The Create-A-Hero RPG Season III IC Thread!

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"Son, ten million isn't even a drop in the bucket. You've got yourself a deal." He took a small object from his shirt pocket and offered it to Jack. "Now, take this memory stick, it's got all the information on the job that you'll need." He picked up his briefcase and held it out to Jack. "Take this, five million up front, the rest when the job is done."

Jack was more than happy to take the five million dollars; the memory stick was just along for the ride. He was quick to set the briefcase on the table before him and open it up. There was so much green and he was in heaven because of it. "Nice. Consider the job done within twenty-four hours."
 
Pinup sped through the streets of Lost Haven with Walter Kennedy in the passenger seat, and she noticed the pedestrians for what seemed to her like the first time in many years. They weren't straggling in groups of one or two, marching to and fro on private missions only they knew about, as one might expect to see from any standard pedestrian. There were groups. Groups separated by two categories. Crowds of people wearing STRIKE emblems clustered together, forming a friendship based solely on their badges, while plain-clothes civilians formed an equally strong bond based on the lack thereof.

The world was separating itself like oil and water, and to Pinup, it was painfully obvious. And she knew what would happen:

Oil would ignite.

Water would freeze.

And the world would destroy itself in a hiss of scalding steam.


Walter was not dumb to the ominous differences in pedestrian traffic. He looked uneasily out the window at the groups. Everything had seemed so normal not so long ago, but it was like an old oil painting - a serene pastoral landscape, but look too closely and all the cracks in the paint show, the chips sitting there delicately, waiting to flake off the aged canvas.

The car neared the Guardians' headquarters and Pinup slowed. A group was already forming on the street, and it made her nervous. Picketers held signs scrawled with hate messages against metas and the Guardians and STRIKE recruits patrolled the perimeter of the crowd as though they possessed real power. Stragglers, unaffiliated with the group, did their best to dodge out of sight, also sensing something was about to go terribly wrong.

The car came to a halt as it met the resistance of the group. People closed in around the vehicle and Pinup and Walter glanced uneasily toward each other. Pinup sighed. If there was going to be any way of getting into the Headquarters, it wasn't going to be in the car. She unbuckled her seat belt and, hesitantly, Walter followed suit.

Pinup opened the car door. Her ears rang with cries from the protesters as she stepped out of the vehicle and continued toward the building on foot. It was just a small group, at least.

"Walter, I want you to go ahead of me. Buzz the intercom and tell them who you are - they'll let you in. I'm going to hang back in case things get ugly when they see what we want."

"If things get ugly, I should be the one to hang back." Walter argued quietly as they walked, shoulder to shoulder, along the street. "The serum wouldn't do anything to me."

Pinup didn't answer, and Walter didn't press her, knowing that when she kept silent, she had already won the argument. Walter did as he was told and neared the intercom at the side of the building.

"HE'S GOING IN! HE'S ONE OF THEM!" A man shouted.

Pinup arched an eyebrow toward him, wondering how discreetly she could use her powers in a crowd like this. She decided to chance it, honing in on the protester. The rest of the world began to drop away into a gray fog as she centered her thoughts on the link between herself and the man. She was only barely aware of a woman yelling

"No, it's her! I recognize her from the news! She's one of them!"

A pinch in her shoulder caused Pinup to lose focus. The connection broke like a thin string and the world came flooding back. For a moment, she didn't realize what had happened. She reached up and removed a sharp dart from her skin.

Nothing, she thought. It doesn't work on me. My degenerative processes are too slow, it won't metabolize. I'm -

The world seemed to shake violently and she fell to the ground mid-thought. Her heart clenched in her chest and her breathing became labored. Cold sweat poured down her body as she was caught by the shock of how fast acting the toxin was.

"EMILY!" Walter cried hoarsely. He resisted the urge to rush to her side long enough to press the intercom button

"Yes, it's Doctor Walter Kennedy! It's Emily! Help!"
“Emily?? Who the…” Isaac thought to himself as he walked past the monitor by the kitchen. An old man filled the screen, high tension painted across a face whose skin had lost its own through age.

The old man turned and looked back at “Emily” revealing Pinup, stretched out and looking as close to death’s door as she was to the Guardians’, and a small congregation of armed citizens.

All wearing patches, with a familiar symbol.

He wasn't sure if he was doing it right, or who was listening on the other end, but it didn't seem to matter as he pushed through the crowd with the strength of a man half his age to reach the spot where Pinup fell.

She lay crumpled on the ground - the crowd stunned by the effect of the weapons STRIKE had provided them. Her face was ashen and her eyes barely open as every breath seemed like a mini-seizure.

"W-Walter" Pinup chattered through grated teeth. "What's happening?"

"The toxin is unraveling your DNA." Walter put it in the simplist terms he could.

"H-how long - "

"If you were anyone else you'd already be dead."
Back in the kitchen, the monitor glows the action to no audience, as footsteps can be heard growing softer running in the direction of the main entrance.

Walter threw his arm across her shoulders and another under her arm, trying to aid her to stand. "But you're not going to die."

Pinup collapsed again. "Let me die."

Walter's brow furrowed. It wasn't a surprising request. For the past thirty years he had worked with Emily to help her do exactly that, but now the time had come, and this was never how he had imagined it. He had fooled himself into thinking that he was searching for a cure - not a death sentence.

"No." He said firmly.

"Walter, let me - "

But Walter wasn't listening. The sound of the door opening behind him had caught his attention and he turned the headquarters just in time to see a glimmer of salvation emerge from within its walls.

"She needs help!" He yelled. "Get her to the medi-wing!"


It had been over an hour since Icon had brought Pinup into the medical wing with Walter Kennedy in the hope of saving her life. In that time, both Youngster and Vigilante had come by to see what was going on, only to leave when there was no news to be had.

But Icon waited. He couldn't explain why he sat there on the bench outside of the hospital room, only that he felt like he needed to be there.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and Walter came out, a half defeated look on his face.

"Is she going to be OK?" Icon asked, concern for his friend clearly in his voice.

"For now." Walter said numbly.

"What do you mean?"

"I was able to stabilize her, but I'm afraid that the effects of the serum are irreversible. She will lose her abilities...which means...."

"She'll die."

"Eventually. When, I don't know. It could be 40 years or 40 minutes, depending on how her body ages. But yes, sometime in the future, possibly the very near future, she will die." Walter said as a single tear fell from his eye. He lowered his head, feeling a myriad of emotions ranging from sadness and anger to regret. For because of his actions, his best friend for over half a century was going to die.

And there was nothing that he could do to stop that.

[BLACKOUT]"Well... at the time she looked like she'd be lucky to see out 40 seconds... There's worse things than living out your life as a mere human."[/BLACKOUT] the Vigilante uttered, comforting social tones far from his strong point.

[BLACKOUT]"...I mean neither of us are rushing to jump off a cliff because of the realization that our bodies have term limits."[/BLACKOUT]

Icon gave him a sad but solemn look and an almost imperceptible shake of the head that held more weight in saying "Not now" than words could express.

As much to change the subject from the award place he'd taken it as anything else he added a query.

[BLACKOUT]"So, what do you mean by stable? Is she conscious, can we go in and speak to her?"[/BLACKOUT]
 
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