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Marvel Superheroes - Heroes of Silverage City UPDATED 5/19
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<blockquote data-quote="Dr Midnight" data-source="post: 2826298" data-attributes="member: 69"><p>JJ strode onto the football like he owned it, because of course he did. </p><p></p><p>Jacob Jones was the star quarterback for the Buscema High Broncos and the most respected athlete in town. The cheerleaders all loved them and the other players tried to mimic his every move. He was the man and knew it.</p><p></p><p>“What up coach!”</p><p></p><p>“Jones, get up here. Warm up already.”</p><p></p><p>JJ ran through a few laps and waved to some of the girls that had shown up to watch the players sweat. </p><p></p><p>When he was done with his laps he took his place among the other players on the field. “Right,” Coach yelled. “Take positions, you’re going to stand and take a straight tackle as well as you can.” He split the group into two halves, the tacklers and the tacklees, and set them to work. JJ was among the tacklees, and he planted his back foot as Charlie O’Hearn ran toward him. JJ leaned forward and readied for the hit. </p><p></p><p>Charlie wasn’t the biggest guy on the team, and charged poorly. JJ barely rocked back from the tackle, and O’Hearn bounced back and slammed into the dirt. JJ gave the team his best smug grin.</p><p></p><p>Coach looked down at Charlie with disgust. “O’Hearn, go run at Penning for a while if you’re going to wear a tutu. Miller! Get up here and show Jones what a sack really is.” Charlie sulked off and Del Miller stepped into line. He was the biggest guy on the team. Not the most talented, fastest or smartest, but the guy could dole out a hit. JJ leaned forward and ground his foot into the dirt behind him as the six and a half foot Miller barreled down on him.</p><p></p><p>There was a jarring smash as the two collided. Miller’s head snapped back from the impact and he fell, slowly, back onto his butt. JJ had moved not an inch… he’d barely even been jostled. </p><p></p><p>“Outstanding, Jones! Now that is how you take a hit!” Coach always yelled his approval like he was telling you to get off his doorstep and stop ringing his bell, you damn kids.</p><p></p><p>JJ felt great. No one ever took a sack from Del Miller like that. </p><p></p><p>Del grimaced as he stood up. “Since you’re the star of the show today, Jones, why don’t you lead us in running the valley?”</p><p></p><p>Coach nodded. “Fine idea, Miller. Jones! Take position, you’re running the valley today.”</p><p></p><p>JJ’s grin withered. “The valley” was the valley of death, Coach’s special concept of a gauntlet. One player ran up the field, dodging tackles from the other players who were charging in from the sides. He swallowed hard and took position. The other kids all looked like they were eager to get a hit in on the glory hog. <em>Let ‘em try,</em> JJ thought. <em>I’ll dance through them like Herbie through a field of tulips.</em></p><p></p><p>He started running. He got seven yards before someone flew at him from the left. JJ cut to the right, nimbly dodging the sack. Another tackle, from the right this time. JJ whipped around this one and kept going. He felt great- he was really in the red zone today. Three tackles, all in a line this time, one after another… he jerked out of reach of each of them. He kept going, whirling past several heaving slabs of athlete. </p><p></p><p>He made it to the end. Almost no one made it all the way through the valley of death. He spiked the ball, hard, and turned around with his trademark smarmy grin.</p><p></p><p>Everyone was where they’d fallen on the ground. Some were propped up on their elbows, some were up on their hands and knees. Every one of them was staring at JJ with a bewildered expression. </p><p></p><p>“What?” JJ blurted. “Never seen someone own a field of chumps before?”</p><p></p><p>Patterson took off his helmet. “Dude.” His face was serious. “Are you a mutie?”</p><p></p><p>JJ was stunned. “You’d better take that back, Patterson.” </p><p></p><p>“Hit the showers, Jones,” Coach said. He wasn’t yelling, which was the surest sign that something was very wrong. </p><p></p><p>“What’s the problem? I ran the valley, just like you said!”</p><p></p><p>“Showers, Jones. You’re done for the day. Out of my sight.”</p><p></p><p>“Whatever.” JJ turned and stalked away. <em>What was the deal with that? Jealous idiots.</em> If JJ had watched himself running from behind as everyone else did, he would have seen the way his waist bent as it angled away from the grasping arms of the tacklers. His entire body had warped away… just enough to notice that no human spine can move like that.</p><p></p><p>JJ got back to the locker room and threw his helmet at the wall. He ripped off his stuff and got into the showers. Good thing about getting kicked out of practice was getting to hog the water, he thought to himself as he turned three different showerheads toward him and turned on the heat. The water scalded away the drama of the day’s events and within a minute he was breathing easily. He closed his eyes and leaned on the shower wall, letting his head hang down, letting the hot water do its magic on his back. “Ahhhhhh.” He stood like that for at least four minutes.