Commencement - the fiction writing challenge!

[Uncle Yuan]

I graduated.  Spam and Gremlin graduated.  Spring is commencement time - the ending of one stage of life and the beginning of the next.  Entertain and amaze us with your original tale of starting the next chapter.  From graduating from Super U to the day after the cataclysmic battle, any variation on the theme of transition/graduation/new beginnings is acceptable.

Submissions should be a minimum of 500 words, max of two posts (10,000 words), rated PG-13 or less, and contain only original or forum avatar (with permission) characters.  Submissions must be frankly super-heroic, but may have any setting, style or sub-genre you wish. 

Deadline is Sunday evening, July 13 at 11:59 pm.  Please submit only finished pieces and please do not submit until judges have been named. Submitted pieces will be deemed ready for judging.  Grammar and spelling count - so proofread carefully!

The prize will be a $25.00 gift certificate to the on-line retailer of your choice.

I could also use the help of two judges.  If you want to write, though, DO!  Reading is easy, writing is hard!  I'll figure something out if I have to go begging for judges.

[Mr. Hamrick]

hmmm

Do i want to write or judge?  I really like the premise and kinda have an idea.  But I know what my schedule is like for the next few weeks (I have been on set of my first feature) and I have been prepping for the 48 Hour Film Project. 

Tell you what, Yuan.  If you don't have a second judge by July 1st then shoot me a line and I will do it.  Otherwise, I will be trying to throw something together. 

Cheers.

[Grendal_71]

Well, let's see how much rust I knock off my writing hand between now and July 13. 

Personally, I can't wait to read other enties.  That's as much funs as writing my own!

What the heck...I'm in.

[Uncle Yuan]

Thanks to the mod who stickied this!

[Uncle Yuan]

I do have one judge and am working on a second - more news on that very soon.  If you're interested, though, do send me a PM.

We're down to the last week for the first deadline!

[Mr. Hamrick]

bah Yuan, you do know you will probably have to postpone the deadline a few days.

[Glitch Girl]

The Education of Joey A.
by Mea


Joey Alister stood at rigid attention and resisted the urge to adjust his plain gray uniform which felt like it riding up in the back. This was quite possibly the most important day of his life.  His destiny was at hand.

In many ways, Joey was a born underachiever.  C average time in grade school, a half-finished high school career, and a string of mediocre jobs and minor brushes with the law filled his past.  But now, at long last, he'd found (correction: "...been recruited into") a place where he finally fit in.

The Irma Bunt Technical College of Henchling Studies.

Today was the last day. The BIG day.  Today he'd find out what all those months of training got him, and maybe, if he was lucky, he'd end up working for someone who'd one day rule the world. 

Okay, probably not, but you never know.

He and his fellow recruits stood at attention in the middle of one of the training "fortresses" as one of their instructors, a man who went simply by the name "Pincer" after the metal clamp which served as his right hand and who had assisted the likes of Baron War, Doctor Terror, the Blight, and even the Franken-Fuhrer, addressed them as a group. 

"....So in closing," he continued, pacing slightly across the raised platform overlooking the several dozen grey minions-to-be, "remember that today is your final step in your journey.  After today, you will be ready to change the world, by following the orders of others who WILL change the world!  You may be the ones to bring in a whole new world order without any of the responsibilities of managing it!  In short, you will do the great things of others.  Make me proud minions, make me proud.

"And now, it's time for your final test.  You will be defending this base from attack.  You will be scored on technique, use of available resources, and overall performance.  Squad A, you will be in charge of exterior defense on the north side.  Squad B, you will be first line interior north side.  Squad C..." 

First line interior, north side...  Joey committed it to memory.  That was the loading dock, wasn't it?  Wasn't there a break room near there?  He wondered if it was still stocked.

"...Squad M, roof. All right minions... your final test begins, MOVE OUT!"

----------

Joey was right, there was a break room near the loading dock, which allowed him to snag an unopened box of donut holes and some stale coffee (which was better than no coffee at all).

"Best.  Final.  Ever." he smiled and popped another donut hole into his mouth before passing the box to the rest of his team.

"You say that now," his friend Sam said sagely, "but you know what's going to happen, right?" 

Sam was tall, dark, and built like two linebackers squished together, but lacked the grace or agility for sports, or as it turned out, much of anything else.  Over time Joey had learned Sam's great ambition was to write the Great American Novel, but so far he'd had trouble holding any job due to his size and lack of coordination.  He'd finally settled on henching because it was relatively uncomplicated and gave decent downtime to work between capers.  Besides, no one had written a novel on the experience of "Henching". 

"Oh, yeah," sighed Joey.  "That part won't be fun.  But it should be quick, and it's gotta be easier than Algebra ever was, right?"

The squad laughed.

"So Joey," asked Sam, "After this, where you headed?  I hear you got an offer from the Squid."

"Yeah, but I hear he used to hench for Captain Mako," he replied, leaning back against a concrete barrier.  "I mean, come on, who wants to be a flunky's flunky?"

"I hear ya', man."

"So, Squid's out, but I hear Doc Hammer is hiring. He's got some decent contacts with the Guild, so that would be good entry level, maybe make a few connections and see who's best to hench for once I'm in the field."

"Good plan."

"How about you Sam?"   

"I'm thinking of trying to sign on with the Laugh Master," Sam said.

There was a collective groan from the group.

"Dude, have you seen those uniforms?  They look stupid, even for henchwear."

Sam shrugged, "I know.  But at least they have masks..."

"Whoo," Joey cheered sarcastically.

"...and a decent 401K," Sam continued, "good benefits package, medical coverage, even dental."

"Whoah, did you say dental?"

Sam nodded. "Laugh Master may be nuts, but he's got a scary good head for finances.  You should see his portfolio."

"Laugh Master has a portfolio?"

"Mm-hm."

"So why the hell does he do all those crazy crimes?"

Sam shrugged.  "He gets bored easy?  He's got a clown fetish?   Who knows.  What about you Bob?"

Joey suspected Bob had used some hard drugs before he ended up on the henching track.  He had a certain emaciated quality to him  - every uniform he wore, no matter how supposedly form-fitting it was hung loose on his body - and only a partial connection with reality.  His stringy blond hair was always falling in his eyes but he never really seemed to care.

"Gonna try for the Ice Queen."

"More like Ice Βitch," Joey muttered.

"Hey!  Don't diss my future boss babe!"

"Bob, you know Ice Queen doesn't hire men," Sam explained calmly. "Just 'Ice Maidens'."

"So?"

"So, she doesn't even like men," Joey added.

"But think, all those chicks, that's why it'd be AWSOME henching there!"

"...You are deeply deluded."

"Thanks!" Bob said brightly.

The other three rolled their eyes.

"How about you Matt?"

Matt was the youngest of the four and just barely the shortest.  A high school dropout as well, he'd been in gangs for a few years until he got recruited, which wasn't too uncommon. Lots of flunkies got recruited directly from the larger gangs.  By then they already understood hierarchy, taking orders, uniforms, and basic weapons, all good skills for henching.   Plus, Matt was generally pretty quiet, an even more important henching skill.

"I'm kinda thinking of Skylord," said Matt.

"Whoah man, no way. Bad plan!"

"Why?"

"Skylord has a FLYING FORTRESS!"

Matt gave him a blank look.

"You NEVER want a flying fortress gig!" Joey explained.  "Something goes wrong, and it always does, and then what?"  He mimed something in a nose dive. "Eeeeeeaaaaawwwwwwnnn... FOOM!!"

"Um... well, there's supposed to be life boats-"

"On an FLYING fortress?"

"Well-"

"Seriously man," Sam added, "you think they stock enough life pods for all the flunkies?  Those things are a real death trap.  Almost as bad as underwater fortresses.  Nah, give me a warehouse any day.  Less glamour, LOTS more survivable."

"Lots more clown makeup," Bob added, grinning. Sam flashed a quick glare at him.

Just then the PA system boomed to life.  "ATTENTION!  THE ENEMY HAS BEEN SIGHTED AT NORTH ENTRANCE AND IS ADVANCING ON SQUAD A! MINIONS, ELIMITE HIM!!"

"That's our cue," said Sam.

"BOOYAH!!  LET'S GO MINIONS!!"

"Shut up Bob."

They scrambled to their positions behind whatever cover the loading dock could offer.  Joey checked his weapon, a Heckler & Koch MP5 knockoff which wasn't quite as good as a real MP5, but was still a pretty good sub-machine gun. 

