< The Beginning | Hang Time | Watching Movies >

It's only twenty seconds ago.

Jason looked out of his open kitchen window, the letter hanging from his hand, television playing in the background. He knew he had work to do, but right now all he wanted was to get outside and see how high he could fly -- it had to be higher today, the way he felt.

It's ten seconds ago.

The cartoons playing in the background switched over to a news report while Jason tried to pull on a shirt without letting go of the letter. Nothing new: there was always breaking news in Paragon.

~~Sometimes, someone named "Hang Time" is even part of it.~~

Jason grinned.

Five seconds.

... gruesome murders and missing heroes. Numerous Phalanxers known to be affiliated with next generation divisions of the Freedom Phalanx based around the world have been discovered slain this morning.

He was at the television without realizing he'd moved. Something in the kitchen fell and crashed, drowning out the next part.

...among the deceased is one of the leaders and founding members of a local division of the Freedom Phalanx, Stateswoman. More news on this breaking story throughout the day as we have it...

It's now.

Jason stands in the small room, staring at the screen. He is still, like a grave.

Only the letter in his hand moves. Trembles. Narrow tendrils of smoke spiral up from the points where his fingers meet the paper.

He inhales, suddenly, like a man who just reached the surface of a lake. Blinks.

There is a rush of air, and the apartment is empty.

The television still plays.

The letter spins to the floor.

The massive warrior known to Paragon City as Cap'n Carnage looked down at his

(friend? the hell do I need a friend for?)

companion. Still barely more than a punk, but he seemed to have the good sense to shut up and listen when the shit hit the fan, which is more than Cap could say for most of the mouth-breathers in spandex he saw 'saving' the city. It was one of the reasons he tolerated him.

Although nowhere near his own mass, Hang Time was hardly out of shape, but right now, he was down on one knee and panting for air. Sweat dripped from his hair and smoke curled from acid-splashed patches on his uniform. Cap couldn't feel pain anymore, but he imagined that that had to sting.

"So that..." Hang Time paused, winced, licked his lips. "That's what a world controlled by the Devouring Earth would look like."

Cap's expression didn't change. "Yup." Hang Time slowly pushed to his feet. "You ready to take a break?"

The younger man shook his head. "You said you could get us into a gate where the Nemesis army had gotten organized?"

"Yeah. Listen, you should take a break."

Hang Time looked up at the big man, seemed about to say something, then shrugged. "S'cool, if you've got something to do... I've got some leads I can check on in the Falls."

"I didn't say 'do something else, dammit', I said 'rest'. You're friggin' exhausted."

"I'll rest when you get tired."

"I don't get tired."

"Perfect. We can keep going."

"Listen." Cap folded his trunk-like arms. "Stateswoman. Very nice little lady. I get it. But you've got to take a break, you're gonna be dead too, or useless as hell, and that won't help."

"It..." Hang Time began. Stopped. He stared out over the greensward in front of Portal Corp. "Three more gates. Okay? Then I'll take a break."

Cap sighed. "Two."

Hang Time immediately nodded. "Two's fine."

"Any more than that and you'll be asleep in midair and get yourself and me both fucking killed."

"Two's fine, Cap. Thank you. Thanks." Hang Time made himself square his shoulders. Cap could see the effort it took. One of the acid-stained spots on his jacket hissed. "We ready?"

Cap thought to say something, but this wasn't his deal... little squib wanted to get himself killed over some superskirt he wasn't even sleeping with... whatever -- it was all just smashing heads to him. "Yeah. We're ready."

"Cool, dude. Let's go."

[Office, overlooking Blyde Square, Steel Canyon.]

"Jones, where are we on the Marks case? The Gantt chart indicates I should be seeing Analysis Reports as of yesterday."

"Sir? I sent you an email on that last week -- we haven't been able to collect Hang Time for examination, and due to our profit-loss policies, I had to curtail the activity."

"Profit-loss policies?"

"Yes sir. We were using more equipment and personnel than the estimated R.O.I. for the project... by a significant factor, sir."

"The power readings from your last report didn't indicate he was capable of that kind of damage, Jones."

"It's... there's been some sort of exponential increase since the March 10th incident, sir."

"The Stateswoman situation."

"Yes sir. It's had an adverse affect on a number of our projects, actually, but in this particular instance, Marks has been actively exposed to Portal Gate energies a number of times, and seem to be very emotionally invested in the situation -- it's made him quite dangerous."

"I see. Send in the suits, then."

"Lawyers, sir?"

"The Power Suits, Jones. The Protectors. I'll authorize the cost. I want the subject under a damn microscope. Now."

< The Beginning | Hang Time | Watching Movies >