Element
I've made 24 posts
79 years.
Boreal
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Post by Atticus Gale on Nov 26, 2019 17:47:34 GMT -6
January, 2021. Jersey City, NJ.
The sun was setting and the streets were growing dark in the shadow of the city.
“Hey, Plymouth’s gotta gig in a few hours over in Greenville.” Priss mentioned, as she opened the door to her vehicle. “You wanna go?”
Plymouth was already getting into the passenger side, meaning heading across the river wouldn’t be an option. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll catch a cab.” Jess relinquished, “See ya tomorrow.”
“How ‘bout you?” She called out to Atticus, “You coming?”
He would have loved to get to know Priss better, but he found himself wishing them a good night and staying back with the surly woman who’d just tried to shoot him, kick his face in, and stick him with a knife. Call it out-dated chivalry but back in his day you just didn’t ditch a lady. Even if she did try and kill you.
“Where you heading?” Atticus asked.
Plymouth had caught a lift with him, so he was obviously going to offer her a ride. Jess wasn’t sure she could bear the conversation. “I’m good.”
“Com’on. I got’er warming-up right now.” He urged her, besides she looked positively grey. Ever since they’d gotten back to the restaurant Atticus couldn’t help notice how she’d been favouring her side. The lean was almost imperceptible, especially under her full length coat, but ever since their bout he found himself a little more attentive. He could tell she was in pain, but to what extent, he couldn’t say. “Heated seats… might help.” he added.
“Help with what?” She challenged like it was some kind of accusation, her fine brow furrowing, angular jaw tightening.
“Okay.” Atticus backed down, hands raised in surrender.
He’d extended the olive branch and she’d slapped it to the ground. Time for him go. Realistically, he wouldn’t being seeing that much of the detectives. Most of their correspondence would be through messaging, there was really no need for them to get know one another on personal level. Probably for the best.
Watching the tall figure make his way down the street, Jessica started to feel like a heel, but that was the trap wasn’t it? The guilt of not allowing the man to exercise his knightly right. Or maybe he was just a person offering a ride to someone who could use it. ‘Bollocks’.
Atticus’ bright orange jeep was just about to pull away when there was a rap on the passenger side window. She stood there, hands in her pockets, radiant in the twilight while awaiting him to unlock the door. What would it hurt anyway? Probably wouldn’t have to see him again for at least a few weeks after this, after all, she and Priss were just running interference. Dotting the ‘i’s’ and crossing the ’t’s’ of justice when needed. The heated seat did feel good on her sore rib. Honestly, she didn’t even know how it happened. He never landed a blow on her, and her rolls across the ground had been executed perfectly, absorbing all the damage.
“Where you headed?” He asked, bringing up the GPS dash map.
“94 Fort Greene Place, Brooklyn”, she answered. Speaking clearly for the navigation system.
“How ‘bout you?” She inquired, “How much are you going out of your way?”
If it wouldn’t have come out sounding positively cliche he would have told her it couldn’t be out of his way. Instead he mentioned that he lived in Manhattan, on the Upper West Side. She wasn’t surprised, not since learning his true age. To think, he was actually around eighty years of age. Physically, he was probably younger than she was, and yet as old as her grandfather. It was simply unnatural, and a little unnerving.
Heading down the Manhattan Bridge, Jessica winced from the pain. It was getting worse. She felt just awful.
“I’m suddenly very appreciative of the ride.” She told him, holding her side. “You didn’t happen to hit me with some kind of subsonic blast or anything did you?”
Atticus flashed a bright smile. “Don’t believe I have that ability.”
Fort Greene Place, Brooklyn, New York.
‘You have arrived’ announced the navigation system.
Atticus pulled up in front of the apartment and as Jess opened the door she doubled over in pain.
“I’m alright. I’m alright.” She assured him, but Atticus had already shut off the vehicle and headed round to her door.
Sliding a large arm around her small frame he helped her to the foyer.
“I think I may know what the problem is.” He mentioned as he helped her up the stairs to her second floor apartment.
Unable to open the door, she handed the key to Atticus. While she leaned against the wall he quickly opened the door, then helped her inside.
Jess crumpled onto a beautiful deep red leather chase lounge and tried to stretch out. It felt like one of her ribs was broken.
Atticus placed her keys on top of a bookshelf, turned on the Tiffany lamp in the corner and kneeled beside her.
“Once upon a time, I was a medical doctor.” He told her. She didn't have any reason to doubt him. “Can I take a look?”
In any other situation where a man she barely knew wanted to look under her shirt she’d have gave him a good knock but things being as they were she quickly reached down and pulled up her shirt.
Her abdominal muscles were in exceptional condition. The way she moved Atticus had expected as much. She was built like a gymnast, which leant to his theory.