That had been an unexpected benefit of Joey's henching education: he'd gained a real eye for weapons, especially cheap ones.

Outside he could hear shouting and gunfire.  Squad A must have met the enemy.  Those donut holes were now laying like little lumps of lead in Joey's stomach and he was starting to regret his snack break.

This was it, the moment of truth.

"Think Squad A will win?" Matt asked.

"What do you think?"

There was a loud explosion outside.  Grenade launcher, thought Joey, M203.

"...Oh," said Matt.  He sounded very worried.

"Don't worry kid, you'll do fine," Sam told him. 

"Shhh... listen."

They did.  The sounds outside had stopped and it was quiet.

Yeah, thought Joey.  TOO quiet.

The next moment, the door of the loading dock was torn from its tracks and in rolled one of the large robotic training dummies on large tank-like treads, its wedge-like body painted royal blue with a white shield dead center in the "chest", just like the famous hero of Nouveautropolis.

Joey suddenly remembered the little rhyme Sam had taught him:

Blue and white,
put up a fight.
Black and red,
you are SO dead.

Joey breathed a small sigh of relief - at least their opponent was based on the big blue boyscout, not the dark scary guy.  This training bot wouldn't be out to inflict some creative REAL pain. 

He aimed his gun right at the shield symbol, just like he'd been taught for situations like this and pulled the trigger as the rest of his team opened fire as well.  Bullets rattled off the titanium chest plate, barely denting it, much like they would have done against the real thing.

The dummy rolled inexorably forward as ammo continued to ineffectively ricochet off its metal hide.  Joey found himself backing up as he continued to squeeze the trigger down, sending a steady stream of ineffective ammo at the enemy.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam and Matt doing the same.  As for Bob, he was holding his ground, the idiot, and the training dummy continued to close.  It reached out a metal arm and grabbed Bob who failed to dodge fast enough, and threw him against the wall.  Joey winced as he saw his fellow henchman-to-be slide down and land in a limp heap on the floor.

Oof, Joey thought, one down already.

He continued to hold the trigger.

click click

Joey cursed, out of ammo already? 

No, it was jammed.  Stupid knock-offs. 

There wasn't time to fix it, so without thinking, he threw the empty weapon at the target, where it bounced off harmlessly.

He pulled out his pistol and fired because there wasn't much else he could do, and the thing still wasn't stopping.  He took another step back and felt something roll under his foot and realized too late that it was some of Matt's spent shell casings.

"Oh sh-"

Joey's foot shot forward and he flailed his arms like a mad chicken as he tried to keep his balance. He felt something in his other knee click in a bad way and landed on his butt with all the grace of a sack of garbage.

The next second, the training bot loomed over him.

Oh, this is going to hurt, thought Joey.

It did.

--------------

Joey opened his eyes to the familiar smell of antiseptic and iodine. 

Ah yes, the medical lab; a place they'd all gotten to know well over their henching education.

He quietly lay on the cot and stared at the ceiling, feeling very much like he'd been run over by a truck, which, in a sense, he had.  He knee felt a little sore, but not twisted, which was a small comfort.  Mostly he just felt... run down.

Well, that's over.  Wonder how long until-

"Candidate 84?"

Joey snapped out of his thoughts.  One of his instructors was standing over him.  He quickly clambered to attention and immediately regretted it as his head started to throb.

"How do you feel?"

"Feeling pretty good sir," said Joey.  Except for the headache, and I still think I did something to my knee...

"Good good.  Sign here please."  The man handed Joey a pen and clipboard which he promptly signed, wondering what it was. 

The instructor glanced over the clipboard and nodded.  "You were the one who threw your gun, correct?"

"..Yessir.  It jammed sir."

"Ah.  Nice touch by the way.  Very classic."

"Thank you sir."

The man pulled the second paper off the stack on the clipboard, bundled it with another sheet, and handed it to Joey.  "Congratulations.  Well done."

"Thank you," Joey beamed and shook his instructor's hand vigorously.

"Now get out there and make someone look good!"

"Yessir!"

Joey kept smiling for several minutes even after the man left.  He'd done it, he'd really done it, and with only minor lacerations too.  

He found Sam and the others a few minutes later.  They were gathered around Bob's cot and Bob who was sporting a lot of plaster on his face for a broken nose.

"How you feeling Bob?"

"Dot bad," Bob answered sounding like he had a bad head cold.  "Dey told be that it bight heal crooked."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You lucky sonovabitch!"

Bob beamed, or tried to.  The swelling made it hard.

"They been by here yet?"

Sam nodded. "Got our papers and everything."

"How did you do?"

The big man grinned.  "Hit big blue with a pipe.  Got it to bend too."  He held up a slightly angled metal tube like a trophy.  "Pincer said I got bonus points for style.  And Matt here hit the alarm before he got thrown through a crate so we got 'alert the base' points too."

"Oh yeah.  We rock!"

"I bissed it... did we win?" said Bob looking confused.

Sam sighed and clapped him on the back. "We're professional henchmen. We're not trained to win, just live to see another day.  You're still breathing, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"Did you run like a little girl?"

"Hell doe!"

"Then you passed.  Besides, if we won sometimes, we'd be out of a job, remember?"

"Oh.  Yeah.  Right."

"Guys want a beer?  I feel like celebrating!"

"Matt here old enough?"

"HEY!"

"Come on, first round's on me!"

Joey felt good.  He felt really good, like he take over the world.  Or more accurately, helps someone else take over the world, and isn't that what it was all about? 

There may be a lot of born leaders out there, but they're nothing without people like us. 

Yeah, life was good.

FIN

[thalaw2]

That's good stuff, GG!

Proof that I should stick to my rule of never reading another candidates story before i finish my own....

[Uncle Yuan]

Oooo - we have an entry!

I'm still trying to line up a third judge, but if I can't get a confirmation by the end of the day I'll go with two.  Thanks to ow_tiobe_sb for agreeing.  He had hoped to compete but RL interefered.  His withdrawl should lower the Vocabulary Quotient at least!

[Mr. Hamrick]

could you give me till monday to get mine up.

i am working on two scripts, just finished a short, been sick.

and i want to revise my story before i post it.

thanks

[Uncle Yuan]

We are in the last days before the deadline - tomorrow night at midnight.  We have one request of an extension, and by my rough tally at least 3 more entries to be posted (hopefully a lot more!).  How is everyone else doing?

[Previsionary]

Prem's entry will be posted soonish after he does a super deadly editing session because he's OCD about editing. When Prem is done, story will be posted before deadline.

*leaves thread in a billow of purple smoke*

[Grendal_71]

gotta request an extension too.  Between field training, screaming non-sleeping children, and needy senior staff, I'm having sleep deprived halucinations....Need just a little more time to finish it all up........

[Alaric]

I'd like to request an extension, too.

[ow_tiobe_sb]

I, too, would like to request an extension.  My wife tells me that my hair is not long enough for her tastes.

...

:huh: What?!

ow_tiobe_sb
Phantom Bunburyist and Fop o' th' Morning

[Previsionary]

Was gonna hold off, but I can't focus on the story anymore so...

Blue Lightning: Aimless

His eyes sparked like a firecracker as his name was called. He crossed the stage without a single care in the world. His entire being was ready to burst at its seams and everything leading up to that moment felt like a mere dream or a badly written joke. He was graduating. Not only that, he was graduating with some of his best friends he'd known for almost six years now. He was done with Blue Spark Academy and could finally advance into the real world of heroics. That is if he didn't choose to go to Wild Sparks Academy to further his academic and super hero careers. It was much too early to think about that. He just wanted to enjoy his freedom. He deserved that much.

"It's almost over, man. Once Zalaney's name is called," Hammond's eyes grew to the size of a walnut and his pupils exploded and morphed back into its normal state, "we're done with this. No more target practice or martial arts training."

"No more history, math, or science," interrupted a red headed female, "or English...or politics...or..."

"No nothing," Richard shouted while tossing his mortarboard into the air earlier than he was supposed to, but the excitement had gotten the better of him. He had been waiting for this moment for a very long time. Ever since he had moved into the Metronome Bay area in 2006. That was almost seven years ago. He was almost eleven then and could barely create an electrical spark, now he was a fully bearded man that could explode into a crackling display of energy after four or five seconds of buildup.

Mary, the red head, grasped and covered her face as if she had just remembered something that sent shivers down her spine, "we're almost over, guys. We probably won't even be seeing each other anymore after this."

