the world.' He says, 'You <em>will need</em> to save the world.' It almost makes it sound as if I will need to save the world... in order to do something else." Bazooka groaned. "It makes my head hurt just thinking about it."</p><p></p><p>The talk turned to other subjects, reminiscing about the past, remembering old friends, especially those missing. Finally, the time came to say goodbye. Liz embraced Jon, getting a little teary-eyed. Bill shook his hand and gripped his shoulder, wishing him luck. With that, they were gone.</p><p></p><p>Jon sat for a long time, staring at his hands. Finally he said, "Alpha?" "Yes?" "If I start acting like I need to prove something to somebody, please give me a verbal slap upside the head." "OK, I think I can do that." "...Because it's really, <em>really</em> tempting right now." "That's very understandable, given the circumstances." "Yeah."</p><p></p><p>Jon then called, "Beta? Are you charged up?" "Not fully, but I am functional." "OK. Let's get to work." Spreading out maps of the Seattle area, they started dividing it up into patrol areas and shifts. Jon lost himself in the problem, forgetting his worries for a little while. Beta didn't have a job, wasn't bothered by the day/night cycle, and didn't need to recharge for as long as Jon needed sleep, so that made it easier to come up with a two-person plan than would otherwise have been the case. Still, it was a huge undertaking. Alpha requested that certain areas, where he anticipated Beta's charging station might be set up in the future, be left to his brother.</p><p></p><p>When they finally finished, Jon yawned. "Where does one go to apply for higher super-registration, anyway?" Alpha responded, "U.S. Marshal's office. Why, you planning to sign on the dotted line?" "Yeah. I don't see any reason why not. The Guardians already know my secret identity; at that rate the government might as well too." "You'll need to get the second level first - it's required to go in sequence." "That's fine. Maybe second will be good enough for what I need to do; we'll see. Good night, Alpha." "'Night."</p><p></p><p>On Monday, Jon threw himself into his teaching and research. Somehow he found it harder to lose himself in the wilds of loop quantum gravity than usual... He was dreading being out there alone and mostly without backup. He picked up a registration application in heroic identity (that caused a bit of a stir) and over the next few days touched base with a number of the Phantom's contacts on the police force. They were polite and friendly... but he could tell they didn't really take him seriously. As far as they were concerned, he was a fresh-faced rookie about to get himself killed. Doesn't anybody remember I've been doing this for a year? he thought. I've fought Diabolus himself! And Red Dragon! But always as just one face in a crowd.</p><p></p><p>By Wednesday evening, he was in a mood dark as the rainy night he flew through. He broke up some criminal activity just by shining a spotlight on people who didn't realize they were being observed; where necessary he broke things up with a volley of precisely-aimed laser beams or stunning jolts of electricity. Dull, really. On the one occasion somebody shot at him, his new dodge subroutine worked perfectly - his light-form activated for a sliver of a second, moving him several feet out of the line of fire at the ultimate speed. A bit of applied magnetism deprived the guy of his gun, and that was that.</p><p></p><p>Suddenly an enormous bolt of lightning streaked through the sky, striking the Space Needle in the distance. Jon flew over to see if it had been damaged. As he hovered there, his field sense went wild! An arc of lightning streaked toward him; his countermeasures subroutine dissipated most of its energy harmlessly before it got close, and then the dodge subroutine got him clear of the remainder. Even so, his left arm and side went all tingly. "Yipe!" Following the bolt's path with eyes and field sense to the ground, he caught sight of a garishly-clad fellow surrounded with a potent electrical field. Why do so few villains have any fashion-sense, he wondered? Is there some correlation between color-blindness and social maladjustment?</p><p></p><p>"Ha! Welcome to your DOOM, Photon!" Yep, villain. Photon sighed and said to himself, "Spider-Man would have something witty to say about now..." But nothing came to mind, so he just fired off a laser. It hit, of course - not many people can dodge faster than light - but did only superficial damage to the man's costume, improving it slightly.