</p><p></p><p>And suddenly, he was falling.</p><p></p><p>His eyes snapped open and his arms reflexively flailed out to grab something. He was falling down a black cylinder. Water fell around him. He saw his hands reach up above, hands snapping at the air. The top of the cylinder he was falling through was capped by a dark cross, with a smaller concentric circle around the center. It looked exactly like the shape of the shower’s drain grate. </p><p></p><p>A few miles away, Gustav Stammler had arrived at the Ferguson house. This was the exchange family he was staying with. Their son, Chris, was off in Latveria, doubtless enjoying the comforts of the country. He didn’t especially identify with this family, and their conversations were very short. That was all right with Gustav… he’d really not intended to spend much of his time in the states talking to people anyway. </p><p></p><p>Gustav had had a good day. Almost every one of his days were good. He tended to keep to himself and watch people, and today was a terrific day to do just that. Mostly, he was curious about the incident that had occurred in the Transatomic Superconductor room. He kept turning that over in his head, examining it from different angles. Gustav was a very smart kid, even for the natural-born scholars of his homeland, and he liked looking at problems for a weak point and mysteries for a telling clue. </p><p></p><p>Gustav picked up one of the three local newspapers he had delivered to the house daily and gave it a terse read. It was about the electrical storm from today. </p><p></p><p>He put the paper down and headed downstairs, to the Ferguson family’s modest gym equipment. As he walked down the stairs he thought about the story and how it had mentioned that a bolt of lightning around 1 or so today had come from nowhere and struck some transformers around the town’s power station, damaging them and possibly bring on blackouts later in the evening. Gustav realized that he’d demonstrated amazing recall just now- he really hadn’t read the story for more than four seconds. He’d picked up the paper and given it only a scan. Now he realized he could remember each word. He’d always had an excellent memory but this was a new high watermark. He smiled to himself as he approached the machines. </p><p></p><p>Gustav draped his towel over one end of the bench and stared at the weights, thinking. He was a perfectly fit young man, and drew more than a few stares from the local girls. He didn’t do it for them; he liked keeping his body honed. </p><p></p><p>Something was occurring to Gustav. Currently, he bench-pressed maybe one hundred and seventy-five pounds. With a slight change to his approach, could he achieve more? He examined the bench’s layout for a moment, then placed a book under one end. He lay on the bench and angled his shoulders differently than he normally did, rolling them back against the bench before lifting. The weights lifted more easily than ever before. Success! Could he stack on more weight?</p><p></p><p>He slid thirty more pounds onto the bar, knowing it was unrealistic to hope for a thirty pound gain all at once, but feeling confident in his new approach. He lay down and lifted… and the bar came up. What was even more amazing was that he felt room for improvement. </p><p></p><p>This time he put on fifty more pounds and adjusted his grip on the bar, to maximize his biceps’ pull against the ligaments of his forearms and keep the yaw of his arms’ bone structures at a more vertical tilt than ever before. He breathed deeply, visualizing the air going the surface area of his mouth instead of down his windpipe. This allowed him to hyperoxygenate himself with a simple trick that resulted in him taking more air in a single breath, and faster. </p><p></p><p>His plan worked. The bar lifted, and without much straining. He pressed it once, twice, a third time against his chest and then set the bar back in its cradle. He sat up, amazed and quite pleased with himself over his discovery. It was-</p><p></p><p>Something happened, and all at once he knew three things: there was a slight drop in temperature on his left side, there was a shadow moving quickly against the north wall, and there was a noise like a spring being released within a plastic shell. These pieces of information quickly met and interfaced with each other in Gustav’s mind. Before he knew he had a solution, his body was reacting. His arm shot out to the left and caught the Nerf dart his foster brother had just shot at him. Gustav turned to look at the dart in his hand, marveling at what he’d just done. His mind had taken a problem and given him a means around it in the time it took a projectile to fly across the room.