The words stung Richard like a pack of darts that found their way deeply into his heart. Not only did those words ring truer than a crystal bell, but also he knew for sure that his friends had a plan for their lives after high school. He had nothing. Zilch. He was a straggler as of this moment.

"Gramaki Mitch Zalaney!" the crowd roared with excitement as the last student crossed the stage. "This is your class of 2013! May they all find their destinies as our future heroes! May none fall off the road to heroism and may they all be shining stars in our dark galaxy. Each showing the essence of what we all should STRIVE to be. Class of 2013, reach high and never falter!"

Mortarboards flew into the air and hovered gently to the ground below nearly avoiding clunking most of the student body. Roars of applause and laughter filled the crowded football stadium that the student body frequently used. It was over. High school would be nothing but a distant dream. Richard clutched his hands together and closed his eyes. This would be the last time he would ever felt as if he belonged. The only time he actually knew where he fit in.

"Welcome to the real world, guys!" shouted Hammond. "It's our time now. Wild Sparks, here I come."

At least one of us will be happy after this, Richard thought to himself. He silently picked up his graduation cap, hugged his friends, and disappeared into the crowd of ecstatic parents.

"Welcome to the real world," Richard got into his car and let out a small sigh, "enjoy your stay."

* * *

Months had passed since graduation and Richard found himself to be as aimless as ever. Nothing was capturing his attention at all and he could feel the unmentioned tension building between him and his mother. She was a hard working woman that only wanted the best for her son, but she didn't understand what he was going through. Mild depression, feelings of uselessness, fear of what was to come his way; these were common symptoms he experienced on any given day. How could he honestly sit there and tell her he was prepared for the unpredictable. Things could go horribly wrong and he could be killed in his first fight or things could go horribly right and he'd be held to a golden standard. Those are things no one could possibly predict, but Richard could only see what was already visible to him. Indecisive. What's a boy to do?

Richard turned in his bed and stared at the vacant wall near his door. Images of himself and Mary holding hands at the dock left the confinement of his mind and plastered their likeness upon his wall like photos. He could just imagine the conversation taking place from months ago between the pair. His eyes were full of life and he looked so happy. Mary played gently with her red hair and placed her head on his shoulder. It was a great memory.

"I'm going to miss this, you know." Mary closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh air. She made the cutest faces when she inhaled deeply.

"Man, don't even worry about it, right?" Richard placed a hand on her left thigh and rubbed it gently, "We can do this anytime, ok? Just because school is ending in a week doesn't mean we can't have private moments like this just to unwind. You from Hammond, me from life. You know, all that jazz."

Mary opened her eyes and looked over the water with a slight, but worrying, smile. She released Richard's hand, pushed herself onto her feet, and stared watery eyed down at him. She looked as if she wanted to cry and all Richard could do was stare back. Did he do something wrong? Was he being to forward with a girl he knew he couldn't have?

"That's just it, Rich! This is probably one of the final times we'll ever have a moment like this. Just you and me on this dock throwing stones and holding hands...this is it. I'm going to Prep Tech this fall. I--I won't even be here much beyond the holidays and you'll...I don't even know where you'll be! Even disregarding that," she closed her eyes again, folded her arms, and turned so that she could look out over the lake once more, "Hammond and I will be spending the majority of the time together."

"That doesn't stop us from being the mighty trio we are though, you know? Besides, we could easily do team-ups and stuff."

"I'm behind the scenes at best, Rick, supporting cast at worse. There's nothing I can do for you guys on the battlefield. I'm just smart. Sometimes I don't even think Hammond is built for hero-ing, but he's determined. That's why--"

Her voice trailed off as Richard changed position again so that he could look up at the ceiling. The scene continued to play out on the plainly white ceiling being slightly disrupted by a light structure that jutted from the surface. Her words were inaudible, as were his, as he chose to block out the rest of the conversation for his own good. Her words that day filled him with both dread and apprehension. She drilled it home, he had no goals and why should he expect everything to remain the same. Mary was a shining star and needed to become the supernova she deserved to be. He was nothing.

A knock came at the door and Richard sat up in his bed. He gently wiped his face to remove any type of debris he may have picked up after a most troubling sleep and walked towards the door expecting to see his sister, Karona. She was prone to waking him up early for her own enjoyment more so than being useful. He opened the door and took a firm step backwards. His mother was staring back at him with a glass of OJ and a plate of toast. This could only mean one thing. She wanted to talk.

"What is it today, momma? Did I forget to take out the trash? Forget to clean my dish properly? Leave my shoes sitting in the living room when I know better than to do such a thing? What do you want to berate me about today? I can only imagine it's something so trivial as forgetting to fill the ice tray or not letting out Sparky," the sarcasm was dripping from his tongue.

"Mhm, sweety, I'm sure you forgot to do some variance of all those things, but," Richard took the plate and juice from her grasp and retreated towards his bed, "this is of more importance. You need to inform me now of what you plan to do."

"What?" Richard took a bite of toast and washed it down with a sip of OJ. "You want me to what you?"

"Mhm, inform me of your plans, Rich. Listen, I don't want to sound like a tyrant to you because I understand what you're going through right now, but you need to do something productive. You just can't lie around here moping and complaining about being out of place and lost. Sometimes you just have to go for it."

Richard finished off his piece of toast and sat the plate on the floor just beside an old pair of boxers. He slightly rolled his eyes and finished the rest of his OJ in a giant gulp before slightly slamming his glass on his nightstand. It was that time of week again. The talk from the "authority" about his life and goals and when he would finally set something into motion. He knew his mother meant well, but she was so annoying. She pushed this point once a week and the outcome was always the same. He would just clam up and ignore her and she would continue talking on deaf ears. Richard didn't mean to imply rudeness, but this conversation was becoming a nuisance he was tired of being confronted with. Maybe he should just move out and save himself the trouble, but where would he stay? He had no money.

"While I'm sure that worked in your heyday back in the seventies, Mooom, things just aren't that simple anymore."

"Mhm, your friends are doing fine, Richard. That Mary girl just had an article published last week in the Weekly Times and she's not even interested in journalism."

Richard batted his eyelids in surprise. Mary had just started school in August and in three short months she had an article printed? Amazing.

"Well, Mooom, she is one of the smartest girls ever. That's more or less her power. Being smart." Of course, it went much deeper than this, but he didn't have time to explain the science behind Mary's abilities.

"Mhm, powers or not, she has ambition. She took a risk with the future. I want you to do the same and make family proud! Family believes very much in you. Why can't you just try?"

"I see the old speech pattern still kicks in when you mention family, huh? That must be embarrassing for you."

Richard stared as his mother backed into the hallway. She had had enough of their argument for today. She had more to say, but she knew this fight would end the same way as all the others. She placed her hands squarely on her hip and sighed before speaking again:

"I just expected greater things from you. I love you, son, but I won't be here forever to help you. You must make a choice soon. Soon, boy, very soon."

Richard pulled the covers over his head and closed his eyes as he pushed himself towards the middle of the bed. Seconds later, he heard the door close and his mother's footsteps as she walked down the stairs. He never showed her, but the words she spoke always affected him, the latest more so than usual. He wanted to make everyone happy, but he couldn't start doing that until he was happy with himself first. He lay on his back and continued to stare upwards with the white covers distorting his view slightly. Her final words kept replaying in his head. She was right; he had to apply himself. He just needed a sign...guidance. Just a small sign and he could begin the process of planning his life.

Richard tossed the blanket that was wrapped around his head onto the floor, grabbed his remote from the nightstand, and turned on the TV. Cartoons, he needed something of substance. He flipped through the channels while calmly humming to himself. His mother's words continued to play in his mind and sometimes they seemed to fit the harmony he was humming. These words would resonate with him forever.

"If you're just tuning in, we're bringing you live streaming action of a local convenience store being held up by a man with a high powered weapon. Enforcement is on the scene, but it seems the man has hostages and what appears to be a bomb attached to his torso. Police have yet to calm the man to the point of compromising, but they are continuing to try to talk him down and hope to have the situation handled before any violence may occur. We will keep you updated on this event at hand and one can only hope no one is harmed."