</p><p></p><p>They traded a couple more shots - the bad guy's went wide. Jon tried to find an opportunity to shift his attention to his invisibility sequence, but the guy wasn't giving him the chance. The villain declaimed, "Once I have destroyed Seattle's most notable remaining hero, this city will fall to its KNEES before me!" Most notable?! Does this guy read the papers? "Yeah, good luck with that, Sparky!" Hey, that's not bad.</p><p></p><p>"You face BOLT, do-gooder!" A particularly large bolt of lighting came Photon's way, but this time both his subroutines worked flawlessly. "Whatever, Sparky. Ooooh. Ow ow ow. Except so totally not. My turn!" This time he fired actinic brilliance at Bolt's eyes. The villain yelped in fear and staggered back toward a support pillar of the Space Needle, seeking shelter.</p><p></p><p>Photon quickly checked that he was out of communicator range, and took the opportunity to amp up his radio transmission to make up the deficit: <em>Alpha, I'm facing an electricity-using villain by the Needle. Tell Beta...</em> Wait, Beta was vulnerable to electricity. <em>Tell him to standby. Notify the cops, and do whatever else is traditional - I'm busy.</em> Alpha's digital voice as usual had a strange radio timbre: <strong><em>On it, Photon.</em></strong></p><p></p><p>Jon didn't feel entirely comfortable zapping Bolt while the guy couldn't even see, but all's fair in love and war. He was about to switch over to his stun-zap, but remembered just in time that Bolt was probably immune. Lasers it is, then. He even angled them so as to knock the guy back into the support pillar he was next to. (Though he usually generated beams to appear from his hands, he really didn't need to do so - all positions and angles were equally easy.) "So how's that falling-to-its-knees thing working out for you, Sparky? Ready to give up?" "NEVER!" the man roared, shaking his head to clear it and diving behind the pillar.</p><p></p><p>Photon's field sense went into the red, then calmed down. He flew cautiously around the pillar, a laser routine primed to go, but Bolt was... gone. "Great! He teleported." Just then he had to dodge another lightning bolt from the open sky. "And he doesn't need to generate blasts from his hands either. Terrific. Well, two can play that game..." Photon concentrated for a moment, and willed himself into light-form.</p><p></p><p>As always, the world slowed to a stop as he rushed forward at the universe's maximum speed limit; everything was actinic blue, shifted toward the violet. Why can I see at all, he thought, that should be physically impossible. Oh well, I can. For now I've got Bolt to worry about...</p><p></p><p>Doing a spiral search pattern (creating and destroying microscopic black holes with half-conscious flickers of thought to change his direction when necessary) he quickly found Bolt in glowing blue still-life atop a nearby building. His costume looks so much better this way... Oh well. He spent a few subjective minutes deciding on the exactly-right spot to rematerialize, and even devoted a moment's thought to a witty remark while streaking circles around the man, but honestly that seemed a little petty.</p><p></p><p>Regaining solidity behind the villain, he said, "Surprise!" Bolt whirled, too slow. "Get ready to kneel, Pho-" Jon's laser caught him right in the face. Bolt went down writhing in pain, screaming about his eyes.</p><p></p><p>Jon winced. I hadn't meant to do <em>that.</em> He said quietly, "You're not in charge here, Bolt." He used a stunning jolt on the man to mercifully put him out before remembering that it used electricity... Bolt got back up. "Actually, that was quite a nice charge! Thanks!" Photon resisted the urge to face-palm; he's not only immune, he's an absorber! Two points for the snappy comeback, too.</p><p></p><p>Still, Bolt hadn't healed nearly enough. Another couple zaps and he went down for the count. Jon hovered there almost in disbelief, only lightly singed on his own part. "I did it. I really did it!" Sending via radio waves, <em>Alpha, I did it!</em> <strong><em>Congratulations, Photon! Welcome to the big leagues.</em></strong> <em>Guide me to the nearest precinct, would you?</em> <strong><em>Sure thing!</em></strong></p><p></p><p>The desk sergeant perked up at the sight of Photon's burden. "Oho! That Bolt fellow who skipped bail in the Big Apple, is it?" "He's a New York villain?" "Sure is, the FBI and the BSA circulated bulletins about him. You'll be glad to know we can lock him up on plenty of stuff from back east." [Jon couldn't testify in court as "Photon", so unless there were any witnesses to the battle, Bolt would walk for the stuff he did that night. Of course, once Jon's new registration goes through, that'll be another story. Oh, and the BSA is the Bureau of Superhuman Affairs.]