Jess’ face contorted as she felt his finger prob the area from which the pain was radiating. She then felt his hand gently touch her leg and roll her hips to one side while stabilizing her shoulder with the other. It hurt like hell, and she was about ready punch him.
“Okay.” he forewarned, and she could feel the invasive pressure of his finger pushing between her ribs. An ex-athlete who competed at an Olympic level, she was no stranger to pain and braced herself as the force of his other hand on her shoulder increased. She grit her teeth… “BLOODY HELL!” She screamed. As the pain coursed through her body she immediately jumped to the conclusion that the old doctor was off his nut, along with her elbow almost connecting with Atticus’ face! Springing into a sitting position, her accusatory finger moved faster than the sickly pop she felt in her ribs, then the pain began to quickly subside. It was as if a knot had been untied and as he would later explain, wasn’t far from the truth.
“It happens to athletes sometimes, usually gymnasts or dancers, but only when they’re very young.” He explained, from a very unintrusive position within the threshold of the room’s entryway. “One rib folds under another. I suspected the condition due to your uncommon flexibility. If you’re going to continue to perform at such a high level, your training needs to match that intensity.”
“Well, what exactly are you saying ‘old man’?” Jess taunted in playful retaliation to what she could have misinterpreted as a slight, but he was right, she had slacked off on her training. She didn’t push herself like she used to.
Atticus on the other hand, wasn’t unable to determine if there wasn’t a hint of seriousness to her tone, nor an edge to the cut about his age. Of course, he wasn’t used to being so exposed. Prior to her encroachment into his privacy only two people had been aware of his longevity, now there were two more, and needless to say, he didn’t whole-heartedly trust them with such a secret. Especially her. She exuded a hostility that he couldn’t exactly put his finger on and so just assumed that he was most likely the catalyst.
Responding with an ambiguous smile, Atticus’ eyes drifted to the contents of the recessed bookshelf behind the lounger she was sitting on. It was a library of programming languages, coding and a wide array of instructional manuals on operating systems and hardware. A quick glance down the aisle cross the way revealed a series of flashing lights blinking through a slightly ajar door. No doubt a server, probably one of many. Focusing his heightened hearing he could just make out the familiar hum several cooling fans.
‘So that’s how she did it.’ She actually bested Plymouth, and that was saying something. Atticus wondered what other honey jars containing his personal information she had stuck her fingers into, but worrying about it now wouldn’t do much good at the moment. He needed to talk with Plymouth first.
Jess exhibited a slight discomfort as she allowed herself to recline.
“Take some ibuprofen before bed. You’re in great physical, shhh…. condition.” Seemed a more appropriate term than ‘shape’, Atticus considered. He definitely wanted to minimize the ‘old man’ creepy factor.
“You can sit down if you like.” Jess offered, noting the unusual distance he was maintaining.
“I’m good. I should probably be hitting the road. You have a really nice place by the way.” He complimented.
The colour scheme was a warm autumn palette of spicy reds, golds and deep greens; the furnishings a combination of traditional and vintage, dark woods and rich deep hued leathers. Not unlike his own, and despite the coolness of his company, was very comfortable.
“Thank you, and thanks for the help.” She gestured to her ribs.
It was obvious that Jess wasn’t used to thanking strangers for assistance, he could relate. It had taken more time than most had for Atticus to learn to ask for help and it was still a struggle.
“So, how long have you known, Plymouth?”
There it was. Eventually all conversations lead down this all too familiar road that just about everyone liked to drive down. Couldn’t blame them, a crime-fighting musician with the face of an angel and the body of a Roman god. Didn’t get much better than that. It was difficult not to be a little jealous of that person with which all caution was just thrown to the wind. The guy could be the biggest dick and they’d explain it away as brutal honesty or assign some label of esoteric wisdom to it. It was like a super-power.
“Few years.”
“How’d you two meet?”
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Element
I've made 24 posts
79 years.
Boreal
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Post by Atticus Gale on Nov 30, 2019 0:32:27 GMT -6
Atticus removed his coat and tucked it under his arm.
“Before the ‘Humanity-For-All Act’ was enforced by most of the world, with the exception of America of course, I focused on animal abusers. I got sick of seeing pieces-of-shit torturing animals so I decided to do something about it.”
Jess couldn’t help but be intrigued. Who didn’t have a soft spot for animals? Protecting them though, never ended well, but here was someone who could go wherever he wanted under his own power. Bypass borders. Get away with murder.
“Anyway, I’d caught wind of a ‘canned-hunting’ operation in Oregon. People paying off a Wolf Reserve for private hunts. It’d been going on for years. Bloody town’s economy had actually become dependent on it. That’s where I met Casket and another mask called Red Wolf.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of him.” She added of the Native American crime fighter.
“They’d been fighting crime across the country.”
“… and leaving behind a pile of corpses.” Jess interjected.