Richard jaw dropped and he shut the TV off in a hurry. It was if someone had been reading his thoughts. He jumped out of his bed and reached for something at the very back of his closet. He pulled it out, wiped the dust from it with a quick swipe from his right hand, and laid the garment bag on his bed. He unzipped the bag and stared at its contents lovingly. It was his graduation gift from Hammond: A plain, but effective, two-piece blue costume with a white colored lightning bolt design that ran from the shoulders right down to the bottom tip of the pants. He returned to his closet, grabbed a brown colored shoebox, and pulled out a pair of black boots that had the same white colored lightning bolt running down its side efficiently completing the picture. He placed the boots on the floor and reached into his drawer. He dug around for a moment or two and after scurrying through his personal belongings, produced two leather wristbands that ran up the length of his forearm and stopped a few good inches from his arm. He rushed into the bathroom, washed his face, and returned to don his costume in all its glory. He could remember the day he received it like it was yesterday:

"Rich, dude, I got you a present. It's no big deal or anything, I just figured you could use a suit to show you're one of the good guys." he commented as he placed the box containing the suit into Richard's hands.

"Aww, that's cute," Richard mocked while opening it, "I didn't know you cared so much, Hammy."

"Well, I can't have someone close to me running around in some low class super hero gear. This here is the best. I asked my dad to get it specially made for my chum."

"Ham, man, it's leather. Um, hot immediately comes to mind."

"That may be true," Hammond paused for a second and threw up his right thumb, "but it won't be conducting your powers, right?"

Richard didn't have the heart to inform Hammond that the sweat factor was counter-productive to his idea, but he accepted the gift anyway. A week later, he received the shoes in the mail and it's been in his closet ever since. Richard stared at himself in the mirror for an odd amount of time and climbed out his window. He didn't have time to discuss the issue with his mother and he was already late. He had spent so much time reminiscing and putting on the costume that he dare not risk wasting another second.

It took him fifteen minutes to reach the store and he instinctively ran towards one of the police officers to get the lowdown. He was informed that the situation was steadily becoming worse and the criminal had fired his weapon twice. Richard groaned and placed a hand to his face and gasped. He had forgotten his mask. It wasn't a big issue right now, but he might need to cover his face later on down the road.

"Is there another way into the store," Richard inquired.

"Only one way in unless you plan on going through the roof, buddy. Can you fly?"

"Uh, no. I've had flight class but that was mostly for learning how to target fliers better on my part."

"Then it's the front door and that's risky unless you're some type of invul."

Richard shook his head and knelt down beside the police car to gather himself and formulate some type of plan. He had been trained to handle this type of situation in one of his classes. There's no such thing as impossible and if he could stream his electricity across the road, through the door, and take out the goon without hurting the innocents, he'd be golden. Or perhaps a precise bolt of energy would do just as well? Richard continued drawing figures in the dirt as a golden figure appeared before him carrying a woman dressed in a white and purple jumpsuit.

"Rich? I didn't expect you here," spoke the voice.

"You...you know me? Crap, knew I needed a mask."

"It's me, Richie. What are you doing here?" Richard stared at the figure, and although she looked much different...older, he knew it was Mary almost immediately.

"Trying to stop a crime," Richard paused for a second and added, "Obviously, I'm a little stumped."

Mary walked over to the police chief and got all the information she needed before returning to Richard and the golden figure with an odd look upon her face. Her lips were tightly pressed together and she adjusted her glasses before speaking again.

"This may be just a little tougher than I expected."

"How tough," Richard questioned while adjusting his wristbands.

"Well, it won't be a standard in and out situation. He has a gun."

* * *

Richard gave Mary and odd stare and slowly came to the realization that she had just told him something he had already known. That was one of the first things he found out and he had already been working on a way to counter-act the weapon long before she showed up. Surely, there had to be more to the tale. Luckily, there was.

"Let me explain. The gun the criminal has is a very high powered, high frequency sonic revolver. I know what you're thinking, it shoots sounds, right?" Richard nodded as if to agree with Mary's statement, "Well, it's not exactly like that. This thing can both absorb sounds and fire them off. The sounds that thing absorbs," Mary clapped her hands together in a forceful manner producing a sound that startled the golden armored hero, "it can produce a frequency so high that it'll feel like an explosion hit us. Other than that--"

"Other than that?" Richard questioned as he toyed with his chin.

"Other than that, it's a basic sonic gun. It just shoots sounds and vibrations that can make you unbalanced, sick, or even cause some form of damage or a mild ear bleed. We'll have to be careful about this."

Richard continued to play with his chin as he stared at the building. Through the window, he could see the criminal stuffing a wool bag full of money and other small items such as candy. His eyes then shifted to the golden hero and lingered there for a moment before returning to the store. He took a single step forward and turned to his right to observe the scene. Behind him, Mary began to play with a small computer she kept hidden in her chest pocket. The beeping of the computer resembled a small toy, perhaps even a game boy, and she pecked away at the screen with her stylus hoping to find some form of a resolution. The golden hero placed a hand onto her shoulder and smiled. They had an unspoken bond and Mary instinctively knew what he meant.


[See next post]

[Previsionary]

[Continued]

"I think...I think I got something," Richard shouted as he turned back to the others. "Simple concept. I find the power box and overcharge it until the lights go off, right? Then you and golden boy--"

"Sansou," spoke the cold voice underneath the bullet shaped helmet.

"Ok...Sansou and you rush in and try to take out the criminal. How's that for a plan."

Mary adjusted her glasses and typed the information into her computer. The screen flashed for a second before pinging and displaying a number on the screen in big red text.

"85% chance of success. Sounds good enough for me, Rich. I'll alert the police; you go around back and find the power box."

"Already on it."

Before Richard could even begin his run towards his destination, Sansou reached out to him and grabbed his arm, effectively stopping him in his tracks. Sansou's grip was heavy and if it weren't for his wristbands, Richard was sure he'd be bruised. Sansou adjusted his helmet slightly so that his eyes could be seen without much effort and spoke:

"You. She believes in you. Do not disappoint."

Sansou readjusted his helmet and let go of Richard's arm. Seconds later, he was into the air and hovering just over the store's door just out of sight of any of the possible inhabitants. Richard shook his arm for a second and headed for the back of the store just as Mary returned to her spot beside the police car closest to the door. In twenty seconds, he was at the box and prying it open with eager hands. At thirty, he was channeling all the energy he needed to overload the system. At forty, he already had doubts of his plans even succeeding.

"Here we go," he whispered as he placed his hands on the worn wires, "I just hope I don't screw this up."

* * *

KA-KA-KACKABOOM! Sparks flew from the wires in rapid succession showering Richard with their presence. It was as if each lively spark wanted to escape the ensuing damnation that was sure to come. Richard backed away from the fuse box with a stinging hand. He could barely feel it and black marks were stretched across his right palm. From outside, he could hear the store powering down and he even heard a few loud and violent cracks. He assumed that a window or bulb casing was breaking because of his trick and not because the gun had been fired in shock.

He rushed back around the store as quickly as he could and stopped directly in front of its door. He took a second to look at the police officers who were waving him on with their guns held and aimed towards his general direction and stepped through the opening fearful of what could be happening inside. His mouth dropped as the glass doors closed behind. He had walked directly into chaos. Shelves were overturned, paper and trash littered the floor, and broken glass seemed to be everywhere from what little he could see. Sansou rushed pass him and crashed into a wall full of poorly handled and outdated magazines. Mary was nowhere to be seen and this worried him, but he had enough sense to hide behind a small shelf of cereal.

"Sansou, dude, you breathin'?" Richard questioned while surveying the area for any movement. He noticed that no one was near the counter and all the hostages seemed to be gone.

"UGH! Ringing is more than nuisance. Sonarizer must pay for his sins against Sansou!"

Sansou recovered and hovered just above the tallest shelf. He was looking for any signs of the man that sent him sprawling. The golden light that emitted from Sansou acted as a lamp of sorts giving the room a dimmed yellow glow. It was pretty eerie, Richard noted to himself, and could easily fit into a ghost story. Richard took a breath and resolved to move towards the counter, as that would allow him to keep track of things much easier. That was easier said than done.

Click! Click! Ka-ka-KABOOM! Something was moving! The room shook for a second or two and several things began to fall onto the floor and break. Richard held his ears in pain as Sansou was struck down and sent out a nearby broken window. Rich winced in pain and fell to his stomach. That must be the sonic gun Mary was talking about, he thought to himself making sure to keep his head hidden. Ten seconds later, he was belly crawling across the dirty floor towards the counter as quietly as he could. Tik-tik-tik! He knew something was nearby. Tik-tik-tik!

