MatchThe ballad on the radio drew to a close just in time for the car to pull over. Beaten up. Running on fumes of one kind and smelling of another. “Aw man, that was sad.” *Grunt.* The two climbed out. A woman in leather jacket, sleeves torn off to show off heavily inked arms that could almost pass for camouflage in the half light. A scruffy man in a worn black coat that dragged on the floor, iron-on badges all across one shoulder and down the arm. He spun the keychain on his finger and thumbed the lock..The car beeped once and died before it could finish.
“Hey. Hey Ceets. Thuggie. Cartoooooon.” Her voice dragged like only a lifetime of smoke packed in early could. But a warm tone and a hearty smile beat their way past and to the front.
“What, mortal wretch?” His was a bad impression of that deep bad guy you go in pulpy tv. The kind that got possessed by some ancient evil and started using a word a day calendar.
“Not very nice.”
Rooftop Rumble The morning was crisp. A slight breeze blew through the city and picked up just in time to gently buffet the rooftop where three friends gathered about their parked... ship. They'd settled on ship. It was no more a helicopter or plane than it was their property strictly speaking. One sat and fiddled with a cross between a water tower, generator, and air conditioner. Aaron was happy enough to work. Lazarus on the other hand..."So why are we here again?"
"Research. I told you this already Laz. Some 20 times. On the way in. This generator's an early model and its been running almost since they introduced it. They don't make them like this any more, and that might be important. Remember that pyrokinetic last week?"
The third joined in. Short next to the others, but much more commanding in her stance. Her attire could be mistaken for casual, simple jeans, hoodie and sneakers, were it not for a holstered knife on one leg, gun opposite. "Oh yeah Laz, the one that set
Rooftop Rumble, Bring it Deep in their yet to be described on screen lair, the heroic forces of the KNIGHTs, the Kanterran Neutral Individuals of Global Hazard or Threat, debate their public image. Specifically, new posters declaring proudly, Bring it on! A young man by the name of Aaron scratched furiously at a few stubborn strands of stubble. "I'm not feeling it." His teammate Lazarus offered a counterpoint. "Really? I think its powerful, let them know we're out there, doing the good work." And finally, the KNIGHTs' arguable founder, Sparrow, cut to the core of the issue. "Look, Aaron's right. Its a little cocky. Do we want people to fight us?" A couple scattered ums and ahs. "Whatever, I'm out. Don't really think I'm into this part. Show me the next one you guys make." Aaron casually raised his voice as she opened the door "I still think Star should be our mascot!" Sparrow ducked a thrown remote. "By the moons, let that slide already." He just kept chuckling. "Come on, you volunteered." Laz si
Rooftop Rumble ''Brought it'' The deputy foreman stood still, and let his stupid mouth gape open even further, less an o and more an O. Martyn thought back briefly, ruminated on a pencil he'd gotten stuck inside his desk once upon a time, and unclipped a flashlight from his belt. The deputy foreman turned to run. Martyn brought a workboot on the back of his heel, and a heavy blow to the back of... a helpful badge gave the man's name as Frank. Frank shot a horrified look back "Y-yyou're!" Another harsh blow with the light across his forehead. A brief punch to the kidneys, and he was flat to the ground, and then, when he stared up with that same stupid gaping mouth, Martyn Muller (supply relations) forced the flashlight's handle into that hole of worthless noise. And then suddenly it passed deeper, out the back of his throat, into the ground beneath, with the man just gurgling and widening his eyes. A few workers had come running, wrenches held tightly, scanning this bloody faced maniac."B
From the files of the KNIGHTS, Martyn MullerMartyn Muller, known aliases include Matthew Muller, Martin Miller, the Haunter of Halingehn, Reget, Sir Real, and Marvin Patrick.
Adult male Endlyrian, brown hair and eyes. Distinctive features include thick eyebrows and an outdated prosthetic hand (left), electrical battery rather than laaka.
Citizenship is East Endlyrian, now revoked.
Fluent in Terran, Endlyrian and Halish.
Kinetic. Abnormal ability set. Mr. Muller is able to make himself and whatever he is in contact with insubstantial, able to move through other objects while still being observed. From our previous interactions we can confirm that he is able to control what is still solid to him, explaining why he does not simply fall through the floor. Except when he wants to. He is able to discontinue this insubstantiality at a time of his choosing, or after a short duration, usually some 4 or 5 seconds, after he has lost contact with the item. At this point the object will be able to interact with the rest of the world as
Theme: Sousa, King Cotton March
East Endlyr views itself as the last of the Republic of Endlyr, now remembered as a democratic union of the states of West Endlyr, Tesflyr, Larilyr, and East Endlyr. And Duhnkengagen one supposes. Unfortunately, as they continued to split the remainder seemed to become more and more conservative, leading eventually to the war between the proud, noble Eastern Endlyrians, the decadent west, and the vile, sinister and warlike Duhnkenians (content to fight everyone to strengthen their hold on Eastern soil)
PropagandaPatriotic literature and art become ever more available to the people, many in richer families send their children to other nations for higher education, though tradition expects the firstborn child to enter civil service.
Martyn Muller was the t
A shift."Now son, what you saw today, I'm not too proud of. When you work where I do, sometimes people need... they get a bit impatient, and can't wait, so they pay a little extra. It'd be for the best if you just tried to forget all of-"
-"Tune in next time for more of the Adventures of Dirk Daring..."
The tinny radio soon returned to the news, and the silent vigil held by Martyn and his brother Matthew, sat on the couch.
"Were you two listening to something?" their father called as he stepped from his room. "Dirk Daring again. Mother said you were working."
"And I told you," he spoke with a certain whimsy and weariness, "to call me if you were listening to that overdramatic drivel again. Best damn nonsense I've ever heard. They used to have it back when I was a kid, and hell if I'm going to miss it now they've got it back on. I can work at work. I don't need to waste all my time here too."
"My sons! Off to academy! You two will get the best of starts I can promise you!" His
Rainy Days and Hidden Haunts, Epilogue He'd fallen three stories, and nearly sunk through the fourth, before he been able to bring himself back. He panted madly, not a lick of air until he'd made his lurching stop. Now he dangled, his arm nearly torn out of its socket and his hand half buried in the ceiling, the concrete so cold around his fingers. The edges of the hole in his hand dripped down his sleeve and tickled his forearm. This close to her. It was so hard to think, the air scraped his lungs and the kerit that soaked him burned his skin. Need to clean it off. Can't hold on anymore. He took a deep breath, so hard after that much effort earlier. His arm briefly flickered and he began to drop, before it caught again, the weight pulling at either side of the ragged wound in his palm. He bit down on his tongue and the taste of blood filled his mouth. He wouldn't scream. Wouldn't give that thing the satisfaction. Breath out. Breath in.
No basement beneath the workshop. But the offices had maintenance ben
The Kanterran Chronicler, Paul II Paul was half asleep, watching a half-dead girl. And as his head began to roll, and his eyes flickered, someone else's opened. She made to get up, but stopped when she heard the ringing of the chains that held her arm down. Somebody snored. The guard looked young. Glasses, scruffy looking, hadn't been keeping himself clean. Recent though, like a layer of grime over someone more used to comfort. More importantly, he hadn't heard her move. Probably meant she wasn't a guest though, from the look of the bars on the room, the bindings on her arm. Smelled horrible. She couldn't remember being captured. She slowly made to move, readied herself for the sudden change in position, pictured herself on the other side of the room, standing beyond the steel bars. A sudden and sharp headache cut her off, nothing but sharp pain.
She stifled a cry. Oh. She still couldn't. It had been sudden, the sickness had begun again, as bad