</p><p></p><p>"Huh. Why on earth would he come all the way out here to the West Coast?" The man's voice got harder. "The vultures are starting to circle." Jon nodded somberly. "Well, this one didn't find any meat, anyway." "That he didn't. Thanks to you, Photon." Jon walked out, chin held high. It was a warm flight home, despite the rain.</p><p></p><p>The next day, Jon found that a few people had indeed witnessed the fight; it made page 3 in both the big papers. The <em>Post-Intelligencer</em> couldn't resist a touch of snark about his youth and inexperience, but even they had to admit he'd done his job. The <em>Times</em> was more neutral, stating the facts as they stood. Over the next few days, the cops let Photon know that Bolt had spilled his guts - swearing revenge on him, the usual - and was being shipped off to Stronghold. (Apparently, he'd believed a New York villain could take out any hero from a hick town.)</p><p></p><p>Brimstone called the next day to get the details and congratulate him on his first solo super-battle. That pleased him more than anything else. Jon leaned back in his office chair, feeling fine.</p><p></p><p>No need to get cocky, Jonathan Winters, he chided himself. All the same, you did pretty good. "Thanks, guys," he said the uncountable photons streaming through the air around him, and they actually 'blushed' - redshifting to surround him with a warm, rosy glow. If the fabric of spacetime could purr, it would be purring, Jon felt.</p><p></p><p>"Awww. The universe likes me. Who cares what some newspaper thinks, anyway?"</p><p></p><p>[Jon has historically been more inclined to Blue-Boy-Scoutish dialogue like "Halt, evil-doer!" or "Crime does not pay!" than Spidey-like snark... but what can I say, he was in a MOOD that night. <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /> I think this sort of thing will definitely become part of his style.]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="The Shadow, post: 4925072, member: 16760"] [B]2 - Bolt From the Blue[/B] [Another RP-heavy session, but with some action at the end. Enjoy!] Jon stood in the base's vault, looking down at the Phantom's still form. The IV had been replaced by a feeding tube, but other than that he looked the same as ever - peacefully asleep, breathing smooth and gentle. He looked as if he might open those piercing blue eyes of his and quirk a smile up at him at any second. A variety of emotions fluttered their way through Jon's soul. "You always knew what to do. Always had a plan. Hard to believe we're the same age - you've done so much more than me. Come back to us, Mike." There was, of course, no response. Jon sighed and trudged up the stairs. Saturday in the base, and he was trying not to mope while he waited on Bazooka and Brimstone. It wasn't working. The media had not been kind to him in the days since the news conference. He'd expected it from the [I]Post-Intelligencer[/I], which had never really taken him seriously; but the [I]Times[/I] had usually cut him some slack. And the letter columns everywhere had been freaking out over Shadow-Force's dissolution. The [I]kindest[/I] letter he'd seen had said, "We Seattlites have been spoiled in the super-team department the last fifteen years. Now we're back roughly to where we were before the Freedom Squad was formed. We should be grateful to still have one veteran hero patrolling the streets." (The veteran in question being Beta, of course...) "Any changes, Alpha?" "I would have told you if there were." "Yeah." After another moody silence, Jon said, "You know, I've been wondering." "Yes?" "What did Jessica do in between shooting me and leaving? I mean, it wouldn't make sense to shoot me if all she wanted to do was leave." "She ran to the Trophy Room and grabbed a disenchanted knife." "Huh? Disenchanted?" "Mystra assured us it had been." "Whose knife was that? Wait, I guess it wouldn't be Diabolus, I don't recall him using a knife... Ugh, that demonologist guy? Before my time?" "Seth-Amon, yes." "Wait, you mean the knife he used to, well, sacrifice people? Yuck!" "We prevented him from using it for that purpose, but yes." "What would she want with that thing? And how would she even think of it?" "I have no idea." Jon sighed, dismissing the problem. "How're the plans coming for moving our stuff?" "I have narrowed it down to two or three options." "It'll probably take a month or so for Carlton to pull together their plans for this place, I'm guessing?" "Probably more like six weeks. I plan to be moved out at least fourteen days before then." "And Mike?" "I would imagine he will be moved relatively soon." Jon changed the subject yet again. "I'm getting a lot better with