He reached the counter and climbed under the bar that acted as a separator from the open floor and the cashier area. His mind was racing with ideas as the 'tik'ing sound got closer and closer...then suddenly changed pace and moved slowly away. He cautiously lifted his head just over the counter and looked for any movement. Nothing. Without Sansou, the dim yellow light was removed and it was quickly becoming dark outside. The only source of light would have to be him, but what if they gave him away?

Tik...tik...ka. The sound was distant, but Richard could tell he was in some sort of danger. Every time he heard that sound, an explosion of some sort happened. Tik...tik...tik...ka. The gun! It must be recharging. If it were truly like a revolver, it could only shoot so many bullets, so to speak, without being recharged. His opponent must be overly cautious of his bullet count. Richard placed his back to the counter, just under the register, and sighed. He needed to figure out the location of his foe, where Mary was, and how to take out his target with no harm to himself or any other innocent. What did they teach him in class?

Richard grabbed his left wrist and began to twist it gently back and forth. A dim blue light began to emit from his hand and dance across his fingertips. He could easily just build up enough power to flash the room. It'd allow him to check out the scenery for a few seconds, but it'd also be risky. Even though he could control his powers pretty well, stray lightning could harm some innocent person or cause more harm than good. He had to go about this carefully.

TIK...TIK...TIK! The sound got louder as the footsteps got closer and closer to the counter. Richard pushed himself into a corner and aimed towards the bar he used to get into the area. The lightning began to crackle across his hands, as he got more and more anxious.

"Hmmm, another hero. This brings back memories of my time...when I was destined for the same fate," the voice sounded almost metallic. Richard was pretty sure he had heard it before. "It's too bad that this had to have happened, huh? I could have been your nemesis. I know you're over there."

Richard continued to point his hands towards the opening. It was the only thing he could do. He had nothing else to go on. He didn't even have a plan for attack thought out. Just instincts, raw instincts.

"Come on, man. Show yourself to me. I deserve to know who I'm fighting. In fact, I might let you live if you just let me escape out of here quietly. This piece of crap store doesn't even have a backdoor that I can find. What type of trash is that, I ask you?"

Richard noted that the voice began to become distant and he lowered his charge. The familiarity of the voice was bugging him--driving him slowly mad. He crawled towards the bar and peered out into the opening hoping to see anything. Nothing. The 'tik'ing sound even began to stop. The gun must be fully charged.

Outside, Richard could see Sansou hovering barely out of sight. It was up to Richard to either take out the threat or force the baddy towards the window. Either option was going to be pretty difficult to pull off. He was still a novice at this whole hero thing. School was easy, you didn't expect to be hurt or nearly killed. This was real life.

"AIEEE!" Richard grabbed his throat in horror. He couldn't have possibly just let out that girlish scream. In fact, he always thought sounds like that were a horrible--,"AIEEE!"

Richard recharged his hand and aimed it around the store. He didn't care if he was seen at this point. The dull blue light played gently with his surroundings until he saw the gold rim of a pair of glasses. He got into a kneeling position and aimed his arm slightly higher, slowly crawling up a pair of good quality, heavily designed, and tech-based pants. In horror, Richard gasped as he peered into the face of evil. That wasn't his reason for gasping, but it was the hostage the man was holding by her neck. The man, Sonarizer, was holding Mary and the pain-stricken look upon her face meant Richard had to do something quick.

"Look what we have here, blue boy, a nice tasty treat to play with. Now, how'd you let Ma--this girl get tangled up in the hero biz, eh? How about coming out in the open now...'less you wanna see her hurt?"

* * *

Richard obeyed and crawled under the bar. He stood several feet away from the antagonist and he knew Sansou was keeping a close watch on them. Now, he decided, would have to be the time to strike. He just hoped Mary wouldn't be hurt in the process, and if she would be, he hoped she wouldn't suffer much harm. However, he still had a problem of choosing what to do. Mary was directly in front of the criminal covering most of his body except the face of his helm. Even a well-aimed shot would be too much of a risk for both the criminal and especially Mary. He just had to think. Think, Richard, think!

"Let me go, Sonarizer," Mary screamed struggling against the cold metallic grip of her captor, "take him out, Richie!"

Dang it, Richard sighed as he watched Mary fight to break free, she said my name. Come on, Mary...stay calm.

"Richie," the criminal laughed and aimed the gun forward, "well, it's nice to know the person I'll be sending to heaven's gate. I--I didn't want it to come to this, you know, but you heroes forced my hand. Should have just let me go, idiot!"

It was way too late for that. You can't just let criminals go. No matter what was going on, he couldn't just let this guy walk free. Richard's hands began to glow a cold blue hue and the crackling from the tips of his fingers began to produce sparks that littered the floor. The floor! He could use the debris to his advantage. He just needed--no, it would way too difficult to bounce lightning off random glass and other reflective surfaces.

"I don't see you moving, hero. I guess this is how it's going to end. You're going to be a stain against the back of a rundown store!"

"That you tried to steal from no less," Richard retorted aiming his right hand precisely at the villain's face.

"Richard, do it! I'll be fine," Mary screamed while grasping onto her capturer's arm, "do what needs to be done. I know the risks!"

Tik! God, time was running out. He had to do something. What could he--Tik--do? He...maybe he could...no. Perhaps a jolt of energy to the suit! Tik! So little time. Maybe he could just...wait. Light is faster than sound, Richard allowed a smirk to show upon his face and aimed towards the gun, it also creates a channel to travel through! If he could just cut through the wave, he could take out the gun, save Mary, and take minimal damage. He just had to--ka ka--time this right and--

"Hey, doofus," Richard mocked preparing to shoot an incredible stream of electrical energy at his foe's weapon, "know what they say about blue lightning? No? It burns!"

Mary frowned as the confusion set in on her linear thinking mind as lightning flowed towards her. Milliseconds later, the gun erupted and from it spewed a bullet, so to speak, made of total sound energy. The scene seemed to be in slow motion as the lightning traveled ferociously across the deadness of the air. Debris flew heavily throughout the store and smashed into the closest thing to it before slamming onto the floor. Mary closed her eyes and prayed all in the three seconds that it took the energies to meet and dissect each other.

"AHHHHHHHH!" Richard screamed as he was carried away by the wave into the bar he was at one point hiding under. His body bent and cracked as he flipped over and landed flatly upon his face. Blood rushed from his nose and a now open cut just above his eye. He became disoriented and he could feel the room spinning around him. So much so, that he almost felt like vomiting on the spot. His ears ringed in pain, but in the distance, he could still hear the crashing of bodies and glass breaking somewhere ahead of him. The ringing stopped and he was out like a light.

* * *

"He seems to be moving, Marigold," spoke the slightly distorted voice. Richard could only make out the faint sense of a golden something hovering over him. "It is good he did not die."

"Now, now, Sansou," responded another voice, "he's a friend of mine. You can at least try to be a little friendlier. Rich, how you doing? That was some stunt you tried to pull off."

Richard rolled onto his side and stared at Mary as she rubbed his back. He could almost make out a clear image of her by this point, but it was becoming harder to keep the vomit down. Also, he felt a cold breeze attacking his abdomen. Maybe it was just a rip in the costume, no big deal.

"The room...it stopped spinning," Richard gasped trying to catch his breath, "did I take him out?"

"Actually, no," Mary stood pulling Richard up with her, "your little stunt hit the gun causing it to explode. He and me...we went flying back and landed on that magazine rack. Sansou over there rushed in and saved me by um...punching in the helmet. You were pretty much a good distraction."

Richard rolled his eyes and sighed, "All that work and barely any of the glory. So, who is he?"

Sansou landed beside Richard and patted him on the back. Richard stumbled a bit, but ultimately stayed on his feet. The golden glow slowly disappeared into his body of armor and he spoke:

"We will find out together. Follow."

The three walked over to detained villain and Mary pulled out a scanner. She turned it on producing a small beeping noise and ran it across the villain. She turned to Sansou and shook her head reporting that they had no information on him. Seconds later, she had the villain held up just under his neck and was removing him helmet. CLICK. CLICK.

"WHA--" Mary fell backwards with her mouth agape. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. This must have been some type of joke. A cruel joke to test her effectiveness on the field, "Ha--Hammond?! You can't be the Sonarizer!"

Richard stared at the figure before him. Not only was he holding back vomit, but he was in a total state of shock. This person lying before him was someone he had considered a friend. A guy he had hung with, fought with, and even talked about girls with. He was rich, funny, and popular and Richard only hoped to have half of what Hammond had. What's even worse, Richard concluded, was this guy had a plan. He knew exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it, and how he would obtain it. What happened?