</p><p></p><p>His little foster brother was staring, open-mouthed, from the door at the gym’s other side. He dropped his Nerf gun, turned and ran. He had to tell everyone he knew about the coolest thing he’d ever seen. </p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next:</strong></em><strong> Discourse</strong></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Dr Midnight, post: 2826298, member: 69"] JJ strode onto the football like he owned it, because of course he did. Jacob Jones was the star quarterback for the Buscema High Broncos and the most respected athlete in town. The cheerleaders all loved them and the other players tried to mimic his every move. He was the man and knew it. “What up coach!” “Jones, get up here. Warm up already.” JJ ran through a few laps and waved to some of the girls that had shown up to watch the players sweat. When he was done with his laps he took his place among the other players on the field. “Right,” Coach yelled. “Take positions, you’re going to stand and take a straight tackle as well as you can.” He split the group into two halves, the tacklers and the tacklees, and set them to work. JJ was among the tacklees, and he planted his back foot as Charlie O’Hearn ran toward him. JJ leaned forward and readied for the hit. Charlie wasn’t the biggest guy on the team, and charged poorly. JJ barely rocked back from the tackle, and O’Hearn bounced back and slammed into the dirt. JJ gave the team his best smug grin. Coach looked down at Charlie with disgust. “O’Hearn, go run at Penning for a while if you’re going to wear a tutu. Miller! Get up here and show Jones what a sack really is.” Charlie sulked off and Del Miller stepped into line. He was the biggest guy on the team. Not the most talented, fastest or smartest, but the guy could dole out a hit. JJ leaned forward and ground his foot into the dirt behind him as the six and a half foot Miller barreled down on him. There was a jarring smash as the two collided. Miller’s head snapped back from the impact and he fell, slowly, back onto his butt. JJ had moved not an inch… he’d barely even been jostled. “Outstanding, Jones! Now that is how you take a hit!” Coach always yelled his approval like he was telling you to get off his doorstep and stop ringing his bell, you damn kids. JJ felt great. No one ever took a sack from Del Miller like that. Del grimaced as he stood up. “Since you’re the star of the show today, Jones, why don’t you lead us in running the valley?” Coach nodded. “Fine idea, Miller. Jones! Take position, you’re running the valley today.” JJ’s grin withered. “The valley” was the valley of death, Coach’s special concept of a gauntlet. One player ran up the field, dodging tackles from the other players who were charging in from the sides. He swallowed hard and took position. The other kids all looked like they were eager to get a hit in on the glory hog. [i]Let ‘em try,[/i] JJ thought. [i]I’ll dance through them like Herbie through a field of tulips.[/i] He started running. He got seven yards before someone flew at him from the left. JJ cut to the right, nimbly dodging the sack. Another tackle, from the right this time. JJ whipped around this one and kept going. He felt great- he was really in the red zone today. Three tackles, all in a line this time, one after another… he jerked out of reach of each of them. He kept going, whirling past several heaving slabs of athlete. He made it to the end. Almost no one made it all the way through the valley of death. He spiked the ball, hard, and turned around with his trademark smarmy grin. Everyone was where they’d fallen on the ground. Some were propped up on their elbows, some were up on their hands and knees. Every one of them was staring at JJ with a bewildered expression. “What?” JJ blurted. “Never seen someone own a field of chumps before?” Patterson took off his helmet. “Dude.” His face was serious. “Are you a mutie?” JJ was stunned. “You’d better take that back, Patterson.” “Hit the showers, Jones,” Coach said. He wasn’t yelling, which was the surest sign that something was very wrong. “What’s the problem? I ran the valley, just like you said!” “Showers, Jones. You’re done for the day. Out of my sight.” “Whatever.” JJ turned and stalked away. [i]What was the deal with that? Jealous idiots.[/i] If JJ had watched himself running from behind as everyone else did, he would have seen the way his waist bent as it angled away from the grasping arms of the tacklers. His entire body had warped away… just enough to notice that no human spine can move like that. JJ got back to the locker room and threw his helmet at the wall. He ripped off his stuff and got into the showers. Good thing about getting kicked out of practice was getting to hog the water, he thought to himself as he turned three different showerheads toward him and turned on the heat. The water scalded away the drama of the day’s events and within a minute he was breathing easily. He closed his eyes and leaned on the shower wall, letting his head hang down, letting the hot water do its magic on