“Less than the wolves and other animals they murdered.” Atticus retorted.
He really didn't differentiate between Humans and other animals. It was all the same to him, she could tell. Jess bit her tongue and gave a rigid nod followed by Atticus' audible sigh. His head fell in frustration. ‘What in the hell had Plymouth been thinking? She was giving off all the signs of a goddamn anti-mask!, And she knew who he was!’
“This isn’t going to work.” His tone was cold and finite.
Jess’ brow furrowed, a confused smile ensuing. “Why? Because I believe in the law?”
“What law is that?” He puzzled.
“Don’t start mincing words!” She snapped, “You know damn well what I mean.”
“No, actually I don’t.”
Jess elevated herself to a sitting position, wincing at the sharp pain in her abdomen as her feet hammered down on the hardwood floor. “Look ‘old-man’, I accept that ‘masks’ are here to stay, what I don’t is your kind substituting the laws with your own code. Anyway you slice it, you’re a murderer, and one day, you'll pay for your crimes. Not gonna do any good fighting amongst ourselves right now, though. I gave Priss my word and that still means something to some of us. I’m taking just as much of a risk as you are.”
Atticus offered a disconcerted nod, and made his way to the door. “That’s my queue. I’ll see my way out.”
‘Bollocks! She just made an enemy.’
Her phone went off. “Shit!” she swore checking the message. A murder over in Lower Manhattan. She considered bailing, and giving her rib some time to heal but Priss needed her.
Jess texted back a thumbs-up. She’d live. The front door closed and she put Atticus Gale out of her mind.
Atticus started the jeep, the soft hum of the electric vehicle buzzing to life. He checked a few messages on his phone and was just about to pull out when he spied Jessica's black two-door emerging from the underground parking garage. ‘Must of got called in’, he figured.
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Element
I've made 24 posts
79 years.
Boreal
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Post by Atticus Gale on Dec 7, 2019 0:15:30 GMT -6
Police had cordoned off a ten square block area from Broadway to Mercer, meaning the suspect was most likely still in the area. Jessica had to cross through several road-blocks, each posted with standard officers, Iron Legion robots known as Guardsmen, and various types of enhanced cops. The F.R.B. didn’t get involved unless the murder was enhanced-related, but these days, that was more common that not. People didn’t even talk about ‘gun-control’ anymore, those days were gone. Now, people just wanted a set limit, any limit, to the amount of power a single person could wield if they could just get their hands on the right parts.
At the last blockade she caught sight of one of New York’s first masked cops, Gold Shield, his signature metallic gold mask ablaze with the flashes of red and blue that ignited the murder scene. Alongside him, the police of his particular unit all kept their faces hidden behind black half-masks, it was a trend that had been picking up steam across the country as more and more law enforcers were being targeted during off-duty hours. She didn’t blame them for wanting to protect their families, to live a normal life, but to her it was one or the other. Being a cop was your life.
Pricilla was already at the scene when she arrived. She figured she must have drove like the proverbial bat-out-of-hell coming from Jersey, but turned out she was already in transit when the call came in. Not like her to duck out early. Something mush have come up, but she’d inquire further about it later, right now, their prime concern was the costumed stiff lying in the middle of the street in a pool of his own blood.
“What have we here?” Jess inquired as she flashed her detective’s badge to one of the officers securing the area.
“Called himself the White Moth.” Pricilla informed her as they ducked under the police tape for a closer look.
There was more red than the white of the costume and half of the body was burnt, the sickly stench of smouldering flesh still heavy in the air.
In her serious, dead-pan tone, Jess commented, “There’s definitely a joke here.”
“Not laughing.” Priss replied, placing her hands on her hips.
She hadn’t changed, still wearing her faded jeans in contrast with Jessica’s pressed slacks and dress coat.
“Two units were on the scene during the altercation.” Priss relayed, “The suspects would have got away otherwise. They ran into the Woolrich.” she pointed out, “Been laying low since.”
Jessica stepped closer to the body, examining the costume. It was a lot of low-grade tech he’d patched together, she’d seen the glider mechanism before. “A few karate classes, glider lessons, and average-joe becomes a super-hero.”
“Living the American dream.” Priss added.
“What's this?” Jess noted, bending down to inspect the crime-fighter’s hand. “This been processed yet?” she inquired of the nearest CSI, who responded with a shake of their head. He handed her a pair of rubber gloves and watched as she pried open the hand and retrieved a key. “Well, hello. Recognize this?” She put to Priss, who considered it might be for a lock box.
“Isn’t there a bank a ways down?” Jess confirmed, and Priss was already in motion. She gathered a force of six officers to accompany them as they ran the few blocks to the Wells Fargo bank.
Just outside the cordoned area, six men in black gear watched the street through the front doors of the bank’s lobby. Each of them were armed with their own unique cybernetic-enhancements ranging from exoskeletal armour to tactical weaponry.