"Did you know about this, Richard? Is that why you came here?" Mary stumbled towards Richard and grabbed his hand, "Don't you dare lie to me!"

Richard continued to stare for a few seconds before speaking. He noticed that Sansou was on the side of him and could easily strike. "Mary, please. If I knew Hammond was here, I would have called you and you know it. I would expect the same from you. I just showed up here because of the news."

Mary nodded and turned back, "I suppose so. It's just--it's just that Hammond and I broke up weeks ago. He said things were hard, but I never suspected...," her voice trailed off as she raised a hand to her mouth.

Sansou put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed it gently. Richard could tell that this man had some type of feelings for her. Genuine raw emotion that he himself harbored and that had been restarted upon seeing her.

"Do not worry, Marigold. This threat must be turned in. I will alert the cops so that they may make arrangements."

Without another word, Sansou was off and through the door. Richard could only stare at the scene around him and, for some reason, it scared him. Who would willingly keep putting their lives in danger? He could have died today and he would have had nothing accomplished. He had so much to do before dying and he wasn't sure that superheroing was for him. Not only could he barely handle a low-grade convenience store attack, but also he was barely effective in a fight. On the plus side, he concluded, he knew for sure that super heroics would be a very small part of his life. Maybe he could just be a journalist? Do they pay well?

"Rich," Mary wiped her eyes and smiled, "it was nice seeing you again. Regardless of the circumstances, you know. We should keep in touch more often."

"Sure," Richard responded placing a hand behind his head, "I just wish I could understand why Hammond fell so low. I know his dad had problems, but--"

"--Yeah, a lot happened to him. Suspension, money issues, the whole works. He was one of the smartest kids I knew. I guess even a person with plans can be taken out by circumstances, huh?" Mary adjusted her glasses, "I can't even pretend to understand what happened here tonight. I...I just want to forget this ever happened. Look, they're waving us in and the helicopter has arrived. I better go."

Richard nodded and gave Mary a hug, "Just be careful out there, ok? I'll try to keep up with you and keep me posted on the whole Hammond situation, eh?"

Mary nodded and headed out the door. Moments later, the authorities were carting off Hammond and only Richard remained. He stepped calmly outside the broken doors of the store and stared. Crickets were chirping and it was oddly soothing. Lord knows how much pain he was blocking out that he'd be feeling in the morning. He just had one thing to do that couldn't wait until he got home. He walked over to the pay phone, checked it for change, and inserted a quarter into the coin slot he casually pulled from the coin return tray. The phone rang and he nervously twiddled his thumbs.

"Hello, Lynx residence," responded the voice of his mother.

"Mom, listen," Richard began, "I--I think I know what I want to do. I think I have something to work towards now. We'll talk about it when I get home, but I just wanted you to know. And yeah, I think you'll be proud."

END

[Uncle Yuan]

Three requests for an extension (and three is a magic number!)

New deadline: 11:59 CDT Tuesday July 15

I hope this helps!

[Uncle Yuan]

Midnight approacheth!

[Alaric]

Ugh... Definitely not going to get this done in time...

[Viking]

Hearts and Minds
By Viking


Roderic Murgatroyd frowned throughtfully through his spectacles, regarding the antique mirror before him.  His owlish, white-bearded face frowned thoughtfully back at him as he methodically straightened his headmaster's robes and mentally reviewed his upcoming commencement address.  Today marked the culmination of the first year of a bold new academic initiative, and Roderic meant for the commencement ceremonies to strike the perfect balance of traditional gravitas with a celebration of innovation.  Indeed, he was of the firm opinion that the only thing as important as a first impression was a parting one.

Molding the hearts and minds of the next generation - was it not truly a sacred trust, on par with that between husband and wife, parent and child?  And with the recent emergence of metahumans with fantastic powers, and all of the societal wonder and terror they engendered, even more so!

And if one could impress on this next generation of young minds the importance of respect due to one's elder's?  Well... just so.

Roderic's frown turned upwards into a momentary smirk.  The ability to gauge the truthfulness of others is of little value if you cannot be honest with yourself, he mused.

He looked around his study, which had doubled as the dressing room in which he had donned his robes.  It was an odd hodge-podge of new and old furnishings - fresh oaken bookcases and a fresh Persian carpet marked a stark contrast to cracked brown leather chairs that had stuffing peeping out of the seams, and the rickety reading tables between them.  There weren't any proper antiques such as those to be found in the prestigious Tower University - not yet, at any rate.

When Roderic approached his now fellow professors with his proposed academic initiative a little over a year ago, they had by mutual consent agreed to forego luxury and expensive ego-flattering trappings in the interests of maximizing the functionality of their facility.   And for an academic initiative that had been so hastily organized, they had done well for themselves.  Jolly well for themselves, indeed! 

An aging grandfather clock sounded the hour in a series of tinny, partially off-key chimes.  Roderic straightened proudly.  The time for the ceremony had come.  He purposefully made his way to the desk against the far wall, retrieving a small object from the top right drawer.

The silvery-hued electric stunner gleamed in his hand, despite the dim lighting of the study.  Roderic nodded in satisfaction before slipping it into his robes.  The students were good lads, but there were quite a few scamps among them.  He certainly had been at their age, at any rate.

***************************************************************

Headmaster Roderic Murgatroyd basked in the latest round of applause and whistles from the black-clad students in the basement of the Institute, now converted into a makeshift commencement hall.  There really was nothing quite like the feeling of an enthusiastic crowd.

Of course, the fact that he was a telepath helped make it possible.  Not a particularly powerful one, by most standards - Roderic couldn't mentally compel others to do his will, nor could he manage other forms of coercive or befuddling tricks attributed to psychics.  But he could read minds and emotional states with remarkable facility, and he had a natural gift for diplomacy, debate, and the art of speaking.

Roderic gripped the podium in front of him, and leaned towards his audience.

"My previous 'employers' originally wanted me to retire from their business, seeing only an old man before them, instead of the ideas I still had to share!"

He tapped his forehead, for emphasis.

"And it was shortly after my dismissal that I had an epiphany.  The world is changing with the emergence of metahuman abilities.  Heroes such as the Lion and the Unicorn are just the beginning.  If we are to continue... nay, thrive in our way of life, we need to recognize that we must evolve as well.  And thus it was that I gathered like-minded specialists of my generation to form this academic institute..."

Roderic spread his arms in a sweeping gesture.

"The Institute Of Criminal Studies!"

His proclamation was greeted by another enthusiastic round of applause, whistles, and stamping of feet from the graduating class of thieves and thugs before him.  Headmaster Roderic Murgatroyd, known simply as the Headmaster within the Institute, grinned broadly at his fellow instructors sitting to either side of him. 

On his right was the clean-shaven and aristocratic Professor Moriarty, Associate Dean of Organizational and Masterminding Studies, who nodded his high domed forehead towards Roderic in approval.  Next to him was the far scruffier Professor Fagin, Head Lecturer in the fields of Burglary and Pickpocketing.  Several gold teeth glinted from Fagin's smile, within the tangle of his unruly gray beard.  To Roderic's left was "Spotted Dick" Nelson, Adjunct Professor of Applied Gadgetry, who retained his nimble fingers despite being well into his eighties.  Rounding out the team of senior professors was the matronly Mrs. Angela Lovett, Chief Instructor in the fields of Infiltration and Smuggling.

The boisterous hooting and whistling slowly died down as the young criminal graduates slowly settled back into their folding chairs, and the Headmaster took up his speech once more.

"Furthermore, thanks in no small part to the stellar results turned in by your 'final exams'..."

Roderic paused as chuckles rippled through the student body before continuing, "I am pleased to announce that the Institute should be able to expand its facilities for next year's term!"

This announcement, predictably, drew another round of cheers and whistles.  Roderic beamed at his audience and took a deep breath to continue, when... something felt distinctly wrong.

Frowning in sudden concentration, the Headmaster held up a hand to silence the crowd while he sifted through the assorted thoughts that his telepathy enabled him to read.  He looked up in a sudden, dread realization.

"Students, to arms!" he called out.  "We've been discovered!"

As if in waiting for that entrance cue, the main doors leading into the room crashed inward, breaking off their hinges from the force of the blow.  Though the figure standing in the wrecked door wore loose black academic robes embroidered with gold thread that concealed his frame, his massive size, tawny facial hair, and well-groomed mane were a dead giveaway.

"School's out," announced the Lion of England in a jovial voice.  "Do you chaps want to scrap here, on in your campus commons?"