my light-form." "That should be useful." "Not as much as you might think. Check it out." He shimmered, winking out for a moment and reappearing. "I've just patrolled the entire city. There's no crime going on - right this second." "Ah. But you have no guarantee there won't be something a minute from now." "Exactly. Plus, when I do things this way, people don't see me flying around. They need to see their heroes." "That sounds accurate." Jon frowned. "You sound a little 'off' today, Alpha. How're you holding up?" "I am an artificial intelligence. I am... fine." "Wait... Please don't be offended by this question." When there was no response, Jon asked hesitantly, "Are you saying you just fake emotions for the sake of humans?" "No. I am saying that I can suppress emotions that prove inconvenient." Jon sighed deeply. "Must be nice." "Yes." "What about Beta? Is he OK?" "Beta's programming is not sophisticated enough to support complex emotions. He is fine." "Huh. That's a weird thought." Alpha changed the subject smoothly. "We have received a letter from Shift, applying for membership on the team." "Shift?" "He applied for membership in the reserve team about the same time you did. He was rejected." "Well, that doesn't sound too encouraging." "It wasn't. We still have the tapes on file, if you wish." "Well, let's take a look..." [The following is actually a vignette the GM got inspired to write up before the game. I think he really nailed Erebus' smartass attitude, and the Phantom's long-suffering tact. :) Naturally, from the security video Photon will only be able to see and hear what would be outwardly obvious. The events on tape would be a little more than a year old: ] When the tape had finished playing, Jon said incredulously, "He actually SAID that? To EREBUS?" "Yes." "Wow. So much ego, for so little cause." "Yes. He does not seem likely to be useful." "You can say that again." Alpha repeated obediently, "He does not seem likely to be useful." Jon paused, a little creeped out by that response. "Um, Alpha? Could you put a few more cycles into this conversation, please?" "As you wish." "What sort of contact info did he leave?" "A cell phone number." Jon face-palmed. "You have GOT to be kidding me." "No." "Even I know better than that." "You surely don't actually plan to call him." "Actually, yes, I do. I mean, sure, he's an arrogant kid... But like Bill said, I need to make connections. I have to start somewhere, and who knows, he might be useful someday." "I think you are being far too optimistic." "You're probably right, but it costs me almost nothing to talk to him. Think of it as a long-shot investment." Alpha stated, "You can handle anything that comes up without him." "Why do you say that?" "Because I wish you to feel confident." Jon was about to be creeped out all over again, when he caught the note of dry humor in Alpha's voice. He laughed despite himself and shook a fist fondly at Alpha's nearest camera. "Jerk. Anyway, dial the number if you would." Soon there came a teenage voice over Alpha's speaker, "Hi, this is Steve." Jon said sweetly, "Oh, really? I was calling for Shift." "Oh, uh, just a second. He's not here right now." Click. Jon chuckled. "Who's the phone registered to?" "Heh. A David Fitzpatrick." "So... Steven Fitzpatrick. What can you tell me?" "What do you want to know?" "How old is he?" "Eighteen. Just graduated from high school." "Oh, so he isn't underage after all - this year." "Nope." "Is he enrolled in college?" "Not that I can tell." "How'd he do in school?" "Grades were... mediocre." "Any sports?" "None of record." "Sounds like a real winner... I guess I'm supposed to call back?" "If you insist." This time the phone was answered by a deeper voice - doubtless muffled somewhat by the mask. "Hi. I'm calling myself Mirror Mask now, I decided 'Shift' was pretty dumb." "All right... Mirror Mask. This is Photon." "Oh - the guy who got my job." "...I beg your pardon?" "They picked you instead of me." "...So they did. Anyway..." "I can't figure out why they took you over me. I mean, I wouldn't get myself shot like that." Jon gritted his teeth and bit back a retort - someday, someday, he would live down his first day as a hero. Mirror Mask said, "So when do I start?" "Start what?" "I assume I've got the job." "It isn't a 'job'. We don't get paid a salary." "Well, I mean, I assume I'm on the team." "Actually, I wanted to meet with you to discuss it further. That's by no means a foregone conclusion." "What, so you're in charge now?" "Basically, yes." "That sucks. Well, let's get it out of the way. How about eight o'clock?" Photon kept his cool with difficulty. Since he was expecting Bazooka and Brimstone at 7, he