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Heroes for Hire #1: A Gathering of Heroes
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<blockquote data-quote="hero4hire" data-source="post: 1813078" data-attributes="member: 20711"><p><u><span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'">Weisshorn Mountain, Switzerland: Three Months Ago</span></u></p><p></p><p>In the dungeons of a looming castle cradled in the mountainside, sat a laboratory that would put Dr. Frankenstein to shame. Inside this laboratory several glass tubes, each large enough to hold a man, lined the walls. The silhouettes of figures could be vaguely made out through the murky chemicals that each tube contained. A computer console adorned each vat, displaying a digital read out of the contents within. A high-pitched pinging sound cut through the eerie silence. The sound was emitting from the panel on a tube perhaps halfway into the 30 or so tubes in the place. The panel read ‘ERROR’ and blinked furiously. Without any instructions from it’s missing owner the computer panel resolved its error. ‘PURGE’ could be plainly read across its dusty screen. The contents of the vat were forcibly expelled into some sort of waste disposal system. The figure’s first waking thought was the sensation of speed, as it raced through the underground tunnels, like it was on some kind of water park ride. Somehow though this was not an unfamiliar sensation to him at all. Not fully conscious yet. The man was abruptly shot into the open air. Instinctively the man spread out and braced for the impact. After a few moments of free fall he landed in several feet of fresh powder. Softening what would have otherwise been a lethal impact. Naked and exposed to the elements, he might have died if not happened upon by some local skiers.</p><p>Sitting by the fire pit of a mountain lodge, the man struggled to organize his thoughts. </p><p><span style="color: Blue"><em>“Who am I? What is my name? BLUE STREAK! Yes, that is my name…But not my name….Damn, why can’t I remember. Okay calm down Streak.. What was the last thing you remember? You tussled with that old has-been Captain America, and you suckered him real good, and were sure to make a clean getaway. But one of your skates was damaged. You had to hitch a ride. There was a truck…and the trucker…and the GUN!!”</em></span> Blue Streak’s eyes flashed open <span style="color: Blue">“Oh crap!!!” </span> he managed to say before vomiting the hot soup and cocoa he was fed when arriving there.</p><p></p><p>The next couple of months went by in a blur. Using some old SHIELD contacts he managed to get a fake passport and out of Switzerland. It was awhile before he found one of his old hideouts that hadn’t been ransacked. Piecing together another set of armor he was finally ready to make another debut as ‘the meanest mother on 8 wheels’. This time though it was going to be different. Getting shot in the face kind of put things into perspective. Maybe he could put his talents to some good use. Maybe help some folks. And hey! If there was a buck to be made to boot? What’s the harm? He was going to be a Hero, and he knew just where to start.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="hero4hire, post: 1813078, member: 20711"] [U][FONT=Comic Sans MS]Weisshorn Mountain, Switzerland: Three Months Ago[/FONT][/U] In the dungeons of a looming castle cradled in the mountainside, sat a laboratory that would put Dr. Frankenstein to shame. Inside this laboratory several glass tubes, each large enough to hold a man, lined the walls. The silhouettes of figures could be vaguely made out through the murky chemicals that each tube contained. A computer console adorned each vat, displaying a digital read out of the contents within. A high-pitched pinging sound cut through the eerie silence. The sound was emitting from the panel on a tube perhaps halfway into the 30 or so tubes in the place. The panel read ‘ERROR’ and blinked furiously. Without any instructions from it’s missing owner the computer panel resolved its error. ‘PURGE’ could be plainly read across its dusty screen. The contents of the vat were forcibly expelled into some sort of waste disposal system. The figure’s first waking thought was the sensation of speed, as it raced through the underground tunnels, like it was on some kind of water park ride. Somehow though this was not an unfamiliar sensation to him at all. Not fully conscious yet. The man was abruptly shot into the open air. Instinctively the man spread out and braced for the impact. After a few moments of free fall he landed in several feet of fresh powder. Softening what would have otherwise been a lethal impact. Naked and exposed to the elements, he might have died if not happened upon by some local skiers. Sitting by the fire pit of a mountain lodge, the man struggled to organize his thoughts. [COLOR=Blue][I]“Who am I? What is my name? BLUE STREAK! Yes, that is my name…But not my name….Damn, why can’t I remember. Okay calm down Streak.. What was the last thing you remember? You tussled with that old has-been Captain America, and you suckered him real good, and were sure to make a clean getaway. But one of your skates was damaged. You had to hitch a ride. There was a truck…and the trucker…and the GUN!!”[/I][/COLOR] Blue Streak’s eyes flashed open [COLOR=Blue]“Oh crap!!!” [/COLOR] he managed to say before vomiting the hot soup and cocoa he was fed when arriving there. The next couple of months went by in a blur. Using some old SHIELD contacts he managed to get a fake passport and out of Switzerland. It was awhile before he found one of his old hideouts that hadn’t been ransacked. Piecing together another set of armor he was finally ready to make another debut as ‘the meanest mother on 8 wheels’. This time though it was going to be different. Getting shot in the face kind of put things into perspective. Maybe he could put his talents to some good use. Maybe help some folks. And hey! If there was a buck to be made to boot? What’s the harm? He was going to be a Hero, and he knew just where to start. [/QUOTE]
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