The friendly challenge was answered by several distinctly unfriendly sounds: the rasp of steel as several students drew knives or sword-canes, the click-clack of someone with a semi-automatic pistol working the slide, and the hum of some of Spotted Dick's short-range stunners being charged up, to name a few.

The students of the Institute of Criminal Studies really were a bunch of mischievous scamps at heart, bless their souls.  Well-prepared, too.

Unfortunately, it was all too clear that their adversary also knew the advantages of proper preparation.  The Lion of England was the bloody definition of athletic grace, and dodged a rain of pistol fire even as he threw an expertly-aimed bola at the shooter.  The students who attempted hand-to-hand combat fared no better, being tossed aside like rag dolls without so much as tearing the Lion's robes.

Professor Fagin squeaked in terror from his end of the table, the bleeding coward, and made a beeline for one of the rear exits.  His squeals of fear soon transformed into a strangled yelp before becoming silenced altogether.  One didn't need to wonder at the cause for very long - the Unicorn of England, clad in purple academic robes with silver embroidery, stepped gracefully out of the exit and over Fagin's unconscious form.  Spotted Dick and Mrs. Lovett showed considerably greater fighting spirit, the former producing an electric taser and the latter producing a surprisingly large meat cleaver from her robes as they moved to avenge their fallen comrade.

Roderic pulled his own stunner, noticing as he did that Professor Moriarty had coolly risen from his seat and lifted his cane, which disguised his personal air rifle.  Professor Moriarty and Headmaster Murgatroyd nodded to one another before drawing twin beads on the Lion.  Always working well in tandem, Murgatroyd first distracted the Lion by discharging his stunner at the leonine avenger.  A beat later, Moriarty fired his rifle, having gauged the direction in which the Lion would dodge Murgatroyd's stunner.  Roderic felt a brief moment of triumph as he saw the Lion jerk backwards from the force of Moriarty's shot.

Brief was the operative word, however.  Scant seconds later, he heard a voice purr into his ear, "Goodness - Nigel made him stand for hours while making the adjustments to that robe.  Leonard's going to have a fit!  I'd surrender now, if I were you."

Roderic's triumph soon transformed into a cold despair as he saw the Lion of England pick himself up from the floor, apparently just as angry as the Unicorn had predicted.  The Lion roared angrily, the sound reverberating alarmingly through the Institute's basement.

Murgatroyd and Moriarty each spared a quick glance to one another, and dropped their weapons shortly afterwards.

*******************************************************

Roderic Murgatroyd waited miserably in the study of Tower University.  True to his suspicions, every piece of furniture was a proper antique - the bookcases and sitting tables were all a lovely mahogany, and the chairs were upholstered with perfectly-maintained, well-oiled leather.  The grandfather clock's chimes were sonorous and perfectly pitched, like the tolling of a death knell.

He'd been left alone in the study, with not even a guard to watch over him.  Oh, he'd been left in handcuffs, which he'd already picked and left on the sitting table beside him.  But the fight had long gone out of him.  With the whole of the Institute of Criminal Studies captured in one fell swoop, his hopes and plans had been most thoroughly dashed.

Even worse, he'd had to endure listening to the Lion and the Unicorn recount their exploits in vanquishing the faculty and students of the Institute.  He didn't even have to make use of his telepathic skills - that leonine lummox had a booming voice that carried easily through the closed doors of the study, and his partner was in too good a humor to keep her voice down, either.  He guessed that they were regaling Richard King the Third, the headmaster of Tower Univeristy, but the man was being disturbingly quiet.  Even more intriguing, Richard King the Third was apparently quite skilled at keeping his mind blank - Roderic was hardly picking up a trace of the man outside the study.

"...and it was a stroke of luck that they'd chosen the date of their commencement to coincide with that of Tower University," remarked the Unicorn.  "Given our own upcoming graduation, our own excited thoughts were impossible to distinguish from those of the Headmaster's students until we chose to spring the trap on them."

"A double stroke of luck, actually," added the Lion.  "Though I was initially put out at the fact that we had to miss the Tower's Commencement ceremonies, I later found out who'd been chosen as Keynote Speaker.  I mean, seriously - Professor Montgomery?  I don't think I could bear hearing another rendition of his speech of how 'Tower University is like a ship...'"

"Leonard, please!" interjected the Unicorn.

"Oh, sorry.  No offense, sir.  But with your permission, we'll be off to collect our diplomas and celebrate with the rest of our friends!"

Roderic heard a general murmur of assent, and he once again strained his telepathic abilities to get some sense of the enigmatic headmaster of Tower University.  All he could pick up, however, were the mocking thoughts of the Lion as he departed:

Tower University is like a ship, and all of you fine students are like barnacles, sucking ooze from the bottom of that ship.  But here, you have chosen a superior place to suck, and I dare say we've never had a finer crop of suckers to wit!

Roderic eased off his telepathic probe in disgust.  Disgust soon shifted to surprise, however, with the click of the latch and creak of the door as it swung open.  These were followed by the gentle whirring of gears of Richard's electric wheelchair, as the crippled, elderly headmaster of Tower University wheeled into the room.

"Headmaster Roderic Murgatroyd," remarked Richard in a respectful tone of voice.  "I'm glad to see that you weren't unduly inconvenienced by the formality of the handcuffs.  May we speak privately?"

Roderic was somewhat taken aback by the polite address.  "As you wish, sir," he managed in a gruff tone.

"Excellent."

Despite the wheelchair and his twisted frame, Richard managed to deftly ease the study door shut, before guiding his wheelchair next to Roderic.

"Quite a bold venture that you attempted, Roderic.  Visionary, in its way."

"That's... certainly not what I expected you to say, sir.  Thank you... I think."

It dimly occurred to Roderic that while Richard was practically referring to him as an equal, Roderic was still calling him by the honorific "sir."  All this, despite the fact that the headmaster of Tower University was anything but physically imposing - a skinny physique, a wispy tuft of white hair atop his age-spotted head, and a disarming grin could hardly account for Roderic's sense of deference.  How was this unassuming man able to project such a sense of presence?

"Nevertheless," continued Richard, "I would have to say that your vision lacked... scope."

Roderic blinked.  "Scope, sir?"

"Just so.  Why teach young men and women how to dominate the criminal underworld in an age of metahumans, when you can teach them to accomplish so much more?"

"I'm not sure I follow," ventured Roderic sullenly.

"Metahumans are developing as part of a world-wide phenomenon," explained Richard patiently.  "Their attentions won't remain turned inwards towards fighting local crime... or perpetrating it, indefinitely.  I predict that it will be only a matter of time before their attentions are turned outwards, acting on an international level.  Whether as agents of peacekeeping, politics, espionage, or subversion... The future belongs to those who can anticipate such activities, and prepare for them."

Roderic felt the bottom drop out of his equilibrium.  What could this man possibly be suggesting?

"Have you considered expanding your teachings to a broader audience?" inquired Richard.  His smile had gone from congenial to wolfish.  "Teaching actual metahumans about tactics in infiltration and organization, or ordinary humans how to mount a creditable defense against a metahuman threat?  Molding the hearts and minds of young individuals not to influence the workings of just the criminal underworld, but the world itself?"

Roderic could only stare at Richard, dumbstruck.  He hadn't expected to be arrested, just to be offered such a position of power and privilege.

"I can tell that I've given you a lot to think about," continued Richard, his smile once again innocent and friendly.  "There are some gentlemen outside from MI-Six outside who will escort you to a secure residence where you may... consider this offer.  The handcuffs, I trust, will not be necessary?"

"Er... no, sir," answered Roderic, now thoroughly flummoxed.  "The matter shall have my careful consideration.  But, just one question... why?"

"Ah," replied Richard with a nod.  "You've heard of the adage, 'If you can't beat them, join them'?  I merely followed it to a logical corollary - 'If you can beat them... recruit them.'  It's so much more efficient than merely locking people away to no use."

Roderic Murgatroyd simply nodded mutely as the door to the study was opened, and followed the crisply-dressed British intelligence officers outside in silence.  And to think that I fancied myself a skilled diplomat and manipulator, he mused.

Clearly, he still had much to learn.

FIN

[thalaw2]

The Exchange 
Starring The Model Hero
By Thalaw2

"This is not a bad place you have here" said my mother with a tinge of contempt after taking her own guided tour and inventory of my apartment.  I considered it high praise.  I had had just enough time to throw everything she would consider unsightly into the laundry bin in my room.  "Too bad you do not have a nice young girl to help you maintain it."