said, "Six thirty would work better." "Oh. Just a second, let me check..." Alpha to Jon: "Five bucks says he's asking his parents." "No bet." "OK, six-thirty is fine." "See you then." Alpha ended the call and asked, "Why are you doing this to yourself?" "Well... Like I said, we need to make connections. If I can't put up with an annoying kid, I'm not going to get very far in that department." "Oh, I get it. It's like the psychological equivalent of plunging your fists into hot oil to get ninja super-powers, or whatever." "...If you say so. Besides, he might yet be useful someday. Beggars can't be choosers." "Hope really does spring eternal, I see." A little while later, Mirror Mask swaggered into the base as if he owned it. He was a bit taller than he'd been last year, but had the same nondescript build. Also the same garish, iridescent, dully-reflective mask - a disturbing, almost demonic visage twisted into a grimace. The thing was so grotesque it distracted from the simple black turtleneck and jeans he wore. Photon invited him to sit. "Good to meet you, Steve." "...Who's Steve?" "You are, I would think. That's how you answered your cell phone." "Oh. I, uh, gave you my buddy's number. He's the one who answered the phone the first time." "Ah. I see." The young man, eager to change the subject, looked around and said, "Cool place. When do I move in?" "I beg your pardon? We don't live in the base." Mirror Mask seemed genuinely surprised. "Really? Why not?" "We have jobs and families to attend to." And lives, Jon forebore from saying. "Well, yeah, but isn't it cooler to hang out here?" Photon didn't even bother dignifying that with a response. Instead, he asked brightly, "So, how old are you now?" "Almost 20." Jon sent to Alpha via radio, [I]At least he's consistent in his lies.[/I] "Are you in college?" "Nah." "Planning to enroll?" "Not right now. Don't have the money." "Taken any more karate?" "No. I, uh, haven't managed to." [I]Translation: Mom and Dad wouldn't pay for it any more.[/I] Alpha just snrked over the airwaves. "Have your powers developed any since we interviewed you last year?" Mirror Mask puffed up his chest. "Yeah! I'm super-strong now!" "Really." "Yeah, I can pick up guys of any size." "So, we're talking maybe 250 pounds then?" "Yeah, about that." Photon said skeptically, "I don't know that I would exactly call that 'super'-strength. There are weightlifters who..." "With one hand!" "Ah." "I'll prove it!" The lad did indeed manage to pick up a large desk with only a grunt of effort. Given his build, it did seem likely he'd need powers of some sort to do it, but... Photon asked, "How did you find out you can pick up people in particular?" "Oh, well, when I'm fighting guys, you know? I can even throw them!" "So you've been fighting crime on your own, then." "Sure! That's what superheroes do!" "Do you have any particular defenses against attack?" "I dodge and get out of the way!" "I see. Well, fighting supervillains isn't quite the same as fighting street toughs with knives and guns..." "Just knives so far, nobody's really shot at me yet." "Being shot at is a totally different thing," Photon warned him, "It's no laughing matter." "I guess you'd know, right? Sheesh, I can't believe they picked you." Jon gritted his teeth and managed to say pleasantly, "Well, they did. What are you going to do when supervillains fire energy blasts at you?" "Like I said, dodge out of the way. How hard can it be?" "Harder than you think," Photon told him. Mirror Mask stood up. "Well, you fire blasts, right? Gimme your best shot!" Photon hesitated, knowing he could aim literally at the speed of light; Mask for his part saw fit to add, "Wimp!" Manfully resisting the urge to punch a laser through the boy's torso, Photon let loose a low-wattage beam. Mirror Mask dodged, but still ended up with an inch-wide smoking hole in his turtleneck with angry red skin showing through. "OK, so you got me. Stings a little. But it's not so bad. I'm tough!" "That was a low-power blast." "Oh, c'mon. How bad can it be?" "Pretty bad... Steve." "Stop calling me that!" "I don't like being lied to." "Whattaya mean?" "I know you're not 20." "Never said I was!" "Fine. I know you're not 19, either. You realize that when you called me with a cell phone, you handed me your name and address on a platter." After a pause, "I told you - it's my buddy." "Oh, I see. You give out your buddy's number so that when supervillains track it down, they kill your buddy instead of you. Your buddy who doesn't even have superpowers to protect himself." "Um." Photon rose to his feet and said with dignity, "Well, it's been... interesting... talking with you, Mirror Mask." "So when do I