his back. “Ahhhhhh.” He stood like that for at least four minutes. And suddenly, he was falling. His eyes snapped open and his arms reflexively flailed out to grab something. He was falling down a black cylinder. Water fell around him. He saw his hands reach up above, hands snapping at the air. The top of the cylinder he was falling through was capped by a dark cross, with a smaller concentric circle around the center. It looked exactly like the shape of the shower’s drain grate. A few miles away, Gustav Stammler had arrived at the Ferguson house. This was the exchange family he was staying with. Their son, Chris, was off in Latveria, doubtless enjoying the comforts of the country. He didn’t especially identify with this family, and their conversations were very short. That was all right with Gustav… he’d really not intended to spend much of his time in the states talking to people anyway. Gustav had had a good day. Almost every one of his days were good. He tended to keep to himself and watch people, and today was a terrific day to do just that. Mostly, he was curious about the incident that had occurred in the Transatomic Superconductor room. He kept turning that over in his head, examining it from different angles. Gustav was a very smart kid, even for the natural-born scholars of his homeland, and he liked looking at problems for a weak point and mysteries for a telling clue. Gustav picked up one of the three local newspapers he had delivered to the house daily and gave it a terse read. It was about the electrical storm from today. He put the paper down and headed downstairs, to the Ferguson family’s modest gym equipment. As he walked down the stairs he thought about the story and how it had mentioned that a bolt of lightning around 1 or so today had come from nowhere and struck some transformers around the town’s power station, damaging them and possibly bring on blackouts later in the evening. Gustav realized that he’d demonstrated amazing recall just now- he really hadn’t read the story for more than four seconds. He’d picked up the paper and given it only a scan. Now he realized he could remember each word. He’d always had an excellent memory but this was a new high watermark. He smiled to himself as he approached the machines. Gustav draped his towel over one end of the bench and stared at the weights, thinking. He was a perfectly fit young man, and drew more than a few stares from the local girls. He didn’t do it for them; he liked keeping his body honed. Something was occurring to Gustav. Currently, he bench-pressed maybe one hundred and seventy-five pounds. With a slight change to his approach, could he achieve more? He examined the bench’s layout for a moment, then placed a book under one end. He lay on the bench and angled his shoulders differently than he normally did, rolling them back against the bench before lifting. The weights lifted more easily than ever before. Success! Could he stack on more weight? He slid thirty more pounds onto the bar, knowing it was unrealistic to hope for a thirty pound gain all at once, but feeling confident in his new approach. He lay down and lifted… and the bar came up. What was even more amazing was that he felt room for improvement. This time he put on fifty more pounds and adjusted his grip on the bar, to maximize his biceps’ pull against the ligaments of his forearms and keep the yaw of his arms’ bone structures at a more vertical tilt than ever before. He breathed deeply, visualizing the air going the surface area of his mouth instead of down his windpipe. This allowed him to hyperoxygenate himself with a simple trick that resulted in him taking more air in a single breath, and faster. His plan worked. The bar lifted, and without much straining. He pressed it once, twice, a third time against his chest and then set the bar back in its cradle. He sat up, amazed and quite pleased with himself over his discovery. It was- Something happened, and all at once he knew three things: there was a slight drop in temperature on his left side, there was a shadow moving quickly against the north wall, and there was a noise like a spring being released within a plastic shell. These pieces of information quickly met and interfaced with each other in Gustav’s mind. Before he knew he had a solution, his body was reacting. His arm shot out to the left and caught the Nerf dart his foster brother had just shot at him. Gustav turned to look at the dart in his hand, marveling at what he’d just done. His mind had taken a problem and given him a means around it in the time it took a projectile to fly across the room. His little foster brother was staring, open-mouthed, from the door at the gym’s other side. He dropped his Nerf gun, turned and ran. He had to tell everyone he knew about the coolest thing he’d ever seen. [i][b]Next:[/b][/i][b] Discourse[/b] [/QUOTE]
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Marvel Superheroes - Heroes of Silverage City UPDATED 5/19
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