“They’re not coming back.” One of the men tried to convince the leader who was growing agitated with the insubordination, but he knew the man was probably right. They should have been back already with the security key.
“Com’on, we gotta cut ‘em loose.” Another chimed in, hefting a bag of money over his shoulder. “Forget about the gold. We’ve got more than enough.”
“What about my brother!” The leader snapped.
“He knew the risk. Now, I haven’t seen a squad car pass by in ten minutes. It’s now or never.”
“Fuck!” The leader growled, driving his armoured fist into the stone wall. “Alright. Grab everything.” he ordered, “Me and Chuck will take point. Out the front and straight to the van.”
Armed with high-powered automatic rifles the two men on point took up covered positions while the others, laden with several bags apiece made a bee-line for the alleyway round the corner.
“This is NYPD! Put down your weapons!” Shouted Priss as she and her fellow officers took cover behind some parked cars.
“SHIT!” Roared the leader, “Keep going!” he ordered his men as he let loose a barrage of gun fire, the high caliber rounds blasting gaping holes in the side of one the vehicles providing cover to the police.
The second robber, clasped one of his armoured hands into a fist and pointed it at the other parked car. There was a loud hum, followed by the sound of super-heated air exploding as massive bolt of electricity arced from his hand to the vehicle. As the car ignited with bright tendrils of electricity, three officers leaning against the metal convulsed and dropped stiffly to the pavement.
Priss, Jess and the remaining three officers instinctively moved away from the vehicle they were using for cover to making sure they weren’t close to the conductor, but they had another problem. The leader of the group launched a grenade through one of the windows, exploding the vehicle from the inside out. Jess swiftly rolled over one of the electrocuted officers followed by her diving partner, while the burning bodies of the three remaining officers tumbled lifelessly across the pavement. With no hesitation, Jessica sprang up over the hood of the vehicle, targeted and opened fire on one of the shooters. A rapid succession of shots impacted the man’s chest, driving him back, but he didn’t fall. Instead, he made a fist with his other hand and aimed it toward them, the hum of the battery growing louder as it charged up the plasma burst.
“Get down!” Pricilla screamed, leaping for her partner, but there was no way either could move fast enough to avoid the lightening strike. There was a bright flash, and the two of them lay on the pavement, slowly making sense of the fact that the bright beam had shot wide.
Looking under the vehicle, all they could see was the gunman’s feet being quickly pulled into the air, followed by the sound of gun-shots emanating from the roof of the bank. Eerie silence ensued, followed by more gun shots as the remaining thief riddled the edge of the roof top with bullets as he made his escape; enhanced exoskeletal legs carrying him quickly to the alley.
Jessica didn’t have time to question what had just happened, without hesitation she sprinted after the fleeing criminal, closely followed by Priss’ long, powerful strides. She knew right away who it was, always able to feel his presence. He was all the back-up they needed.
“Com’on, com’on!” The leader of the gang shouted as he leapt into the back of the large van, “Get this damn thing moving!”
The driver floored the late model fossil-fuel burning vehicle, the big engine rumbling, tires screeching, but they weren’t moving.
“I said, move it!” The man roared.
“I am!” The driver shouted back, bewildered. Then he noticed the top of a man’s head peeking out just below the windshield, thick black hair falling before a masked face. “Shit! There’s some guy in front of us!”
‘Some guy?’, the leader puzzled. “Fucking shoot ‘em!”
Lowering his window, the gunman in the passenger seat leaned through the opening to get the angle on who or whatever was holding back the truck. The wheels were spun, but they weren’t gaining any ground as the large figure continued to push his hands against the front of the van. A sitting duck. He just about had the ‘mask’ in his sights when the gunman was ripped out of the window, his body striking the side of the alley with bone shattering force. Inside the van the air stirred strangely, then a costumed vigilante appeared in the passenger seat, then just like a ghost he vanished. He reappeared in the back of the van where the large man crumpled another robber against the side of the cargo area. A robotically enhanced arm swung widely in the dark, seeking out their attacker’s glowing eyes. It struck nothing but metal, the fist sinking deep into the metal. Beside the dent protruding on the outside of the vehicle, the form of a man’s head popped out. Gun fire erupted as panic gripped the thieves. A bright red beam from a mechanized hand burned through his partner’s back where that luminescent stare had been. They blazed once more, followed by the driver’s head busting through the windshield.
Pricilla and Jessica arrived on the scene not five minutes later. They threw open one of the back doors and pointed their guns into the interior, their words choked by what awaited them. Blood dripped down the walls and pooled on the floor where four of the six men lay dead, the other two unconscious.
“What the hell?” Jess exclaimed. It looked like they’d been mauled by a gorilla, all within a few minutes.
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