start?" "If I feel I have need of your abilities, I'll be sure to let you know." "What, so you're not taking me?" "Not at this time, no." That set off a further storm of snarky protest, but Photon finally got him out the door. "OK, Alpha. I admit it. You were right. It did cost me something: Elevated blood pressure." Alpha said philosophically, "Hot oil hurts too. Soon, Grasshopper, you'll be tough enough to deal with the Silver Paladin." "Golly. Is he really that bad?" "Worse. His greatest power is super-annoyance." Jon rolled his eyes and said, "Well... Beta and I had better map out a patrol plan." "He's still recharging. Wait until after Bazooka and Brimstone say goodbye?" "OK. ... It's not just our dear friend Steve, you know. I assume you've read the papers." "Yeah. That can't have been fun." "Nope." Soon Bill and Liz arrived, popping in with the familiar smell of sulfur. After the initial greetings were out of the way, Jon told them, "You'd probably better see this." He handed Forestrike's letter to Brimstone. She raised an eyebrow, groaning at Forestrike's name. "It's your favorite person, honey." Bazooka took a look too. "Terrific. Jon, listen, if those three come to town, lie low. You're no match for them." Jon caught himself about to bridle (feeling uncomfortably like Mirror Mask) but only said, "I'll definitely bear that in mind." Liz shook her head. "Not likely they will... Forestrike knows his limitations, and he also knows that he's classified as a terrorist now. He won't risk anything. Still... I'll be sure to set up a series of teleport coordinates on the way down to Phoenix." Bill asked Jon, "I suppose you just opened the letter right up, like he says?" "...Yes." The older man snorted. "Erebus would tear you a new one. That was pretty dumb." Jon gritted out, "I wasn't exactly privy to the usual mail-opening procedure." (He'd never really received any mail, fan or otherwise.) Bill said coldly, "Erebus would've said it was common sense, and rapped you on the head." Jon took a breath, let it out. "I'll be more careful next time." Liz shot Bill a warning glance. "Well, the good news is that Forestrike is still making himself useful. Enjoying himself in the process, of course, but useful." Bazooka agreed, "He's never lied. His letters to the Phantom have always been on the level." Jon: "Bill, he says straight up he lied to me once." "Oh, I don't doubt that at least one of his predictions is obscure to the point of near-uselessness. But it wouldn't give him the proper jollies to flat-out lie. It's too easy; he wants to demonstrate how clever he is." Liz nodded. "His last letter to Mike was in Shakespearean blank verse, and full of anagrams and acrostics. The one before that was in cipher." Jon pondered that, wheels turning. "Hmmm. Thanks, that actually does help. You know, there's one other thing in that letter that bothers me." "What's that?" Liz asked. "That last line. 'You will need to save the world.' He doesn't say 'You will save the world,' or 'You need to save the world', or 'You must save the world.' He says, 'You [I]will need[/I] to save the world.' It almost makes it sound as if I will need to save the world... in order to do something else." Bazooka groaned. "It makes my head hurt just thinking about it." The talk turned to other subjects, reminiscing about the past, remembering old friends, especially those missing. Finally, the time came to say goodbye. Liz embraced Jon, getting a little teary-eyed. Bill shook his hand and gripped his shoulder, wishing him luck. With that, they were gone. Jon sat for a long time, staring at his hands. Finally he said, "Alpha?" "Yes?" "If I start acting like I need to prove something to somebody, please give me a verbal slap upside the head." "OK, I think I can do that." "...Because it's really, [I]really[/I] tempting right now." "That's very understandable, given the circumstances." "Yeah." Jon then called, "Beta? Are you charged up?" "Not fully, but I am functional." "OK. Let's get to work." Spreading out maps of the Seattle area, they started dividing it up into patrol areas and shifts. Jon lost himself in the problem, forgetting his worries for a little while. Beta didn't have a job, wasn't bothered by the day/night cycle, and didn't need to recharge for as long as Jon needed sleep, so that made it easier to come up with a two-person plan than would otherwise have been the case. Still, it was a huge undertaking. Alpha requested that certain areas, where he anticipated Beta's charging station might be set up in the future, be left to his brother. When they finally finished, Jon yawned. "Where does one go to apply for higher super-registration, anyway?" Alpha