"I am working on that, mother.  I would like you guys to use the guest bedroom during your visit.   I have already prepared it for you."

"It is time that you became a man.  Your mother and I are not getting any younger you know."

"We do not need to have this argument again."  I could feel myself getting angry "I am a man.  I just want to go my own way.  I do not see any reason for me to rush out and get married.  I just graduated from college.  Let me find a career first."

"Where is the nearest farmers' market?"  Asked my mother, it was her tactic for defusing an argument, change the topic "You probably have not had a good home cooked meal since the last time you came home.  That was almost one year ago."  It had really just been about five months ago.   

"You do not need to cook while you are here, mama.  You should rest.  How about we go out to eat at a restaurant tonight?  We have not done that for a long time and it would be a great way to see more of Shanghai."

"Shanghai food is too sweet for me," piped my father.

"Then we can go to a place that specializes in something else."  I thought for a moment, "How about Guangdong Goose?"

"I want to see the Model Hero!" cried Ying raising the small action figure he held in his hand.  "Have you ever seen him?"

"Actually....yes I have more than once.  In fact if you can make it down to Xu JiaHui before six today you just might see him."

"Wow!  Can we go?  Can we go?  Can we go?"

"Okay," said my father, "if we do not go I think he will throw a tantrum."

"Yes! Model Hero!"  The young boy took off running around the living room with his arms stretched out and making odd noises like something out of an eight-bit computer game.

"Then how about I meet you guys there after I finish work and we can choose a restaurant close by?"


The stage was set.  I had been watching my target circle around the block a few on his motorcycle.  I double he could see me as I was sheltered in an old unmarked truck but he circled around because he knew I was waiting.  In our line of work timing is everything.  He sped up a little this time have caught sight of his target –a slender woman with an large designer handbag strolling as if she did not have a care in the world. 

It was time.  I jumped on to my own motorcycle, which was already idling, in the back of the truck.  By the time I came around to the main street the villain had already done his part and was heading in my direction ---having snatched the woman's purse

I pulled out into the middle of the street in front of him.  He stopped a few meters shy of me.  I blasted the un-muffled engine for effect.  I know it worked because he looked scared.  I ordered him to drop the bag.  But he did not listen.  They never listen.  He decided instead to turn around and make this into a chase.  Before he could complete his turn I was able to catch up to him and yank him off the bike.  It was all over in less than two minutes and all that remained was to make a public service announcement about how crime does not pay, return the bag, pose for pictures and sign autographs.


We were nearing the end of our meal and my father signaled the waitress to bring the bill.  When the bill placed on the table I noticed that It was closer to me than to him and I grabbed it without thinking.  I checked the tally and reached in my pocket to pull out the money.  My father immediately objected.

"What are you doing?"

"I am going to pay the bill."

No, I'll pay it.   –reaching for the bill

"It's ok.  I can afford it now.  I have a job.  Besides you and mom are my guests."

"You need to save your money to buy a house for you and your future wife.  You're still a boy you know."

His comment caused the hair on my head to stand.  I jumped up from my chair and charged towards to the cashier at the front desk.  He came after me waving his money in the air and demanding that I stop.  I did not listen.  Other patrons in the establishment looked on but were mostly unmoved.  I slammed the receipt and money on the front desk.  My father ordered her to return my money and take his instead.  I insisted she proceed with the transaction and ignore him.  To make it clear that I meant business I stood in front of my old man and prevented him from getting to the cashier until the business was done.

When the lady behind the counter handed me my change, I noticed a kind of calm come across my father's face. It lingered for a while before transforming into a beaming smile full of teeth and something that I can only describe as pride.  He had surrendered or accepted that I was my own man now.  The feeling inside me was both reliving and frightening at the same time.  I was happy that I stood up to my father like a man and yet scared like a little boy being alone in the dark for the first time.  There was no going back from here.  I could not just holler in the darkness and expect him to come turn on the lights or take me by the hand.  This time I had demanded that I be left to find my own way and light my own path.  I had reached out and seized my manhood from the dinning table.  I hoped that my reach would not exceed my grasp.  But I guess no one is really ever fully prepared for the moment when they become an adult in the family. 

My father was saying something to me while we were waiting for my change, but it was intelligible.  I was too lost in myself, lost in the moment.  I turned to my father and hugged him tighter than I could remember doing since childhood and he hugged me back tighter than I could remember.  I like to think that in that unusual show of affection that lasted just a few seconds something was passed down from him to me.  I was a man now.


END --can't even look at it anymore.....

[Uncle Yuan]

Cool, a stealth entry by Viking!

OK, here's the deal.  The official deadline has passed.  But I'm starting OB call in about an hour and a half and I'm going to be spending the next 24 hours delivering babies.  It means that I'm not going to be reading.  Or judging.  So if a story or two were to slip in after the deadline, I wouldn't notice.  There's a risk that the other judges may begin reading (and at least one is going to start ASAP) so you run the risk of getting passed over, but it's yours to take if you like.

[Mr. Hamrick]

my entry got deleted off my harddrive monday morning.  and i am not going to bother trying to rewrite at this point.

[Uncle Yuan]

:Pomp and Circumstance plays:

The graduating class of 2008 is please to present it's valedictorian and salutatorian!


Valedictorian: Glitch Girl/MEA for 'The Education of Joey A.'

Salutatorian: Viking for 'Hearts and Minds'




Thanks also for Previsionary and Thalaw2 for their entries.  I know that there are at least two more entries hanging out there (Alaric's and Grendal's).  I, for one, would love to see them posted when they're done!!  If anyone would like a copy of their comments and actual grades, transcripts can be requested from the Dean of Writing Contests.

Thanks to ow_tiobe_sb and Lord Elcorion for judging (I apologize, Lord E, for not announcing you earlier).

Congratulations and thanks, everyone.

[Previsionary]

Congratz to GG, and to sir Viking, I really enjoyed your story.

Just throwing this out there, Yuan (and the other judges), can you put up the criteria you used to judge the entries for comparisons sake? It'd be nice to have that resource again since that was one of the threads that got eaten in the crash. No worries if ya can't. ^^

[Alaric]

:Pomp and Circumstance plays:

The graduating class of 2008 is please to present it's valedictorian and salutatorian!


Valedictorian: Glitch Girl/MEA for 'The Education of Joey A.'

Salutatorian: Viking for 'Hearts and Minds'




Thanks also for Previsionary and Thalaw2 for their entries.  I know that there are at least two more entries hanging out there (Alaric's and Grendal's).  I, for one, would love to see them posted when they're done!!  If anyone would like a copy of their comments and actual grades, transcripts can be requested from the Dean of Writing Contests.

Thanks to ow_tiobe_sb and Lord Elcorion for judging (I apologize, Lord E, for not announcing you earlier).

Congratulations and thanks, everyone.

I don't really like what I've written- it's a little TOO "tear-jerker-y"- so I doubt I'll be finishing it.

Congrats to GG and Viking!

[Viking]

Thanks to Uncle Yuan for a fun challenge, and additional thanks to him and ow_tiobe_sb and Lord Elcorion for judging in such a prompt manner.

I was also expecting GG to win - I find that original, humorous entries tend to have an incredible strength to them.  And frankly, GG's level of humor was top-notch... the sort of humor I normally aspire to when I try to bring the funny.  GG also found a rarely-used niche and made it her own: the point-of-view of the minions.

Apart from that, I would really welcome any specific commentary or questions that anyone has about my work.  Just like any author on this board.

[Glitch Girl]

Guys, thank you so much. 

I had a lot of fun writing this one.  Part of that story has been bouncing around in my head for over a decade (the conversation about who the hench with) and it was fun to finally have it see print.   I'm glad you all liked it.

And as for the rest of the entries, great job guys.  You put a lot of work into these, and it shows. 

[ow_tiobe_sb]

I'd like to add a hearty thanks to all of the contest participants.  'Twas a great pleasure to read all of these stories from very clever minds. :)

I'd also like to thank Uncle "Doctor" Yuan and Lord "Lady" Elcorion for allowing me to participate in another fruitful fiction challenge.  Their judging was fair, attentive to details, and instructive (to me)...whereas my judging was ruthless, blind, and completely devoid of any pedagogical value. ;)

Congratulations to our graduating class of 2008! :yipee

ow "tiobe" sb
Phantom "Fruitcake" Bunburyist and Fop o' th' Morning