responded, "U.S. Marshal's office. Why, you planning to sign on the dotted line?" "Yeah. I don't see any reason why not. The Guardians already know my secret identity; at that rate the government might as well too." "You'll need to get the second level first - it's required to go in sequence." "That's fine. Maybe second will be good enough for what I need to do; we'll see. Good night, Alpha." "'Night." On Monday, Jon threw himself into his teaching and research. Somehow he found it harder to lose himself in the wilds of loop quantum gravity than usual... He was dreading being out there alone and mostly without backup. He picked up a registration application in heroic identity (that caused a bit of a stir) and over the next few days touched base with a number of the Phantom's contacts on the police force. They were polite and friendly... but he could tell they didn't really take him seriously. As far as they were concerned, he was a fresh-faced rookie about to get himself killed. Doesn't anybody remember I've been doing this for a year? he thought. I've fought Diabolus himself! And Red Dragon! But always as just one face in a crowd. By Wednesday evening, he was in a mood dark as the rainy night he flew through. He broke up some criminal activity just by shining a spotlight on people who didn't realize they were being observed; where necessary he broke things up with a volley of precisely-aimed laser beams or stunning jolts of electricity. Dull, really. On the one occasion somebody shot at him, his new dodge subroutine worked perfectly - his light-form activated for a sliver of a second, moving him several feet out of the line of fire at the ultimate speed. A bit of applied magnetism deprived the guy of his gun, and that was that. Suddenly an enormous bolt of lightning streaked through the sky, striking the Space Needle in the distance. Jon flew over to see if it had been damaged. As he hovered there, his field sense went wild! An arc of lightning streaked toward him; his countermeasures subroutine dissipated most of its energy harmlessly before it got close, and then the dodge subroutine got him clear of the remainder. Even so, his left arm and side went all tingly. "Yipe!" Following the bolt's path with eyes and field sense to the ground, he caught sight of a garishly-clad fellow surrounded with a potent electrical field. Why do so few villains have any fashion-sense, he wondered? Is there some correlation between color-blindness and social maladjustment? "Ha! Welcome to your DOOM, Photon!" Yep, villain. Photon sighed and said to himself, "Spider-Man would have something witty to say about now..." But nothing came to mind, so he just fired off a laser. It hit, of course - not many people can dodge faster than light - but did only superficial damage to the man's costume, improving it slightly. They traded a couple more shots - the bad guy's went wide. Jon tried to find an opportunity to shift his attention to his invisibility sequence, but the guy wasn't giving him the chance. The villain declaimed, "Once I have destroyed Seattle's most notable remaining hero, this city will fall to its KNEES before me!" Most notable?! Does this guy read the papers? "Yeah, good luck with that, Sparky!" Hey, that's not bad. "You face BOLT, do-gooder!" A particularly large bolt of lighting came Photon's way, but this time both his subroutines worked flawlessly. "Whatever, Sparky. Ooooh. Ow ow ow. Except so totally not. My turn!" This time he fired actinic brilliance at Bolt's eyes. The villain yelped in fear and staggered back toward a support pillar of the Space Needle, seeking shelter. Photon quickly checked that he was out of communicator range, and took the opportunity to amp up his radio transmission to make up the deficit: [I]Alpha, I'm facing an electricity-using villain by the Needle. Tell Beta...[/I] Wait, Beta was vulnerable to electricity. [I]Tell him to standby. Notify the cops, and do whatever else is traditional - I'm busy.[/I] Alpha's digital voice as usual had a strange radio timbre: [B][I]On it, Photon.[/I][/B] Jon didn't feel entirely comfortable zapping Bolt while the guy couldn't even see, but all's fair in love and war. He was about to switch over to his stun-zap, but remembered just in time that Bolt was probably immune. Lasers it is, then. He even angled them so as to knock the guy back into the support pillar he was next to. (Though he usually generated beams to appear from his hands, he really didn't need to do so - all positions and angles were equally easy.) "So how's that falling-to-its-knees thing working out for you, Sparky? Ready to give up?" "NEVER!" the man roared, shaking his head to clear it and diving behind the pillar. Photon's field sense went into the red, then calmed down. He flew cautiously around the pillar, a laser routine primed to go, but Bolt was... gone. "Great! He teleported." Just then he had to dodge another lightning bolt from the open sky. "And he doesn't need to generate blasts from his hands either. Terrific. Well, two can play that game..." Photon concentrated for a moment, and willed himself into light-form. As always, the world slowed to a stop as he rushed forward at the universe's maximum speed limit; everything was actinic blue, shifted toward the violet. Why can I see at all, he thought, that should be physically impossible. Oh well, I can. For now I've got Bolt to worry about... Doing a spiral search pattern (creating and destroying microscopic black holes with half-conscious flickers of thought to change his direction when necessary) he quickly found Bolt in glowing blue still-life atop a nearby building. His costume looks so much better this way... Oh well. He spent a few subjective minutes deciding on the exactly-right spot to rematerialize, and even devoted a moment's thought to a witty remark while streaking circles around the man, but honestly that seemed a little petty. Regaining solidity behind the villain, he said, "Surprise!" Bolt whirled, too slow. "Get ready to kneel, Pho-" Jon's laser caught him right in the face. Bolt went down writhing in pain, screaming about his eyes. Jon winced. I hadn't meant to do [I]that.[/I] He said quietly, "You're not in charge here, Bolt." He used a stunning jolt on the man to mercifully put him out before remembering that it used electricity... Bolt got back up. "Actually, that was quite a nice charge! Thanks!" Photon resisted the urge to face-palm; he's not only immune, he's an absorber! Two points for the snappy comeback, too. Still, Bolt hadn't healed nearly enough. Another couple zaps and he went down for the count. Jon hovered there almost in disbelief, only lightly singed on his own part. "I did it. I really did it!" Sending via radio waves, [I]Alpha, I did it![/I] [B][I]Congratulations, Photon! Welcome to the big leagues.[/I][/B] [I]Guide me to the nearest precinct, would you?[/I] [B][I]Sure thing![/I][/B] The desk sergeant perked up at the sight of Photon's burden. "Oho! That Bolt fellow who skipped bail in the Big Apple, is it?" "He's a New York villain?" "Sure is, the FBI and the BSA circulated bulletins about him. You'll be glad to know we can lock him up on plenty of stuff from back east." [Jon couldn't testify in court as "Photon", so unless there were any witnesses to the battle, Bolt would walk for the stuff he did that night. Of course, once Jon's new registration goes through, that'll be another story. Oh, and the BSA is the Bureau of Superhuman Affairs.] "Huh. Why on earth would he come all the way out here to the West Coast?" The man's voice got harder. "The vultures are starting to circle." Jon nodded somberly. "Well, this one didn't find any meat, anyway." "That he didn't. Thanks to you, Photon." Jon walked out, chin held high. It was a warm flight home, despite the rain. The next day, Jon found that a few people had indeed witnessed the fight; it made page 3 in both the big papers. The [I]Post-Intelligencer[/I] couldn't resist a touch of snark about his youth and inexperience, but even they had to admit he'd done his job. The [I]Times[/I] was more neutral, stating the facts as they stood. Over the next few days, the cops let Photon know that Bolt had spilled his guts - swearing revenge on him, the usual - and was being shipped off to Stronghold. (Apparently, he'd believed a New York villain could take out any hero from a hick town.) Brimstone called the next day to get the details and congratulate him on his first solo super-battle. That pleased him more than anything else. Jon leaned back in his office chair, feeling fine. No need to get cocky, Jonathan Winters, he chided himself. All the same, you did pretty good. "Thanks, guys," he said the uncountable photons streaming through the air around him, and they actually 'blushed' - redshifting to surround him with a warm, rosy glow. If the fabric of spacetime could purr, it would be purring, Jon felt. "Awww. The universe likes me. Who cares what some newspaper thinks, anyway?" [Jon has historically been more inclined to Blue-Boy-Scoutish dialogue like "Halt, evil-doer!" or "Crime does not pay!" than Spidey-like snark... but what can I say, he was in a MOOD that night. :) I think this sort of thing will definitely become part of his style.] [/QUOTE]
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Life and Light: Shadow-Force Reborn (Updated May 8, 2019)
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